Chapter 13: Razor's Edge — The Key of Oslov

Volume 15: Tales From the Sanctioned Brothel: Part 2: The Lure

Chapter 13 Razor's Edge

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“How do you know you really found the Sanctioned Sweetbush?” Kai asked. “Couldn’t he have shown you any random government installation?”Bors shook his head impatiently. He’d waited to visit the Brothel until the end of the winter break, when he knew the place would be less busy. Now he was here, though, he was burning to make plans and take action. “The place is isolated in the mountains for a reason, and my photos show rows of what look like trees. Anyway, my informant wouldn’t lie.”“Your informant is an Upstart, correct?” Einara reached over his shoulder to freshen his tea. Unlike Kai, she had simply listened to his news, expressing neither skepticism nor excitement.“Yeah, but an Upstart with a history of anti-government resentment.” Bors hadn’t used Valgund’s name; he didn’t want them doing anything foolish that could compromise his friend. Anyway, he’d done the legwork on this, and it was their turn to defer to him. “He’s a trained botanist. I trust his knowledge. He can source the fungi, and I believe he could inject the trees, if we can just figure out a way to get inside that guarded enclosure.”Kai looked worried. “I know you’re hot on this plan, Bors. But what will it accomplish exactly, other than screwing up the sap trade and pissing off every Strutter with a habit?” He turned to Einara as if asking her to do his arguing for him. “If Strutters stop giving us sap, we won’t have anything to trade for Harbourer luxury goods in the Outer Ring. Right?”“I think Bors is looking at the bigger picture.” Einara gazed past Kai, ignoring his appeal. “Stopping the flow of sap is disruptive. Disruption creates opportunity.”“Yeah, but who says we could even do it?” Kai turned to Bors again. “I mean, did you recruit a bunch of henchmen while you were traipsing around in the woods? Or is it just you and your Strutter buddy? Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, Einara and I can’t leave the city.”“I wasn’t suggesting that!” Bors kept his eyes on Einara; she was his best chance of getting this done. “There’s hired muscle in the Outer Ring, isn’t there? Men who can be bought.”“Hired muscle is all well and good until it starts wagging its tongue.”“We would screen them. Make sure they have something to lose.” Bors’s eyes flashed as he imagined how he’d weed out snitches. These days he wasn’t afraid of detention or even exile for himself—what did he have to live for?—but he couldn’t let anyone hurt Kai. Or Valgund, for that matter—the man had been through enough.“That still sounds risky. Are you sure—”“Of course!” Bors seized Kai’s hand.He couldn’t quarrel with Kai and Einara’s bond—it made Kai happy—but it was shrinking Kai’s horizons. These days, his friend seemed perfectly happy to live in the Brothel and craft vapid entertainment for the masses. Last time Bors visited, Kai had bored him with a detailed fantasy in which he married Einara and they ran the Brothel together, exploiting their own kind to cater to Upstarts’ depraved tastes—or so Bors saw it, anyway.“You know why I’ve been working on this for so many years, right?” he asked. “For you—for people like you.”Kai wouldn’t look at him. “That’s ancient history, Bors. I’m not sweet-drowned anymore.”“But there are so many others.” Bors was tripping over his words. “All over the city, every day, young people get sucked into addiction.”“Because they’re bored. Or self-destructive. Or they lack willpower. The drug isn’t the problem.”“But it is! When we use sap as our currency, we set up the very cash economy that Whyberg despised.”“‘Cash economy’? What even is that? Dumb it down for me, please.”Einara’s voice cut through the squabble. “The Northmen are also looking for the Sanctioned Sweetbush. Do I have that right?”Kai looked at Bors, who said, “Yeah, we’ve seen them in the woods. They want it for the same reason, more or less.”“Good. Now we have a bargaining chip with them. And we can draw on their manpower instead of hiring mercenaries.” She widened her eyes at Bors’s surprise. “I have a meeting scheduled for the twentieth with Aleks Snowblind.”“You—what?”“It’s true,” Kai said.Words deserted Bors. Had all the years locked up in this place finally robbed Einara of her sanity? “When were you going to tell me this?” he managed.“When I needed to.”“Are you sure this meeting’s real?” He looked from one to the other, daring them to lie to him. “Not another trap? Who set it up?”Einara said, “We don’t divulge our valuable contacts any more than you divulge yours, Fir Dartán.”Bors glared at her, then at Kai. “You’ll need my help. I’ve been following the Northmen’s activities for years.”“And I’ve been listening closely to you for years.” Einara rose with her usual dignity, as if she were wearing a voluminous skirt or robe instead of a fleece. She seemed a touch smug. “Your offer of help is appreciated, but I’m prepared for this, Bors. We’ll speak again after the meeting, when I hope to have good news for you about the Sweetbush. I like your plan.” She inclined her head almost as if she were his superior. “It’s bold, and we should all be bold. Kai will see you out—unless you have other business with him, of course.”With that, she swept out of the room. Bors had no choice but to follow Kai.As he left the room, his eyes caught on the neatly made bed, and he winced. He and Kai hadn’t had “other business” in years now. When Kai’s interest had started to seem perfunctory, pride had forced Bors to reject his friend’s overtures. He didn’t want to be another patron, someone who had to be indulged and flattered. He wanted to be an ally.Then he remembered kissing Valgund, just the two of them in the freezing woods, and blood rushed to his face. He hoped when they met again, Valgund wouldn’t have thought better of it—the sabotage plan, more kissing, everything.“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner,” he complained, following Kai down the halls from the patrons’ area into the staff quarters. “This meeting could be dangerous.”Kai didn’t look happy, either. But all he said was “And you’re being so cautious? Honestly, Bors, sometimes I don’t recognize you.”Bors’s throat tightened. I did it for you. All of it. But that wasn’t entirely true anymore. Kai never had much interest in ideas, and Bors’s head was full of them.He wondered if he dared tell Valgund more of his specific ideas about how the Republic could be improved. Remembering how they’d parted made him blush again—not with shame, but with mingled anticipation and nerves. Would Valgund be willing to collaborate with the Northmen? He had to be.Outside the kitchen, they found the redheaded Brothel steward behaving in a bizarre fashion. He’d paused with his chest out and was preening, hands on hips, as if he expected someone to notice or care.Bors jumped backward when he saw a blond youth standing across the hall from the steward, a camera aimed straight at them both. How would a Brothel staffer get a camera? What if he ended up in the picture?The boy was too occupied with his shot to notice the visitor’s reaction. “A little to the left,” he said, gesturing to the steward. “Into the light.”“He looks ridiculous.” This came from a dark-haired boy who lounged in the kitchen doorway, apparently watching the process.“I just need him to be more natural.”Bors wanted to grab the brat’s camera and smash it, but that would draw too much attention. He settled for saying in his most lordly voice, “Aim that thing somewhere else, lad, if you don’t mind”—only to break off as the blond boy lowered the camera and revealed his face.It was Tilrey Bronn.Bors stood rooted to the spot, unable to do more than stare at the high forehead and cheekbones, the square jaw, the heavy-lidded blue eyes, the lips that had kissed his and then curled in cruel mockery.The boy didn’t flash a nasty grin at Bors, the way Tilrey would have. He looked perplexed and a little worried, as if he didn’t want to be caught here, either. “I’m sorry, Fir. I didn’t think.”“Never mind, Bors,” Kai said impatiently, standing with arms crossed at the end of the hallway. “Just one of our display shoots.”“Of the steward?” That was when Bors came to his senses and remembered that Tilrey Bronn was forty-seven years old like him and Kai. Even great beauties had a few wrinkles by that age.“Be more careful next time,” he said in a scathing tone and kept walking.His brain was working, though, and he was far from letting it go. When they were out in the loading dock with the door sealed behind them, he rounded on Kai.“That’s the Linnett boy, isn’t it?” He didn’t give Kai time to deny it. “Why’s the Linnett boy here?”Kai didn’t look surprised; he knew Bors’s business was to know things. “He’s part of our fan club of Strutter schoolboys. He comes to watch the shoots, and he’s actually helpful. Sometimes we bring him back here for tea.”Bors advanced on Kai. “You and Einara aren’t stupid enough to invite a random Strutter kid to the Brothel. You know that boy is Tilrey Bronn’s misborn son, because I told you.”Kai’s eyelids fluttered nervously. “What if he is?”“That’s another thing you should have told me at the start.” Damn Einara’s secretiveness. “She has a plan for him, and I want to know what.”Vera Linnett worked in Thurskein. Her son must spend time there. Could he be the connection to Aleks Snowblind? It seemed unlikely, given his lofty family connections, but adolescents were certainly drawn to the Northmen.Kai spread his hands in a helpless way. “I can’t tell you. You know that.”“Seriously, Kai?” Bors leaned in and made his voice a whiplash. “I respect Einara’s judgment—usually—but you must know inviting that boy here is risky. At least as risky as what we just discussed.”A muscle flexed in Kai’s jaw. “The less you know, the safer you are, Bors. I suggest you go home and start praying Einara can get you what you want.”“Who was that guy?” Ceill asked, scrolling through the shots he’d taken. He wanted to capture Ansha’s vanity and bravado without making him look stupid, but Ansha insisted on trying to pose.“Dunno,” Stefan said. “He acted like an asshole”—Ceill had learned that “asshole” was Brothel slang for “patron”—“but he was using the service entrance.”Ansha said, “Old school chum of Kai’s. He’s Int/Sec, so it’s good business to invite him for tea.”Int/Sec sent a chill down Ceill’s spine, but the other two didn’t look concerned. Maybe they would have if the Int/Sec agent had stared at them like they were his worst enemy. “He didn’t like me. I could tell.”“Maybe you look like somebody he doesn’t like,” the steward said in a pointed way. Ceill wanted to ask for an explanation, but Stefan was already leading them into the kitchen.“I’m famished.” Stefan grabbed a whole packet of ricecakes and hopped onto one of the prep counters. He winked in response to a murderous glare from the cook, who was trying to marshal his small staff for the evening meal. “What? I need sustenance for this evening.”He offered Ceill a ricecake. Ceill shook his head. The Brothel’s food stores were off limits to staff outside meal hours, and he worried about getting Stefan in trouble. The Brothel had as many stupid rules as Ceill’s school, but at least he could leave school for breaks and free-nights. Stefan was stuck here.Ansha grabbed the ricecake. “It’s okay, kid,” he told Ceill through a mouthful. “This one’s our shiniest Jewel now, and Jewels get what they want.”Ceill knew by now what a Jewel was. He just didn’t like to think about what it meant Stefan was doing tonight and every night. Trying to seem as blasé as they did, he listened in a haze of embarrassment as Stefan and Ansha chatted about some new script pages that Kai had shared with them.“He made it too emo,” Stefan said. “We don’t want people sympathizing with the bastard. We want people to hate him.”Ansha shook his head. “You weren’t there,” he said through another mouthful. “Everything in that scene happened exactly that way in real life. Kai just wrote it down for me. Poor Risha really did cry like a baby and throw the cushions off the couch and break dishes after his nephew died. ”“Poor Risha!” Stefan said derisively.“What, Councillors aren’t allowed to have feelings? He cared more about the poor kid than he let on. It took me hours to calm him down.”Stefan shook his head, disgust distorting his beautiful features. “If you’re still sweet on Lindahl, no wonder the scene’s a sobfest.”“Did I say I was sweet on him?”“You’re always going on about how hot he used to be.”“He was good-looking for a Councillor.” Ansha looked wistful. “In that noble way they sometimes have. He’s old now, so you wouldn’t know.”“Noble? Fuckin’ please!”The steward reached for another ricecake. “He was. Didn’t stop him from being an asshole.”As one, they glanced at Ceill and fell silent. Blushing to the tips of his ears, Ceill reached for a ricecake. “Are you talking about Councillor Lindahl?” he asked, eager to find some common ground. “He’s, uh, in my dad’s coalition in the Council.”Their faces showed him this was the exact wrong thing to say. “I won’t repeat anything I hear here to anyone,” he said quickly. “Of course not.”“Better not, young Fir,” Stefan said.Ceill flinched at the tone. He’d thought he and Stefan were friends, having smoothed over the awkwardness from before break. But maybe Stefan was still just following Einara’s orders.“I would get in so much trouble if anyone knew I was here, ever,” he reminded them both in his humblest voice. “But I’m just wondering . . . why is Lindahl in the stream now?”Stefan and Ansha exchanged glances. “It’s a character based on him,” Stefan said. “Different name. No one will know.”“He’ll know.” Ansha’s grin was cold. “Lindahl will, I mean, and he’ll wish he never met us. Because we three—Kai, Stefan, and me—we know him inside out. We know all the things he’s done in his life that don’t fit his pure, virtuous image.”Councillor Lindahl had never been a dinner guest of Gersha or Vera, so Ceill knew little about him, image or reality. But when he thought of what Tilrey had said about his dead great-grandfather, he went cold inside. “Is Lindahl . . . corrupt?”Stefan laughed as if he were drunk. “That’s one word for it.”“Tell him,” Ansha said.Stefan wheeled to look at Ceill, dead serious now. “He won’t get it,” he told Ansha. “He’ll think it was my fault.”Ceill remembered what Tilrey had said about Malsha Linnett: If I had to be forced to do my duty, that wasn’t his fault, was it? People with power could change the facts to suit themselves.“I won’t think that,” he said, hating that Stefan could think even for a second he would. “I swear.”“He means it,” Ansha said. “Tell him.”Stefan looked doubtful, but he said, “Fine. When I was your age, all I wanted in life was to be Raised . . .”The story was short but not easy to hear. Ceill was equally shocked by the deal Councillor Lindahl had made with Stefan and the careless way he’d failed to follow through, casting Stefan aside like a used rag. There was a point when he wanted to suggest that Stefan might be misunderstanding something, because Councillors didn’t compromise their sacred trust that way. But he remembered Tilrey’s lecture and held his tongue.Not all Councillors—not all people—were like Gersha. Aleks had already tried to teach Ceill that, but maybe Ceill hadn’t wanted to know.When Councillor Lindthardt—Ludo’s dad—entered the story, Ceill’s breath caught. Then Stefan described matter-of-factly how the two Constables had shackled him to a dentist’s chair, and Ceill buried his face in his hands and contemplated the linoleum in helpless dread. He could see and hear the whole scene in his mind—the dingy room, the men with their grating voices and greedy hands.How could you go through something like that and still be as confident and outspoken as Stefan was? A single lewd glance or cutting remark from Ludo was enough to make Ceill want to hide for days. He was starting to think he was a very weak person.Mercifully, Stefan cut short his description. “So when they were done, they brought me here, courtesy of Lindahl, to rot in a golden cage. The end.”“The kid’s trembling.” There was a note of spite in Ansha’s voice. “Didn’t know these things could happen, did you, young Fir?”Ceill tried to push the images away, but he couldn’t forget Tilrey’s words: I had to be forced to do my duty. “That’s a crime,” he said in a small voice. “You could bring a complaint against the Councillor.”Stefan sighed. Ansha said, “A Councillor’s word against a whore’s?”“And what Constables are going to arrest Lindahl? The same ones he has in his pocket?”Ceill bowed his head.“There ought to be a way,” he said, unable to look at Stefan. “If I told my father, maybe . . . maybe he could help you.”Stefan slid down from the counter and tossed the empty wrapper in the trash. “Nah,” he said too casually. “I’m okay now. Like Ansha says, I’m the shiniest Jewel. I get what I want. Anyway, if your dad knew you’d been here, you’d be in deep shit.”“My dad’s not like the others.” How could he explain Gersha to people who didn’t trust any Upstarts—with reason? “He wouldn’t blame you, and he wouldn’t side with Lindahl. I know that.”“Strutters always side with Strutters,” Stefan said.“Not him!”“The kid’s right,” Ansha said. “Fir Gádden’s different. Because of Tilrey.”Taken aback, Ceill swung around to face the steward. “You know Tilrey?”Ansha’s eyes glittered knowingly. “Know him? We were tight. We were kettle boys at the same time, see.” He turned to Stefan. “Regular pair of lovebirds, Tilrey and Fir Councillor Gádden. Always whispering to each other, touching each other, shutting other people out. They’re like that even now, from what I hear, though Rishka is Fir Councillor’s secretary now and not his piece.” His eyes flashed. “At least some Strutters know how to reward a lad for years of loyal service.”Ceill had never in his life heard Gersha refer to Tilrey as a “lad” or a “boy,” let alone a “piece.” But he’d always known their relationship was unconventional. “So, you see what I mean,” he said. “My father—Gersha—he isn’t prejudiced like that. He gives everyone a fair hearing.”Ansha still had an unpleasantly canny look. “Uh-huh. Your dad let his Drudge lover help raise you, didn’t he, young Fir? Treated him like a regular member of the household? Didn’t your mother mind?”“She—no!” That was none of Ansha’s business, but Ansha seemed way too well informed. Could Einara have told him Ceill’s secret?Stefan said, “Tilrey. Tilrey is the boy in the photos, isn’t he?” He looked triumphant, like he’d just figured something out.Ansha nodded. And they both turned to look at Ceill, who wanted to sink through the floor. Did everybody know about those hateful photos?In the next ten seconds, one of them was going to point out his resemblance to Tilrey, and he was going to have to grab one of those big ladles on the wall and brain someone with it. Probably himself.“Ahh,” Stefan said. Then, to Ceill’s intense relief, he changed the subject. “Do you know a boy named Ludo Akeina?”If only it hadn’t been that subject. Maybe they’d known each other before Stefan left school. “He’s in my dorm-pod. Why?”Stefan grinned in that false-casual way. “I obliged him last ten-day, that’s all. I was his birthday present from his dad.”Ludo. Stefan. Ludo’s dad giving Stefan to Ludo. Ceill’s horror must have been written all over his face, because Stefan said hurriedly, “I’m only telling you because I think Ludo might throw it in your face. I think he wants to impress you.”“Me?” If there was anything worse than the image of Ludo in bed with Stefan, it was Ludo and Stefan gossiping about Ceill. “Ludo Akeina doesn’t want to impress me. He hates me.”Ansha laughed as if Ceill were a silly child. “None of your schoolmates hate you, young Fir. Who could hate you?”Ceill ignored that. “Why would you talk to Ludo about me?”“I didn’t bring you up!” Stefan protested. “Ludo did. He said there was a boy he wanted to tell, someone who was a fan of the stream, and then he, uh, described you. I think.”Ludo, describing him. In bed with Stefan. “But why?” Ceill asked helplessly. All he’d done was try to offer Stefan his help, and somehow it had led to an outpouring of information he didn’t want to know. Did everyone in the world find his naïveté hilarious?“Search me. I don’t miss schoolboy politics one bit, but I thought you should know. Especially ’cause this Ludo obviously has a crush on you.”Ceill’s cheeks burned so hard he couldn’t speak. Ansha grinned lazily and said, “Poor young Fir Ludo. Gonna get his heart broken.”Stefan leaned over and spoke in Ceill’s ear, his breath as warm and enticing as his voice was cruel: “In case you’re wondering, he’s not the greatest lay. You could do much better.”For the next few days, Ceill avoided Ludo Akeina with a vengeance. When the other boy approached, he dropped his gaze or veered in the opposite direction.So, naturally, Ludo ambushed him late one night in the dorm bathroom.Ceill was at the mirror, experimentally trying to shave the scant hairs from his chin with the straight razor that Aleks had given him for his birthday present. A stall door that had been slightly ajar opened all the way, and his nemesis sauntered out.“Nice razor, Linnett,” Ludo said. “You could cut someone’s throat with that.”Yeah. Yours. But no, he would never pollute Aleks’s gift that way. The razor had come with a message from Aleks explaining that all Northmen received a razor when they turned eighteen; whether they used it or not, it served as a symbol of their free choice.Ceill kept his trap shut and focused on not cutting himself.Naturally, when he glanced away from the mirror, Ludo was standing right beside him. “Hey,” the other boy said. He unfolded a color printout and held it out to Ceill. “Seen these yet?”More pictures. The last thing Ceill needed. A stray glance told him this photo was of Stefan, lying on a bed and very naked. Not an amateur shot, nothing Ludo could have snapped himself. Probably one of the display stills Kai did for the Brothel.Ceill clenched his jaw and returned his gaze to his image in the mirror. He’d been annoyed with Stefan earlier, but now he was glad to be prepared for this encounter. If Ludo wanted to see him squirm in shame and jealousy, he would be disappointed.“Nice,” he said. “But I’m not really into streams anymore.”“Nice?” Ludo peeled off another grubby printout. Ceill didn’t look at it.“That’s not just nice,” Ludo said in a low, throbbing voice. “That’s mind-blowing. I mean, imagine holding that, putting your hands all over it. Imagine fucking that.”Ceill turned on the tap and rinsed the razor, trying to ignore the erratic beat in his temples. He couldn’t let on that he knew what was coming. He couldn’t point out that Stefan wasn’t an it. “Mind-blowing,” he repeated dryly.“It was mind-blowing, Linnett. I know because I did it. I went to the Sanctioned and I fucked Darius.”Was that the big reveal? The way Ludo said “Sanctioned,” like he was one of the Northmen talking about their gods, made Ceill want to laugh. He splashed warm water on his face and washed the soap off, wondering why he’d ever bothered to care about anything this person said. “Good for you.”“You don’t believe me? My dad bought him for my birthday present. It was his first night on offer at the Brothel. There was an actual auction.” Ludo sounded downright awed with himself. “I’m not lying, Ceill. I lost my virginity to him. Don’t you want to know how he was?”Ceill toweled his face. He carefully dried the razor and slid it into its sheath. “You were with an actor,” he said, slinging the towel over his shoulder. “Not Darius.”It was sickening to think of Councillor Lindthardt “bidding on” Stefan after being one of the people responsible for his presence in the Brothel in the first place. Even though Stefan had laughed off his offer of help, Ceill couldn’t stop thinking about doing something.Whatever he did had to be smart, not impulsive or naïve. And maybe, he thought, gathering up his toiletries, Gersha wasn’t the best one to help him. Tilrey was the one in the Sector every day, networking and pulling the strings of power. If Ceill told Gersha, Gersha would simply pass it on, and then Tilrey would know—or figure out, sooner or later—that Ceill had been in the Brothel.Damn. He wandered into the hallway, almost forgetting about Ludo—only to be brought up short by a cold voice behind him.“I figured you wouldn’t be impressed,” the other boy said, softly to avoid detection by the dorm monitoring system. “I mean, you grew up around fancy whores, right? You had one changing your diapers. You wouldn’t understand what it means for a real high name to bag his first elite piece of—”At first, Ceill was confused when Ludo broke off mid-sentence. Then Ludo’s face contorted into an expression that could only be interpreted as fear.Ceill looked down and saw the razor in his own hand. But it was sheathed, and he’d been holding it earlier, hadn’t he? Okay, maybe he hadn’t been pointing it at Ludo then. Maybe he was now.His throat was tight with helpless rage at everything Ludo had just said, but that was par for the course. Experimentally, he arched a brow. Ludo flinched.What was wrong with the little prick? It was true that Ceill was several inches taller than Ludo these days, and broader in the chest and shoulders, but fighting was a dangerous offense for students so close to Notification. Did Ludo think having a Drudge father made Ceill a thug? Or was Ceill’s anger just . . . scary?Interesting. Very deliberately, Ceill smoothed his expression and tucked the razor inside his towel.“Why should I be impressed? It’s not like you won him, Ludo.” His eyes teared with the effort of not turning and walking away as fast as he could, but he had one more thing to say. “And personally, I wouldn’t want my dad to be responsible for getting me laid.”Ludo hissed something after him—possibly “Your dad’s pure scum,” but Ceill was already halfway down the hall. He didn’t ask for a clarification.

“How do you know you really found the Sanctioned Sweetbush?” Kai asked. “Couldn’t he have shown you any random government installation?”

Bors shook his head impatiently. He’d waited to visit the Brothel until the end of the winter break, when he knew the place would be less busy. Now he was here, though, he was burning to make plans and take action. “The place is isolated in the mountains for a reason, and my photos show rows of what look like trees. Anyway, my informant wouldn’t lie.”

“Your informant is an Upstart, correct?” Einara reached over his shoulder to freshen his tea. Unlike Kai, she had simply listened to his news, expressing neither skepticism nor excitement.

“Yeah, but an Upstart with a history of anti-government resentment.” Bors hadn’t used Valgund’s name; he didn’t want them doing anything foolish that could compromise his friend. Anyway, he’d done the legwork on this, and it was their turn to defer to him. “He’s a trained botanist. I trust his knowledge. He can source the fungi, and I believe he could inject the trees, if we can just figure out a way to get inside that guarded enclosure.”

Kai looked worried. “I know you’re hot on this plan, Bors. But what will it accomplish exactly, other than screwing up the sap trade and pissing off every Strutter with a habit?” He turned to Einara as if asking her to do his arguing for him. “If Strutters stop giving us sap, we won’t have anything to trade for Harbourer luxury goods in the Outer Ring. Right?”

“I think Bors is looking at the bigger picture.” Einara gazed past Kai, ignoring his appeal. “Stopping the flow of sap is disruptive. Disruption creates opportunity.”

“Yeah, but who says we could even do it?” Kai turned to Bors again. “I mean, did you recruit a bunch of henchmen while you were traipsing around in the woods? Or is it just you and your Strutter buddy? Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, Einara and I can’t leave the city.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that!” Bors kept his eyes on Einara; she was his best chance of getting this done. “There’s hired muscle in the Outer Ring, isn’t there? Men who can be bought.”

“Hired muscle is all well and good until it starts wagging its tongue.”

“We would screen them. Make sure they have something to lose.” Bors’s eyes flashed as he imagined how he’d weed out snitches. These days he wasn’t afraid of detention or even exile for himself—what did he have to live for?—but he couldn’t let anyone hurt Kai. Or Valgund, for that matter—the man had been through enough.

“That still sounds risky. Are you sure—”

“Of course!” Bors seized Kai’s hand.

He couldn’t quarrel with Kai and Einara’s bond—it made Kai happy—but it was shrinking Kai’s horizons. These days, his friend seemed perfectly happy to live in the Brothel and craft vapid entertainment for the masses. Last time Bors visited, Kai had bored him with a detailed fantasy in which he married Einara and they ran the Brothel together, exploiting their own kind to cater to Upstarts’ depraved tastes—or so Bors saw it, anyway.

“You know why I’ve been working on this for so many years, right?” he asked. “For you—for people like you.”

Kai wouldn’t look at him. “That’s ancient history, Bors. I’m not sweet-drowned anymore.”

“But there are so many others.” Bors was tripping over his words. “All over the city, every day, young people get sucked into addiction.”

“Because they’re bored. Or self-destructive. Or they lack willpower. The drug isn’t the problem.”

“But it is! When we use sap as our currency, we set up the very cash economy that Whyberg despised.”

“‘Cash economy’? What even is that? Dumb it down for me, please.”

Einara’s voice cut through the squabble. “The Northmen are also looking for the Sanctioned Sweetbush. Do I have that right?”

Kai looked at Bors, who said, “Yeah, we’ve seen them in the woods. They want it for the same reason, more or less.”

“Good. Now we have a bargaining chip with them. And we can draw on their manpower instead of hiring mercenaries.” She widened her eyes at Bors’s surprise. “I have a meeting scheduled for the twentieth with Aleks Snowblind.”

“You—what?”

“It’s true,” Kai said.

Words deserted Bors. Had all the years locked up in this place finally robbed Einara of her sanity? “When were you going to tell me this?” he managed.

“When I needed to.”

“Are you sure this meeting’s real?” He looked from one to the other, daring them to lie to him. “Not another trap? Who set it up?”

Einara said, “We don’t divulge our valuable contacts any more than you divulge yours, Fir Dartán.”

Bors glared at her, then at Kai. “You’ll need my help. I’ve been following the Northmen’s activities for years.”

“And I’ve been listening closely to you for years.” Einara rose with her usual dignity, as if she were wearing a voluminous skirt or robe instead of a fleece. She seemed a touch smug. “Your offer of help is appreciated, but I’m prepared for this, Bors. We’ll speak again after the meeting, when I hope to have good news for you about the Sweetbush. I like your plan.” She inclined her head almost as if she were his superior. “It’s bold, and we should all be bold. Kai will see you out—unless you have other business with him, of course.”

With that, she swept out of the room. Bors had no choice but to follow Kai.

As he left the room, his eyes caught on the neatly made bed, and he winced. He and Kai hadn’t had “other business” in years now. When Kai’s interest had started to seem perfunctory, pride had forced Bors to reject his friend’s overtures. He didn’t want to be another patron, someone who had to be indulged and flattered. He wanted to be an ally.

Then he remembered kissing Valgund, just the two of them in the freezing woods, and blood rushed to his face. He hoped when they met again, Valgund wouldn’t have thought better of it—the sabotage plan, more kissing, everything.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner,” he complained, following Kai down the halls from the patrons’ area into the staff quarters. “This meeting could be dangerous.”

Kai didn’t look happy, either. But all he said was “And you’re being so cautious? Honestly, Bors, sometimes I don’t recognize you.”

Bors’s throat tightened. I did it for you. All of it. But that wasn’t entirely true anymore. Kai never had much interest in ideas, and Bors’s head was full of them.

He wondered if he dared tell Valgund more of his specific ideas about how the Republic could be improved. Remembering how they’d parted made him blush again—not with shame, but with mingled anticipation and nerves. Would Valgund be willing to collaborate with the Northmen? He had to be.

Outside the kitchen, they found the redheaded Brothel steward behaving in a bizarre fashion. He’d paused with his chest out and was preening, hands on hips, as if he expected someone to notice or care.

Bors jumped backward when he saw a blond youth standing across the hall from the steward, a camera aimed straight at them both. How would a Brothel staffer get a camera? What if he ended up in the picture?

The boy was too occupied with his shot to notice the visitor’s reaction. “A little to the left,” he said, gesturing to the steward. “Into the light.”

“He looks ridiculous.” This came from a dark-haired boy who lounged in the kitchen doorway, apparently watching the process.

“I just need him to be more natural.”

Bors wanted to grab the brat’s camera and smash it, but that would draw too much attention. He settled for saying in his most lordly voice, “Aim that thing somewhere else, lad, if you don’t mind”—only to break off as the blond boy lowered the camera and revealed his face.

It was Tilrey Bronn.

Bors stood rooted to the spot, unable to do more than stare at the high forehead and cheekbones, the square jaw, the heavy-lidded blue eyes, the lips that had kissed his and then curled in cruel mockery.

The boy didn’t flash a nasty grin at Bors, the way Tilrey would have. He looked perplexed and a little worried, as if he didn’t want to be caught here, either. “I’m sorry, Fir. I didn’t think.”

“Never mind, Bors,” Kai said impatiently, standing with arms crossed at the end of the hallway. “Just one of our display shoots.”

“Of the steward?” That was when Bors came to his senses and remembered that Tilrey Bronn was forty-seven years old like him and Kai. Even great beauties had a few wrinkles by that age.

“Be more careful next time,” he said in a scathing tone and kept walking.

His brain was working, though, and he was far from letting it go. When they were out in the loading dock with the door sealed behind them, he rounded on Kai.

“That’s the Linnett boy, isn’t it?” He didn’t give Kai time to deny it. “Why’s the Linnett boy here?”

Kai didn’t look surprised; he knew Bors’s business was to know things. “He’s part of our fan club of Strutter schoolboys. He comes to watch the shoots, and he’s actually helpful. Sometimes we bring him back here for tea.”

Bors advanced on Kai. “You and Einara aren’t stupid enough to invite a random Strutter kid to the Brothel. You know that boy is Tilrey Bronn’s misborn son, because I told you.”

Kai’s eyelids fluttered nervously. “What if he is?”

“That’s another thing you should have told me at the start.” Damn Einara’s secretiveness. “She has a plan for him, and I want to know what.”

Vera Linnett worked in Thurskein. Her son must spend time there. Could he be the connection to Aleks Snowblind? It seemed unlikely, given his lofty family connections, but adolescents were certainly drawn to the Northmen.

Kai spread his hands in a helpless way. “I can’t tell you. You know that.”

“Seriously, Kai?” Bors leaned in and made his voice a whiplash. “I respect Einara’s judgment—usually—but you must know inviting that boy here is risky. At least as risky as what we just discussed.”

A muscle flexed in Kai’s jaw. “The less you know, the safer you are, Bors. I suggest you go home and start praying Einara can get you what you want.”

“Who was that guy?” Ceill asked, scrolling through the shots he’d taken. He wanted to capture Ansha’s vanity and bravado without making him look stupid, but Ansha insisted on trying to pose.

“Dunno,” Stefan said. “He acted like an asshole”—Ceill had learned that “asshole” was Brothel slang for “patron”—“but he was using the service entrance.”

Ansha said, “Old school chum of Kai’s. He’s Int/Sec, so it’s good business to invite him for tea.”

Int/Sec sent a chill down Ceill’s spine, but the other two didn’t look concerned. Maybe they would have if the Int/Sec agent had stared at them like they were his worst enemy. “He didn’t like me. I could tell.”

“Maybe you look like somebody he doesn’t like,” the steward said in a pointed way. Ceill wanted to ask for an explanation, but Stefan was already leading them into the kitchen.

“I’m famished.” Stefan grabbed a whole packet of ricecakes and hopped onto one of the prep counters. He winked in response to a murderous glare from the cook, who was trying to marshal his small staff for the evening meal. “What? I need sustenance for this evening.”

He offered Ceill a ricecake. Ceill shook his head. The Brothel’s food stores were off limits to staff outside meal hours, and he worried about getting Stefan in trouble. The Brothel had as many stupid rules as Ceill’s school, but at least he could leave school for breaks and free-nights. Stefan was stuck here.

Ansha grabbed the ricecake. “It’s okay, kid,” he told Ceill through a mouthful. “This one’s our shiniest Jewel now, and Jewels get what they want.”

Ceill knew by now what a Jewel was. He just didn’t like to think about what it meant Stefan was doing tonight and every night. Trying to seem as blasé as they did, he listened in a haze of embarrassment as Stefan and Ansha chatted about some new script pages that Kai had shared with them.

“He made it too emo,” Stefan said. “We don’t want people sympathizing with the bastard. We want people to hate him.”

Ansha shook his head. “You weren’t there,” he said through another mouthful. “Everything in that scene happened exactly that way in real life. Kai just wrote it down for me. Poor Risha really did cry like a baby and throw the cushions off the couch and break dishes after his nephew died. ”

“Poor Risha!” Stefan said derisively.

“What, Councillors aren’t allowed to have feelings? He cared more about the poor kid than he let on. It took me hours to calm him down.”

Stefan shook his head, disgust distorting his beautiful features. “If you’re still sweet on Lindahl, no wonder the scene’s a sobfest.”

“Did I say I was sweet on him?”

“You’re always going on about how hot he used to be.”

“He was good-looking for a Councillor.” Ansha looked wistful. “In that noble way they sometimes have. He’s old now, so you wouldn’t know.”

“Noble? Fuckin’ please!”

The steward reached for another ricecake. “He was. Didn’t stop him from being an asshole.”

As one, they glanced at Ceill and fell silent. Blushing to the tips of his ears, Ceill reached for a ricecake. “Are you talking about Councillor Lindahl?” he asked, eager to find some common ground. “He’s, uh, in my dad’s coalition in the Council.”

Their faces showed him this was the exact wrong thing to say. “I won’t repeat anything I hear here to anyone,” he said quickly. “Of course not.”

“Better not, young Fir,” Stefan said.

Ceill flinched at the tone. He’d thought he and Stefan were friends, having smoothed over the awkwardness from before break. But maybe Stefan was still just following Einara’s orders.

“I would get in so much trouble if anyone knew I was here, ever,” he reminded them both in his humblest voice. “But I’m just wondering . . . why is Lindahl in the stream now?”

Stefan and Ansha exchanged glances. “It’s a character based on him,” Stefan said. “Different name. No one will know.”

“He’ll know.” Ansha’s grin was cold. “Lindahl will, I mean, and he’ll wish he never met us. Because we three—Kai, Stefan, and me—we know him inside out. We know all the things he’s done in his life that don’t fit his pure, virtuous image.”

Councillor Lindahl had never been a dinner guest of Gersha or Vera, so Ceill knew little about him, image or reality. But when he thought of what Tilrey had said about his dead great-grandfather, he went cold inside. “Is Lindahl . . . corrupt?”

Stefan laughed as if he were drunk. “That’s one word for it.”

“Tell him,” Ansha said.

Stefan wheeled to look at Ceill, dead serious now. “He won’t get it,” he told Ansha. “He’ll think it was my fault.”

Ceill remembered what Tilrey had said about Malsha Linnett: If I had to be forced to do my duty, that wasn’t his fault, was it? People with power could change the facts to suit themselves.

“I won’t think that,” he said, hating that Stefan could think even for a second he would. “I swear.”

“He means it,” Ansha said. “Tell him.”

Stefan looked doubtful, but he said, “Fine. When I was your age, all I wanted in life was to be Raised . . .”

The story was short but not easy to hear. Ceill was equally shocked by the deal Councillor Lindahl had made with Stefan and the careless way he’d failed to follow through, casting Stefan aside like a used rag. There was a point when he wanted to suggest that Stefan might be misunderstanding something, because Councillors didn’t compromise their sacred trust that way. But he remembered Tilrey’s lecture and held his tongue.

Not all Councillors—not all people—were like Gersha. Aleks had already tried to teach Ceill that, but maybe Ceill hadn’t wanted to know.

When Councillor Lindthardt—Ludo’s dad—entered the story, Ceill’s breath caught. Then Stefan described matter-of-factly how the two Constables had shackled him to a dentist’s chair, and Ceill buried his face in his hands and contemplated the linoleum in helpless dread. He could see and hear the whole scene in his mind—the dingy room, the men with their grating voices and greedy hands.

How could you go through something like that and still be as confident and outspoken as Stefan was? A single lewd glance or cutting remark from Ludo was enough to make Ceill want to hide for days. He was starting to think he was a very weak person.

Mercifully, Stefan cut short his description. “So when they were done, they brought me here, courtesy of Lindahl, to rot in a golden cage. The end.”

“The kid’s trembling.” There was a note of spite in Ansha’s voice. “Didn’t know these things could happen, did you, young Fir?”

Ceill tried to push the images away, but he couldn’t forget Tilrey’s words: I had to be forced to do my duty. “That’s a crime,” he said in a small voice. “You could bring a complaint against the Councillor.”

Stefan sighed. Ansha said, “A Councillor’s word against a whore’s?”

“And what Constables are going to arrest Lindahl? The same ones he has in his pocket?”

Ceill bowed his head.

“There ought to be a way,” he said, unable to look at Stefan. “If I told my father, maybe . . . maybe he could help you.”

Stefan slid down from the counter and tossed the empty wrapper in the trash. “Nah,” he said too casually. “I’m okay now. Like Ansha says, I’m the shiniest Jewel. I get what I want. Anyway, if your dad knew you’d been here, you’d be in deep shit.”

“My dad’s not like the others.” How could he explain Gersha to people who didn’t trust any Upstarts—with reason? “He wouldn’t blame you, and he wouldn’t side with Lindahl. I know that.”

“Strutters always side with Strutters,” Stefan said.

“Not him!”

“The kid’s right,” Ansha said. “Fir Gádden’s different. Because of Tilrey.”

Taken aback, Ceill swung around to face the steward. “You know Tilrey?”

Ansha’s eyes glittered knowingly. “Know him? We were tight. We were kettle boys at the same time, see.” He turned to Stefan. “Regular pair of lovebirds, Tilrey and Fir Councillor Gádden. Always whispering to each other, touching each other, shutting other people out. They’re like that even now, from what I hear, though Rishka is Fir Councillor’s secretary now and not his piece.” His eyes flashed. “At least some Strutters know how to reward a lad for years of loyal service.”

Ceill had never in his life heard Gersha refer to Tilrey as a “lad” or a “boy,” let alone a “piece.” But he’d always known their relationship was unconventional. “So, you see what I mean,” he said. “My father—Gersha—he isn’t prejudiced like that. He gives everyone a fair hearing.”

Ansha still had an unpleasantly canny look. “Uh-huh. Your dad let his Drudge lover help raise you, didn’t he, young Fir? Treated him like a regular member of the household? Didn’t your mother mind?”

“She—no!” That was none of Ansha’s business, but Ansha seemed way too well informed. Could Einara have told him Ceill’s secret?

Stefan said, “Tilrey. Tilrey is the boy in the photos, isn’t he?” He looked triumphant, like he’d just figured something out.

Ansha nodded. And they both turned to look at Ceill, who wanted to sink through the floor. Did everybody know about those hateful photos?

In the next ten seconds, one of them was going to point out his resemblance to Tilrey, and he was going to have to grab one of those big ladles on the wall and brain someone with it. Probably himself.

“Ahh,” Stefan said. Then, to Ceill’s intense relief, he changed the subject. “Do you know a boy named Ludo Akeina?”

If only it hadn’t been that subject. Maybe they’d known each other before Stefan left school. “He’s in my dorm-pod. Why?”

Stefan grinned in that false-casual way. “I obliged him last ten-day, that’s all. I was his birthday present from his dad.”

Ludo. Stefan. Ludo’s dad giving Stefan to Ludo. Ceill’s horror must have been written all over his face, because Stefan said hurriedly, “I’m only telling you because I think Ludo might throw it in your face. I think he wants to impress you.”

“Me?” If there was anything worse than the image of Ludo in bed with Stefan, it was Ludo and Stefan gossiping about Ceill. “Ludo Akeina doesn’t want to impress me. He hates me.”

Ansha laughed as if Ceill were a silly child. “None of your schoolmates hate you, young Fir. Who could hate you?”

Ceill ignored that. “Why would you talk to Ludo about me?”

“I didn’t bring you up!” Stefan protested. “Ludo did. He said there was a boy he wanted to tell, someone who was a fan of the stream, and then he, uh, described you. I think.”

Ludo, describing him. In bed with Stefan. “But why?” Ceill asked helplessly. All he’d done was try to offer Stefan his help, and somehow it had led to an outpouring of information he didn’t want to know. Did everyone in the world find his naïveté hilarious?

“Search me. I don’t miss schoolboy politics one bit, but I thought you should know. Especially ’cause this Ludo obviously has a crush on you.”

Ceill’s cheeks burned so hard he couldn’t speak. Ansha grinned lazily and said, “Poor young Fir Ludo. Gonna get his heart broken.”

Stefan leaned over and spoke in Ceill’s ear, his breath as warm and enticing as his voice was cruel: “In case you’re wondering, he’s not the greatest lay. You could do much better.”

For the next few days, Ceill avoided Ludo Akeina with a vengeance. When the other boy approached, he dropped his gaze or veered in the opposite direction.

So, naturally, Ludo ambushed him late one night in the dorm bathroom.

Ceill was at the mirror, experimentally trying to shave the scant hairs from his chin with the straight razor that Aleks had given him for his birthday present. A stall door that had been slightly ajar opened all the way, and his nemesis sauntered out.

“Nice razor, Linnett,” Ludo said. “You could cut someone’s throat with that.”

Yeah. Yours. But no, he would never pollute Aleks’s gift that way. The razor had come with a message from Aleks explaining that all Northmen received a razor when they turned eighteen; whether they used it or not, it served as a symbol of their free choice.

Ceill kept his trap shut and focused on not cutting himself.

Naturally, when he glanced away from the mirror, Ludo was standing right beside him. “Hey,” the other boy said. He unfolded a color printout and held it out to Ceill. “Seen these yet?”

More pictures. The last thing Ceill needed. A stray glance told him this photo was of Stefan, lying on a bed and very naked. Not an amateur shot, nothing Ludo could have snapped himself. Probably one of the display stills Kai did for the Brothel.

Ceill clenched his jaw and returned his gaze to his image in the mirror. He’d been annoyed with Stefan earlier, but now he was glad to be prepared for this encounter. If Ludo wanted to see him squirm in shame and jealousy, he would be disappointed.

“Nice,” he said. “But I’m not really into streams anymore.”

“Nice?” Ludo peeled off another grubby printout. Ceill didn’t look at it.

“That’s not just nice,” Ludo said in a low, throbbing voice. “That’s mind-blowing. I mean, imagine holding that, putting your hands all over it. Imagine fucking that.”

Ceill turned on the tap and rinsed the razor, trying to ignore the erratic beat in his temples. He couldn’t let on that he knew what was coming. He couldn’t point out that Stefan wasn’t an it. “Mind-blowing,” he repeated dryly.

“It was mind-blowing, Linnett. I know because I did it. I went to the Sanctioned and I fucked Darius.”

Was that the big reveal? The way Ludo said “Sanctioned,” like he was one of the Northmen talking about their gods, made Ceill want to laugh. He splashed warm water on his face and washed the soap off, wondering why he’d ever bothered to care about anything this person said. “Good for you.”

“You don’t believe me? My dad bought him for my birthday present. It was his first night on offer at the Brothel. There was an actual auction.” Ludo sounded downright awed with himself. “I’m not lying, Ceill. I lost my virginity to him. Don’t you want to know how he was?”

Ceill toweled his face. He carefully dried the razor and slid it into its sheath. “You were with an actor,” he said, slinging the towel over his shoulder. “Not Darius.”

It was sickening to think of Councillor Lindthardt “bidding on” Stefan after being one of the people responsible for his presence in the Brothel in the first place. Even though Stefan had laughed off his offer of help, Ceill couldn’t stop thinking about doing something.

Whatever he did had to be smart, not impulsive or naïve. And maybe, he thought, gathering up his toiletries, Gersha wasn’t the best one to help him. Tilrey was the one in the Sector every day, networking and pulling the strings of power. If Ceill told Gersha, Gersha would simply pass it on, and then Tilrey would know—or figure out, sooner or later—that Ceill had been in the Brothel.

Damn. He wandered into the hallway, almost forgetting about Ludo—only to be brought up short by a cold voice behind him.

“I figured you wouldn’t be impressed,” the other boy said, softly to avoid detection by the dorm monitoring system. “I mean, you grew up around fancy whores, right? You had one changing your diapers. You wouldn’t understand what it means for a real high name to bag his first elite piece of—”

At first, Ceill was confused when Ludo broke off mid-sentence. Then Ludo’s face contorted into an expression that could only be interpreted as fear.

Ceill looked down and saw the razor in his own hand. But it was sheathed, and he’d been holding it earlier, hadn’t he? Okay, maybe he hadn’t been pointing it at Ludo then. Maybe he was now.

His throat was tight with helpless rage at everything Ludo had just said, but that was par for the course. Experimentally, he arched a brow. Ludo flinched.

What was wrong with the little prick? It was true that Ceill was several inches taller than Ludo these days, and broader in the chest and shoulders, but fighting was a dangerous offense for students so close to Notification. Did Ludo think having a Drudge father made Ceill a thug? Or was Ceill’s anger just . . . scary?

Interesting. Very deliberately, Ceill smoothed his expression and tucked the razor inside his towel.

“Why should I be impressed? It’s not like you won him, Ludo.” His eyes teared with the effort of not turning and walking away as fast as he could, but he had one more thing to say. “And personally, I wouldn’t want my dad to be responsible for getting me laid.”

Ludo hissed something after him—possibly “Your dad’s pure scum,” but Ceill was already halfway down the hall. He didn’t ask for a clarification.

Chapter End Notes

So if you’re like me, you’re wondering: How can an Oslov use the word “emo” when they barely even have music, let alone musical genres? “Emo” is actually my idiomatic translation of the slang word gollol, which literally means “melty.” ;)Also, Ansha calls Lindahl “Risha” because it’s a nickname for Enrik, his first name IIRC. Inconveniently, Risha or Rishka is a nickname for a lot of Oslov names, such as Enrik and Fredrich, as well as for Tilrey. (And Tilrey’s full name is actually Tilhard, so he could also be called Harsha, but I’m really getting into the weeds here. I just love my name lore. :) )Have a safe and happy new year’s eve, everyone! 2021 has to be better. <3 <3

Chapter End Notes

Also, Ansha calls Lindahl “Risha” because it’s a nickname for Enrik, his first name IIRC. Inconveniently, Risha or Rishka is a nickname for a lot of Oslov names, such as Enrik and Fredrich, as well as for Tilrey. (And Tilrey’s full name is actually Tilhard, so he could also be called Harsha, but I’m really getting into the weeds here. I just love my name lore. :) )

Have a safe and happy new year’s eve, everyone! 2021 has to be better. <3 <3