Syd McGinley

Twice-Caught

Chapter One

Tarin curled his toes a bit tighter against the bark as he scooted his butt back and leaned against the tree trunk. He huffed out a breath and watched his mouth-air swirl in the cold. His toes twitched. Stupid socks meant he could hardly hold on. He wriggled his ass, and his trousers unpuckered from his crack. Having a layer between him and the cold wasn't ungood. But it wasn't good either. He scowled and sucked hard on his honey treat. He was in a tree. It was a reward and he should enjoy it. If he didn't look down and see how close the ground was, he could imagine he was high up and solitary. Safe and alone.

He sighed. His reward wasn't the freeness he'd hoped for when he'd begged for a scramble up a tree. The bare limbs meant he was plainly visible. No private moment. He plucked at his snug top. His holly berry Shortest Day clothes stopped him feeling the world and were not going to help him be not-being-seen Tarin.

He squirmed. The no leaves and scarlet sweatshirt were not the real problem. The tree was in the middle of the Before Times quad. Cadets were running in groups through the slush and shouting songs. Tarin knew his freedom was just a few minutes of play. That wasn't the problem either. Tarin swallowed some honey juice. The real problem was stamping around under the tree slapping his own sides to keep warm. Tarin glowered at the yellow flop of hair, the bony beak, and straw jut of beard that were all he could see of his man's face.

"Bonded," growled Tarin, and rubbed his stupid tingling spine against the trunk. "Candle Day," he hissed to himself. "Be quiet, spine. Tarin waits!" Either his promise or the bark scratched the conscience itch enough. Tarin watched Garrick march in place. It wasn't warm clothes, good food, or even men that had Tarin trapped. It was his own self that kept him here.

And sitting in a tree, playing at being free, only heightened the civilized trap.

"Coming down," he hollered. "Not land on you!"

Garrick had already taken a precautionary pace back.

"Woof," said Tarin as he plummeted down and grinned at Garrick's teasing clutch at his own ribs. "Not squash you!"

"Not twice squashed," said Garrick, rubbing where Tarin had once cracked his man's chest. "Get your feet in those go-sloshes before you take another step. Gideon will kill us both if your feet get cold."

"Socks," grumbled Tarin, glaring at the hated things. "Wearing them."

"Wet and cold," amended Garrick. "If your toes fall off, we'll be in the scat."

"Frosty-toes." Tarin shoved his feet into the funny rubbery shoes. He was still not convinced about this notion of Healer Gideon's that Tarin's toes were in danger of falling off if they got too cold again. Men had odd ideas about socks, and frosty-toes were probably a trick to make Tarin wear them despite his Mothers' Dispensation.

Tarin sighed and trudged along next to his man.

"Short climb, boy."

Tarin shrugged. "Not right."

Garrick didn't say anything, but his beard twitched. "Let's get some work done before the light fades."

"Work, work," Tarin bit off the last planned "work" before Garrick could give him an irritated look. Tarin's early mornings in the bakery with Edon were good, but his late afternoon shift in the library was merely tolerable. It was the project with Garrick that stressed him. Not that it was arduous, but so much rode on it, and it was frustrating and picky.

The early afternoon light was hitting Garrick's work table perfectly, and the feathers, shiny line, and sharp hooks were meticulously laid out. Tarin had his doubts that even the best lures were going to be enough to reinstate Garrick as a hunter.

If his man wasn't a hunter, then he wasn't contributing enough to the community to have a helpmeet. And Bad Egg Jadon would win.

Garrick shucked off his parka and stood for a long moment, rubbing his injured right hand.

"Get cold-stiff?" asked Tarin. "Should put a sock on it."

Garrick barked at his cheeky boy and sat down. He waggled his remaining finger and touched it to his thumb several times. "Well, a glove would be wasted, but less of your backtalk, boy. We need to figure out how to tie this lure. Here, you hold this feather in place for me."

Tarin sat quietly with his finger inside loops of line while Garrick muttered and consulted black lines on paper and repeatedly failed to replicate them.

"Tarin does it instead?" suggested Tarin after a while.

"No," said Garrick, his snarl barely suppressed. "Has to be my skill, boy." For a second Tarin thought his man was going to sweep the hooks and lures to the floor. "And Gideon says this practice will help my hand heal right."

Tarin reached out and massaged Garrick's clawed hand. It was stiff and knotted with the cold and pain. The scar tissue where his three missing fingers used to be looked purple and hard.

"Hurts?"

Garrick moaned. "No, boy, not really. I can't feel what I'm doing with these two. And the gone fingers ache."

Tarin nodded. It made no sense, but he missed trees that were still there, so perhaps Garrick could feel fingers that were gone. He kept rubbing Garrick's hand and felt the inside of his man's palm shift a little.

"Lady Night fingers," said Garrick, his beard bristling at his boy as they watched the truncated bones and tendons move under the skin. "Ah, what's the point, Tarin? I'll never be able to catch enough fish to replace the deer I used to bring in."

"We fight," hissed Tarin. "Remember?"

Garrick stood, walked to the window, and stared out. Tarin fiddled with the hooks. His palm still bore a tattooed dot from their first encounter. A hook had jabbed into him as he and the beak-faced man had wrestled by the ravine.

"Rabbits, too," suggested Tarin after Garrick had been silent a while. "Show you snares?"

Garrick came back to the table, ruffled his boy's hair, and sat down to try the knots again.

They finally got the feather attached, and Garrick twitched the line across the table. "See, boy? Like a bug for the fish."

"Huh," said Tarin. "Men are tricky."

"We use our brains," said Beak-face and rubbed his hand. "And boys are ticklers."

"Am not," said Tarin. "Tickling is wrong. Torture." He nodded firmly.

"Fish-ticklers," amended Garrick. "That's what catching the fish your way is called, Tarin. When you lie in wait and grab. I was reading about it in a Before Times book. Some Before Times tribes used spears. I wonder..." He looked at his hand and flexed the finger and thumb. His shoulders sagged. "Not enough grip or strength."

"Other hand," said Tarin. "Can poke fish. Practice."

Garrick was shrugging again.

"Nice fat man," said Tarin encouragingly. "Other arm is strong." He tried not to make his "pft" noise, but his man was being wrong-headed. Brains didn't seem to help much. Just got men tangled up like their black squiggles.

"My left hand is clumsy," said Garrick. "It may be strong, Tarin, but I'll miss the target."

"Mothers!" snapped Tarin. "You get to fish again. You have other fingers." He shoved the tray of part-made lures at Beak-face. "No freedom. Trapped!"

"Civilized!" roared Garrick, banging his good fist on the table so that the hooks jumped. "We rescued you."

Tarin's spine burned. "Trapped," he repeated in defiance of his own body and the expression on his man's face.

Garrick's gaze bored into Tarin. As angry and hurt as Tarin felt, he wanted to snort. It was like having a woodpecker drill at him. He wanted to stroke his man's great beak and say "civilized," but he huffed instead.

"We rescue boys," said Garrick softly. He put his good hand on Tarin's arm. "Don't you see yet, boy?"

Tarin squirmed and gathered his wildness to say something, but a shadow had already passed over his man.

Garrick took his hand away. "Well, there's still Candle Day, Twice-caught. You have the Choice then and can leave if you must."

Tarin squirmed. His man's desire, his spine, and his own brain tussled. Tarin wanted to stay with Garrick. Bonded mattered. But Bad Egg Jadon had promised to use Tarin to destroy Garrick. And Tarin missed being free. Civilized was scat. Tarin would have to leave, wouldn't he?

There was a polite tap at the door.

"Captain Garrick? May I enter, please, sir?"

Garrick stamped to the door and yanked it open. Ofer stood there with a tray of food. Tarin's belly growled. Civilized was scat, but being warm and having hot deer made indoors good. Tarin poked his stomach. He was getting fat like a man.

"Why are you here?" snapped Garrick, and then gathered himself when he saw Ofer flinch. "Ofer, I didn't order food in my room."

"I did, Garrick. Remember? We said we'd get together for a strategy meeting. I thought we'd eat at the same time." Lieutenant Cale stepped in behind Ofer and chivvied the boy toward the table. "Tarin, move the work tray. I've brought Mart to keep you company while Garrick and I plan."

Mart gave Tarin a beaming grin as he scooted in behind his man. "Hey, Tarry! I got grab beans for us to play."

Garrick had his hands on his hips and a frown. Tarin knew there was no such meeting planned, but the community had all been fussing and bullying at Garrick since his accident. No, thought Tarin, not since his accident. It was since Bad Egg Jadon's invocation of the Holy Elf clause. No one wanted Garrick to be defeated by Jadon, but still no one would vote that Garrick was fit enough to keep a boy if Beak-face couldn't prove himself. Rules mattered.

"Captain," hissed Cale. "It's a favor to Sergeant Edon. He and Ofer have nowhere private to go since the bundling edict. Ofer is always on duty when Edon has some private time."

Tarin smothered a giggle as his man's proud look melted. He was quite happy to do favors, but he bristled at receiving them. Community boy Ofer was one of his soft spots.

"Ah, well, then. Bundling has been quite a burden for us all."

Tarin and Mart made a joint fart noise and hooted. "Bundling stinks!"

"Good evening, sirs." Edon stood awkwardly at the threshold, with two crusty loaves in his hands and a pointedly not-looking-at-Ofer gaze.

"Ah, Sergeant, yes, uh, thank you for the bread delivery. Can you stay and advise us on..." Cale trailed off. Neither he nor Garrick were good at cunning, thought Tarin.

"Braids," bellowed Tarin. "Edon has to show me special bread folding. Make Candle Day twists. Must practice."

"Uh, yes," said Edon, catching Ofer's hopeful wave. "There's only three more Mother Days until Candle Day. And it's a complicated braid. We can't waste the dough, and it's bad luck to make the loaves at other times."

Everyone shuffled around for a moment to let Edon and Cale in, and Ofer beamed at his pledged man. The room was crowded with six people all standing around the table until Garrick took charge.

"Very well, then. Ofer, please serve the officers their food. Sergeant Edon, please give Tarin his tutorial. Mart, you may assist Ofer."

Tarin rolled his eyes. His man was bossy, but Mart had said that was part of being an officer. It made it easier, Mart had insisted, because you knew who was in charge. All men are in charge of boys and cadets. And officers are in charge of men. Tarin had snorted, but not before wishing Cory had thought Tarin was in charge back in the woods.

Tarin followed Edon into what Mart and Ofer called a kitchen, even though it was nothing like the bustling hot room the community's food was prepared in and that Edon and the other bakers considered their turf - at least in the pre-dawn hours. The Officers' Quarters had lots of useless rooms from the Before Times.

Edon gave Tarin a big wink. "Well, Tarin, we do need to practice. The Mother Day braided bread is not as easy as your hair." Edon gave Tarin's rather scruffy braid a doubtful look. "And dough puffs, remember, so don't tug it tight. We'll practice some knot shapes on the cadets' supper rolls through the week so you can get a feel for how the rising changes the shapes. They won't complain about misshapen food. The beasts just inhale it." He picked up three cleaning rags and rolled them up. "Show me how you do your hair, boy."

Tarin grabbed the rags and quickly flapped them over and around each other. "Braided." He grinned at Edon. "Now you can go and be private with Ofer!"

Edon snorted. "That was the easy version. Now with four ropes, and we make it into a circle. Neatly, so that no one knows where the start and end are."

"Be with Ofer!" said Tarin, as bossily as an officer.

"I give up," said Edon. He tossed the rags at Tarin and headed back to the main room.

Tarin tried a quick slide on the kitchen floor as he followed Edon back. His socks were good for that at least, even if he did jolt to a halt at the edge of the squashy carpet and stumble into the room.

"Ah, Sergeant," said Beak-face. "Defeated by him already, I see! When boys conspire..."

"Men perspire!" shouted Cale and guffawed. "Mart, finish the meal service. Ofer, you are dismissed from the table."

Ofer jiggled for a moment and then, as Garrick garbled out some order about folding bed linens, shot into the bedroom. "Sergeant... just... uh... supervise him."

Mart and Tarin sniggered as they stood behind their men to complete the table service. The rare sound of Ofer laughing was cut short as Edon shut the door.

"Remember, his innocence is restored!" called Garrick. He grinned at Cale. "Heh, Edon didn't think that part through, did he? His boy may be off limits to others now that he counts as a new boy, but Edon's only got Ofer's mouth and hands! No fucking the innocent boys until Candle Day."

Cale snapped his fingers at Mart. "Stop eavesdropping, boy, and give the Captain some more of this gravy masquerading as stew. This is all potatoes and brown sauce."

Garrick growled. "Well, it's deep winter, Lieutenant. Meat is getting scarce, and the hunters are a man down." He waved away the gravy, and took a chunk of bread instead.

"Sorry, sir!" said Cale, and glowered at his friend in a most unbecoming-an-inferior-officer manner.

"Innocence!" chirped Tarin. "Still got mine!"

"Mothers help me, you do," grumbled Garrick, but he shot his boy a pleased look at the change of subject. "Cale, when do the boys get their Candle Day training?"

Tarin gave Mart an anxious look. Cale was all but rubbing his hands as he answered Garrick.

"This Mother Day! Or at least, that'll be the day they are given the private talk and their men state whether they are opting in to the preparation pegs."

Garrick chuckled, and Tarin felt his tummy flip. "I assume opting in is the way to go, Lieutenant?"

Cale nodded, and Tarin saw that Mart was nodding hard as well. "It's kindest to the boys, and I think their men enjoy them more."

"Sten is of the opinion that their innocence is lessened." Garrick rubbed his beard. "He opted out, and he's proud to have been the first and only thing inside Eloi."

Mart smothered a snort that sounded like, "Gideon's finger."

"Lieutenant, what do you say we dismiss these two big-eared servers?"

Tarin patted his ears. They were smaller than Garrick's, so he was confused about whether big was good or bad. Mart nudged him. "Tarin, we're allowed to play."

"Not out of sight," said Cale. "The Captain doesn't want you listening to us, but I don't want you two chattering without supervision. Mart, don't you spoil his innocence with silly stories."

"Take the gravy and crusts with you," said Garrick. "Leftovers, I know, but the scant rations... hey! Manners, boy!"

Tarin grinned. "Am beast! Innocent beast!" He scampered to the corner of the room with the bread and gravy. Mart followed, giggling.

The two boys squatted down woodland-style, and Mart spilled out his pouch of beans and explained the game while they sopped up the gravy with the bread and chowed through it. Garrick may have called the food leftover crusts, but the men had saved a full serving for their boys to share.

"Mart?" whispered Tarin. "Is it really okay? Losing innocence?"

Mart tossed the big white bean and chanted, "Scurry, grab, one bean," as he picked out one dark bean from the heap and caught the white bean as it fell. He muttered, "Yes, but, Tarry, pay attention at training."

He tossed the white bean again, and as he sang "Scurry, grab, two beans," Tarin anxiously pursued his questions, and Mart insisted he liked having Cale fuck him. By the time Mart had reached ten beans, Tarin was chewing his lip.

Mart handed the white bean to Tarin. "Here, you try. Aran can get up to twenty!" He dropped his voice. "Honest, Tarin, it's good. You saw me and Cale in the steam room."

Tarin played grab bean for a few tosses, silent except for his game chant. "Bum is tight," he finally hissed to Mart in between five and six beans. "And Beak-face has big cock." He missed the seven bean toss and handed the white bean back to Mart.

Mart started his turn after a quick look at the men. Cale may have been visiting on a pretext, but now the officers really were deep in a strategy session.

"Tarin, let the Captain know you want the peg."

Cale's chair creaked, and Mart hastily said, "Scurry, grab, two beans!"

"Mart! Enough play time. Tarin is on duty at the library soon. We'll escort him over. The Captain has a hand appointment with Gideon. Ofer will be quite safe in the company of the Sergeant."

Tarin and Mart both made a rude motion about Ofer and Edon with their fingers, and Beak-face laughed.

"No respect for their superiors. Boy, I'll see you at supper."

Tarin submitted to a goodbye eat of his mouth. The Mothers were right that even a brief parting should be faced with a kiss. Tarin and his spine might still tussle about what being bonded to Garrick meant, but they agreed they wanted him safe. Hearing his man was hurt at the mall had sent shocks through all parts of Tarin.

He shook his head a little and frowned. Some of his Shortest Day was still hazy, but something about Mothers telling him to stay with his man invaded his dreams and snuck into his waking thoughts.

He stomped along behind Cale and Mart with his feet inside the hated socks and rubber shoes. Dry feet had advantages, but naked feet were better. He gave his toes a wriggle inside their prison - his littlest toes didn't feel anything, and he huffed. He'd get a lecture from Gideon about frosty-toes if he said anything, so he kicked off the go-sloshes at the library entry, waved goodbye to Mart, and trotted off to find Major Jonas, the head librarian.

He didn't have to look far. Jonas was behind the Infer Desk instructing his own boy, Aran. Tarin squinched his eyes. The dull daylight filtering in was harder to see in than sun glare, but the lack of clarity oddly enhanced the resemblance between Jonas and his older brother, Bad Egg Jadon. They only looked alike, thought Tarin. Jonas was kind and clever. Jadon was just shouty and mean. Tarin frowned. Worse than mean. He picked at a memory: Shortest Day and the bonefire. Jadon had promised to destroy Tarin and Garrick, but there was something else about that day. He shook his head. Scat! There was something important, but the fever he and many of the community had succumbed to had left holes.

Jonas and Aran were whispering. Talking was allowed by the Infer Desk, so he was puzzled by their muttering. Tarin squinched again. They looked worried.

"Duty!" he said, so they would know he was there.

"Scat!" said Aran and rustled at some papers. "Tarin, don't be so quiet!"

"Lie-Berry," said Tarin. "Has to be SILENT!"

Jonas frowned and looked more like his brother for a moment. "Tarin, report to Lieutenant Linus. He has several orders to prepare before the light goes, and you're on stack-mule duty. We are allowing some books to leave the library during bundling times."

"Bundling stinks," said Tarin and Aran together.

Jonas rolled his eyes. "Boys and their snappy sayings."

"Well, it does, sir," said Aran. "Literally."

Tarin trotted off to the stairs but heard Jonas say in a voice full of tensions, "Vocabulary, boy," and Aran's chastened defense of "Could be a Before Times word."

Linus was in his usual grumpy mood. Tarin resigned himself to a few hours of dusty rebukes as he followed the officer up and down in the stacks, carrying piles of books.

He delivered a heap to Master Sergeant Idris, who was still wrestling with something called trajectories, which was, as far as Tarin could tell from his sketches, simply how to throw big rocks. Tarin assessed Idris as he crossly scratched out some more squiggles. Now that Idris had claimed Kerr, Tarin was keeping an eye on him. Idris had to complete his project very soon to become an officer by Candle Day, or he'd lose Kerr. Kerr was a good kid, thought Tarin, and Idris seemed, well, diligent.

"Before Times word!" said Tarin aloud, and earned a glare from Idris and Linus.

"The light is getting too weak," said Idris. "Linus, I'd like to take these to the communal bunking to study."

"Let me record them, and then Tarin will carry them there with you. Tarin, stay there. The evening hours will begin before you can be escorted back."

Idris paused at the front entrance for Tarin to fight his feet into the go-sloshes. Tarin scowled. Idris could hold the books to make it easier! Linus or Jonas would give Tarin a demerit for putting them on the ground. Tarin squirmed his toes and huffed.

"Here, boy," said Major Jonas, and took the stack of books. "Master Sergeant Idris, are you so above your station that you can't pitch in?"

"Huh?" said Linus, shaking his head. "Sorry, Major! I was thinking about ballistics for my catapult." He sighed. "I can't get the height I need for the stones to fly far enough."

Tarin kept quiet and worked his left foot in while Jonas held the books.

"I know the promotions board approved your project idea, but I don't understand why you are working on a distance weapon," said Jonas. "There's no one to fight."

Idris shrugged. "Better safe than sorry, sir. And as long as we have a warrior officer option, we need qualified men to fill it. We can't all be hunters in the fighting units."

Tarin slowed down with his right foot. This was interesting! All the cadets and men trained in using hand weapons, he knew that, and spent hours doing ridiculous drills. Lots of running and shouting. It was, Tarin and other boys had decided, because men didn't have woods so they were made exercise-crazy by being in the Before Times buildings so much.

"Tarin! Get your toes in that shoe, boy!" Jonas sounded stern, but he had his usual amused look.

Tarin obeyed but mused on the idea of a big distance weapon as he trotted along after Idris. Tarin's stony-sling was excellent for getting rabbits, and once he'd got a goose! Idris must be trying to hit monsters like in the divids, if Tarin had understood his pictures aright. He had big stones. They'd squash a deer.

"Giant catypult!" said Tarin cheerfully to Idris as they stomped into the gym.

"Yeah," said Idris glumly. "But Goliath will never work. I won't be an officer."

"Huh," said Tarin. "Kerr likes you?"

"Probably," growled Idris. "Be quiet, boy. Help me find a study spot before this place is overrun."

Tarin plodded across the gym to where the officer-candidates had holed up the day before. Their crumpled paper was still strewn around. Ofer had tried to tidy it up and had been hollered at, so now no boys interfered, and the officers had declared the study area to be an exception to the tidy rules.

More and more men were entering the gym, and the noise level grew. Tarin rubbed his ears as he put Idris' books down on some bleachers. It was true that bundling did actually stink, but the noise was worse.

"Tarin! Exercise time!"

Tarin perked up and turned to see Cadet Kenan grinning at him.

"Ready, boy? Before it's too full in here, you and I will do some circuits and sprints."

Tarin set off right away. His legs got twitchy during the long days of work, work, work, and Garrick claimed he ran in his sleep if he didn't get exercised by Kenan. He pounded around the edge of the gym, dodging where cadets and boys were setting up squashy bags. If Kenan hadn't been pacing along with him, he'd have picked up a hand of demerits for his exuberance.

"Wooo!" shouted Tarin and hurdled a kneeling cadet. "Yowp," he added as Kenan slapped his rump.

"Quiet running, no jumping, and no silliness, Twice-caught."

Tarin settled into a jog and remembered that he didn't want Kenan to know how long Tarin could run. He needed to keep some boy-secrets. He'd already given away that he liked Beak-face.

Oh! There was his man coming in through the double doors. Tarin did a happy sock-slide over to him and hollered, "Am good! No demerits!"

"And a hello to you too, boy," said Garrick and caught his boy round the waist before he collided with the next man.

"Aw scat," said Tarin, looking at who he'd nearly barreled into.

"Still not controlling him?" sneered Jadon. "Twice-caught and half-hand - you barely make a single cadet's worth between you." He barged on past them, and headed for the paired-up officers' corner.

"We're in the way," said Garrick, and he tugged Tarin aside so others could enter. Tarin could feel the rage course through his man and Tarin's spine vibrated in time with his man's fury. His beak-faced man was ready to raptor swoop.

"We slow fight," hissed Tarin. "We are the hunters, not prey."

The twitching in his man's hand eased. Garrick choked for a second and then squeezed his boy. "Our prey is not in season, eh boy?"

Chapter Two

More and more cadets and men rushed into the gym, and Tarin and Garrick were buffeted for a moment until Garrick led his boy down a row of bleachers.

"Let's sit, Tarin, while the crowd settles. We have a reserved spot since we are paired."

"Not near Bad Egg," said Tarin with a scowl. "He stinks." He paused and tried out his new word from Aran. "Literally!"

Garrick chuckled. "He does. Rotten feet that one. Doesn't change his socks enough."

"Socks," groused Tarin, and leaned against his man while the gym floor filled with men, cadets and boys. "Mart's man had ideas?" he asked.

Garrick grunted. "Not really, boy. We already presented a solid case at the hearing that I can contribute to the food supply in plenty of ways, but they all require spring and summer to prove. Until then, we are vulnerable to challenges. The officers will vote fairly."

"Am yours on Candle Day?" asked Tarin. "Before spring," he added in case the captain didn't understand his concern.

Garrick put his arm around his boy's shoulders. "Yeah, boy, but you are still offered the Choice. I hope - Tarin, I hope you stay. It is a choice, and I'm less than I was, so..."

"Lady!" said Tarin and rolled his eyes. "Only a Bad Egg would leave over that."

Garrick snorted. "But you wanted to leave anyway, boy. You wanted freedom before my fingers went."

Tarin squirmed. "Civilized," he said glumly as much to make Garrick's beard relax as to stop his spine buzzing. "But Jadon will leave you alone if I am gone." He wriggled his toes. How they had gotten frosty was a mystery, but there was something about his toes, his itching spine, and the bonefire.

"Better you and Jadon than neither," said Garrick.

"Ew, smushy," said Mart, flopping down behind them. "Captain Garrick, Titus has said there is enough stored power for divid watching groups! You and Cale are on tonight's list to watch with Titus."

"See, boy," said Garrick. "Titus is not casting us out of his officers' groups. First night view is a privilege. We'll be okay."

"Divid!" said Tarin, gleefully.

Stupid Cory still insisted the divids were Mother Magic even though the boys now all knew it was Before Times stuff. Cory probably even still wanted to say Lady instead of Mother, Kerr had said a bit meanly during their last Mother Day lesson. Tarin grinned at the memory. Kerr was asserting himself more during boy time and being less worried about being seen as Tarin's friend. Perry, on the other hand, was avoiding Tarin and even turning his back on him during meetings. It made Tarin's stomach feel like he'd eaten sour berries to see his friend do that. How could Tarin persuade him that Jadon was not to be trusted if Perry wouldn't sit near him?

"Stop thinking, boy," said Garrick.

"Perry," muttered Tarin.

"We have enough trouble with Major Jadon," said Beak-face, "without messing with his pledged boy. No arguing, Tarin. The Major is being fully reinstated at Candle Day and, as soon as he is, he gets a boy. End of story."

"Makes me stormy that Perry listens to him," said Tarin. "Perry wasn't stupid in the woods."

"He's caught," said Mart. "Messes with boy brains when balls get involved." Mart squirmed and grinned at Tarin and Garrick. "And bums!"

"Enough, Mart. Your man has told you not to corrupt my boy with talk."

Garrick's eyes were crinkly though, so neither boy was bothered by the rebuke. They sat on the bleachers until they saw Cale come in just ahead of Edon and a crew of scullery boys toting soup pots. Ofer followed with a big basket of bread.

"Supper time," said Garrick. "More potatoes in chicken-flavor water."

"Happy lumps," said Tarin. "Yum."

Mart giggled. "First winter boys still think this is big eating, Captain."

"Bounteous," grumbled Garrick as he and the boys caught up with Cale and joined the soup line.

The two officers found their reserved sleeping bag spots, and their boys plopped down by their feet.

"Thanks mom," muttered Garrick and Cale, sounding a little less grateful than usual. Mart echoed them, and Tarin just dunked his bread in his soup bowl, then chewed happily. His man might complain, but bread was so good even when, perhaps especially when, he had to make it himself. He liked his early mornings with Edon, even if other bakers and boys were there. It was work that made sense, unlike plodding around in the dusty library.

As they ate, Aran wheeled in a cart with the divid watching box and arranged it near them. Tarin wriggled. The first time he'd seen a divid, he'd had to hide his head under his T-shirt until he realized men were laughing at the new boys and their sniffles about Mother Magic. He'd resolutely glowered at the screen until he'd understood that it was a story - just like Lady Night tales when the boys tried to scare each other around the fires. Divids were Before Times stuff but still just a story. Stupid Cory had cried all the way through about Mother Magic even after he'd been reassured that it wasn't real. Tarin was still trying to make up his mind about whether divids told true stories or lies. Cory insisted that they had to be true or how could they see them? Mother Magic, Tarin had taunted back, and then been separated from Cory by Cadet Kenan.

Tarin grinned. He'd earned a demerit for provoking Cory, but so had stupid Cory for throwing his apple at Tarin. And Tarin's demerit had been worked off right away with a spanking from Beak-face. Tarin sighed. It had been the last right-handed spanking he'd gotten from his man. Left-handed ones were not so much fun. Yet! Tarin peeked up at his man and wished they'd had a chance to share gifts that afternoon. Letting Ofer and Edon use the bedroom was too kind, decided Tarin.

If divid stories were true, Tarin was really glad he didn't live in the Before Times. They were loud and complicated. And there were Mothers everywhere. Even Little Mothers. Tarin doubted divids were real. They had too many strange things in them. Metal flying things. Splosions. Creatures from different worlds. Babies. Mothers. Dragons. Pizza. Horses. Puters. Men fighting, sometimes with swords and sometimes with splosion sticks. The Before Times couldn't have been like that. Tarin was sure that babies and flying metal things were unreal. Splosions seemed unlikely, although they were exciting, but he hoped pizza was true. Divid people seemed to really like it.

Tarin tugged at Garrick's ankle. "Splosion movie?"

Garrick chuckled. "I don't know, boy. The choice hasn't been announced. The review board took a long time approving a new divid after last time."

"Phoooone hooooome," said Tarin, making his voice as mournful as possible. It hadn't been just the first winter boys who'd gotten upset watching the creature go into the woods and get all glowy. Tarin had felt his belly flip and flop as he watched it, but now he'd discovered that he could make men act funny if he made an Elliott face. Not Beak-face though. He'd swat his boy and tell him to stop being a manipulative little monkey. Tarin grinned. He and Kerr could make Cory cry by touching their fingers together. Kerr was slowly becoming Tarin's friend in the free time after Mother Day lessons now that Perry had become a Bad Egg-loving weasel.

Garrick snorted and ruffled Tarin's hair. "Silly boy. The review board said it would choose an exciting story this time."

Tarin returned to the last of his soup, satisfied that it wouldn't be a snuffly-nose movie or a puzzling chicken flick. There had been no tasty birds in it at all. Lots of Mothers with spiky feet. He squirmed. He'd teased his man about shopping at the dangerous mall based on that divid, and his man had lost his fingers. The Before Times were very wrong, decided Tarin.

Shouty Jadon was making announcements about the evening, but Tarin didn't listen. He already knew he was in the divid group.

"No idleness," finished Jadon. "To your groups!"

The divid group was already in position, so Tarin stayed still and kept his head down while all the men, boys, and cadets yelled and stamped and reorganized themselves. Inside and civilized were tolerable only so long as Tarin could forget how many people were all crammed in. Bundling was horrible for that alone. He still felt like ants were crawling on him every Mother Meeting.

He felt Garrick's hand stroke his neck. His man didn't like big crowds either.

The noisy groups were positioned at the other end of the gym near the doors that concealed the thrumming generator. Cadets were doing pushups and stamping around in patterns, and the men grunted as they rode on chargers. During the summer, cadets on punishment worked the cycles, but during the winter the warriors and hunters rode the pedals to keep their muscles working until spring. Garrick still took his turn, having argued that he was still a member of the warrior group.

In the middle of the gym, a librarian read a story aloud to the men and boys working on winter tasks - splicing ropes, restoring leather, carving wood, sewing shirts and darning socks - as well as some simple meal preparations - scullery boys chopped dried apples and shelled nuts. Off to the side were the study groups and some officer planning meetings, and finally, set up in the officers' sleeping area, was the divid group. Groups would watch the same divid in turn until everyone had seen it. Bundling made divid night complicated. The watching box was turned so only the group could see it, nonetheless, by the end of each new divid's cycle, the whole gym could recite the story from listening to it so many times. Tarin grinned - being a boy with a man was better than being a cadet! Cadets were always in the last groups - even after the cohort of two-band boys who were still waiting to be chosen next year.

"No spoilers!" said Titus.

"No spoilers!" answered the divid group.

"Or we'll kick your asses!" shouted the gym back.

The room was filled with laughs, grunts, and curses for another minute, and then it resettled.

Titus popped the divid into the watcher and sat on a squashy bag with his boy, Simeon, to watch with the group. There were groans as the divid proved to have coming soons.

"Even bad divids that we'll never get are torture," groused Cale. "It's even worse when they look good."

"This is Sparta!" said Garrick, nodding in agreement. "I bet we'll never find that one."

Titus shot them a look, and Garrick and Cale snorted.

Tarin nudged Mart. "Men are like boys on divid night!"

"Quiet!" said Titus. "There's only two hours until powerdown. If you make me pause the divid, you won't see the end."

Everyone watched anxiously. Sometimes coming soons went on forever. Their two hours could be dangerously tight.

Tarin grunted happily. The movie was starting, and he was pretty sure splosions would happen. The music just had that feel! He wriggled back against his man's fat chest and got ready to be transported.

Huh, his man kept holding tight to his shoulders. There was nothing happening that would bother his man, so Beak-face must be anxious about Tarin. Oh, thought Tarin, he squeezes when I twitch. He's worried I'm going to yell.

"Don't worry, Beak-face," whispered Tarin. "Spine and me both know it's a story. Won't shout!"

"You and your spine," growled Garrick. "Here, have a honeysucker, boy."

Tarin rattled the treat around inside his mouth, enjoying how it bumped against his teeth and released little bursts of sweet. He let it settle where his cracked tooth used to be and let a trickle of sweetness drizzle into his throat. He listened to the divid voice talking about cubes and sparks. Tarin sniggered to himself. Bad Egg Jadon was a Dee Septy Con. It would be fun to call Jadon Eggatron! He would save that for the next attempt to persuade Perry.

He bumped his head against Garrick's knee and wished he could tell Beak-face his joke, but Titus was watching the boys as much as he was watching the divid. Tarin gave Titus his Am Good face and was disappointed to see Titus smile. Titus' wrong hair looked odd in the divid glow, and Tarin shivered as he obeyed the commander's finger point from Tarin back to the screen.

The story was getting fast! It made no sense. Before Times stories never did even, when they were ones with swords and no splosions. They still had Mothers everywhere.

"Monster!" hollered Tarin, despite his promise. "Eats boys!"

"No spoilers," shouted the entire gym, making Tarin shudder from the violence of having everyone direct their noise at him. Garrick's left hand squeezed hard. Tarin turned round and looked in his man's face.

"Real!" he said urgently. "Was eaten by a monster!"

"Shh," said Titus. "Garrick, take him outside if you can't keep him quiet."

Tarin looked back at the screen. The metal monster was rearing up to grab the boy in the divid.

"Real!"

Titus hit the pause button to the groans of all the group members. "Captain Garrick!"

Beak-face's hand was firm on Tarin's shoulder, but it wasn't hurt-gripping. "Come on, boy, let's take a walk."

"Real," repeated Tarin, embarrassed by how his voice wobbled.

"Yes, boy," reassured Garrick, as he guided Tarin away. The divid noises started again. "Come on, boy, walk over here and explain."

Tarin trotted along next to his man. His eyes felt scratchy. His man slung his good arm protectively across Tarin's shoulders, and the curious stares from the others no longer mattered.

"Tarin, where have you seen a car?" asked Garrick in a low voice. "I know you can go beyond the boy boundaries, and we know some of you scouted over to the mall for winter clothes. But there are no auto-shells left for miles. We've scavenged all of them."

"Eaten," said Tarin in a hot whisper. "Inside monster."

Garrick scratched his beard and steered Tarin to where Healer Gideon and his boy, Socorro, were chopping herbs and stirring them into salves.

Gideon wasted no time in checking Tarin's temperature and looking into his eyes. "The fever's not back. I don't think he's hallucinating."

"Real," said Tarin.

"Yes, boy, we believe you."

"Garrick, pop him up on the bleachers, so I can check his toes since he's here."

"Frosty-toes," said Tarin glumly. "Then was eaten."

Gideon frowned as he pulled Tarin's socks off. "What do you mean Tarin? Are you remembering something?"

"Making up a story," scoffed Socorro.

"My wild boy can't lie," said Garrick. "I leave stories to civilized sillies."

Socorro snorted good-naturedly. No one ever seemed to get mad with his man, thought Tarin. Except Jadon.

Gideon frowned. "Enough bickering. Tarin? Is this a memory or a dream?"

"Cold toes. Then in hot belly monster. Ute-vee." Tarin whimpered. "Mother!"

"Wiggle your toes, boy."

Tarin waggled his feet.

"Toes," repeated Gideon.

Tarin glumly obeyed and did his best to time his squeaks to Gideon's tweaks. He suspected he was not convincing. The officers were exchanging looks over his head.

"Well, this is a mystery," said Gideon. "Your boy seems to have had a Mother Encounter. It must have been on Shortest Day, if he's right about it coinciding with his frostbite."

Tarin felt the gym roaring around him. All the noise from the men and the trappedness of being inside made the world swirl.

"Woof," he said, and flopped hard against Garrick. "Whirly." He tugged his feet away from Gideon's too clever hands.

"I'll give him a turn around the quad," said his man. "I think we both need some fresh air."

"Bundling stinks," said Socorro and Tarin.

"When boys are right," chuckled Gideon, and shook his head. "Very well. Let the boy cool off and calm down, and we'll finish this conversation when you get back."

"Divid," said Tarin. "We're missing it."

"We'll squeeze into another group," said Garrick. "So long as you promise not to fuss about the cars."

"Cars splode," said Tarin, hearing a whoop from the divid group.

"Outside and alone," said Garrick. "Mothers, boy, I never thought I'd have to entice you outside!"

Tarin took his man's good hand and followed him outside. Nothing felt right. He was too hot inside even though there was still deep snow all around. It was stifling with all the men in one place. Garrick had patiently explained several times that lighting just one big hall after dark meant they had plenty of winter power for cooking and even divids, but that heating and lighting lots of small rooms was impossible. Everyone in one place shared their body heat. The Before Times rooms didn't have something called chimble-vents. By deep winter, there was a choice, Garrick had said, between lots of cold men in their own rooms in the dark with cadets shivering in bunks, or all together having fun and being toasty. In all but the mildest winters, they'd been obliged to bundle after Shortest Day.

Toasty was too much, thought Tarin. It was like being cooked. And so noisy!

Tarin took a deep breath. Real air!

"Fun," he snorted. Men liked company far too much.

Garrick kept a firm hold on Tarin's hand as they took a brisk march around the quad. It was bitterly cold. The air prickled in Tarin's nostrils, and the slush had set into hard slick shapes.

"You're blessed," said Garrick after a while. "If you've met a Mother. That's rare."

"Pfft," said Tarin.

"Be serious," said Garrick. "Boy, Mothers rarely intervene directly with individuals. We might get a Plea answered, and they send us the right medicines and food, but they hardly ever meet us."

Tarin swallowed a snort. Men were very serious about Mothers. When Titus had convinced Tarin that Mothers were real, Tarin had bawled like a first summer boy. Mothers were all glowy and warm. Tarin squirmed at the memory. Now he was back to his usual 'poke it with a stick' self and was sure Mothers were some sort of trick.

"Only stupid Cory," he began, but Garrick shook him into silence.

"Cory has been Mother Healed," said his man. "Gideon confirmed it."

Tarin shrugged. "Eaten by monster. Not a Mother."

Garrick groaned. "Tarin, the monster is a car. A ute-vee. Mothers drive them. They're from the Before Times. If you were in a car, it means a Mother was there."

"So?" said Tarin, kicking at an ice clod and then muffling a whimper. It was harder than he'd expected and his toes were only in socks and go-sloshes. A funny dull pain racked his foot.

"Titus has met Mothers," said Garrick. "Sten and Helem too. No one else. Cory doesn't remember it. And now you."

"Means nothing," said Tarin resolutely. "Have met a skunk and a growl cat."

"Blasphemous little beast," said Garrick in exasperation. "Don't let anyone else hear you say that." He paused. "Well, Gideon knows, so it's not a secret, and we'll let Titus know, but don't talk about this too much, boy. It will make some jealous."

They were back by the entrance to the building with the gym. Just thinking of the warmth made Tarin shiver harder even though the noise and crowd made him reluctant to return. Garrick gave him a squeeze in the hallway and kissed him hard.

"My boy."

"Nice fat man," said Tarin, and kicked off his go-sloshes.

Tarin and Garrick both took a deep breath of clean air and then entered the gym. Three hundred pairs of besocked feet and cold-weather-washed-in-theory armpits and the accumulated farts and funk of weeks of bundling hit them anew.

"No one really likes this, boy," muttered Garrick. "Getting out of cadet bunkrooms is a good day for men, and the chance at private quarters is no small incentive to study for promotions."

"Civilized," grumbled Tarin, casting a rueful look at the rapt divid group and submitting to Socorro's instructions to sit back down and take his socks off again.

To Tarin's surprise the Healer focused on listening to his lungs, poking at his ribs, and peering into Tarin's eyes. Tarin felt twitchy and annoyed and as if he wanted to kick, but Socorro was near his feet so he didn't. He huffed mightily when Gideon invited Garrick to take a look at Tarin's eyes too and to prod at his second armpit bump. All the while, Socorro was humming some stupid Mother Day song about little piggies.

"All the way home!" finished Socorro with a flourish. "Done, Gideon!"

"Well, good news, Garrick, your boy's heart and lungs are in good shape. No fever, no concussions. He's undoubtedly remembering, not imagining."

"Scat," said Tarin. "Monster was real?"

"Yes. The bad news is that he has no feeling in his toes. While he was distracted, Socorro did the poke test, and he didn't kick."

"Skunk scat," said Tarin. "Don't want Ofer toes."

"Boy, why didn't you tell me?" rumbled Garrick.

"Socks make no feeling," ventured Tarin. "Couldn't tell." His spine buzzed. It wasn't a lie. Just not quite a true.

"Will he lose them?"

Gideon shook his head. "They seem okay for now. And he can move them. We'll need to keep a close eye on his feet. Daily massages and salves."

"Holy elf?" said Tarin.

Garrick bristled his beard, and squeezed his boy. "You'll be my boy, Twice-caught, no matter how many fingers and toes we have between us."

"Come and join the Healers until powerdown," said Gideon. "Tarin, you can stir the tub of Candle Day salve while Socorro measures in the herbs."

Garrick and Gideon took bleacher seats along the edge of the group so that Gideon could continue to oversee his men who were measuring herbs into packets and boys who were glopping rendered goose fat into tubs.

Socorro winked at Tarin. "You'll appreciate this recipe in a few weeks!"

"Quiet!" said Major Lorn, who was grinding something in a stone jar. "Linus is reading us the Hobbitses Story."

Swords and hardly any Mothers! Tarin liked this story. He and Kerr had hotly debated the plot after last night's episode. "Huh," said Tarin. This was his chance to get an answer! "Samwise is Frodo's boy?"

"Shhh," said everyone.

Tarin huffed and kept stirring. The Healer group was listening to the chapter he had heard last night, so he let his mind wander. Monsters and Mothers were both real, and, seemingly, he'd met them both, but they were out there in the dark. Not in the civilized light. Where he was. With his man.

Tarin gave the salve an enthusiastic swoosh, and Socorro sniggered.

"Powerdown warning," bellowed Jadon. "Clear your projects! Powerdown in fifteen minutes."

There was a roar from the divid group. Tarin bit his lip as he helped Socorro clear up. If the divid didn't finish by powerdown, he knew he'd be blamed, even though the pause while Garrick had taken him away had only been for a few breaths.

Garrick's sleeping bag was still in the divid area, so Tarin and Garrick waited on the edge of the gym after they'd helped the Healers pack up.

"Five minutes. All boys in bags! All cadets in their areas!" Jadon glowered at the divid group, and Tarin could tell he wanted to yell at them. General Titus was there watching and hadn't made any move to disperse the group.

All the cadets had moved into groups divided by their years and piled their squashy bags over themselves to form a shared heap of covers. Garrick had said they slept like animals and it was true, thought Tarin, the cadets piled up together like a den of fox kits. By morning they'd be a tangled heap of legs and farty bums.

The two-band boys were chastely bundled into separate squashy bags, and then encouraged to squirm close for warmth. The lower ranked men and single officers rather morosely did something similar in the men's area.

"Officers," bellowed Jadon. "On your honors! No flaunting your privilege!"

Garrick rolled his eyes. "Bundling stinks," he whispered to Tarin as they watched the paired men and boys slide into doubled up squashy bags with a rolled up bundle of rags between them.

"Unfair," grumbled Tarin. "Sharing gifts is good."

"But not when only some of us can," said Garrick. "That's unfair - lying there all night listening to men and boys sharing. The honor roll helps us fight the temptation to share."

"Others can share on their own."

Garrick snorted. "That's not what 'share' means boy, and you know it."

"Feet in socks, hands off cocks!" chanted Tarin, and gave the bundled boys a wave.

"Powerdown," shouted Jadon.

"Scat!" came from the divid group.

"Tarin!" shouted a boy. "His fault! Made the pause!"

Tarin's belly clenched. It was Perry's voice. Even Garrick's friendly arm across his shoulders didn't help. The group was mad with him, and his old friend had marked his trail.

"Hold the generator!" called Titus. "Librarian! Bring the divid box!"

"Sir!" snarled Jadon. "Exceptions lead to poor discipline."

Titus merely raised his eyebrows and held out his hand for the box that Jonas held. The entire gym was staring at him. Cadet heads peered out at all angles from heaps, and boy heads stuck out from bags like half-woven cocoons.

Titus inspected the box. "Major Jonas, the divid committee made a poor choice. This divid not only had too much technology, but it also is longer than two hours."

Tarin felt worms in his tummy. He liked Jonas, and Bad Egg Jadon had a stupidly pleased look on his face at his brother being blamed, yet Tarin was also pretty sure this meant his pause wasn't the reason the movie hadn't finished.

Jonas shuffled. "Sorry, General Titus, when we prescreened it, it didn't seem that long. We reached the judgment that the technology was overall presented as negative, and that the cadets would enjoy the explosions. We planned a Mother Day discussion about the misuse of gasoline in the Before Times."

"Splosions!" chorused the boys by the divid watching box, made bold by their group viewing.

Titus chuckled. "Now then, boys, don't make me regret letting you stay up late."

Jadon growled and then looked away as Titus turned his gaze on him.

"It is cruel to snatch the ending away from the boys. It is hardly their fault that the divid was too long. There will be a half hour extension on generator time until all groups have seen this divid. Major Jonas, I will join the review committee for the rest of the winter, and the current members can all take an extra turn on the charger cycles to compensate for the power used."

"Thank you, sir," said Jonas. "Very fair, sir."

"Thank you, Titus," chorused the boys around the divid. Their officers applauded.

Tarin huffed. They were all so easily pleased by Titus. Tarin narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't let Poxy-Wrong-Haired Titus get his smile! Jadon was the only other person looking grouchy, and Tarin felt even worse at being in his camp.

The gym resettled, and the divid group scrunched round the watching box with the sound down as low as possible so there would be no spoilers and no ass kicking. The rest of the gym took the extra light time as permission to keep talking and the youngest cadre of cadets shot back out of their heap and played a clapping and stamping game.

"Round the gym, Tarin," said Garrick. "It'll tire you out and keep us warm until we can claim our sleeping spot."

"Am tired already," said Tarin, and yawned just from thinking about it. He and Beak-face loped around the edge of the gym. They resolutely did not look at the divid screen as they passed it.

Tarin waved at Ofer and Edon jammed together in a squashy bag, with their honor roll poking out between them. Next they passed Perry sitting waiting on top of the bag he would share with Bad Egg Jadon. There was Linus so bundled up in his single officer bag that he looked like a fat worm. They passed the clapping cadets - "Who me? Yes, you!" - and then back around to the divid area. Jadon was stamping back and forth between the divid group and the generator door. Garrick nodded at him, and Tarin chirped "Good evening, Major Jadon," and made Garrick snort-laugh.

Aran and Jonas had moved away from the edge of the group and were on the bleachers with their heads together. Jonas was tapping the divid box.

Garrick chuckled as they jogged on. "Poor Jonas. His boy is probably chewing him out about messing up the divid."

Tarin snorted, both at Garrick's idea that Aran was in charge and because he could see that Edon and Ofer's feet were clearly entwined at the bottom of their bag. They may have had the bedroom to themselves earlier today, but Edon and Ofer had lost time to make up. Perry didn't look happy. He looked shivery, and his eyes tracked Jadon as he stamped back and forth. Huh, Major Lorn was sneaking his bag closer to Lieutenant Linus'. It must be cold being a single officer.

"...Geryon stole the suckers from the honey jar!" Clap, clap! "Who me?"

Bad Egg Jadon was vibrating as if the word "powerdown" was fighting to escape from him. Tarin slowed up as they approached the divid group. The music had that finishing sound to it. He was ready to snug up with his nice fat man and go to sleep, even if there was an honor roll between them. They could just wait near Aran and Jonas.

"One hour forty-four!" said Jonas.

"Jonas, it says one hundred and forty-four minutes," said Aran, jabbing his finger at the box.

Garrick grabbed Tarin's arm. "We didn't hear that! Quick, boy, another circuit."

"Don't move, Captain! You are a witness."

"Scat!" squeaked Aran.

"Jonas is your brother," hissed Garrick. "Have some fucking decency, man!"

Jonas dropped the divid box and stared at Jadon. He reached out an arm and drew his trembling boy to him. "It's not what you think, Jadon."

"Well, if I'm wrong, then the committee will decide against me, won't they?"

"Again!" snarled Tarin.

"Hush!" said Garrick. "That won't help, Tarin."

There was silence. The divid had finally stopped.

"What," said Titus, in what Tarin knew all too well was his danger-calm voice, "is the disturbance?"

Jadon did a foot stamping turn and salute. "General! The librarian boy Aran can read! I demand an investigation!"

Chapter Three

"You demand many things," said Titus silkily. "Can we clear this up with a conversation?"

Jadon looked like he would splode, thought Tarin, but he was too worried for Aran to voice his idea.

Without waiting for Jadon's reply, Titus turned to Jonas and Aran. He smiled at Aran. The boy's legs were visibly buckling. "Sit down, Aran. Let me ask you some questions. Major Jonas, Major Jadon, you will remain silent. Captain Garrick, you will be a witness." Titus spun around and clapped his hands. "Divid group! To your sleeping places!"

Aran had sat on the bleacher but was doubled over clutching his belly.

"He is guilty," hissed Jadon. "Just look at him!"

"Jadon, silence! Now, Aran, don't be scared. The truth is never wrong."

Garrick's hand spasmed on Tarin's shoulder. The divid group had all moved to their sleeping places, but all eyes stayed focused on the group by the bleachers.

Titus sat next to Aran and touched his head to Aran's. "Boy, can you read?"

"Sort of," whispered Aran, and burst into wails.

"Hush, hush," said Titus, and put an arm around him. "That's very wrong, boy, but we will always judge the truth mercifully."

Aran's shudders shook the bleacher, and Jonas took an angry pace forward. Garrick stepped in front of Titus and Aran and mouthed, "Don't, my friend," at Jonas.

"Simeon," said Titus to his boy. "Go and ask your brother to brew some calm water. Aran may need to have a dose to help him sleep tonight. Perhaps Jonas will share it with him, since he is agitated enough to raise a fist to a superior officer."

Jonas growled. "General, it is my brother I am planning to punch. He is not my superior in any way."

"Well then," said Garrick, and stepped aside.

Titus cough-laughed despite his serious expression. "Major, he is your older brother, and will be a Colonel in a few weeks."

"As will I!" snarled Jonas. "And my lump-of-scat brother only made officer on my back in the first place. Do you think that clodhead could have figured out divid players? If it's not a brick or chunk of wood, he's lost!"

There was a muffled and collective "ooh" from the nearby sleeping bags.

"Out of the gym, gentlemen," said Titus. "Garrick, please escort Aran."

No one had mentioned his name, so Tarin trotted along at the back of the group and did his best not-being-seen-Tarin moves. His man was hug-carrying Aran along, but Tarin didn't mind. Aran was nice, and he needed a man to help him right now.

Titus nodded at the generator attendant. "Powerdown, sergeant, and hand me a patrol lantern. There will be an emergency meeting going on in this office. Please let the patrol know if they come by so that we are not disturbed. There will be a calm water delivery in a few minutes."

Дата добавления: 2015-10-29