Scene 4: Lord Poserei and his Lists
“Lodros!” Where was that stupid moron? Poserei threw a large chunk of magic at the door. He screwed up his mouth in a half-sided grin when the solid door wrenched from the three metal hinges with a screech of torn timber. The crash and clatter brought other sounds: Lodros screaming, for one. Good, got his attention.
Two slaves shuffled into the outer room, began to lift and carry the smouldering detritus away.
“Lodros.” He kept his voice calm this time, cold. More threat than a loud rant. Lodros would know what it meant.
“Master?”
The squeamish sound squeaked from the far side of the outer room.
“Come into my office, Lodros.”
“Master, you have made some damage that must be fixed immediately. I am at that task now. May I attend you on completion?”
“Lodros, come into my office. Now.”
His dumpy, downtrodden figure entered the frame. With slumped shoulders and head forward, his height didn’t even reach halfway up the door frame.
“I require your attendance at the Allocations.”
“The List is not yet complete, Master.”
“Address me as-”
“Lord Poserei, Master of Gold in the City of the Wall – the List is incomplete. The Guild Houses have yet to send representatives from-”
“I know that – I’ve made my own list! I require your assistance, if you’re not too busy to do the job I pay you good gold for.”
The two slaves were gone. Poserei hadn’t seen them leave.
Good. A bit of privacy to reinforce the power of rule in the mind of his mindless assistant. And on completion of the lesson, he would allow Lodros to accompany him to the Neo Hall to collect the tithes.
The main room of the Neophyte’s Hall was full, of course. Four groups had completed their allocations to apprentice roles to finish their training as neophytes before they could be termed as acolyte. How many of this mangy lot would become Master status? He didn’t think many would survive that long, even if they had the skills.
His List was almost complete and his coffers would be adequate to maintain his status for another miserable year in this outpost.
The last group was the Third Intake, with that brat. All fifteen of these final-year neos would be awaiting his list. It would make or break their life-long careers. Important enough to be worth good clinks in his pocket.
Some had already made arrangements to be allocated to a particular task or guild, appropriate and fitting to the rank and standing of their family – on the other side of the wall. Others would do that now, either because they thought they’d get it for less, or because they needed a loan before they made the offer. Lodros was there to take the offers and advise of the necessary amendments or loan conditions.
More gold weight would be required this year, to make up for all the empty guilds. It was difficult – and expensive – to get the items and supplies necessary to maintain his status in this insignificant, miserable, stinking hole of a non-City, and Poserei needed some more comforts if he was to remain here for another moment, let alone another allocation.
Lodros handed over a small note. The words written brought a flush of cold to Poserei’s scalp. His left hand absent-mindedly scratched at his head to rub it away. ‘The promise given must be honoured.’ Well, he hadn’t made the promise, so he didn’t have to take any notice of it. Besides, it was thousands of years ago – who would know what it meant now? No one, that’s who.
Two more notes were raised for his attention. Poserei threw the paper in the air, twiddled his fingers and flashed the promise note into ash; he pursed his lips and blew the ash away before accepting the new pieces of folded paper. No response from the faces of those who watched what he did. They all turned this way and that, thinking someone else had done something to annoy him. And that would frighten them, wouldn’t it? The next round of offers would be much higher now.
The rolling board behind him glowed. He turned to see who had gained or lost a place, and where. One more guild house with all places taken. He opened his palm and slid the ‘closed’ sigil over the House mark. How many remained?
He looked again. Stepped closer. Fifteen Guild Houses and each had one vacancy for a student from this intake. All full. Not possible. Were all the students here?
“Lodros, count the attendees, and if there are less than fifteen, send runners to collect all neos – ALL neos of the Third Intake – to present here – IMMEDIATELY!” His roar made the windows rattle and bounce.
Lodros hadn’t moved. Poserei spun around to glare down at the mouse-man at his right, raised his arm, felt the delight in his chest when the man shrunk further back and down.
“I-I-I’ve s-s-sent – ”
Poserei stood up straight again, cracked his neck bones with a roll to each side. The four runner slaves in their green tunics disappeared out the doors at a flat gallop. Good. Maybe now something else would crack.
He put his hand on the board. What happened? The list was under his tight control. No magic would have been able to go close enough to interact, and the strings of magic he’d set were still bound to the task. So, how? And more importantly, who messed with his protections and plans?
Where was that girl – the offering? He looked. No thatch of untamed hair; no powder-free orange face; no flat black stare in response to his best angry gaze. Why isn’t she here? It was a requirement unless work of a serious nature, or … Ahhhh, the pranks. They’d kept her away. No more than that. But he needed to see for himself if she was a danger. And there was still the issue of who caused the dilemma with his List.
He cracked his neck again as three slaves returned with shakes of their heads. Stepped back and to the right from the board and waited with his arms folded across his chest, one finger tapping. Slapped the toes of one foot against the solid timber floor, felt the tear in one of his soft slippers. Looked down. Why didn’t timber take a smooth finish in this city? Why? Why did he have to bear the burden?
Who could he use to take the edge off his rage?
An excerpt from Equine Neophyte of the Blood Desert Copyright Shannon Hunter & Cage Dunn 2017.
No, I’m not going to do the Leibster Award response – I appreciate the nomination, but work comes first, and if I find time over the next few weeks, I’ll re-look at it. Sorry.
