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Rakesh looked out into the crowded room and smiled. At seventy-three men and woman, this was the largest training group he could remember, and the most promising. Time to greet them, and see them made comfortable. He leaned on his canes and walked slowly out to the podium. He could feel them staring at him, could almost taste their sudden rush of fear. Had serving in the Arena done this to him? Every training group over the past five years had asked that question. Rakesh faced the group and smiled.
"Good morning," he said, the hidden microphones in the podium catching his voice and projecting it around the room. "Welcome to the Arena. I am Rakesh Tarkarin, Second here in the Arena, and I'll be your training master.
"Now, let's clear the air before I begin the orientation. You're wondering now if my service in the Arena did this to me." He held up one cane, and heard nervous laughter. He grinned. "Don't worry. Everyone in your position asks that question, and I'm used to it. After five years, I'd think that my story would be old news, but I see a good number of Aakari among you, so perhaps not. The quick answer is no. This didn't happen in the Arena, and I value my calling and my time spent in the Arena more than anything except my marriage. If I did not, I would not still wear a collar." He reached up and touched his collar, black to signify his status, bearing fifteen gold studs to mark both his years in service and his rank as Second. "As of today, you are only committed to serve a single year. You will wear gray, to show that you are novices. No one will touch you during that time. Even if you ask. The Gray are strictly off-limits. In your time here, you will work in every area of the Arena, from the Lounge to the Floor to the medical facilities. You will learn about life in the Arena, learn about life as a Tarken, see for yourself what is and is not true. At the end of the year, you will make the decision to take the Collar yourself. Or not. That isn't a decision that I or anyone else can make for you. If you decide to leave, you will leave with the wages you earned over your year here, which adds up to quite a pretty sum. If you stay, that money is banked for you, and given to you when you leave, along with any interest earned. You can also draw on that account for luxury items during your time in the Collar. Everything else, from clothing to food to medical care to entertainment, is provided.
"You've passed the preliminary testing or you would not be here. You all are here because you have a high empathy rating, strong personalities, higher-than-average intelligence and an aptitude for pain." There was a soft susurration of laughter at that, and Rakesh smiled. "That last might be the most important part. From this point on, you will learn to harness your empathy, learn to challenge the Swords and how to submit to them. You will learn how to help them through their own pain, and you will learn how to take whatever pain they choose to give to you with joy and with pleasure.
"Now, before you start your orientation tour, what questions do you have?"
Silence, then a pretty dark-skinned girl at the front raised her hand. "Sir?"
"Yes?" Rakesh smiled at her. "What's your name?"
"I'm Lela, Sir. From Felanore." She clasped her hands in her lap. "I...have heard that when one takes the collar, that one can never leave. That we become slaves, and that the Tyesean Council can sell us beyond the seas."
Rakesh sighed. That old rumor still hadn't died out? "No, Lela. No one has been sold. You are not a slave. If you take the Collar, you will serve five years. If you choose, you will serve only five years. At the end of five years, you can leave. You will receive a pension, and be granted high-caste status. No one is forced to remain past their contract period."
"But—"
"I can introduce you to every living former Tarken, Lela," Rakesh added gently. "If you wish. It would take most of the day, so we'll have to make sure you have a day off from training." He looked around the room. "I've heard this rumor before. I've also heard the one that says that the Collared are the first, failed creation of Mathias, creator of the Swords. I can assure you that neither are true."
"What about the one about the Red Swords?" someone called out. Rakesh went very still.
"The Red Swords," he repeated. "That... That one is true." He backed away from the podium for a moment, struggling to keep his composure. Five years, and the mention of the Ishamar still sent him into a near panic.
"Sir?" It was Lela, who had gotten to her feet and was halfway to the podium. Rakesh waved her off and moved back into place.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Yes, the Red Swords exist. You wondered if these canes, if my injuries came because of the Arena? They did not. I was targeted by the Red Swords. I was lucky, and survived. But because of what was done to me, I am no longer able to serve in the Arena. Instead, I train you lot." He looked around and forced a smile. "And some of the things that you will be trained in are self-defense, evasion and escape. In my time, the Collared were never taught such things. It was thought there was no need. Perhaps things might have been different if we had."
"If this is so dangerous, why are we here?" someone else shouted. "Why are you asking us to put ourselves at risk?"
"No one asked you. No one forced you," Rakesh replied. "You volunteered. If you wish, you can leave now, and no one will hold it against you. Or you can walk through these doors behind me and let me teach you why. And when my fellow trainers and I are done with you, you will be counselors without equal. You will be recognized among society as part of the elite. You may choose to remain in the Arena, to take the Red. If you are as lucky as I am, then perhaps you'll find love, and take the Black." He smiled, then saw a figure in black at the rear of the room. His smile broadened, and he forced his attention back to his trainees. "Are there any other questions? No? Then, please, through these doors." He gestured to the double doors behind him.
"You will not be coming with us?" Lela asked.
"Not for the tour, no," Rakesh answered. "I already know where everything is." When the laughter died down, he smiled. "I'll meet you at the end, and we'll get your room assignments taken care of and see you all settled. Now, off with you!" He remained standing as the trainees filed past him and through the doors, then walked over to one of their abandoned chairs and sat down. Even wearing the special boots, it was hard to stand for very long. The medics were talking about another round of surgery, implants to replace the crushed bones that refused to heal....
"Sir?"
Rakesh looked up to see Lela, hovering nearby. "What is it, Lela?" he asked gently. "You're going to be late for the tour."
"There are so many, it will be a moment before they start," she answered. "May I ask you a question, sir?"
"Go ahead."
"You are Aakari?"
Rakesh shook his head. "I was born in Tyese. My parents were from Aakar, though. They were refugees who came to Tyese just after the war, and they both served in the Arena."
Lela looked startled. "Your father?"
"Yes," Rakesh answered. "Why is that surprising?"
"Because in Aakar, men don't sleep with men," a familiar voice answered from behind Rakesh. Lela went pale, and slowly backed away from the footsteps Rakesh heard coming closer.
"Lela, it's all right," Rakesh said, wondering why the girl looked terrified. "Lela of Felanore, this is my husband, Virin Kian-ti-ar. He won't bite."
"I don't know you that well," Virin added.
"You're not helping, Rin."
Lela froze, her eyes wide. "You are married to a man?" she gasped. "That is allowed here?"
"Allowed?" Rakesh repeated. He looked up at Virin. "It's not in Aakar? Father never told me that."
"Raizi left holes in your education, I see," Virin said, shaking his head. "Yes. It's considered obscene in Aakar, and the last I heard, was a criminal offense."
Rakesh let out a long breath. "Well... I wondered why we got so few male trainees from Aakar. I’ll speak to the trainers, let them know to be mindful of that."
"You never asked?"
"I didn't. That was lax of me. Go on, Lela. You'll be late." Rakesh smiled as the girl bowed and darted out through the doors. Once she was gone, he slumped in the chair and groaned.
"Largest training group to date," he said, closing his eyes. "Seventy-three this time, and if the test scores are any indication, at least sixty will take the collar. And we have twenty-seven Aakari this time, and twelve of them are men. We're running out of places to put them, Rin. Even with the renovations and the additional dorm space that was added last year."
"Can you double up on bunk space?" Virin asked, dragging a chair over so he could sit facing Rakesh.
"Not without trouble. When you spend so much of your life in close proximity to others, be it other Collared or Swords, you value what private space you can get. Asking the Collared to share...that's just asking for conflict."
Virin nodded, humming softly. "Well, can you farm some of them out to the satellite Arenas?"
"Perhaps some of the more experienced Tarken and a few Taramar, but again, there's no place to put them! The Maryst Arena is full, and so is the one at the main Garrison. The one in New Amali isn't finished yet. The corps of mobile Collared for Ishkarin on maneuvers is fully staffed, and has a waiting list that will take years to get through. There's talk about starting a new Arena in Felanore, attached to the Embassy—"
"How did you hear about that?" Virin interrupted.
"Marga told me. This morning, as a matter of fact." He yawned, and Virin laughed and reached across to pat Rakesh on the thigh.
"Tired?" he asked. There was a note to his voice that made Rakesh look at him and smile.
"Never that tired. But you know I don't sleep well when you're gone. How was it in Aakar?"
"It's a mess," Virin said simply. "The garrison there has been mismanaged since it was founded, and heads are going to roll. Six ranking Swords have already been sent to the camps for abuse of power, and more will probably follow. Two weeks wasn't nearly long enough to put things right."
Rakesh shook his head. "That's terrible."
"It's worse than terrible. I really have no idea what has been going on there. Records range from bad to cryptic to nonexistent. Serris is still there, trying to make sense if it all. And I'm to go back as soon as possible," Virin said. Then he looked away for a moment.
Rakesh sat up straighter in his chair. "All right, Rin. Out with it."
Virin looked at him and smiled. "You know me too well. They've asked me to take command of the Aakari garrison." Virin reached into his pouch and held his hand out to Rakesh. "If I take it, it comes with this."
Rakesh held his hand out, and Virin dropped small gold pins into his palm. They were rank pins. Terrifyingly familiar rank pins. The last time Rakesh had seen these particular pins up close, he was being tortured. He stared for a moment, then looked at Virin.
"Kian-ti-os? They... They're promoting you to Kian-ti-os?"
"With the transfer, if I take it. If not...Molari says I might have to wait a year or two. But..." Virin let out a huff, running one hand over his short-cropped silvering hair. "He's been without a second for five years now, and he's feeling his age. He wants me to succeed him."
"Creator," Rakesh murmured. "I... Tell him yes. And I'll tell Marga yes."
"Tell her yes about what?" Virin asked.
"That I'll take on the gold for the Aakari Arena," Rakesh answered. "That was why she talked to me this morning. She offered it to me—"
"No."
Rakesh stopped, stunned by Virin's interruption. "What? What do you mean?"
"I mean no!" Virin snapped. "You are not going to Aakar."
"But...Virin, I don't want to stay behind," Rakesh protested. "You taking the garrison, that means you'll be living in Felanore. It won't be for two weeks, you'll be gone years!"
"It's only a few hours by aircar. I'll be here whenever I have leave—"
"And we left that kind of relationship behind when I took the Black." Rakesh grabbed his canes and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm not letting you walk away from me, Rin. Not without a fight."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about!" Virin bolted to his own feet. "A fight! I just told you what they think of men like us in Aakar! Think about the diplomatic damage we'd cause, being public as a married pair of men! We'd be breaking every law they have, or living a lie. Worse, they think of the Arena as a glorified brothel! You're not going to be an honored Tarkarin there, Kesh. You're going to be an expensive whore. I'm not going to be able to protect you from that. And with the way you are—" He stopped, but Rakesh already knew what he was going to say.
"Because of these?" Rakesh asked slowly, holding up one cane. "You want me to stay behind, because of these? Because I'm crippled now?"
"Kesh—"
"You told me that it didn't matter that I was never going to walk properly again."
"It doesn't matter! Not to me!" Virin protested. "Kesh, I just want to protect you! I never want that to happen again." He looked away, shaking his head. "I... I couldn't live through that again, Kesh. I almost lost you the last time."
"And I'll be in the Embassy. With the whole weight of the Aakari Garrison between me and the rest of the world. And with you by my side. Not hours away, in another country. Not alone." Rakesh growled softly and started to limp towards the doors.
"Where are you going?"
"To change. I'm tired, and I'm starting to hurt. And not the good kind of hurt. Linter offered to do the room assignments for me, since he's still off-duty and bored." Rakesh stopped at the doors. "Control!"
Acknowledged.
"Inform Linter Tarken that I'm sending the new trainee room assignments to his box, then do so. The file is on my terminal. Ask him to attend them after their tour. And tell the Chief Trainer that I'm leaving."
Confirmed. There was a pause, then the computer spoke again. Chief Trainer bids you good evening, and requests that you call her to further discuss Aakar.
"I will." Rakesh reached for the door, only for Virin to touch the control pad first. The doors slid open, revealing a long, empty hallway beyond. Rakesh didn't say anything, starting towards the lift at the far end of the hall.
"Kesh, I just don't want to see you hurt again."
"Rin, you won't see me at all if you take this," Rakesh pointed out. "You'll get leave...what? Every fourth week? And only if there is someone to take your duties? And you've just told me that things are in terrible condition there. So you won't be able to take leave at all until you get everything straightened out and running the way it ought to be. So how long, Kian-ti-os? How long before I see you again?" Rakesh turned and looked at his husband. "Do you remember what I told you, about what it was like for me, that first tour you took after the wedding?"
Virin sighed. "Yes. I remember."
Rakesh leaned against the wall, remembering the long nights. The panic attacks. Waking screaming whenever he finally passed out from exhaustion. "It hasn't gotten better," Rakesh said quietly. The lift door opened, and he limped inside. Virin followed. Rakesh continued as the doors closed. "Third level. Rin, the only reason I haven't been staying here while you were in Felanore was that there wasn't room for me! I've been tempted to take leave and go back to the farm, just for the distraction. Kezia had another baby a few weeks ago. A girl."
"A new niece for Uncle Kesh to spoil, " Virin murmured. He moved to stand behind Rakesh and put his arms around him. "I didn't know it was still that bad, Kesh. You never told me. Love, it isn't that I don't want you with me. I do. I just want you safe—"
The lift jerked to a stop and the light blinked out for a moment. Then emergency lights clicked to life, bathing the inside of the lift in sickly yellow light. "Damn it!" Rakesh snarled. "Again?"
"What just happened?" Virin asked, an odd tightness in his voice.
"Power failure," Rakesh answered. "It's been happening on and off for almost a week. Rin?"
"How... How long?" Virin let Rakesh go and backed up slowly, looking around. "Kesh, how long?"
Rakesh turned, dropping one of his canes in his haste. He'd never seen Virin like this before, never heard that particular growl in his voice. "Rin, what's wrong?"
"How long?" The growl was stronger now, and there was a wildness in Virin's eyes when he looked at Rakesh. "Don't come closer. Don't."
"Why? Rin, what's wrong?" Rakesh stumbled closer, then staggered backwards as Virin howled and attacked, diving across the small space and catching Rakesh around the waist, carrying him to the floor so quickly that his head bounced off the floor. Rakesh gasped, shook his head to clear it, then yelped and tried to push Virin off, bringing his legs up and shoving hard, feeling the pain shooting up from his feet as Virin fell back. The Sword just howled again and attacked once more. Rakesh fought back as hard as he could, hating that he was having to turn his hard-earned skills of defense on his own husband, knowing that Virin would expect no less of him. He caught Virin across the jaw with an elbow strike, then delivered a solid jab to the throat. Nothing he did stopped the Sword, who pinned Rakesh down, howling with wordless insanity.
"Rin!" Rakesh shouted, trying to calm Virin. Then his voice froze in his throat as he watched Virin pick up one of the abandoned canes. He raised it high, and all that Rakesh could do was cover his head with his arms....
***
THE RELAXATION MANDALAS in the medical wing were very familiar, so Rakesh knew exactly where he was when he opened his eyes. And he knew from the slightly foggy feeling in his head that he'd been in regen. But he had no idea for how long, or what had happened to Virin. He sat up slowly, looking around for an attendant. And was startled to find Delan, the head of Arena Security, dozing in a chair across from the bed.
"Delan?"
Delan jerked awake, blinking. He scrubbed at his face and winced. "Nodded off, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"I'm getting too old for this," he grumbled. "How do you feel, Rakesh?"
"Fine," Rakesh answered, then asked, "Any reason I shouldn't?"
"Well, your husband damn near caved your skull in to start. After he broke both your arms. Took five men to bring him down once we got that lift open. You've been in regen for a full day, Kesh."
Rakesh stared, then whispered, "Why? Why...? He attacked me. I...." Panic closed around him like a fist, and his voice faltered and failed.
"It wasn't his fault, Rakesh," Delan said slowly. "Not entirely. He went feral. It's something that happens..." Delan's voice trailed off. "Oh, Creator. He never told you about that? No one has ever told you about that? About going feral?"
Rakesh shook his head, his hands clenched in the sheet covering his legs. He could feel them shaking, and his head was pounding. "I... I don't know what that is."
"It's a fail-safe," Delan explained. "Something Mathias put into us in case any of the Ishkarin were ever captured. If we're trapped, we essentially go insane, turn into the killing monsters that Mathias' opponents always painted us as being. It was to keep the Aakari from learning what was done to us, how we were enhanced. Tragar had some damned good geneticists of his own, back in the day. Mostly, he used them to create monsters for his menagerie. But they might have been able to duplicate what Mathias did...or undo it."
"Undo it?" The words startled Rakesh most of the way out of his growing panic. "Undo...that's even possible?"
"Anything that can be done can be undone, son," Delan said with a shrug. "And only Mathias knew for certain. I've heard that there are researchers trying to figure that out, but I don't think they will. Not in my lifetime, anyway. Or yours."
"So...wait. Wait a moment." Rakesh leaned forward, frowning. "Every time I hear about the camps, I hear about solitary confinement. But—"
"It is the single worst punishment a Sword can face," Delan said, his voice flat. "Lock him in a cell and throw away the keys. We all experience it, in training. So we know what it's like, and we know we want to avoid it. The longest I've ever seen a Sword last was about fifteen minutes, and that was Gavir. But he was...a special case."
"I know. Virin told me. What happens?"
"The ones that are sent into solitary... They don't last long, I'm told. They go insane. Tear themselves up trying to get out. If they live long enough, they go catatonic. Then..." Delan shook his head. "I don't want to give you nightmares, Rakesh."
"To go with the ones I already have, you mean?" Rakesh looked around. "Where's Rin?"
"Home. He asked me to stay with you, take you home if you wanted to go there—"
"What?" Rakesh interrupted, suddenly icy-cold. "He... He doesn't want me to come home?"
"Not what I said. I said if you wanted to go there." Delan leaned forward and sighed. "He's afraid you're going to divorce him, Kesh. That he's lost you over this. He's feeling guilty as all fuck, he's ashamed of himself, ashamed of what he is, and he's... I've never seen him this far into the dark before and I've known him for more years than you have."
Rakesh listened in silence, staring down at the smooth weave of the sheet. When Delan stopped talking, the only sound other than their breathing was the hum of the ventilation unit overhead. Slowly, Rakesh dragged his thoughts into order, only to discover that there was never really any question.
"Delan? Take me home, please?"