The Broken Eye(43)

The entire conversation with Turgal Onesto—as well as it had all turned out for Karris—was a sidelight for the White; it was the development of a future possible source, and a way to secure Karris’s independence. He had actually held out on one of the largest accounts, which he either didn’t know about or actually had memorized. It didn’t matter, leave him his victory, the White had said. It would be leverage they could use later if they needed to bring him to heel. The real source here was the beautiful greeter and superviolet drafter, Mahshid Roshan, who saw everyone, and knew everyone, and heard everything either directly or through the other servers and slaves here. She was one of the White’s best spies, and Karris needed her.

Karris got up, careful not to gaze too closely at the woman who should be just another servant to her, and went on her way. At the door, she dismissed Samite, who pursed her lips but went.

At least the next part of her day would use some of her old Blackguard training—she had to make sure that between meetings, she wasn’t followed.

It was almost a relief to her when she was.





Chapter 17




In spite of the fact that many of the Blackguard inductees had just returned from actual war, their training resumed immediately, and their trainers still treated them like they barely knew anything. It might have been true, but it still irritated Teia to no end. The weeks passed, and the trainers acted like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed.

“It’s meant to give you normalcy,” Ben-hadad said to her after another practice had left them all breathless, and not a few of them puking. The others had dispersed. For the new Blackguards, there was always somewhere to be, work and studying that needed to be done yesterday. “The order of it. You’ve been off where things are crazy and chaotic. You come back, and it’s all under control. It’s supposed to be comforting. The world’s changed overnight. Prism’s gone, probably dead. Chromeria’s lost two major battles in a war we all thought would be one little skirmish. Everything’s gone to hell, and everyone’s scared. Normalcy? It’s a mercy. And it’s worse for the rest of us, you know.”

“Huh?” Teia asked.

“Those of us who didn’t go to Ru. They crack down and make us all train twice as hard, and we know it’s mostly for your benefit. You come back like war heroes. You’re barely an inductee, Teia, and we’ve all already heard how you led the assault on Ruic Head.”

“Led it?” she asked, incredulous. “I just took point for a while.”

“You impersonated a Blood Robe soldier and led their patrol into an ambush, saving an entire unit and preserving the mission that ended up killing a god. Without you, none of that would have happened.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Teia said.

“So which do you prefer?” Ben-hadad asked.

“Huh?”

“That everyone ignore what happened except for a few whispers, or that everyone walk in awe of you, when you know what happened was less glorious than the stories?”

Teia scowled. “Oh.” Dammit.

“It’s not the first time the Blackguard has dealt with young fighters,” Ben-hadad said.

“Since when did you get all wise?” she asked. “We’re gone for less than a month, and even your spectacles work now!”

Ben-hadad grinned. “I got my third recognized,” he said.

“What?! Your third color?” Teia asked. Ben-hadad had been a bichrome who’d arrived in spring—too late for the school lectures, but he had gotten into an earlier Blackguard class. As his dual-lensed spectacles attested, flipping down one lens at a time, he had always been able to draft blue and yellow, and had been on the verge of green. “But…” They’d been worried that if he were acknowledged as a polychrome he would be forced out of the Blackguard. Polychromes were too valuable to endanger.

“War changes everything. You know how far down the Blackguard’s numbers are. They’re not going to let a Blackguard go, not one who’s already in training. Even if I am a polychrome. Barely.”

“How long have you known?” Teia asked. It wasn’t unheard of for a person’s abilities to expand in their teens; most bichromes and polychromes started with one color and expanded gradually, but there was something odd about how Ben-hadad said it.

“I’ve been able to draft credible green for three months now.”

“You shit!” she said. “You didn’t tell me?”

“You were busy with Kip. All the time, on duty and off.”

“He’s my partner.”