Striking Chains Read online

  "You shouldn't call other Servants 'sir'. They'll take it as a sign of your weakness and ignorance. And the Bound and Citizens hearing it will think you're only playing at the role. This game of titles and false modesty is why I try to spend most of my time away from the capital."

  "Another one?" said a new voice, coming up from the hold. Dominic saw a ragged-looking boy about his age. Dominic offered his hand, as he'd seen Citizens do.

  The boy stepped away from the handshake, looking pale in the hazy light of sunset. He wore nearly the same peasant tunic as Dominic, of the approved design.

  "Excuse him," said the Servant. "His name is Ben, my own Servant-in-training. I fetched him from farther west, near the barbarians' city of 'Saint Wylan'. Life has been hard there lately."

  Ben said, "Plague. Brought back by the soldiers. The damn Citizens beat me for trying to learn from the healer. Then this Servant taught them a lesson, the ones who were left!"

  Now Dominic paled, imagining disease leaking in from the foreigners, and then this other Servant dispensing justice among sick men instead of healing them. "How bad was it?"

  "There wasn't much left of my village. Spent a week in quarantine at Seaflower. Every time I sneezed, people thought I would kill them. All I wanted to do was learn to heal them."

  "Can you heal, then?"

  "No." Ben raised his head and met Dominic's eyes for the first time. "But I will. I'll do more than that. What do you know so far?"

  "About medicine? Nothing. With magic, I can lift small things. And I learned to read a little. I'll show you if you want. I can do that, right?" The Servant nodded.

  Ben said, "Good, good. I need to know all of it." He went to the far side of the ship, to look back northwest toward his home, and spat over the rail.

  * * *

  One awful day of confinement and dusty flour biscuits later, Dominic had his first look at Temple Island. It lurched up from the sea like a single misplaced hill. Something seemed wrong with the ocean nearby. "What is that?" he asked one of the deckhands.

  "The Throne By the Sea. Best to see it on foot."

  Once they'd docked, Dominic asked Jasper to let him. The city combined the stink of Seaflower with the salty wind of the ocean, a more bearable combination. Jasper strolled along the docks with him until they reached the Underbeach district, where to Dominic's amazement the water didn't flow. It rushed in and stopped a respectful distance from a rocky, sandy cliff carved into shops and houses. The cliffside buildings all lay at least a dozen feet below the actual waterline and by all rights should have been flooded. People walked along a street formed by the cliff face and the frustrated waves that crashed in on them only to be turned back again and again. Pillars of carved coral marked the water's edge, glowing faintly to the magic-sense.

  "What do you think?" said Jasper.

  Dominic's eyes were wide as he tried to see everything, understand everything. "Amazing. But where is the throne?"

  Jasper pointed to the top of the exposed cliff, where an ornate chair was roped off. "This is where the first Boundless One commanded the sea to retreat. Your next assignment for me should be to figure out why that matters. Don't answer me right away, or even in a week."

  "Am I still bound to you, then?"

  The Servant's masked face was as impassive as always. "Not once you're inducted this evening. If you choose, though, I'd like to register you as my student, so that we can continue to talk outside the confines of the Nether, where you'll be living."

  To not be bound to anyone, was a concept Dominic still found disturbing. "What will I do here besides learn to be a Servant? Who will be in charge of me? How will I eat?"

  Jasper watched people walk along the sunken street. "I was like you once, born to the Bound in a village like any other. I learned of my power and was taken away with no choice, to live here with no master but the Boundless One. It was a difficult time for me, but instructive. I exposed you to danger in advance to see if you might have a chance to be useful here."

  "You have a reputation."

  Jasper chuckled, and handed Dominic a clinking pouch of coins. "So I hear. A bit of mystery and indirection suits me well, and will lead to better Servants. Take this extra money; I think you'll use it wisely."

  "Thank you." Dominic carefully tucked the money away and went back to watching the Weave. The threads of magic flowed through the water and between the coral pillars. "Sir... I mean, Servant. Why do we pretend that the Servants are the lowest when they're the ones who decide things, and say that the Bound are protected from 'impure' things that really aren't?"

  Jasper looked up to the high throne and the miraculous force that held back the sea. "Not all is right with the Holy State, Servant Dominic. We make certain compromises for the sake of an orderly and stable society. We need to make certain assumptions." He sighed. "We'll talk later once you're settled in. Just don't believe all that you hear, and take care of yourself, so that you can take care of others."

  * * *

  The town beyond the Underbeach area was much like Seaflower, full of sturdy multi-story buildings that included shops and other gathering places, not just workshops and homes. There was no city wall, but several stone towers loomed over the coastline. Dominic wandered on his own in search of a place Jasper had described to him.

  "That's all?" Dominic said when he found it. He faced a simple marble building. The walls were edged in brass as though to stop people from breaking off the corners. The place looked nice, but hardly big enough to be the headquarters of the Holy State's entire mass of Servants. It perched among the walled estates of Citizens, dwarfed by some of them, and had seagulls nesting on the second-floor roof.

  He walked in, with no idea what mysteries lay here. The first of them was only a bored Citizen clerk at a reception desk. The room looked stuffy and old, built around bare stone arches that held up curiously curved ceilings. No jewels or paintings like a Citizen's home. Light drifted lazily in through high slit windows. There weren't even guards.

  "Name?" said the clerk, forcing Dominic's attention back down.

  Dominic greeted him and handed over the ornate scroll of introduction that Jasper had given him this time. "I'm new and I have no idea how this works. Should I call you 'my lord'?"

  The Citizen gave him a bleak look. "You're the second person today to ask that. You can go downstairs, sir." He opened a sturdy door of iron and brass to reveal a huge, carpeted staircase lit by pieces of watery blue-green crystal. "It's traditional to make the introductions yourself. Welcome to the Nether. Your colleague Ben is already there."

  Dominic stood at the top of the stairs and froze. A dark creature flickered below. No; it was only his shadow. He shook his head and began his first descent into the Nether, the world of the Servants.

  He ran one hand along smooth, black stone walls that glittered where the pools of smokeless sea-colored light reached them. The amount of labor that had gone into carving this tunnel must have been enormous! Figures moved in the musty hall below. None of them wore masks, except for the one coming up the stairs with a basket of papers. That Servant brushed past Dominic without even a nod. The underground smelled cleaner than the city above, musty but carrying a trace of sea air.

  At the bottom he found a narrow, curved dining hall where brown roots made spiderweb designs along the black walls. Men and women in Servant tunics, mainly deep green, were setting the tables in between more thick roots that served as pillars holding up the cavern's roof. He felt inadequate and underdressed in his dirty farming clothes and sandals. "Hello?" he called out to no one in particular. "I'm new here. Who do I talk to?"

  "New guy?" someone said. Others took up the message. "New guy! Another newcomer coming! And just in time for dinner!"

  A little bald man hopped up to him and said, "Hello! Now get out of the hall for half an hour, will you? That other newcomer is in the library to the left, if you care. There's a meal coming shortly. No cost."

  Dominic said, "Are you a Servant?"


  The man grabbed his hand and shook it. "Of course! Down here, all of us are. We don't need masks." The Servant's own, Dominic now saw, hung from a buckle on his belt.

  Though puzzled, Dominic headed through the dim tunnels until he found a door marked library, whatever that was. Or possibly cobrary; he was still shaky on spelling. He hoped it was the first one. He pushed the door open and paused, stunned. Books from floor to ceiling, a fortune on every shelf! Far more than he'd ever seen on his rare visits to Citizen Antoine's house or even in Seaflower's market. He touched one and felt its fine leather cover, faintly oily, with pure white pages hidden inside. Yet more books lay on the library's angled desks. A bald man sat at one, scratching with quill and ink.

  "There you are!" said Ben, ambushing Dominic from between two shelves. He still looked haggard but had already managed to get a bath. "Isn't this place amazing?"

  Dominic nodded. "What are they all for?"

  "Running the State!"

  "Have you gotten to read any of them yet? Does it take long?" Dominic looked at the bulky things. What a stupid question. He could spend a lifetime here, even if he became decent at reading.

  Ben stared at the floor. "I can't, yet. Will you show me?"

  "Sure. I'm allowed, now."

  The Servant with the quill coughed and looked up at them. "The discussion room is behind me."

  "Sorry," said Dominic. "Is there something easy to learn from?"

  The writing man sighed, stood, stretched, then ran the back end of his quill across a shelf until he found a thin red book. "This one's a good start, and there are a few other primers near it. You can make a little money copying it out."

  "What?" said both Ben and Dominic.

  "Money. Make an accurate spare copy and I'll give you coins. Many Servants do such work even when it's not specifically called for." The youngsters stared at him blankly. "Bah. You'll learn soon enough. If you'll excuse me?"

  Dominic went to the alcoves behind the library, where a few other Servants were in quiet conversation. "How does that work?" Ben asked him.

  Dominic said, "I think we're expected to live on money in here. Pay for our own meals and things. I heard the dinner tonight is... no-cost." Normally every meal was provided by his Citizen owner, so Dominic still wasn't used to the idea of having to pay for anything with coins.

  The librarian called them out a little while later, saying food was ready. The newcomers went back out to the dining hall and stared. The room of roots and tables fell silent and over two hundred pitiless masks stared silently at them.

  "Hello? I'm Dominic." The Servants didn't move. "Is there food?"

  Ben whispered, "What are we supposed to do?"

  The slit-eyed stares unnerved Dominic too much for him to keep letting them watch him. "Eat." He walked past the rows of benches, ignoring the masks that turned to watch him silently, and found a table of bread and cheese, fruit and fish. "They said it costs nothing, so..." He took a plate and served himself. Ben hesitated but followed his lead.

  At last, the crowd of Servants broke their silence and chattered, waving to him. "Welcome! Good to see new blood!" Men and women pulled off their masks and set them aside.

  "What was that about?" said Dominic.

  "Tradition!" said one of the younger women. "Just to see what you do. We've had people run away at the sight of so many Servants, or try to start a fight, or single out one of us to befriend."

  Ben said, "What was the right answer, then?"

  "There isn't one. Other than 'don't flee in terror'."

  Someone said, "Masks! Get the fresh fish some masks so we don't have to see their ugly faces!"

  A pair of brass masks appeared in the back of the crowd, and drifted closer as many hands passed them along. When Ben and Dominic tried to take them, though, someone snatched them just out of reach and said, "One gold guilder each!"

  Dominic said, "What?" The most he had was silver.

  "They're messing with you," said the young woman.

  "Aw, don't spoil it! Fine, fine." A couple of the Servants chattered at the newcomers to explain: "You get your mask and your first robe for nothing, but go see the Quartermaster. It's customary to offer to do the laundry."

  A hundred questions flew back and forth. There were so many strangers at once! They talked about magic, and the different lands of the State, and ships and Citizens and war. Being here was very different both from a village where everyone knew each other, and from a city where most people had no reason even to look at a newcomer. Dominic felt overwhelmed. He sat down and ate exotic fruits he couldn't even name, with cheese and a tentative nibble of fish. Ben did most of the talking, though Dominic wasn't sure how the skinny Servant found time given how much he was eating.

  Eventually, one of the older men struck a bell and the room went quiet. He said, "Beware, newcomers. To don the mask is a serious matter. To take responsibility for the State is to humble yourself. To wield the power of magic and the force of law is to act in the stead of the Boundless One, as an extension of His will."

  The assembled Servants who'd been so eager to talk over each other, now spoke in unison. "For the One guides Three."

  The elder said, "Will you accept your new, lowly station as a Servant of the State? Or will you return to the surface and have us assign you other duties?"

  The brass mask weighed heavily in Dominic's hand. The inner surface was lined with soft wood, and to his surprise, was nearly as easy to see through as glass. It even seemed to allow easy breathing. The blank face that others saw was not what Servants experienced from behind it.

  The mask would be his face to the outside world. Just weeks ago he had not been a killer, had not seen the Weave of magic, and had been forced into the danger of travel and coins and skulking from guards.

  Other duties, the Servant had said. Dominic could escape from this life after all! But if he did, he'd likely have to be a Citizen. And if he were allowed to become Bound again -- unlikely at this point -- magic and books would be forever off-limits. He would have to go back to fearing knowledge. Even the jingling of coins had come to seem less discordant to him. It was all too much to give up.

  Dominic donned the mask and saw as the Servants did, through an impassive wall of metal that hid him from the world but not the other way around.

  * * *

  Once the initial excitement died down, Dominic tried to figure out how to live. Even lodging required payment. The cavern was one giant inn! There were Servants with their own rooms, while others slept in chambers with racks of bunks, and still others lived "sunward" in crowded barracks. He glumly looked through his money supply while investigating that and the usual food prices around here. Jasper had given him enough to get a month's food and lodging in one of the above-ground buildings, plus clothes and some minor purchases, but after that he'd run dry. And then starve and die.

  He was alarmingly close to being ruined by poverty. In every village it was a Citizen's job to make sure that his Bound, who were theoretically "above" him in rank, all had everything they needed to survive. The Bound peasants had to work hard, of course, but not because they were forced to pay for their own bread.

  Now, as a Servant, he was supposed to be his own master. He wasn't sure he liked it. What if he wasn't skilled enough to get the money to survive, or if he got sick and couldn't work?

  At least there were ways to get more coins. The jolly Quartermaster always had laundry to do, among other tasks like cooking and cleaning. But some of the other Servants were trying to do the same work. Dominic spent hours trudging up and down stairs with tubs of robes and tunics and stockings, all to wash them for someone who couldn't be bothered to do it themselves. "Isn't this Bound work?" he asked.

  "There aren't enough of them here for us," said the Quartermaster in his low-walled office of shelves and chests. His cat familiar was constantly keeping watch or laying atop something valuable. "Temple Island has more Servants than anywhere else. Too many busybodies if you ask me. N
ow, can I interest you in buying some quills and paper?"

  Dominic fumbled his way through the transaction, though less so than he'd done in Seaflower when he'd spent money for the first time. He spent the next few days of painstaking effort copying The Smallest Hero, an introductory reading book. It was about a heroic mouse who slew a cat dressed in metal rings like a northern barbarian. Dominic couldn't match the drawings, but traded -- sold -- his copy to the librarian for a few copper coins more than the materials had cost.

  "Decent enough for a spare copy," the librarian said, letting his bat familiar turn the pages for him and scrutinize the letters. "I'll have someone illustrate it. With practice you might tackle a more difficult book."

  Decent! Dominic left the room, beaming. He hefted the small pile of copper he'd gotten and let it clink in his hand. This alchemy of ink to metal was a different sort of magic than he'd ever expected to learn. He'd turn the money into three days' food. And he'd only get better at it!

  4. Justice

  Life for him meant diving in and out of the Nether. Each day he woke up in the surface dormitory, donned his mask like a shield for battle, and set out across a city street so he could return to the crystal-lit depths and show his face again. The city itself held few delights for him, but he made time once in a while to see the sunshine through his slitted mask and listen to one of the frequent concerts. Music was the life of the island. Below, there were spells to learn, lectures on law and government to attend, books to copy, chores to do for the more important Servants.

  The copying of documents was a twofold task. The spell Scribe's Aid was one of his first and most useful tools. He placed a blank page atop an already written one, carefully poured ink onto the paper, then slid his hand around to make the ink flow to where it would mirror the shapes below. In this way he could make a duplicate much faster than by longhand, but the result was always a bit fuzzy. Copying a copy was nearly useless due to the double blurring. So there'd always be a need for handwritten text, but spellcraft was a valuable skill for a bureaucrat.