grinned. “I make it rule only to talk to identities. Stop fretting and sleep.”
Though unconvinced by anything he had said, shortly after he shut the door, she slept.
Back in his own stateroom, however, Gandro Bao did not sleep. Instead he stared into the mirror, his brows tented in query, one nostril lifted, as though scenting a trail. “Here I am being helpful,” he murmured to himself. “Lecturing all about roots and growing in space where is nothing to grow on. Maybe is being only wind under us, and no place for us to hold to? Who is this Bao Bao Down to be giving Ellin Voy small contentments, like mama giving cookies?”
He smoothed his face, making it expressionless, calm, accepting. “Demand much of yourself and little from others,” he quoted to himself from the analects. “You will prevent discontent.”
That would have to do, for tonight.
24
Harassments
Bane and Dyre began harassing Mouche the moment they were moved into Consorts’ quarters, as they had to be very soon, for the protection of the new students. “Dirt rubs off,” as Madame was wont to say, and with Bane and Dyre dirt took all forms from attitudinal, to behavioral, to linguistic.
At first the two of them merely placed themselves within Mouche’s view and stared endlessly, the lidless stare of serpents. Mouche ignored them. Within a few days, Simon had them so busy they had no time for staring.
Nights were still free, however, so they moved from covert threat to overt violence. One night, as Mouche was returning to his suite, Bane and Dyre leapt out at him from behind a protruding pillar, grimacing in theatrical fashion, mouthing their intentions in voices far too loud for secrecy, and with knives snaking from between their fingers. The assault was interrupted by Fentrys and Tyle, who came around the corner too late or just in time, depending on one’s point of view. They were all wounded by the time it was over, and it took all three of them to put the two brothers down and send them off, bloody but still threatening.
“What started that?” Fentrys wanted to know.
“I told you about Duster,” Mouche said, dabbing at a cut on his hand. “Those two did it, and they recognized me the first day they were here. Now they want to punish me for what they did.”
“Well,” said Tyle, “if they’re that sort, they’ll want to punish all three of us. We’d better travel in company for a time, to watch one another’s backs.”
And so they did, sticking so tight with each other or around the instructors that they thwarted several more attempts at violence. Simon, whose job required keen observation, noted this collective stance almost immediately, but it took him several days to determine the cause. At that point Simon took an early opportunity to call Mouche aside and have an informal conference.
“What is this?” Simon asked the boy, after seating both of them comfortably in Simon’s quarters and pouring two glasses of wine.
“Those two used to live near my family’s farm,” said Mouche. “They killed my dog. Worse, they made poor Duster suffer!”
“What cause did they have for doing that?” Simon wondered. “Or was it random meanness?”
“Oh, they thought they had cause,” Mouche admitted. “Duster and I stopped their killing some little native creature, killing and torturing it, too, I’d guess. I didn’t hurt them any, and this business of trying to wound me or kill me just doesn’t make sense. Why are they doing it?”
“I’d say your not hurting them is part of the why,” said Simon. “Remember what Madame has taught you about gaming groups, packs, tribes? If you’d beaten them bloody, they might have fawned on you. Some men want more than anything to have a place in a pack and follow a lead dog. But if you won’t fight for the role of lead dog, then you’re an outsider, someone who interfered with their doing as they liked, and to men like Bane and Dyre, outsiders, particularly interfering ones, are the enemy. Prey, property, or enemy. You have to be one of the three.”
Mouche ducked his head to hide the angry tears at the corners of his eyes. He always teared up when he thought of Duster. “Do they get pleasure out of acting like that?”
Simon leaned forward and laid a rough hand on his shoulder. “Look, Mouche, you’ve got to understand what Newholme men are about, not from Madame’s point of view but from our own. Now most men get taught early