Nicko Mal couldn’t say anything, far too frail to move. He only blinked at the doctor.
“Things are going to change, Nicko,” Brisack said quietly. “You’ve ruined everything, an incredible waste of gold went to pay for Command School, and now we no longer even have those officers. Every two weeks our men wake up and find more gold than their work should ever have earned them. They’ve been spoiled for only a few days’ work each season. But no more. Agreed? Blink once if you agree, twice if you don’t.”
It took him a moment, but eventually Nicko Mal reluctantly—stubbornly—blinked once.
Brisack nodded back. “Now then, here’s what we’re going to do: we stop paying them.”
Mal blinked twice, then twice again.
“Worried they’ll revolt, are you? But they can’t leave the service without their comrades killing them for breaking the oaths. So I propose we cut them off, like a parent cuts off a leeching child. Make them earn their own ways. With no options, I speculate they’ll become very inventive. And that will be fascinating to observe. As the saying goes, desperation drives discovery. What methods will they employ to discover new ways of funding themselves?”
Mal opened his mouth to try to speak, but his lips only parted slightly.
“That’s the relaxant at work,” Brisack smiled slyly. “I recently added that to my heart tonic. You remain conscious but unable to do anything so that your body can rest and your heart can heal. One of my better concoctions, and I thank you for being one of my first human volunteers to test it. My wife’s dog just runs when she sees me approaching now. She must think I’m you. I’ll be recording your reactions to the relaxant over the next several hours. But think about my suggestion, Nicko, and tell me you’re not intrigued. We test the testers. We continue to gain research and be entertained, but keep our remaining gold to ourselves until this situation stabilizes itself in five, maybe ten, years. I see it in your eyes. You’re seeing the wisdom in this, aren’t you? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”
Again Mal was slow to respond, and it wasn’t because of the relaxant. Eventually he blinked once.
Brisack gave him a half smile. “Didn’t you once study what happens to abandoned young of different species? Some grew exceptionally strong, others became depressed and died? I referenced some of that for one of my studies once. You can do it again, but with humans. How will these sucking ‘children’ survive when we cut them lose and let them struggle on their own?”
Mal blinked once, quite quickly. “All right,” he whispered.
Brisack shook his head. “I didn’t give you enough. You shouldn’t be able to speak at all. Or maybe you’re just exceptionally stubborn.”
Mal blinked once again.
“And by the way,” Brisack said as he stood up to cork a bottle, “about saving your life? You’ll be getting my bill in the morning. Guess this proves you have a heart. And you’re welcome, you selfish son of a sow!”
---
Administrator Gadiman sat at his desk, candles burning all around him, with the file in front of him. It sat apart from several others stacked neatly on his large desk.
It was late again. The sun had set hours ago, but Gadiman still had work to do. He could work all night if necessary. And the next day. And the next, for however long he needed to be there. No one would bother him here. No one would dare.
He tried to concentrate on the task before him but his anger boiled up inside again, threatening to froth out in another fit of temper. But he couldn’t let that happen again. It took him almost three hours to reorganize all the files. But as he gathered up the files he dumped furiously out of boxes, one had fallen open to reveal a page he knew he could work with. This was the way he could get his revenge and prove his worth.
The file sat open in front of him as a bright and redeeming light in contrast to a dark and stupid night.
Those two lieutenants were ready, he knew it! Something went wrong in Edge, but it wasn’t his fault. Something—or someone—else interfered, and because of that failure, Gadiman would be dropped from the inner circle before he even got a chance to be part of it. It wasn’t fair! Everything should have worked out perfectly! So who ruined it?!
He took a few deep cleansing breaths, noticed that they didn’t cleanse anything, and grabbed the thick file. He flipped the pages over, past the High General’s comprehensive report, past the testimonies from citizens of Edge, and past the explanation from the Administrators as to why, despite all the progress Major Shin had made, he certainly couldn’t be promoted again after only one season, but here were several medals and patches instead to decorate his dress uniform, along with the proclamation of Major Shin as Officer of the Year.