“I lost you back at ‘retributive rape.’ What the hell?” Kip asked.
“Broin the Cruel lost a horse race and claimed the pygmy’s jockey—a child—didn’t weigh enough, and was thereby cheating. He started a war over it. He said the only way to purge the pygmies of their deceitful nature was rape. Only from virtuous blood—his and his men’s, of course—could come virtuous seed, to bear virtuous fruit in befouled soil—the pygmy women. Thus he tried to make a sacrament of rape. It wasn’t for his men’s pleasure, you see, by his perverse doctrine, rape was for the pygmies’ salvation. So they gelded the men and raped the women and condemned half the next generation—the daughters—to death as well. To say that the effects of that murderous asshole have been far reaching would be an understatement. It was partly to escape his legacy that my own ancestors left the Forest and went to Ruthgar. And now you understand why we decided to work doubly hard to fit in as Foresters again.”
Big Leo breathed a curse. “My parents traveled the Forest for ten years, and they never spoke of such a thing.”
“It’s not really something we speak of,” Tisis said. “Many of the pygmies withdrew to the Deep Forest after that. Some hundred years ago now. It’s said free tribes of them still exist, and where we’re going, we may find them. They wear a permanent smile, part of the bone structure of their faces. But they’ll tear your throat out if you insult them, and it’s said their will magic can turn the forest itself against their enemies. So if we meet any, Winsen, you watch your sloppy undisciplined leaky anus of a mouth for once, or your short bitter life may come to a violent end and none of us are going to start a war over it. You understand?”
He looked at her for a few moments, then broke off his gaze. “Yes, Lady Guile.”
Miracle of miracles, for the first time Kip could remember, the young man actually sounded a tiny bit chastened.
Chapter 21
It was a tradition that the newest Blackguard would get some onerous duty to celebrate his or her swearing in. Teia was so exhausted that she was seriously considering asserting Archer privilege here. She was cramping, but the other women hated it when a girl used her moon blood to shirk unpopular duties.
“’S time,” Commander Fisk barked. The other Blackguards on the roof were standing at ease, laughing and telling jokes, but Teia snapped to attention, only a little late.
Opting out of anything would be a terrible way to start. The new person was always considered useless until he or she proved otherwise. Regardless of how she’d done in training, this was a fresh start. Which was great if training hadn’t gone well and you needed to show you belonged. But it was terrible if what you wanted was to take all the goodwill you’d earned in training and for once, just this one time, for Orholam’s sake, by all that was holy, you really needed to go to bed, cry for approximately ten seconds, and then fall asleep.
“Got a special assignment for you, Teia,” Commander Fisk said. “You and I rose together, didn’t we? I was your trainer when you were a scrub. I’ve seen you. And I know a shirker when I see one.”
Ah hells. It was so unfair. She never did less than anyone!
T. Now’s the time to opt out, quick. If you wait until he says what the duty is, you’ll really look bad.
But she said nothing.
“And you’re no shirker,” he said. He glanced over at squat, one-handed Samite, the new trainer. Teia wondered what the significance was in that look. “In fact, I’ve never seen anyone jump into their duties quite so fast, no matter what they are.”
What?! A compliment?
“You got your squad off this island alive because you were that loyal to them, and then you left them, because you’re that loyal to us.”
Teia swallowed and nodded. She understood that he was shaping the story. There would be gossip among the Blackguards and questions about her loyalty, both in fighting for her squad and then in abandoning her squad. The Mighty weren’t technically deserters—they’d left with the permission of the promachos and before they swore the final oaths—but they’d left right when the Blackguard really needed more people. And they’d been the Aleph squad, the best of the Blackguard recruits. Their loss weakened the Blackguard, and that had led to sore feelings that could spill over onto Teia.
The commander was putting the best face possible on Teia’s split loyalty.
“I figured you’d be here this morning,” Commander Fisk said. “We always lose some Guards right at the end, but I know you. I knew you’d stay. It’s a big moment, for any of us, so I went and talked to some scholars last night. I asked what Adrasteia means. Do you know what they told me?”
“No, sir.” Teia thought her parents had liked it because they thought it sounded pretty.
“Funny thing. Sometimes you wonder if a name shapes a thing. But if you didn’t know it… Adrasteia means ‘not inclined to run away.’ And apparently, you’re not. Anyway, you look like hell. And you’ve got execution detail at noon.” He grimaced. “Until then, you’ve got inspection duty.”
“Sir?”
“There’s a bunk, fifth one down on the Archer side. Make sure it’s up to code. Do it quickly, shouldn’t take you more than four or five hours.”
A bunk? Inspecting a bunk for five hours—
Oh, that was her bunk!
She snapped a salute and walked toward the stairs to go inside.
“She runs toward duty, and when it comes time to leave, she walks,” Commander Fisk said. “Get a move on, Walker! Before I change my mind!”
She started to protest, but it didn’t matter. If she’d gone fast, he would have made a crack about how she was not inclined to run away unless her bunk was at the other end. This was what it was to be the newest Blackguard.
It felt… awesome.
Inspecting her bunk for five hours felt awesome.
Waking up didn’t. She swore she’d been asleep only minutes when she was awakened by the Greyling twins.
“Teia, it’s time. We let you sleep as long as we could. We have to go. Now.”
She sat up.
But Gavin’s eyes widened.
Gill glanced at his younger brother and cleared his throat.
Teia hadn’t realized that she’d stripped off her tunic before lying down, and her camisole had gotten all twisted in however she’d thrashed in her sleep, so she exposed half a breast as she sat up. Half of little being practically nothing.
“Gav!” Gill scolded as Teia hiked things back in place. He smacked his brother’s shin with the haft of his spear.
“Ow! What was that—”
“You know what it was for, you ape. Glance, don’t gape.”
Gavin winced. “I know, I know. Look, don’t linger. Sorry. Sorry.”
“Not to me,” Gill said.
“What?” Gavin asked.
“Don’t say it to me.”
“Well, I was tryin’ not to stare again—” Gavin started. “I have a hard time controlling my eyes when, you know?”
“Trouble controlling your eyes? And you’re a drafter?” Teia said. “And you’re the veterans I’m supposed to be looking up to?” She stood up and reached for the hem of her camisole. “It’s not battlefield rules, is it?”
“Huh?” Gavin asked. “Oh.”
They turned away, and she stripped and dressed in fresh clothes quickly.
“I didn’t mean to… I, uh, I polished your boots and belt so you could sleep a little longer,” Gavin said.
Oh no. First, Teia didn’t want anyone going through her things. Second, he was a little too eager to please.
Teia said, “Well, since you’re so helpful and so interested in my personal business, take these,” she put a wad of garments in his hands, “and put them in the bin for dirty menstrual rags.”
Gavin dropped the clothes from limp hands as if he’d been pithed.
Gill guffawed.
“I’m joking,” Teia said. “But I am on my moon, so I’ll need a minute.”
He looked queasy and still distrustful of the laundry at his feet.