Marcus was silent, and for a moment Teine was sure the other boy wasn’t going to speak. Although Marcus was one of the most introspective of them all, he was never, ever rude. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Marcus found his voice. Rolling over onto his back to stare at the ceiling, he answered, “I know the strawberry’s your favorite.” His face looked puffy and his eyes were red, but he was still Marcus and still behaved with his usual consideration for others. “I’ll take the lime one, then.”
Teine handed it over, wondering what else he could do. He had no magic spell to break the silence and breach the subject. He supposed if he’d been in Marcus’s shoes, with a girl waiting for him, he’d probably be crying as well. “Um… I see you’re staying an IM too,” he mumbled artlessly. To hide some of his embarrassment, he crinkled the wax paper wrapper off the candy and popped the clear pink pig into his mouth, leaving the sucker’s stick to poke out between his lips.
“I was supposed to get cut,” Marcus sighed, unwrapping his own lime deer. Candy was a rare treat, and even sorrow wasn’t enough for him to miss out. “I just knew I was going to-”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Teine asked, trying not to slurp around the confection. It was an odd notion for a boy like Marcus to have. He was probably the most handsome boy of their agemates, bigger, more solidly built, and more muscular than all the rest. Ones like Marcus, with the training, the education, the bloodlines, and the manners went for big money at the production sales- if they were sold at all. In fact, the current rumor going around was that the young Master would be choosing some Solmurry stock to show at his first Exhibition. Teine had heard from Leis that the smart money was on Marcus as the boy’s top pick, but at the time, Teine had been so consumed with shoveling food in his face and trying to finish an extra credit assignment in his geometry class that he didn’t hear much beyond that.
Marcus turned to face Teine, then sat up. Unlike Teine, Marcus did not leave the lime deer stuffed in his mouth while he tried to talk. “I… don’t know,” he said, with a shrug. “Maybe it was all just wishful thinking. But I’m not really outgoing or charismatic enough. All I really want to do is work with the horses and be with…” Marcus’s face contorted, folding in on itself and he put his head in his hands. He sniffled once, then composed himself. “I don’t suppose it matters,” he added, his voice somewhat muffled by his hands. “She got sold today, anyway.”
“Oh,” Teine said, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. He’d really made a mess of things with this “cheering up” business. Trying to come up with something witty that could take all of Marcus’s pain away was futile. He knew it. It didn’t mean that he didn’t care, though. “That’s rough, Marcus.”
“I bet you’re happy, though,” Marcus said, obviously trying as hard to make conversation as Teine was. “Now you’ve got a better chance of landing on the Fabal team with Vosh.”
Teine shrugged, wondering for the thousandth time why people always assumed his primary goal was Fabal. Sure, he was good at sports and enjoyed the game, but he liked his brain and enjoyed using that more. Marcus did have a point, though. Most all Fabal players were IMs, because the good visibility and marketing of the sporting events led to fame and increased both the number of requests and the amount of the stud fees involved. Teine wouldn’t mind Fabal- it was a fun job, after all. But why couldn’t anyone appreciate him for his art, or writing, or something he actually cared about?
Teine was still fishing around for something else to say to keep the conversation going when Wallace walked in. He was one of Teine’s relatives, a great-uncle or something. Though he was stooped and age spotted, Wallace was still sprightly enough to pull down a decent half day’s work carrying the mail around Solmurry. At 74 years old he had a full head of white, wiry hair, and a rowdy sense of humor. Teine hoped he was doing half as well, when he was Wallace’s age.
Spotting him, most of the boys either got out of their beds to greet the old codger, or, if they were Fabal fanatics, merely waved soundlessly as they clung desperately to the failing reception on the radio. It sounded to Teine like the teams were tied again but it was getting next to impossible to discern anything through the static.
“I’m just paying a visit to the poor, invalid, and impotent,” Wallace chuckled. Most of the boys groaned- good-natured teasing was expected from adults at this time. It was kind of a rite of passage and a sign of their acceptance into their ranks. “So who wants their mail?” Wallace held up a hefty sack- it seemed that nearly everyone in the infirmary would have a piece of mail or two. That was a little unusual. Even moreso that they’d receive a mail drop in person. Each boy had a box in the Commons where mail was dropped, and most of the boys didn’t receive outside mail with any kind of regularity. Although a pen-pal or relative wasn’t out of the question, they were all too young to be staying in touch with any long distance lovers, and most of the boys their age eschewed correspondence studies as if extra schooling bore the plague. As Wallace handed Marcus his two envelopes and Teine his four, Teine noticed that even Wallace had a green diamond on the back of his gnarled and veined old claw.
“What did you get?” he asked Marcus, mostly to make conversation.
Marcus tore open an envelope and smiled suddenly. “My Dam ordered me the Dunner and Hotch book on steam engines!” he exclaimed. “It’s not in yet, but she sent me a nice little note, too. I’ll have to thank her when I see her.”
Teine was instantly jealous. Dunner and Hotch’s series, titled “How Everything Works,” was a raging success. He had a couple of their books himself, and every volume was packed with diagrams and detailed information.
Marcus’s other piece of mail turned out to be an advertisement with a coupon attached for the haberdashery in town. It was pretty smart marketing, in Teine’s opinion. Once the boys got through the Cut and settled into their permanent jobs, they could count on an allowance commensurate with their value to Solmurry. Although the basic work clothes and underwear were provided, most young men were inclined to spend some coin on dressing well during their leisure hours. Teine checked his mail and found an identical envelope.
“What did you get?” Marcus asked. Teine was pleased to see the letter and gift from his mother had perked the boy up somewhat.
Teine set aside the advertisement for later and surveyed his three remaining pieces of correspondence. He felt like he was the richest man in the world. One had postage tickets attached and obviously was not a piece of correspondence from inside Solmurry. It looked fat and newsy, and had dreadful handwriting on the front. “That’s from Vosh,” Teine said.
He sighed with feigned exasperation. “Probably from Leis.” He opened the card to read the rest of the poem.
“Snip snip- your infirmary trip
I love my brother, so here’s a tip!
The other Men can, but you can’t…
Till someday you can make me an Aunt!”
“She sure has a way of rubbing it in,” Marcus noted. “Aww… look at that! She crossed out 'boys' to put 'men.' It was nice of her to remember. Bless her heart.” Marcus had that silly grin he was known for plastered across his face. Sometimes Teine had to remember that Marcus wasn’t any kind of dumb- he was just nice. Teine didn’t think he’d ever seen Marcus mad, and the boy was always thoughtful and had a kind word for everyone.
Teine, however, was free to snort in mock derision. “Bless her heart, indeed. Leis is a pain in the rear.” But he couldn’t help but smile a little. “She’s no kind of poet, but it was cute.”
“I wish I had any sibs that wanted to talk all the time,” Marcus mused. As Teine went to put the card back into its envelope, a small slip of paper fell out. “What’s that?” Marcus asked, pointing to it.
“Probably trash, leftover from making the card.” Teine started to crumple it up, but there was Leis’s handwriting on it. He looked closer.
“I know something you don’t know. –L" She’d even drawn a tiny little flower by her initial.
“I could fill a book with things I know that she doesn’t,” Teine said, hoping he came across with the right kind of cool indifference. The other boys teased him about Leis sometimes.
Marcus seemed to be doing a little bit better, but Teine decided to sit with him a bit longer just to be sure. It also got him a little further away from the knot of other boys still huddled around the radio. He could use a break from that crowd, and Marcus was congenial company. “So,” he asked, by way of making conversation. “What assignments did you put in for? Horses, right?”
Marcus nodded, removing the candy from his mouth so he could talk. The features of the lime deer had melted away, and all that was left was a translucent green blob on a stick. “I also put in for ships and volunteered for more schooling at Tech,” he replied. “My grades are good enough. I’d love to learn how the trains work, or maybe go to work at the power station in town.”
Agreeably, Teine nodded. Any of those jobs would be good. They’d be interesting- which, if he knew Marcus at all, would probably be more important to him than the allowance. That was one thing they had in common. “Hey, I just remembered,” he blurted out. “I heard a rumor about you.”
“What, that I’m an IM and I’ve lost my girlfriend?” Marcus replied, sounding glum all over again. Teine winced inwardly, wondering if he ought to just cut his losses, shut up, and go draw something.
“No, no. Much more interesting,” Teine countered. “You might have a bigger score coming up than a cushy power station job.”
Looking a bit intrigued, Marcus leaned in. “Well, out with it,” he urged. “I could use a bit of good news.”
Teine leaned in too. “I heard from Leis that the young Master is going to be entering stock in the Display. Rumor has it that you’re his top pick.”
Marcus blinked stupidly, and then grinned. “Really?” he asked. “You’re not putting me on?”
“Not at all,” Teine said. “Leis said so about a week ago. I forgot till just now. I figure since she’s doing a half-day at the house spelling our Amagi, she’d be the one to know.”
“That would be…” Marcus seemed to think about it for a second, and Teine could see his enthusiasm for the idea gaining steam. “… that would be great! I’d be able to study anything I wanted, as long as it was challenging. And I wouldn’t have to do any more half-shifts at the dairy.”
Teine nodded. “You’d be too busy studying, and…” He paused, trying to figure out what a Display Human would actually do with their time. “… working out. And probably fending off all sorts of women,” he added lamely.
“I’d get to be with young Master Marne,” Marcus added. “Do you remember him at all? From when we were nurslings?”
“Remember him?” Teine sighed, picturing the frail Aoife boy. “My Amagi is his Nanny and my sib is taking over her job. He’s been in some of my Art classes, too. I’ve never had a chance to forget him.” Truthfully, Teine really didn’t remember much about nursery school or Marne, only that Marne was a regular visitor there before he and his cohorts had started their formal schooling. He vaguely recalled that Marne read them an awful lot of story books- in fact, it was one of those books that had gotten him interested in writing stories himself.
“His stories were my favorite part. Remember how he used to do the voices?” Marcus said, a faraway expression on his face. “Do you remember the one about the big giant Paol Bunyard, and….”
“Didn’t he have some giant blue cow, or something?” Teine frowned, trying to remember the story.
Marcus laughed. “An Ox. They call them Oxes… or… Oxen.”
“What would anyone want with a pet cow?”
Marcus looked mystified. “I can’t think of a single thing, and I work in the dairy. I guess people who can’t afford good horses or a mule or something might use them for pulling.”
Just then, there was a timid knock on the door. “Come in!” Teine yelled. But no-one entered, they just knocked again.
“You get it! You’re closest,” Seymour called to him. He’d joined the other boys who were huddled around the radio, the whole group staring at it as if eye contact could improve its reception.
With a groan, Teine got up off the bed. He opened the door to the infirmary and found himself face to face with a young man about his age. Tow-headed, with a ruddy complexion and hair flopping in front of his eyes, the boy was dragged behind him a big monogrammed trunk with wheels on one end. He also had a carrying bag slung over his shoulder, which made him look more like he was moving in than visiting the infirmary. “Yes?” Teine asked, with a little hesitation.
“Is this the hospital?” he asked.
Teine raised an eyebrow and pointed to the sign on the door that read “Infirmary.”
Sheepishly, the blonde shrugged. “I don’t read so good. But if this is the hospital, I’m here to get Cut.” He offered a folder of papers to Teine, who took a step back, waving his hand.
“No, no! You’ll need the Clinician. I’m just a patient.” Teine stepped out of the way, gesturing the newcomer in. “I’ll go find her. I’m Teine, by the way.”
“Marcus,” Marcus added from his bed. He was reading the haberdasher’s advertisement again. Some of the other boys called out their names and Seymour was headed their way like a deer to a salt lick.
Looking around the room wonderingly, the newcomer blinked. “I’m Abel of Bartheim. I can’t believe I’m really here!”
Teine paused on the threshold, raising a brow at the newcomer's enthusiasm. There was a story here- he could sense it.
“There’s nothing particularly special about our infirmary,” volunteered Seymour as he marched right up and offered his hand. “Except the fact we have a Lady Clinician. Other than that, it’s just an infirmary.”
“With horrible radio reception,” added one of the Fabal fans, pouting.
“And a really good view of that storm blowing in,” commented another.
Abel grinned widely and clapped his hands together with glee, dropping the end of his trunk with a loud bang that startled everybody in the room. He threw his arms around a surprised Seymour because he was the closest person to him, and nearly throttled the poor boy with happiness. “I can’t believe it!” Abel crowed. “I’m really here!”
“Let me go,” Seymour whispered, his face smushed against the other boy’s shoulder. He plead with Teine silently for some intervention. “You’re breaking me.” Everyone at Solmurry knew that Seymour was to be gently handled- this newcomer had just subjected him to more mauling in three seconds than he’d had in his entire ten years there.
“Seymour, why don’t you go get the Clinician?” Teine suggested, gesturing to Abel to let his comrade go.
Abel released him with a distracted "sorry" and continued drinking in the room while oblivious to Seymour's panicked flight into Nocdoramus’s office.
“Now, why are you here?” Teine asked.
The boys all seemed to breathe in at once. “Did you make that? Is it yours? Want to trade for it?” The clamour filled the room, until Seymour returned with the Clinician in tow.
“Abel, is it?” Nocdoramus asked. The tone of her voice was all business and insisted on silence from the other boys without having to ask for it. “May I see your paperwork?”
“Y-yes, M’Lady.” Abel averted his eyes as if the delicate Aoife woman might break if he even looked at her.
It was an odd gesture, Teine thought. The other boy looked almost fearful. But before he could consider it for long, the Clinician spoke again.
“You’ve been purchased today and are here to get Cut?” she asked, though it sounded more like a statement. “That’s odd. We usually never buy or take outside trades during a production sale. It would defeat the point. Especially not for working stock.”
“Yes, M’Lady,” Abel replied, in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a boy much smaller than him as he stood there gently cradling the ship in a bottle. “My Master did it. He did it for me. For the ships.”
Teine was beginning to piece together the puzzle, and was amused. His guess was that Abel really loved seacraft, and his Master thought highly enough of him to sell him- probably at a loss- if it meant delivering him right to the doorstep of his big dream.
Nocdoramus must have come to the same conclusion, because suddenly she was all smiles. “Well then Abel, welcome to Solmurry! You’ll have to stay overnight here, and have nothing to eat or drink after midnight, but the boys will show you around. Marcus, can you be in charge of sponsoring Abel and showing him the layout?”
“Yes, M’Lady!” Marcus nodded pleasantly, with his usual sunny smile. Teine agreed with the Clinician’s choice. Marcus and Abel would probably get along well and having a new person to show around would help distract Marcus from his loss.
Seymour, none the worse for wear, had also joined them. “I like ships, too,” he interjected.
“Well, my job is done here,” thought Teine, with no small amount of satisfaction. He grabbed his letters off the bed next to Marcus's and retreated to his own bunk. While no-one was paying him any attention, he applied some ointment to his wound and placed the bag of ice where it belonged. The storm clouds were closer, the Fabal game was all but unhearable, and Teine was finally ready. He reached over to his pile of belongings and grabbed the journal. Opening it to the page where he’d left off, he could see Leis’s handwriting:
“Mirriam knew better than to venture into a cave by herself… but she also knew this was no ordinary situation. Davy could live or die, depending on how she played the hand of cards she’d been dealt. She’d have to come up with something especially clever…”
Teine chuckled to himself, reading voraciously through Mirriam’s devious plan of overturning a couple stones on the path and dragging her heel to make it look as though she had desperately sought refuge in the cave. But instead, she’d hidden, hoping the brigands would take the bait. Once they dismounted and moved to investigate, she could leap out of hiding, ride one horse back for help, and scatter the rest…
During a brief moment with clear reception, one of the Fabal teams managed to score again, but Teine was so wrapped up in his creative venture he didn’t even notice.
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The Gilded Shackle is the first book in The Evermancer Saga, a series of online serial novels. Go go right to the most recent chapter, go to www.evermancer.com.
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