Chapter 9: A New Life, Again
Bo lay on his stomach. His back was a latticework of bruises, welts and cuts. Like any brasser who ventured into the second level of the castle he had incurred a lashing. Usually it was only four or five strikes for a slave's first misdemeanor, but Bo had been given something closer to twenty. He wasn't sure of the exact number, as he'd lost count all too quickly. He groaned, not from the pain in his back, but the horror at remembering the worst part of the lashing. It had been when he was brought before Master Sir, and he'd seen the cruel smile etched onto the man's face when he recognised who he was dealing with. Master Sir had seen to the punishment personally after that. Although the lashing had stopped, that smile promised that there would be worse things to come in the future – after all, it wasn't like Bo had the same protection Will did. When they had finished the lashing Bo wasn't sure he'd been fully cognisant. He certainly hadn't been able to stand unaided, and had been dragged bodily back to his room, and locked in. It felt as though he'd been lying there for hours.
It was difficult to breathe while lying on his stomach, but the other options were worse. The teen didn't think he would be able to move for some time, and so he was left to his own devices, burying his face into his bedroll with the shame of being publicly punished and the anxiety of what was to come now that he had been caught and was seen as a trouble maker. The fiery pain that emanated from his back didn't help at all. Every time he moved, even if it was just to shift into a more comfortable position, it flared up, leaving him clenching his teeth.
Eventually the other slaves started filtering back in. They were sympathetic, whispering amongst themselves, but ultimately no one said anything to Bo, and they seemed to be keeping their distance. Feeling worse than he had for the last few hours, the dark skinned teen struggled to sit himself up. He didn't want to be lying face down while there were other people to witness his pain. Bitting his lip, Bo pushed himself up and froze with the sudden agony. He waited for it to die down, arms quivering with the strain of supporting himself. Slowly he began to get himself into a sitting position. The going was slow, and eventually someone came over and helped, gently pulling him back, and holding him steady while the teen shifted his legs into a more convenient position. Looking around Bo realised it was Will.
'What the hell did you think you were doing?' Demanded Will. He sounded more concerned than angry. Bo looked down at his knees. He couldn't answer in front of the other boys who were in the room.
'You know that fire didn't start by accident.' He mumbled. Will sighed, sitting back and rubbing his face with his hands.
'Well I'm not gonna tell you off. If you di'n't learn yer lesson from them lashes you never will,' he grumbled. 'Whatever you done to make an enemy of Master Sir though, I wouldn't like to hear. I thought he hated me, but holy hell, when I saw the look on his face while you was being beaten...' Will shuddered. 'I'd stay out of his way if I was you. You know they'll still expect you ter work tomorrow, right?' Bo groaned at that news. He didn't think he'd be fit to work for another week, let alone tomorrow. Will patted the teen's shoulder sympathetically, before urging him to lie back down. 'don' worry I'll see to it you get some quiet easy work ter do.'
The night was long, and Bo got little sleep. Silently he let himself be overcome with grief at all that had happened that day. Alexander was gone, and so was the armoury, a place that he had thought of as a safe haven, without even realising it. Erasmus and the other mages were no help, and could not be called upon. Ruben was gone, and had probably already forgotten he had a friend. Master Sir was an enemy. In the space of one day it felt like everything Bo had enjoyed about his life, or anything he'd hoped for had been taken away or proven to be false. He hadn't even realised that he'd been relying on Alexander to do all the hard work – finding out who was kidnapping slaves, and doing something about it for starters. Who was going to save the slaves that had been kidnapped now? Glumly he churned these thoughts over and over in his mind, unable to reach a solid conclusion. He could rely on no one, and as a slave there was nothing he could do.
Matters were no better by the time morning came around either. As Will had predicted, Bo was expected to work like everyone else, but the White eyed boy had manage to swap duties with Bo so that he only had sweeping to do. It took him almost all of breakfast time to get to his feet, never mind walking. Slowly he made his way to the first level of the castle. He could feel the eyes of everyone settled on him, and could see some people pointing him out to their friends. With a sigh, Bo attempted to focus on getting to the brooms, and getting down to some serious sweeping. He could feel his shirt was stuck to his back in places, and was almost certain that it would be because he had opened up his wounds by shuffling about, even if he did move with the speed of a one legged turtle.
Choosing a secluded area, Bo spent his time sweeping where no one would look at him. It was peaceful and he was able to go at his own pace, which was damnably slow. Although he was extremely hungry, the thought of facing the refectory was too much, and the teen decided to work through his lunch hour. Near the end of the day Will found his friend, and told him it was time to head back to their rooms. Tactfully he didn't mention that the back of Bo's shirt was a mess, and he glared at anyone who was staring as they slowly shuffled back to the slave compound. The Will tried to chat about things that had happened during the day and what he and Nibble had been up to, to distract Bo from his gloom. To an extent it worked, and as they entered the slave compound, Will remembered something slightly more interesting than the girls he had seen that day, and the girls he planned to see tomorrow.
'Oh yeah. Master Sir and one of the desert mages was in the lunch hall today. They didn't come too far in, but they were all lookin about and whatnot.' Bo clenched his jaw at the mention of Master Sir, and Will, sensing that his friend was not happy with the topic of conversation, fell silent.
Back at the room, Will began to ease Bo down onto his bedroll. It was about time for the doors to be locked up. As Bo finally found a comfortable position sitting on his bed, he heard the familiar sounds of approaching boots, an indication that the room was about to be locked. Unfortunately it was not a faceless lackey that appeared in the doorway, but Master Sir. Will hauled Bo to his feet, and the teen bit his lip, trying not to shout out in pain at the sudden movement. Master Sir glanced about the room but did not deign to enter. Instead he pointed a stick at Bo.
'You. Come here.' Bo tried not to shudder in apprehension, fearing that Will would feel it, as his white eyed friend was the one holding him up. Will began to assist Bo in walking to the door, but Master Sir growled, 'Just him, not you boy.' Will paused, and for a moment Bo thought he would ignore the order, but carefully Will let go of his arm. 'Come on, we don't have all day. You won't like what happens if I have to fetch you out.' Bo shambled as quickly as he could. Reaching the doorway he was surprised to see Erasmus. Erasmus looked like a bug had crawled up his nose, such was the disgust that he clearly felt at being inside the slave compound. Master Sir grabbed Bo's shoulder firmly, causing the boy to grunt with pain, and dragged him out of the room. 'Are you sure this is the one you wanted?' asked the slave master, his hand still clamped on Bo's shoulder.
'Yes.' Erasmus said shortly. Master Sir seemed irritated.
'This one is trouble, you know? If I hand him over and then he escapes - Why don't you choose one that is in better shape?' Master Sir sounded suspicious, but at the prospect of having his request denied, Erasmus' mouth turned down petulantly at the corners. He rummaged around in his pocket, bringing out a gold coin.
'Don't worry, I'll keep him under control. You don't often find someone with that mixture of hair and complexion – besides he made me stumble yesterday and I want to pay him back for making me look the fool.' Master Sir smiled. Money and petty revenge were things he could understand. He snatched up the money and shoved Bo in Erasmus' direction. The small teen stumbled into Erasmus, who grabbed him, stopping him from sprawling to the grou
nd.
'You got paid for, special-like boy, so don't you be disappointing this gentleman guest of the castle.' Sneered Master Sir. Erasmus took Bo by the shoulder of his shirt and half dragged half walked him back toward the castle.
'Wait, I-' protested Bo, but was quickly quietened by a slap to the head. Erasmus was colder than Bo remembered, and the teen fell silent, struggling to keep up with the mage's long legged walk. There were more than a few stares as Bo was lead through the castle, but finally they arrived at Erasmus' room. The mage pushed Bo inside, following him in and carefully locking the door behind them. With a sigh he leaned on the door. 'Why do you want me?' Asked Bo suspiciously. He was standing in the middle of the room.
'Get on the bed, and take off your shirt.' Commanded Erasmus. Bo bit his lip, not moving from where he stood.
'Uh, I – I'm not into- uh you know... ' He stuttered, trying to be as polite as he could while remaining firm that he didn't want to be any kind of entertainment. Erasmus glared at him,
'Oh please, don't flatter yourself. You're not my type. Take off your shirt at least, even if you aren't going to get on the bed.'
Feeling somewhat reassured, and oddly slighted, Bo did as he was told. It hurt to raise his arms over his head, and Erasmus helped him peel the cloth from his back. The mage winced at Bo's wound, glad that the teen couldn't see his expression. Lightly he ran his fingers over the welts, muttering under his breath. After a moment or two he stood back, looking perplexed.
'Wait here, I'll go and get a cream and some bandages,' he grumbled. Bo waited awkwardly until Erasmus returned. With the same surprisingly gentle touch the man applied a soothing gel to Bo's wounds, explaining briefly that it had magically reinforced herbs. It was so similar to what Alexander had given him on the first day that Bo had to bite back the bitter thoughts that threatened to choke him. He closed his eyes tightly trying to push Alexander from his mind. 'How long have you been immune to magic?' Erasmus asked, his tone deceptively casual, but managing to break through Bo's gloom.
'Huh?' asked Bo, confused, feeling a flare of anxiety.
'You saw right through my invisibility spell the other day, didn't you?' Erasmus' tone grew somewhat accusatory. Bo turned, wincing at the pain, to look at the foreign mage.
'When were you invisible?' Bo asked, confused. Erasmus looked at Bo calmly.
'I'm invisible right now, actually.'
'Erasmus is the best at magic invisibility' agreed a new voice. Bo slowly turned to look to look in the direction of a wall hanging. Arty was standing there, hands on hips as though she hadn't just been hiding. 'I had to see this with my own eyes,' she grinned, 'or rather, to not see it. I can't see Erasmus right now.'
'You're pulling a joke on me!' accused Bo, growing irritated. He could see plainly that Erasmus was not invisible. 'I may be a slave but I'm not an idiot!' he exclaimed. He knew that magic was something you could learn like reading, and saying 'you are immune to reading' made just as much sense. No doubt they were trying to pull the wool over his eyes. Erasmus patiently finished his work, making Bo hold his arms up so that bandages could be wrapped around the wound. When he was finished, the mage sat Bo on the edge of the bed.
'I'll try to prove what I say to you is not a joke. Give me the name of an animal, but whisper it to me so that Arty can't hear.' Feeling stupid, Bo leaned in and whispered 'mouse'. Erasmus nodded and held out one hand. He muttered a few words over it, and nothing seemed to happen. Arty, who was standing at the other side of the room grinned,
'You said mouse right? Erasmus just made a little image of a mouse in his hand, but I bet you can't see it, can you?' Bo peered at Erasmus' hand but it was true, he couldn't see any magical image.
'You could still have made your hearing very good.' Grumbled Bo. Erasmus smiled,
'Yes she could have, or I could have made an image that only Arty could see, or we could have little hand signals to speak to each other, but that is not the case. Look I'm sure if you think back over your life you could think of a number of things that make more sense, knowing that you are immune to magic.'
'What do you even mean immune to magic? That doesn't make sense! Why do you even want me to be here, when you wouldn't help me yesterday?' Erasmus sighed, wandering over to the table. Grabbing a bun and a drink of water, he handed them to Bo, who didn't question the food and immediately began to consume it. Rubbing his face with his hand wearily, Erasmus leaned against the table so that he was facing Bo.
'Okay, well let's see. Immune to magic – it means that any magic that someone tries to use on you doesn't work. You can't see, hear, touch, taste, or smell anything that is made entirely by magic – no don't speak, I'm explaining things.' Bo, who had been about to interrupt, instead shoved the bread into his mouth for another bite. Erasmus continued quickly, clearly on a roll. 'If something is infused with magic, then you can sense the non-magical bits. When we first met, you remember I was surprised? It was because I had set a magical alarm over my door, and when you came in it should have gone off, waking me up and telling me there was someone in my room.' He glanced at Arty before continuing. 'When you found me yesterday I was looking around' Erasmus admitted reluctantly, 'I'm not allowed on the third level, you see, so I was cloaked in invisibility, and I couldn't answer you for fear of giving myself away. I would have tried to find you sooner if I'd known you were going to be so thoroughly punished. I'm sorry.' Bo plucked at the bandages on his chest. Too much had happened all at once for him to make heads or tails of it. What was he supposed to care if he was immune to magic or not? Why had Erasmus come and got him – to help? What was he expected to do now? Would he still have to turn up for his duties tomorrow? Most importantly, was there any more food to be eaten? Erasmus waited silently for Bo to gather his thoughts.
'Is there more food?' the teen finally asked. With a chuckle, Arty left and came back with a plate full of meat and vegetables. Bo's eyes practically leapt out of his head, and his mouth began to water so that he thought he would be able to fill a lake with saliva. The plate was set in front of Bo, and despite feeling awkward about being watched, he scoffed as much as he could as quickly as he could. The food was better even than pickles, he thought to himself. The teen's face dropped as he thought of pickles, and Alexander. No doubt the pickles hadn't survived the fire either. For some reason the thought of the pickles perishing along with their creator was enough to bring the situation home to Bo, and he felt a stab of sadness. Placing the plate down, the teen sighed. He was tired but there were questions that needed answers.
'Why am I here? What am I supposed to do now?' Erasmus frowned.
'You're the one that asked me for help. I just bought you out of that awful prison. Theoretically you are supposed to do,' he waved his hand around vaguely, his distaste reassuringly obvious, 'whatever I want you to, and before you ask, what I want you to do is talk to me about this in the morning. I want you to get some sleep and to heal your back. After breakfast you can explain what you need help with.' Arty gave Bo a tea that she said would help with pain, and send him to sleep. He sniffed it cautiously, but after a long day and the lack of sleep the night before, he was ready to take any help he could get. He drank the lot, before shuffling tiredly over to the large armchair and curling up in it to fall soundly asleep. Arty shook her head, clearly amused by the fast reaction of the drink.
'You always were a sucker for the lookers weren't you Erasmus?' Erasmus blushed furiously before pushing the cackling Arty from his room, grumbling something about lecherous women, and ethical duty. Finally left in peace, the unusually tall man covered Bo with a blanket, before retiring to bed with a book, finding that his usual study chair was occupied.