The Broken Eye
Page 99
Damn. Doing it double time. Much more of this, and my underwear is going to need an extra washing.
“Your disobedience has been noted. I have whores to humiliate for my pleasure. This is no test of your virtue. Nor indeed, of your will. This is a test of lightsplitting.”
A part of her thrilled with sudden hope, but she hid it. “And I need to be ass-naked to do it?”
“It works best if—”
“So no.”
“When beginning—”
“You want me naked for one of two reasons. Either to humiliate me and make me feel vulnerable, or for the gratification of your sick desires. Go to hell.”
“Oh, Teia.” Low and amused, somehow more dangerous when he said “Teia.” Oh hell. “Sick desires? To see a comely young woman naked? In what world is that a sick desire? True, your curves are late in coming, but I’ve noticed a change even in the last few—”
“Fuck you!” She trembled. He’d been watching? For months? Orholam’s poxy gemsack! How dare he comment on—fuck! She was not going to be extra aware of her body because of one word from this asshole.
She looked around the dark room. Nondescript, nothing to differentiate it from any of a thousand other rooms in a thousand other houses in the bad neighborhoods of Big Jasper. What was she playing at? Why was she here? Who did she think she was, playing these games, with these people?
She’d been at the reading of the Lists. She knew the stakes. There might have been a time when being a Blackguard inductee would have protected her, when fear of what the Blackguard would do to avenge her if she were harmed would have kept her safe anywhere in the world.
That was before the war. Now, she knew, even here on Big Jasper she wasn’t safe.
The worst of it was the secrecy. Not being able to tell her squad, not being able to tell Kip? It tore her up, but it was the only safe way. For them.
“This isn’t a debate. You’ll serve or you’ll die. It would be a terrible waste to lose you at this point, but if you’re disobedient now, how would we ever trust you with more power?”
“You’re an asshole,” Teia said. “I’ll wear my underthings.”
A pause. “Good, I’d distrust you if you gave in too easily.” He’d let the alteration on his gruff voice fade a bit there, and it gave Teia some small measure of victory.
She stripped. It was pitch black in here anyway, right?
“Put this on,” he said, voice gruff again.
With some difficulty, she widened her eyes to sub-red and saw that the hooded figure wasn’t extending the bundle exactly to her. She’d taken a step to the side as she’d stripped, and he hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t a sub-red drafter, then. Or paryl. She tucked the information away. Someday she’d need it. Maybe. It made her feel less like a victim to do something, regardless. She took the bundle.
A sack, no, another weasel-bear mask, this one bedecked with patches and straps.
The man said, “The test requires that you not use your eyes at all. Everyone cheats. It’s impossible not to.”
It’s impossible not to? Said like someone who’d taken the test and failed, perhaps?
Teia pulled on the hood. She didn’t have any idea if she’d put it on the right way, where the straps went. Orholam, it was hot and stuffy and she couldn’t breathe right in—
Someone touched her naked shoulder.
She jumped, but it wasn’t the startled little-girl response it would have been even a year ago. She jumped, one foot shifting back, head ducking the blow that must be coming, center of mass dropping until that back foot gave her a base, and one fist snapping forward with the speed and force of all her emotional and muscular tension together.
Her fist sank into a stomach. In Blackguard training, one of the less fun drills involved taking hits in the stomach. You’d stand with a partner and trade blows. There were different strategies depending on how big you were. Clench and move back just as the punch hit you so you didn’t take the full force, or if you were bigger and rock-hard, clench and move into the punch so it hit you before it was in the golden zone. But always, always, you clenched your muscles hard. This stomach wasn’t fat, but it wasn’t clenched either: it was soft, muscles loose, and her fist sank into it easily.
There was a moment of total silence as Teia realized what she’d just done. The scuff of a shoe as the man took a step back, and then the sound of him collapsing on the ground. A moment later, there was a huge gasping breath as he got his wind back.
Teia froze. Chuckles sounded around the room. Five, six people?
“Faces out!” the man snapped. “You’re not to see her!”
Teia heard the man she’d hit—the same man who’d been tormenting her?—stand up.
“No!” a second voice said. Master Sharp? “We wanted a fighter. We got one. Strike her and I’ll strike you.”
The first man stood close to Teia, his breath on her mask. She stood still, very still, not giving him any more excuse than she already had—and noted how tall he was, to tuck away in her head.
“My apologies,” she said, putting real apology into her tone and speaking loudly and clearly so she could be heard through the hood.
“To the test,” he said. “Let’s not take all night.”
“I’ll be adjusting your hood,” the man said. “Do that again, and I’ll…” He barely disguised his voice this time. Nobleman’s voice. Ruthgari accent. Younger. Got you, Teia thought.
He turned the hood so that two thick pads were over her eyes and a hole was over her mouth. Thank Orholam, she could breathe! Then he tightened the straps behind her head and under her chin. There were many layers of cloth and leather between her closed eyes and the outside world. He stepped away from her.
Then something changed; Teia couldn’t even tell what.
The commander spoke: “To split light is to touch the raw stuff of creation and to bend it to your will. To draft light is to participate in the divine, but to manipulate light itself in its pure form is to be divine. Adrasteia, we seek the spark of divinity within you. We begin easily. This test will determine if you can see colors with your skin.”
“Pardon?” It just sort of slipped out. It sounded girly and scared, which was exactly how Teia felt, dammit.
“You’ll hear a chime, and you’ll have a few seconds to say a color. We’ll continue the test long enough to make sure you’re not getting them right by guessing. If you fail, you won’t leave here.”
“Pardon?” Again, but worse.
“If you fail, you’re useless to us, and know too much. So do your best.”
“Red!” she said.
“Easy. We haven’t started the test yet. Calm down.”
“No! I’m color-blind red-green. You must know that! I can’t possibly—”
“Then guess well.”
There was no way. They wanted to kill her. She should take the mask off and take her chances.
But then she had a moment of doubt. At the Threshing in the Chromeria where every discipula was tested to see what colors she could draft, the discipulae were told things to frighten them beforehand—even during. Fear made their pupils dilate. Could this be the same? Were they lying? Surely Teia could still be of use to them even if she weren’t a lightsplitter, right?
“Your disobedience has been noted. I have whores to humiliate for my pleasure. This is no test of your virtue. Nor indeed, of your will. This is a test of lightsplitting.”
A part of her thrilled with sudden hope, but she hid it. “And I need to be ass-naked to do it?”
“It works best if—”
“So no.”
“When beginning—”
“You want me naked for one of two reasons. Either to humiliate me and make me feel vulnerable, or for the gratification of your sick desires. Go to hell.”
“Oh, Teia.” Low and amused, somehow more dangerous when he said “Teia.” Oh hell. “Sick desires? To see a comely young woman naked? In what world is that a sick desire? True, your curves are late in coming, but I’ve noticed a change even in the last few—”
“Fuck you!” She trembled. He’d been watching? For months? Orholam’s poxy gemsack! How dare he comment on—fuck! She was not going to be extra aware of her body because of one word from this asshole.
She looked around the dark room. Nondescript, nothing to differentiate it from any of a thousand other rooms in a thousand other houses in the bad neighborhoods of Big Jasper. What was she playing at? Why was she here? Who did she think she was, playing these games, with these people?
She’d been at the reading of the Lists. She knew the stakes. There might have been a time when being a Blackguard inductee would have protected her, when fear of what the Blackguard would do to avenge her if she were harmed would have kept her safe anywhere in the world.
That was before the war. Now, she knew, even here on Big Jasper she wasn’t safe.
The worst of it was the secrecy. Not being able to tell her squad, not being able to tell Kip? It tore her up, but it was the only safe way. For them.
“This isn’t a debate. You’ll serve or you’ll die. It would be a terrible waste to lose you at this point, but if you’re disobedient now, how would we ever trust you with more power?”
“You’re an asshole,” Teia said. “I’ll wear my underthings.”
A pause. “Good, I’d distrust you if you gave in too easily.” He’d let the alteration on his gruff voice fade a bit there, and it gave Teia some small measure of victory.
She stripped. It was pitch black in here anyway, right?
“Put this on,” he said, voice gruff again.
With some difficulty, she widened her eyes to sub-red and saw that the hooded figure wasn’t extending the bundle exactly to her. She’d taken a step to the side as she’d stripped, and he hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t a sub-red drafter, then. Or paryl. She tucked the information away. Someday she’d need it. Maybe. It made her feel less like a victim to do something, regardless. She took the bundle.
A sack, no, another weasel-bear mask, this one bedecked with patches and straps.
The man said, “The test requires that you not use your eyes at all. Everyone cheats. It’s impossible not to.”
It’s impossible not to? Said like someone who’d taken the test and failed, perhaps?
Teia pulled on the hood. She didn’t have any idea if she’d put it on the right way, where the straps went. Orholam, it was hot and stuffy and she couldn’t breathe right in—
Someone touched her naked shoulder.
She jumped, but it wasn’t the startled little-girl response it would have been even a year ago. She jumped, one foot shifting back, head ducking the blow that must be coming, center of mass dropping until that back foot gave her a base, and one fist snapping forward with the speed and force of all her emotional and muscular tension together.
Her fist sank into a stomach. In Blackguard training, one of the less fun drills involved taking hits in the stomach. You’d stand with a partner and trade blows. There were different strategies depending on how big you were. Clench and move back just as the punch hit you so you didn’t take the full force, or if you were bigger and rock-hard, clench and move into the punch so it hit you before it was in the golden zone. But always, always, you clenched your muscles hard. This stomach wasn’t fat, but it wasn’t clenched either: it was soft, muscles loose, and her fist sank into it easily.
There was a moment of total silence as Teia realized what she’d just done. The scuff of a shoe as the man took a step back, and then the sound of him collapsing on the ground. A moment later, there was a huge gasping breath as he got his wind back.
Teia froze. Chuckles sounded around the room. Five, six people?
“Faces out!” the man snapped. “You’re not to see her!”
Teia heard the man she’d hit—the same man who’d been tormenting her?—stand up.
“No!” a second voice said. Master Sharp? “We wanted a fighter. We got one. Strike her and I’ll strike you.”
The first man stood close to Teia, his breath on her mask. She stood still, very still, not giving him any more excuse than she already had—and noted how tall he was, to tuck away in her head.
“My apologies,” she said, putting real apology into her tone and speaking loudly and clearly so she could be heard through the hood.
“To the test,” he said. “Let’s not take all night.”
“I’ll be adjusting your hood,” the man said. “Do that again, and I’ll…” He barely disguised his voice this time. Nobleman’s voice. Ruthgari accent. Younger. Got you, Teia thought.
He turned the hood so that two thick pads were over her eyes and a hole was over her mouth. Thank Orholam, she could breathe! Then he tightened the straps behind her head and under her chin. There were many layers of cloth and leather between her closed eyes and the outside world. He stepped away from her.
Then something changed; Teia couldn’t even tell what.
The commander spoke: “To split light is to touch the raw stuff of creation and to bend it to your will. To draft light is to participate in the divine, but to manipulate light itself in its pure form is to be divine. Adrasteia, we seek the spark of divinity within you. We begin easily. This test will determine if you can see colors with your skin.”
“Pardon?” It just sort of slipped out. It sounded girly and scared, which was exactly how Teia felt, dammit.
“You’ll hear a chime, and you’ll have a few seconds to say a color. We’ll continue the test long enough to make sure you’re not getting them right by guessing. If you fail, you won’t leave here.”
“Pardon?” Again, but worse.
“If you fail, you’re useless to us, and know too much. So do your best.”
“Red!” she said.
“Easy. We haven’t started the test yet. Calm down.”
“No! I’m color-blind red-green. You must know that! I can’t possibly—”
“Then guess well.”
There was no way. They wanted to kill her. She should take the mask off and take her chances.
But then she had a moment of doubt. At the Threshing in the Chromeria where every discipula was tested to see what colors she could draft, the discipulae were told things to frighten them beforehand—even during. Fear made their pupils dilate. Could this be the same? Were they lying? Surely Teia could still be of use to them even if she weren’t a lightsplitter, right?
