Loggerhead

[Aldridge Moor]

Aldridge sat with Komi in the corner of the Bowyery, curled up in a shallow nest of wood chippings and dust, stirring up flurries of glowing motes in the evening?s orange light with every idle movement, sitting quiet in the time afforded them after their mock duel, and Jossia?s humiliation.

?Would you tell me about him??

?Tavin? Even in his first seasons, he was like you. Watching, learning, doing. He loved singing.?

?He loved your singing.? Aldridge smiled.

Komi squirmed a little. ?Maybe,? she said. ?He learned to hum before he learned to speak. He?d been with the other horde kits for just one sevenday after his weaning and they?d taught him vulgar drinking songs!? She giggled, and Aldridge couldn't quite keep himself from smiling.

?Which one?? He asked with a smirk.

?Oh!? Komi grinned. ?The one about the mousemaid and the searat. Thankfully none of them knew the third verse.?

They both sniggered.

?Rude shanties aside - he sung as well as his mother, aye??

?Aye.? Komi?s voice with a little more breath and a little less definition. ?He had a wonderful voice, Alder, and I?m not just saying that as his mother. He could sing all of Stoke The Mountain, and he didn?t go a day without singing To Homestead Door. Hymn Of The Dirt went too low for him, though. We joked that he sounded like a frog on the lower notes.?

He chuckled. ?Frog, stoat - what?s the difference??

?Ah, that reminds me!? She patted herself a few times, found something in a pocket. ?My sponsor asked me to give you this. Look, I have one too.?

Two large wooden coins. Aldridge took them, and scowled. Their Sigils, signs of their hocked barbarity, carved into the faces of each coin.

?The other side.?

He turned Komi?s over, and found a drum motif. The same drum that sat hidden beneath a scrap of fabric in a cupboard with a brace of off-cuts.

?They?re to remind us, I think, that we are two people here and we must never forget our true selves.?

He turned the other over, felt his hackles rise. ?My Mark??

?Hm?? She stood straight, stretched one arm then the other over her head.

Aldridge coughed. ?I, ah. My Mark. All Barrow beasts have a Mark. It?s who they are, what they do for the Barrow, how they help beasts. It?s? the exact opposite of a Sigil. Who on Earth is your sponsor, for them to know about this??

?Lady Eveneda Persa,? Komi said. ?I?ll see if I can introduce you sometime.?

Three thumps on the door.

?Thank heavens.? Young Aera set down her current arrow and hopped down from her stool. ?Dinner time, you two.? she called to them, voice hard. Did she still distrust Komi? No matter - she had always taken a while to get used to new beasts.

They left for the mess hall together.

Dinner was a pleasant affair. Komi and Aldridge sat on opposite sides of the same table. She told him about Tavin and asked about his life at the Barrow. He told her about Aera and Ulrich and all of the others, and dinner was over before either of them got even halfway through talking.

But then Komi was ordered back onto the training ground, and Aldridge was ordered back to the bowyery, and they had to say goodbye.

And they did so with a small kiss.

Aldridge laughed at Aera?s sour face as he got back to the bowyery. ?I?m sorry!? he said. ?I know, I could have used that time to catch up on some of the backlog. Not to worry. I?ll make good.?

Time flew, and so did his paws. Two rough-cut bows had two nights worth of work done on them before his first yawn, before the sky turned deep red.

A staccato pattern on the door, and Aldridge looked up.

Young Aera stood, stomped over to the door, muttering curses to make a searat blush. She hauled it open and immediately burst into a coughing fit as a haphazard bouquet of floral smells surged into the room, followed shortly by a smocked and hatted vixen.

?Hello, darling!? she said. ?You must be the Apprentice Bowyer! Oh, you?re positively adorable! My name is Lady Eveneda Persa - I?m here to commission some work from your master. Lord Nire said I could find him down here, yes??

Aera maintained her scowl, gave a deep bow and gestured the vixen into the room. ?Lord Moor,? she intoned with only a semi-lethal dose of sarcasm, ?The Lady Eveneda Persa to see you.?

Eveneda Persa. The name of Komi?s Sponsor. The name of the beast who?d known his Mark.

Aldridge stood from his workbench, threw on a smile, and turned to face her proper. ?My Lady!? he said, bracing himself against the wall of perfume. ?I?ve heard so much about you!?

?All of it good, I trust?? A giggle and a fluttering of lashes, beneath a pink sun-hat as wide as his arm was long and above several layers of white and pink satin and cotton and lace. How on Earth did a beast like this know anything at all, let alone his Barrow Mark?

?Absolutely. And you say that you would like to commission a longbow? I have three training bows here cut for foxes. One-forty, one-eighty and two-twenty draw.? He took down one of thirty or more plain bows racked on the wall. ?Perhaps the one-forty, at least to start with.?

He strung the bow and passed it over, and grabbed a pawful of the longest training arrows from one of six bucket quivers. He gestured out to the training range.

?But? but why, darling?? Her grip was perfect, and yet she looked at the bow with something approaching worry. ?I don?t want a bow for fighting - it?s so? distasteful.?

?My Lady,? Aldridge said, voice smooth and kind as he guided her out through the door, ?I should not like to make a bow with which its owner could not defend themselves. Please, do give it a try.?

?The full experience for this novice! Very well, Bowyer Moor. Let?s see what these arms of mine can do!?

And everything fell together. A mode of address that only a Barrow beast would use. Her uncertain words and body language, set against her sure and true handling of the bow. Her absurdity, against the calculation of the two-sided medallions and the knowledge of his Mark. Tegue?s not For Tyrant Nire against her For This Novice.

She took up her stance in line with a target. Her footpaws were placed just as perfectly as her grip, and he found himself curious to see what happened. He passed her an arrow in silence. She glanced at the fletching as she took it, and quite deliberately nocked the arrow the wrong way around.

Aldridge raised a paw, pointed it out. She rolled her eyes at herself as though to laugh at her own mistake, denocked and spun and renocked it.

He stood back, wore a smile as he watched. Her first arrow came within a clawtip of the bullseye. He handed the rest over, one by one, and she came nowhere near the centre for the rest, even though her stance and draw and loose were all perfect - and fast, too.

As he passed her the last arrow he leaned in close and whispered into her ear. ?Do not insult my intelligence.?

He took great pleasure in watching her hackles rise, and her temperament darken. ?Komi and the Monster?s medallions, mere days after Nire?s hall was defaced? ?For this novice?? My own medallion, with my Barrow Mark? You are not being subtle, Your Ladyship.?

Her girlish facade was gone and beneath rested a beast with the stance of a hunter. ?And what would you know of subtlety, Aldridge Moor? He whose indiscretion was so great as to earn him the name of The Lowlander??

?I have angered Nire, it?s true. But his response came down on my head and mine alone.?

?An easy excuse.? She scowled.

?Really? Three innocents were slaughtered on charges of sedition just a few days ago - one of them my village?s Luthier. You expect me to believe that they would still have died if you had moved quietly, instead of blaring your name across the Crater? Of course they would not. Sedition is a word used by a tyrant just beginning to tighten his grip. Soon enough it will be sabotage, and then until he has routed you, it will be treason.?

?We fight as our name, to Free The North.?

?And instead you?ve killed three beasts, with more to follow.?

?Death happens on this road, Moor. I thought you of all beasts would understand that.?

A general?s words. And like any good general, if you could predict your enemy? if you could goad them into irrationality...

Ah.

?It was deliberate, then.?

Her face went blank - truly blank. Even the strain in her jaw from her own anger faded to nothing. She began to walk back inside, but Aldridge continued.

?Life?s not so bad for Northvale, is it? The citizens have no need or desire to see the Crater toppled. It brings visitors and trade and coin. So you needed something new. Needed Nire to tighten his grip - perhaps to start handing out arbitrary punishments to those who didn?t deserve them. Because if you could reach that moment where every beast in Northvale knew of another who?d been hurt by Nire?s tyranny??

?I don?t have to listen to this.? She dropped the arrow into the basket quiver, destringed the bow and left it leaning against the wall.

?Stop,? Aldridge said, and the vixen paused before opening the bowyery door. ?I do not approve of your actions, but I will at least try not to get in your way. And if you are willing to drop the grandstanding then I will work alongside you to bring this place down. But if your actions cost any more lives - my friends, or the Barrow beasts - then you must be ready for a reckoning when this is all over. Do we have an accord??

The vixen snarled, all teeth and fury. ?Aye.?

She surged out of the room, and the door slammed shut after her.

-----

He was up with the first ring of the morning bell. No excuses for Hargorn today.

He meandered with the other beasts toward the mess hall for breakfast - it was the work of a moment to dodge down a side-tunnel and cut his way through to the slave galley instead. No combatants here. Only the slaves who worked the Crater itself. The carpenters, the cooks, the servants, all of whom would never see the inside of the Arena unless for their own execution.

There, at the head of the kitchen, a startling white mouse with mid-grey eyes and paws.

Rinam.

?Good morning.?

The white mouse glanced at him, returned to chopping tomatoes. ?You are a gladiator,? she said to the sharpened stone and the chopping board. ?You do not eat here.?

?I am not here to eat. We have other business.?

?You kept me from my aim. But you?ll not find me so easy to tackle today.?

?No tackling,? Aldridge said. ?I am here to see if we can come to some peace.?

?To recruit me as some lieutenant, in your crusade to take the crown.?

One of Adeen?s more vicious thoughts, repeated by rote.

?No.? Aldridge bit down on the frustration, on the taste of Adeen?s final act of distrust.

?My father was a spirit-walker,? he said after a moment. ?He wandered Muskroarka and Southsward and all the provinces in between. He put a magical mask on things that beasts couldn?t believe were true. Rescued villages from plagues caused by their own dead. Dispelled crop failures with clever tricks and called it the work of the rain gods. But it turns out, he spoke the truth sometimes. In the heart of the Breakwastes he found the Mice of Dawn, who chased him away for pretending that he could invoke powers that belonged to All That Is.?

?Do not speak that name, stoat.?

?Very well. It is not the meat of the matter. My father, deceiver that he was, always helped beasts. And were he here, he would try to help you too. He would tell you to return the Book to the beast that wrote it, before the last of the ink about your paws shackled you forever to her will."

?The dead need no books. You ask only for yourself.?

"Ha, for myself. I suppose the Book says that, does it? She is not dead, but beyond the wall of sleep and she has been so since you beat her to the sand. And why do you suppose that is? Because she is incomplete. The Book matters most to her - you've seen that. She flits about it and she means to see its words all acted upon, and until that is done or until the book is returned to her, there is no hope of her ever waking. Please!"

She stopped chopping, her gaze locked on him. The kitchen drifted to a halt without her motion. A wretched-looking ferret in the far corner was the only beast not to be caught in the massing stillness.

?Follow your father?s lead and flee. While I still allow it.?

Aldridge cast about the room for a single expression of sympathy, but he could find none. She was their leader and their stillness spoke everything he needed to know about their loyalty to her.

He took the memories of his father and he left for the mess hall.

There was no comment when he got there, because his lateness for breakfast was never in any way remarkable or unexpected. Time and time again over the last weeks he had come in, late and bleary after a morning alarm delivered with great force by Hargorn?s footpaw, and this morning would seem no different to any of them.

He piled his trencher high with fish and nuts, as usual. Walked past Blue and Thrayjen, waved to them both and tamped down hard on his need to challenge Thrayjen on his brutality. Saw Silas poking at his food - perhaps the fight with the outlandish Vinegaroon had put him off his appetite.

Sat down opposite Komi, exchanged smiles. There was not much talk this morning - neither of the two stoats had ever been good at the small stuff. But their footpaws touched under the table and he drew some small strength from that as he ate.

They drew away to their respective trainers, letting go of each other?s paws at the last possible moment.

Blue glared at him, as was her wont.

?I?m sorry.?

Her glare cracked under the sincerity of his words.

?I realise that I haven?t apologised to you, for what I did to the Highlander. I took away your trainee. I hurt your reputation, and I wasn?t even one of your main students. I?m sorry, Miss Blue. Would you please tell me if there is anything I can do to help??

Her ears flickered, her ice countenance almost completely gone.

?I s?pose you?re doin? alright, aye. Trainin? hard. You?ve a story that gets the crowd booin?, and cheerin?, so Nire?s happy. And you brought down Padoha, aye! I s?pose that?s all I can ask for. Keep trainin? hard, and fightin? hard. Perhaps some distant season, you?ll have repaid everythin? the Highlander would have done for me.?

A moment of quiet, as Thrayjen approached them. Blue?s ears twitched twice. ?Thank you at least for the apology,? she said as the rat reached them. ?Now, you know the drill. Twenty laps!?

Aldridge and Thrayjen both groaned, but got to it.

-----

In the torchlit tunnels on their way to collect the day?s water, he spoke. Not a challenge, but an olive branch.

?I remember you now.?

?Aye??

?Aye. The young rat prince who sometimes seemed gentle, but only with the mousemaid. What was her name? Ceilidh. Clarice. Celine! Perfect albino, white fur and red eyes. By all accounts nothing but a playroom companion, and yet the prince took her everywhere and she got caught every time he did - trespassing in the gardens, bothering the kitchen staff, stealing from them. And even when they caught you, you would just yell that the pie, or the pudding, was yours by birthright. The staff never did quite know how to respond.?

He did not repeat the rumours of Celine?s eventual fate.

Thrayjen closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke. ?I should come clean. I remember you, too. I have all along. ?A lowly bowyer and a king, father?? I?m afraid that?s what we used to ask. A Hestara bumpkin, somehow sitting in the palace armory and with the ear of the king? We thought it was ridiculous, back then.?

Aldridge allowed a smile to pull at his lips. ?And now??

?You?ve always been like this, haven?t you? Watching, understanding, talking.?

?As long as I can remember, aye.?

?Then yes. Now, I understand. I never would have thought that Father felt the need to justify himself to anyone, before meeting you.?

Aldridge shifted his yoke. ?I think that there was much more to old Currathalla than you realise, even now. I think you?re beginning to understand that, with this fresh sin hanging about your neck. I think that, sins aside, he would have been proud of you.?

Thrayjen choked. ?The Tyrant King? Proud of a tea farmer? Did you take a head wound out there yesterday??

?Oh, I?m not saying he was a gentle soul - far from it. The Muskroarkan borders were Hellgates themselves to the beasts who lived and fought and died there. You saw that yourself. You made it that way, sometimes. And you showed us all that you?re still eminently capable of that when you choose to be.?

Thrayjen winced.

?No,? Aldridge said. ?You can't hide from it. You caused death and pain and strife, and you cannot act as though that didn't happen. But unlike your father, you turned away from that path - at least for a while. You found that strength, and that is why I say he would be proud.?

?...but??

?But you succumbed. Nire called the Blackwhiskers? name and you slipped straight back into that old skin. The golem committed a ritual slaughter and so, in the end, did you.?

?He wanted The Blackwhiskers, so that?s who I gave him.?

Aldridge let silence fall. It muffled the deep and ringing fear he felt, seeing this affable beast so easily turn back into the slaughterer he had once been. He pretended that the silence was companionable and after a while, it fell into line.

And then he realised something.

?...you said you farmed tea??

-----

?Ugh.? Thrayjen?s nose wrinkled at the pristine pot half-full of the old, old brew.

?I?ve been trying to reproduce it for a tenday now,? Aldridge said, placing a candle stub under the cracked pot next to it, that he had retrieved from Adeen?s mortuary corner and mounted on its metal scaffold.

?I can tell.? The expression of distaste did not go away.

?Everything comes out wrong,? Aldridge tried again.

?And you would like a helping paw??

He grinned in relief. ?I truly would. I have no idea what I?m doing here. Ennis has lent me a little of everything he could get his paws on - it seems that no other gladiator is much concerned with blending their own tea.?

Aldridge opened a small cupboard - inside, ranks and ranks of well-barracked jars.

Thrayjen peered. ?Pass them to me one at a time,? he said. ?I?ll have a sniff, see if anything fits.?

What felt like an hour of digging and passing later, Aldridge stood from the finally-empty cupboard and stretched, working the knots out of his legs and shoulders.

He looked at the jars that Thrayjen had placed on the table and his heart sank. Five or six light grey jars on the left, where all the possible contenders were meant to go. Every other jar - all of the dark reds for leaves themselves, and the rest of the light greys of flavourings, on the right side of the table.

?That?s all?? The stoat said.

?Mm.? Thrayjen toyed with the light grey jars. ?Some combination of these, and a leaf that your apothecary doesn?t have - or that I didn?t notice.?

A moment of quiet.

?Where did you say she was from?? Thrayjen asked.

?Bastion,? Aldridge said. He left out the words Black Widow.

?Where?s that??

Ah, of course. Thrayjen had come North before the claim had been staked.

?In the heart of the Breakwastes.?

?How in the name of? never mind. Something tells me that I don?t want to know how Southsward succeeded where the Rapscallions failed.?

?Perhaps not,? Aldridge said, recalling the word Mayor spoken somewhere behind him as he?d left Rinam?s kitchen that morning.

Thrayjen nodded, picked through the light grey jars until he had only two remaining. ?Alright. Cinnamon and citrus, from Southsward?s northern provinces. Which makes the blend?? He sniffed several times more. ?It suffers for being old, but I?m sure this is standard Eastern White. It would have come along the trade roads. You said this was Adeen?s choice??

?Aye,? Aldridge said. ?Is that odd??

The black rat shrugged. ?Taste is a varied thing. From the few times I spoke with her, I would have guessed jasmine, or pineapple black.?

??Gates, I miss pineapple.? Aldridge couldn?t help but think of the huge, tart, sweet fruit found only in the Southern markets as Thrayjen picked through the dark red jars again.

?Here,? The black rat said, and placed a red jar with the two greys. ?Eastern White. Leave it to brew for too long and it tastes like a chalky black - no wonder I didn?t pick up on it. Shall we try it??

The black rat measured the leaves and powders by his claws alone, dashed them into the chipped teapot, and they waited.

Aldridge took a sip, and there it was.

A familiar scent, he trusted.

A beacon in the dark, he dared to hope.

?Thank you, Thrayjen.?

-----

Leaving the black rat behind had been difficult, but for now he could not regret the choice. The weakness of Thrayjen?s self against the Blackwhiskers and his atrocities was still to be explained, and was, by all of Aldridge?s memories of Currathalla, a grave threat to any plan into which he could be folded.

He carried the pristine tea set, washed and cleared out and filled with hot tea in Adeen?s blend, and as ever he was not alone in the labyrinthine service tunnels.

?Might I join you today, sir??

?Is that wise, Tegue??

?I would much rather that my friends and yours did not come to blows, sir.?

?You feel that a middle ground can be found??

?I do, sir. And I am willing to try to make it happen.?

?We are not being watched??

?I?m the only one of Nire?s beasts tasked to you today, sir.?

?Well then, in you come.?

Through an old door and a false wall, and they were there.

?What?s the meaning of this, Alder?? Aera, angry. ?Folding this Nirebeast into our ranks!?

What?

?Fair, true, noble medic - he did not know.?

Aera softened immediately. ?Why didn?t you say? I?m sorry Alder, I didn?t mean to snap. You know how things are here. And with the guard found dead last night, I was worried that the Crater Guard had doubled down on their patrols and found us.?

Tegue tugged on his whiskers, his head drooping. ?I knew Alastair,? he said. ?Decent beast. Good at cribbage. Burned a little too much of his wage betting on the fights. Didn?t deserve to go like that.?

?He didn?t go like that, I?m afraid.? Aera placed a paw on Tegue?s shoulder. ?It was no accident.?

For a moment, a flare of fear and anger on Tegue?s muzzle. Then it faded. ?May I ask what happened, ma?am??

?He was attacked on one of the higher floors. Certainly when he fell, he broke his neck - but his throat had already been crushed. I?m so sorry, Mister???

He stammered for a moment. ?...Tegue, ma?am. Just Tegue. Crushed? But? why? Who??

Aldridge let out a long, pained sigh. ?Jossia,? he said. ?The stoat who commissioned our duel turned kiss. She was furious by the same the was dragged away. Furious enough to kill again, by the sounds of it.?

Tegue glared at nothing. ?I shall remember that, sir. Thank you.?

Aldridge placed his paw on the rat?s other shoulder, and turned his head to Aera. ?Barrow beasts have joined Free The North, then.?

?Aye,? Aera said. ?Mostly out in Northvale, but two here in the Crater - myself and Ennis.?

?Not Droven?? Aldridge thought back to the vole.

Aera scowled. ?No. Kali, poor dear, seemed convinced that it was her speech and her lute that got Droven thrown into that mess. I think that I managed to convince her otherwise.?

?So the point stands. Innocents have died because of that graffiti.?

Tegue looked at his feet as Aera nodded.

?If you would allow me to sit with Adeen,? Aldridge said. ?I would seek her counsel. Please bring Tegue up to speed on our situation in the meantime. I think that we can rely on him.?

The mouse and rat retreated into the corner, sitting on some of quite a few chairs that had slowly filled the room over the last weeks.

Aldridge pulled up one of the many chairs and sat beside Adeen?s makeshift cot, which had been much improved by slow additions from all of the Barrow beasts - a proper bedroll, a pillow stolen from the guest quarters and sewn with tiny poppies to match her still-lost cloak, a thicker oversheet to keep her warm.

He set one of the two teacups beside her and before long, she was wreathed in steam. The bump on her brow was gone, her scrapes had all turned to scabs and most of those had come away with clean water and cloth - but her cheeks were a little less full and her throat much the same. If he were to pull the sheet aside, he was sure that he would see her ribs in sharper relief than before.

He took her paw in his, and smiled at the thought of just how much trouble this tiny beast had caused him. But the smile did not last for long - after all, the trouble had only just begun.

?Rinam still has your Book,? he said. ?But you knew that already. You think I want to rule this place myself. You think I cannot be trusted to do what you do, and you?re right. Your Book will feed Rinam all of the worst thoughts that you have ever had. All those weaknesses you saw, and couldn?t resist recording. Yes, I remember. Nire?s office, all that time ago. I goaded him with some nonsense and it was only when he showed fear, anger, that you wrote anything. So this doesn?t matter,? he said, a sweeping gesture taking in her prone form. ?You can sleep all you like - your Book is lodged in the paws and mind of a beast who will use it to strike down every target that you have picked out. So here I am, protecting you in here? and fighting you out there.?

He looked to the New Mark Wall for strength. A Barrow beast entered the chamber, joined the others in the corner.

?But the fight is worth it,? he said. ?If I can only show you how much better it is to build, rather than to destroy. Imagine if you were to wake into a world where your revenge had fallen flat, and yet the world was better and kinder. Perhaps then you might be able to start letting go. Perhaps then you might be free.

?There is a name for those seasons when paper and money came to mean so much more to us all. The Age of Legislation. And there was a song written for the beasts who became jailors and magistrates and judges, who started to speak the word of law instead of the word of their fellow beast. But now that I have met you, the song means something else entirely.

?O beast of wax and ink, decree and quill,
There is no justice here, save what you speak.
The common beast has known of good and ill
For all of history, and yet you seek

To switch our bone-deep truth for ink on page,
Blood bond and instinct out for paper sheaf.
Your written rules ignore our love and rage,
Our family and pride, insult and grief.

O Magistrate, O you who I called Friend,
I hurt a beast and stand now in your dock.
With drink and company, could I thee mend?
Remind you that you need not stand in hock?

For you who see no bounds twixt blood and ink,
I?ll give my strength to pull you from the brink.?

Aldridge held her paw a little tighter. Though she remained silent, Aldridge fancied that he could hear her anger at being called a beast of court. Perhaps, a long time from now, she would realise that he had not been entirely wrong.

Perhaps Rinam would kill him with Adeen?s fury long before that day came.

He finished his cup of tea, stood, left her beneath the New Mark Wall and went to sit with Tegue and the Barrow beasts who?d come into the chamber as he had sat with Adeen..

?Tegue. Have my friends caught you up??

?Aye, sir. I am quite interested by some of their observations.?

?Good. So if I were to say that this is enough? That we need a plan, and we need one now? Because I am sick of this place, and what it has done to everybeast here.?

?We?re with you, Alder. Always.? Aera?s kindness, shining through again at last.

?Count me in.? Ulrich, curt, determined.

?I detest the lynx,? Ennis said. ?I?m with you.?

Tegue looked at each of the beasts around him in turn, and something in his countenance changed.

?I?ll help,? he said.