Page 38 of The Boy Bride

There was a tradition in the Order that the Grandmaster, when appointed to his post, could choose to release himself from one of the strict rules that bound the other members. White Viper, of course, had released himself from the law of celibacy and taken a wife. Black Viper, his successor, had chosen to expand the Grandmaster’s residence, building himself a Zashian-style pavilion and filling it with expensive things. Red Asp had only been in his post for a few years, but he had not released himself from any of the rules. Neither did Master Dumuz when he became Yellow Adder. He made a speech about it in front of the assembly, explaining that he had always thought it a bad custom and didn’t intend to follow it. No one was surprised; that was what Master Dumuz was like.

“By rights you shouldn’t exist at all, but you certainly shouldn’t be here,” Master Dumuz had said when Lill was six or seven. “Your mother insulted the Order by sending you to us. At least we can be sure you’ll never amount to anything.”

Lill got used to sentences beginning, “You’ll never … ” Sometimes they ended with helpful advice, as when the wrestling-master told him, “You’ll never be a wrestler, but if you concentrate on your speed and technique, you’ll be able to get yourself out of trouble.” Or even praise: “You’ll never intimidate on the battlefield,” the master of stealth-craft said once, “but you have the skill to be an excellent spy.”

Dumuz was the knife-master, and Lill had always, for as long as he could remember, been able to throw a knife and hit a target. Since this apparently wasn’t enough, he had practiced furiously, driving himself as hard at knives as he did at the arts that he found most difficult—even harder. He was consistently the best in his training cohort, but it was never enough to make Master Dumuz fully approve of him.

Then in the spring of 714 according to the Zashian calendar, two years after Master Dumuz became Yellow Adder, he summoned Lill to his pavilion. This had never happened before, and Lill came expecting punishment, though he was not aware of anything he had done wrong. But there was bound to be something.

Master Dumuz was living in Black Viper’s pavilion, which looked the same on the outside as the other buildings of the Order, austere and white-painted. Inside, the rooms were filled with a jumble of disused luxuries. Inlaid tables were pushed into corners, brightly coloured rugs from the southern provinces rolled up and propped against dusty Western-style couches. It was very different from the other glimpses Lill had got of luxury, when he had attended Master Hadda on a visit to the king’s court at Rataxa, and the few fragments of memory that he had of his life before coming to the Order. Lill had to venture cautiously through several rooms before he found Master Dumuz, who was standing staring out a window.

“Sit, sit,” Master Dumuz said, waving vaguely around the room, which contained an assortment of chairs and a couch. “No, not there—on the couch. Here, you’d better have a drink.” He poured something from a clay jug into a silver cup and thrust it unceremoniously at Lill.

In the days when Dumuz had been just the knife master, with a cell in the main dormitory of the training hall, he used sometimes to send for Lill in order to berate him about things. He’d never offered him anything to drink.

The Grandmaster stood glaring at Lill for a moment before he spoke.

“I’ll grant that you have skill,” he said finally. Lill flinched physically, startled. Master Dumuz had never praised him so highly before. It almost didn’t matter that it was followed by a list of ways in which he fell short.

And then something even stranger: “If you were a girl, I’d marry you and get sons on you.” Master Dumuz had never said anything like that, either. And then he laughed.

Lill gulped from his cup. It was wine, which he’d only tasted once before, that time at Rataxa. Fleetingly he wondered why Master Dumuz had wine, since he presumably didn’t drink it himself. It was strong and not pleasant-tasting, startlingly different from the court wine at Rataxa, but he resisted the urge to wince. He finished the rest of the cup quickly.

“Of course you shouldn’t be here,” the Grandmaster was saying, now returning to his more familiar theme. “You’ve never belonged here. Your kind of looks in a man are like … like a horse talking. Against nature.”

Lill sat and listened to Master Dumuz talk. He’d never really disagreed with any of the things Master Dumuz said about him; why would he? It was clearly true that to be girlish, to have a certain appearance, a certain way of walking or laughing, was a disgrace for a boy—for a young man, as he now was. It was true that he was small and weak compared to the other trainees. It was true that they only kept him at the Order because of who his grandfather had been.

He was beginning to feel strange. The world had become slippery and shiny around the edges. He was glad Master Dumuz had told him to sit on the couch, because he needed to lie down quite suddenly.

Chapter 13

A New Order

Lill woke with a jerk. The room was brighter, the sun coming in the window at a different angle than before. His head ached, and he had a bad taste in his mouth. He also felt cold.

On the other side of the room, in the doorway leading to the next room, he saw Master Dumuz and Abrazash, the sword master. He couldn’t see Master Dumuz’s face, but Master Abrazash had an expression like a thundercloud.

“It cannot happen again,” he said.

“It has not happened at all,” Master Dumuz replied haughtily. “You are grievously mistaken.”

Lill had no idea what they were talking about, but even so he could tell Master Dumuz was lying.

He felt suddenly nauseous, and he rolled over on the couch, fighting the need to vomit. He saw some crumpled fabric on the floor and recognized it as the sash from his uniform. He realized that he was cold because his tunic, which should have been held closed by the sash, was gaping open and slipping off one shoulder. This was such a peculiar, inexplicable thing that for a moment he forgot his nausea as he contemplated it.

“Get up.”

Master Dumuz was standing over him. There was a strange look on his face. Lill swallowed hard and slid off the couch onto his feet.

“Excuse me, something seems to have happened to my sash.” His tongue felt odd in his mouth.

He bent to retrieve the sash, moving slowly because he felt unsteady. He should apologize for falling asleep. He straightened up.

Master Dumuz struck him across the face with the back of his hand.

Lill staggered and righted himself with an embarrassing amount of effort. What was wrong with him? Had he been drunk? That would explain why the Grandmaster had slapped him.

“I called you here to tell you that you’ll be leaving the Order.”