The Sword of Stars: Chapter 4, Part 1 (J2 AU NC-17, Fic)
Read Text Version Here
Chapter 4
After their encounter the previous day, Jared wasn’t sure what to expect from Jensen beyond displaying more deferent, by-the-book behavior. So Jared wasn’t particularly surprised Jensen did not speak while they were still at the monastery and in Brother Benedict’s presence beyond murmuring a reaffirmation of his willingness to submit to Jared’s authority and bear whatever punishment Jared desired. He couldn’t fault Jensen; Brother Benedict was incredibly creepy-unsettling-and apparently very powerful and influential. Jared was uneasy in the Councilmember’s presence, feeling as if any moment he might behave in an improper way and be struck down where he stood. But Jared had hoped Jensen’s behavior might relax a little when they’d left the monastery.
Jared thought wrong. Not only did Jensen not speak or visibly relax, but also he seemed to retreat further into himself. His hands twisted together under the cover of his robe’s loose sleeves, his back and neck tensed, and his breath came in quiet, uneven bursts, all the while Jensen’s eyes whipped furtively around, never making contact with anyone, but never stilling either. He seemed to be expecting ambush to come at any moment from any side. At first, Jared thought the wariness might be a preventative measure-perhaps a diligent attempt to avoid a repeat of the circumstances in which they’d met, and it probably was that, partially. Avoiding eye contact was also very practical for someone of Jensen’s caste, as it meant protocol dictated he only had to bow to those who directly acknowledged him-a practical step when nearly everyone the passed was of a higher caste than Jensen. But comparing Jensen’s behavior now with that in the monastery, revealed a much more sinister truth... well two truths: Jensen was more afraid of Jared than he was of Brother Benedict and Jensen was unaccustomed to wandering in this part of the city.
Jared wanted to kick himself for not having a more detailed plan for the day. In his surprisingly pleasant report to Morgan the night before-the Deputy Director agreed Jared’s encounter was a fortuitous opportunity that would help them address the unexpected obstacle of the sincerity of Jensen’s beliefs-Jared had said he planned to befriend Jensen and attempt to situate himself as a mentor or perhaps benefactor. His plan hadn’t extended much past walking and talking with Jensen and perhaps assigning Jensen to a task that would give Jared more opportunity to talk and maybe getting something to eat. Only the talking wasn’t happening, and Jared was starting to doubt Jensen would be willing to eat with him, especially not if he stayed this skittish.
When they’d walked nearly a mile from the monastery’s entrance and Jensen still hadn’t spoken, not even to ask where Jared was leading him, Jared realized he had to develop a new strategy and fast.
As Jared continued leading Jensen around the outermost ring street towards the Purity gate, he asked, “So, Jensen, what do you usually do for fun?”
Jensen turned his eyes to Jared with a shocked, bug-eyed look, his stride actually faltering slightly before resuming its precise pace that kept Jensen exactly a meter behind Jared at all times. “I do not understand the question, sir. I am sorry, and you may add this failure to my punishment,” Jensen replied with a waver in his voice.
Ok, probably not the wisest question Jared had asked. Jensen probably didn’t-or at least wasn’t supposed to-do anything playful. Jared tried again, sneaking a glance over at his new... charge. “I didn’t mean for you to think you were in trouble, I just wan-want to get to know you a little, and I was curious about what you do-or maybe where you go when you’re not performing duties for the Church.” Jared thought about his words before adding carefully, “I don’t wish to disapprove them or tell you to stop, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
Jared smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Judging by Jensen’s expression, he’d only managed to scare him further. Of course most people carrying out a punishment wouldn’t smile-at least not in a friendly, get-to-know-you sort of way-and if they did? Jared shuddered. Right! I don’t want to come across as a leering monster who gets off on punishing someone who doesn’t have a choice in the matter.
While Jared was soul-searching, Jensen had finally gotten up the courage-or acted on his sense of self-preservation-and responded. “I spend most of my time working for the Church, sir.” Jensen swallowed so hard Jared could see Jensen’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat. Jensen’s features paled, and he hurriedly added, “but of course I will make time for whatever you require of me.” Jensen’s eyes, deep and mossy with emotion, darted to Jared before flicking back to his feet.
Jared noticed Jensen’s hands seemed to be twisting together-fingers pressing in specifically numbered sets-hidden under Jensen’s excessively burgundy robes. Ah, Jared realized, recognizing the behavior for what it was, at last. His mom was a psychologist after all-it was embarrassing he hadn’t picked up on it sooner. Jensen... Jensen had obsessive compulsive disorder, or something very close to it. The little puffs of breath and the rhythmic hand-wringing were signs of nerves, but they were also evidence of Jensen’s attempts to control his situation-stop and interrupt more painful, looming, thoughts and fears. The compulsions were Jensen’s means of trying to exert some control over his situation... but Jared knew they were also a source of more fear. But why the super-secretive, furtive gestures? Jared had known people with OCD who tried to conceal or minimize their symptoms but not like this... not keeping their hands hidden... not... Oh... Jared was beginning to wonder if he would ever stop feeling so, so... stupid. Jensen’s symptoms would probably be viewed as a sign of weakness, imperfection, maybe even a sign of further moral taint and decay. So, Jensen couldn’t be open about them, and certainly couldn’t turn to anyone for help.
“Jensen,” he started, glancing over and finding Jensen’s eyes still determinedly gazing down at his feet. “I don’t wish to take up a huge part of your time, or make your life at the monastery more difficult.” Jared waited, watching to see what effect his words would have.
Jensen kept walking, hands twitching, eyes downward cast, but at least he didn’t seem to be jumping, flinching, or forming any wild conclusions.
Encouraged, Jared continued, “I meant what I said yesterday. Your focus and dedication did tell me your heart was in the right place. And I really was impressed.”
Jensen still walked on in silence.
“And I also meant it when I said I felt like this was partly my fault-” Jared held up his palm to forestall Jensen’s protests as his eyes whipped up to Jared. “I don’t mean you’ve tainted me or something.” Jared shook his head, feet coming to a halt as he turned to face Jensen. “From my perspective...” Jared wracked his brain for a way he could explain this without blowing his cover or confusing Jensen further, “I’m new here, and I feel a bit like I’m out of sync with everyone in St. Pious. Sure,” he shrugged, “I know the rules and the protocols and-the religious teachings, but the way they come together-how they’re put into play, is a little bit different than what we did back home. So, I go around, moving through my day, and I feel like I’m always about to step on someone’s toes-be they a noble person or a slave or anyone in between. I just don’t quite know the-flow-of life here. And I’m learning, but sometimes it feels like it’s not fast enough. No one is expecting me to be.. off, and I think that’s what happened yesterday.”
Jensen’s mouth began to open and close again, twitching like a fish, “But I accept my responsibility-” he started.
“I know you do, and I thank you for that. But that just tells me you’re an even more focused, responsible person. And that’s a good thing,” Jared added, his head bobbing up and down in a vigorous nod. “I just want to get to know you Jensen, help you out if I can, because everything about you tells me your heat is in the right place. And in return,” Jared shrugged, “I... expect you to teach me, help me understand how things are done in Z... St. Pious, so I can stop feeling so awkward. Like I’m going to make a mistake at any moment.” He smiled at Jensen again, careful this time to make sure the expression was warm and friendly and reached his eyes, and sincerely hoping Jensen hadn’t noticed his near-slip… he’d almost said how things are done in Zyreta. “Do you think you can help me with that?”
Jensen blinked, a long, slow swoop of eyelids accented with impossibly long eyelashes. He was silent a moment more, but then, finally, began to speak, the corners of his mouth twitching up slowly, gently as he did so. “Ye-yes,” he nodded, “I do believe I can help you master the formalities of St. Pious protocol.” Jensen sounded a little surprised at himself. Then, as if awakening from a slumber, he shook himself. “There is one place, outside the monastery, that I go to think, to, to meditate... and sometimes pray, when my tasks are complete for the day. But it is far from here, and...” Jensen paused, obviously struggling with whether or not to say something more. He finally stilled his features, a mask of false calm settling onto his face. Jensen glanced around quickly, as if taking in their surroundings for the first time. “I am not very familiar with this part of the city,” he admitted.
“Ah, that’s ok,” Jared reassured. Then acting on a hunch he added, “And if you’ve got someplace special to you, that brings you peace, you don’t have to show it to me if you don’t want. I will never force the issue,” Jared added, hoping he wasn’t making a promise he couldn’t keep-if the place Jensen meditated was key to saving the planet, he might have to go back on his word.
“Ok,” said Jensen with breathy uncertainty.
“How ‘bout I show you someplace I come to clear my mind?” Jared asked. “You see, I’m new here, but this is one area I do know well.”
Jensen hesitated again, an internal battle waged under the surface. “I would not wish to impose on your privacy, sir,” he added solemnly.
“You won’t be intruding,” Jared reassured, turning back towards the direction they’d been heading. “I wish to expand your horizons and learn a little about you, and this is the most comfortable place for me to do it-for you to start teaching me more protocol too,” Jared added with a glance over his shoulder.
Jensen was still standing, stunned, on the side of the street.
“Come on,” Jared beckoned with his hand.
Hesitantly, Jensen began to follow, even sneaking another quick glance-as if in disbelief-at Jared and then their surroundings, before fixing his gaze on the dusty cobbles at their feet.
As they resumed their trip, a huge smile broke out over Jensen’s face as his body breathed a huge sigh of relief. Finally!
For the first time since coming topside, Jared felt like things were starting to go right!
Jared had planned to come here later in the day, maybe after Jensen had opened up to him some and he’d found a suitable job for Jensen-not an easy task considering Jensen’s caste technically prohibited him from entering a tavern or any establishment that served intoxicants or other ‘potential sources of moral corruption.’ But Jensen’s skittishness and hesitance to open up forced Jared’s hand. If he wanted to establish a rapport with Jensen, he wasn’t going to do it by leading him around unfamiliar parts of the city or setting him to work on a solitary task or by unsettling Jensen with his... unexpectedly lenient and friendly attitude. No, Jared needed to establish himself as the respectable newcomer eager to fit in-a man with a need for Jensen’s services; the man Jared claimed to be.
All in all, it was a cover that wasn’t far from the truth (which was always the best kind of cover). And while uncertainty of or discomfort with the application of regulations and protocol in St. Pious wasn’t originally part of Jared’s cover, it made a lot of sense for who he-Jared Lecki was supposed to be. The more Jared thought about it as he and Jensen continued their leisurely pace along the ring street, the more he realized it was a good plan... No, possibly a great plan. Asking Jensen to ‘tutor’ him in protocol enhanced the plausibility of Jared’s identity while establishing an appropriate attitude for someone of the Tavernkeeper’s caste and giving him a good excuse to have more-personable-conversations with Jensen than might otherwise be appropriate between members of such disparate castes. At the same time, the ‘punishment’ would probably appear suitable to Brother Benedict, as it would ensure Jensen was continually ‘reminded of his place’ while the actions ‘reinforced his knowledge of and respect for protocol’... or at least that was how Jared would describe it if he were in Benedict’s shoes. He hoped the conversations would instead give him ample opportunity to-reeducate Jensen instead. Yeah, this might actually work.
As they slowly rounded the curve and passed the tall, stone walls of the city’s armory, Jared spied their destination. There was an arch-shaped gap at the base of the city wall filled with what was ostensibly a woven, iron gate (but that Jared knew actually contained a titanium alloy grate enhanced with the best sensors and bioscanners the Zyretans possessed, which while not excellent by Scientist standards, were still formidable; it was also electrified). Under the arch and through the gate flowed the Dea Flumina (Goddess River), which-both supposedly and actually-provided much of the water and some of the power to St. Pious. Just inside the wall, a buttress built in the middle of the broad, swiftly flowing stream diverted about a third of the water’s volume into a broad, green marshy area across which stood a tall and sturdy mill wheel.
The mill-as far as Scientist recon could tell-derived all its power from the river and used it to power two side-by-side plants, one that sawed lumber from trees harvested outside the city gates, and another which ground flour from maize grown in farms on the outskirts of the city proper. Around the mill, several artisan shops had sprung up, forming a little market. Within the market was a restaurant of sorts, or the closest thing to one Jared had found topside. The various craftspeople contributed their wares, ensuring patrons got to sit on comfortable wooden chairs while eating fresh-baked breads and an assortment of other delicious foods from cooks and farmers, hunters, and fishers in the area.
Since people of all social strata-from the burgundy laborers and yellow slaves who worked in the mills and for the represented guildspeople to the various members of the merchant castes who owned and ran the businesses or practiced their crafts nearby, to the members of the Tavernkeepers’ caste and various nobles who purchased wares or employed the services of those in business around the mill-all needed to eat, and all were welcome at the restaurant. The only restriction was the slaves were relegated to their own section and could only choose from a limited menu. But Jensen, thankfully, was burgundy, and he and Jared could dine together and talk without raising any eyebrows.
Better yet, the dining space was inside in a low-ceilinged space constructed from rough-hewn timber that had come through the mill. It was snug and cozy and lit by gentle candles and oil lamps that cast a dim, soothing glow across the space. Jared loved it because he could actually see without pain or squinting, and the mix of people meant he felt almost at home and the most at ease of anyplace topside outside the cell’s HQ. He hoped Jensen would find it similarly comfortable, although he wasn’t getting his hopes up.
“So, Jensen,” Jared began cautiously, relieved when Jensen started, but didn’t full-out jump, when Jared spoke. “Have you been down here before to the Mill Market?”
Jensen swept his eyes around, his demeanor at last interested and eager, as if he had awakened from a long slumber. “Is that... is that where we are, sir?” he wondered.
“Yes,” Jared replied, “well very nearly.” He pointed up ahead where the un-diverted two thirds passed under the ring street by entering an impressive tunnel Jared knew was modeled after the ancient aqueducts on Old Zyreta.
The tunnel led deep into the artificial hill on which the town was built. The official story was ‘magic’ provided by the grace of the God and Goddess was at work deep under the city to purify and lift the water to various wells, collecting pools, reservoirs, and cisterns scattered across the city. As far as Jared knew, the water actually entered the hill to split in two paths-one that used it’s velocity to power a hydropower plant, and another that purified the water (using 300-year old tech that was still pretty sophisticated) and harnessed the power generated from the hydropower plant to pump the water uphill. Scientist exploration of the hill’s existing network of underground structures and tunnels confirmed dozens, maybe hundreds, of slaves worked inside, unseen by the outside world. They probably didn’t even know where they were. Jared tossed his head from side to side and drew himself back to the present. Jensen was speaking.
“I’ve heard about the Market,” Jensen murmured in wonderment. “But I do not think I have ever been there.” He shrugged, then looked down at the street, face pink with embarrassment. “My...” he started, then stopped, seeming to struggle for the right words. “Brother Benedict and Father Peleggi do not assign me to many chores outside the monastery grounds. And when they do,” he shrugged again. “Usually I take Piety Lane if I’m making a delivery to the Plaza or going to the Temple. I’ve never really been here...” his voice trailed off as his eyes made another darting sweep of their surroundings. “Is that where we are? At Mill Market?” Jensen asked again, in disbelief.
Jared nodded, “Yes.”
Jensen’s features were animated, almost excited, for a moment before they fell and then blanked, as if Jensen’s face was a data wafer that had just been wiped clean. “Do you wish me to labor for the Market, or collect goods for you there?” Jensen asked, his voice neutral.
“N-no,” Jared stammered, a little flustered with Jensen’s assumptions. “I was hoping we could stop there for a bite to eat-and I could get to know you a little better, maybe discuss how best you can assist me,” Jared explained kindly.
“That is all right, sir. I do not need to eat. If...” Jensen continued to protest, but at that moment the first wafts of aroma from the market reached their nostrils, pleasantly blocking out and overriding the omnipresent stink of animal dung that seemed to permeate the city. Jensen’s stomach growled. “I am so sorry, sir; that was most rude.”
“Nonsense,” Jared managed, struggling to keep his frustration with Jensen’s constant self-deprecation at bay. It wasn’t Jensen’s fault after all.
As they drew closer to the sprawling marketplace, Jared stole a glance at Jensen and watched as Jensen’s eyes grew wide. It really was a sight to behold. Stalls and booths lined both sides of the broad street with smaller paths branching off on both sides lined with even more vendors. The main building itself was constructed of dark, rough-hewn lumber that matched the construction, color, and ‘weathered’-that was the term-look of the mill wheel itself. And everywhere there were people of all castes, wearing almost every color of robe known on Zyreta. They were haggling, plying their wares, transporting goods, socializing, overseeing their businesses, and due to the nature of the space, all so intermingled to Jared’s eyes it could have been a more brightly colored version of any Scientist bazaar. Unable to suppress a smile he asked, “What would you like to eat?” as he steered Jensen towards the main building. He was hoping that maybe now they were here and Jensen was somewhat… enthralled by the surroundings, Jared would be able to get past Jensen’s self-deprecating insistence. Whatever Jensen decided though, Jared desperately, selfishly wanted to eat indoors where the light was dimmer and presence of walls reminded him of the comforting caverns of home.
“I-I’m sorry sir,” Jensen stammered, ‘I’m not sure what you are asking. You do not need to feed me, and if you wish me to eat, I will gladly eat whatever you order.”
He glanced over at Jensen again; his eyes looked nervous and shifty, and Jared wanted to kick himself for asking Jensen the way he’d ask a Scientist. Jared was trying, but he just kept screwing up. The poor guy probably thought Jared was subjecting him to some sort of sick test to see if he’d exhibit “inappropriate desires” for a member of Jared’s caste or some nonsense like that. The manual-the one they gave to agents before their first long-term field placement- talked about this sort of thing. Jared had been warned, but reading about Zyretan customs and psychology in a book was very different from understanding it in practice, as he was soon discovering. Shaking his head wearily, Jared tried again. He had to do better or he’d never gain Jensen’s trust. “I’m sorry-”
Jensen looked alarmed.
Nope that wasn’t right either. Jared bit his lip in frustration. How could he get Jensen to eat a meal he liked without making him even more uncomfortable? “Jensen, I’m not from around here. Things where I come from, in Campus Worth, they’re different. The place is just a lot smaller and the distribution of the people... it’s really different.”
Jensen looked skeptical, as if he wasn’t sure where Jared was going and wasn’t really convinced it would make sense, but at least he didn’t look alarmed or on edge. “Different... Do you mean the proportions of castes, sir?” he asked quietly, staring steadfastly at Jared’s chest.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” Jared agreed with an inward smile. That statement had a lot more truth to it than he’d intended. “So, like I said before, I’m hoping you can help me get to know St. Pious a little better. And that includes the food. I know you said you’ve never been here before,” he indicated the market, “but you’ve been living here for years, and that includes eating, so you must be familiar with the local cuisine-what’s good, what’s not-and I am asking you to pick something that you enjoy so I can learn more about what’s good to eat here, while also learning about you.” He hoped it made sense. He could think of at least a dozen or so objections Jensen could come up with, and that was with Jared’s less-than-perfect understanding of Zyretan culture. Plus no matter how he worded his request or what justification he gave, Jensen would view it as an order, because it was, and until and unless he established a more solid rapport with Jensen, Jensen would be looking for an ulterior motive, a test, a threat inside everything Jared asked.
When Jensen spoke, it was to voice an objection-carefully phrased to not sound like one-but luckily it was an objection Jared could easily deflect. “But sir, the food I am accustomed to is the food for a Burgundy-sometimes Father Peleggi grants me the honor of sharing meals with the young acolytes, but you see, their food is quite simple-more like what a lower tradesguildman would eat. It wouldn’t be appropriate or palatable for someone of your stature-”
Jared chuckled, reaching out to steady Jensen with his hand when Jensen flinched at the sound of Jared’s laughter. “Oh Jensen, I said it was different where I’m from. The food is much simpler there for everyone. To be honest, some of the delicacies here, things people of my caste eat, what tavern patrons order-they’re so complicated and... unfamiliar that I’m a little weary of trying them.” He smiled and squeezed Jensen’s shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “I think food you know and... enjoy... will be a good starting point for me.”
Jensen seemed to consider Jared’s words for a moment as if testing them for falsehood or a hidden trap.
Luckily, Jared had been quite honest, even if he was dissembling about where exactly it was he was from, and it must have showed.
“O-okay,” Jensen agreed. “Sir,” he added hesitantly. “Would you prefer for me to look indoors or out?”
“Indoors,” Jared answered with a relieved sigh. “I think we will both find it comfortable there-not so many people watching, not so many distractions. We can start to get to know each other a little better.”
So, Jared led the way into the market, and once inside, Jensen began looking over the booths that lined the walls. The building was lit by godlamps, but was much dimmer than the outside-a combination of small windows and shade created by the outdoor kiosks and large canopia trees helped block much of the direct light. Jared immediately felt himself start to relax.
The smells were strange and alien to Jared’s nostrils, but the mix of pungent spices and yeasty aroma of fresh baked goods got his stomach rumbling with approval.
Jensen seemed hesitant at first, glancing at each vendor and their wares from afar. But as they worked their way deeper into the long building, around the far end, and started working their way back along the far side, Jensen seemed to gradually relax. He approached the booths, looking more closely at the hot food and provisions they stocked, even asking a few questions of the purveyors. He prefaced each question with some variation of “I am assisting Master Lecki, and he wishes me to inquire,” but Jared took that as another positive sign. At least Jensen seemed to be taking Jared at his word and wasn’t making an issue out of the supposedly punitive reason for his service to Jared.
The merchants and their servants seemed to treat Jensen well, a few looked affronted by his inquiries until they saw Jared in his copper-colored attire standing nearby, but no one responded with outright hostility or rudeness, and a few of the shopkeepers seemed to recognize Jensen and reacted positively to seeing him. Jared filed that information away to examine later.
By the time they’d covered half the length of the far side of the Mill, Jared’s stomach was rumbling loudly. He was almost ready to make a suggestion of his own, he’d recognized a dish involving flatbreads and beans that he could never seem to remember the name of, but he’d actually eaten before, in Campus Worth no less. It would be safe and he could eat it without having to worry about whether the supplemental enzymes would do their job, but it would also defeat a large part of the purpose of this endeavor-to get Jensen to open up and to learn more about Jensen and St. Pious. Before Jared gave up, though, Jensen paused in front of one of the smaller booths that was currently staffed by a lone woman wearing Burgundy. A delicious aroma was wafting from steaming tureens, and Jared could hear the faint rumble of his belly even over the noisy chatter of Mill Market’s other patrons. Jensen was talking quietly to the woman behind the counter, though, so Jared didn’t dare interrupt.
Continue to Chapter 4, Part 2
Master Post | Back to Chapter 3