The First Penitatas - A Day in the Sinking Light
#26 of The First Penitatas
The boys were tired and it showed. It wasn't their fault; the Sinking Light was only getting busier now that the Proud Greens had shuttered its doors for good. There were closer bars - one directly opposite, in fact - but the new influx were widely of the opinion that they preferred the Sinking Light; a cleaner, more welcoming place. For Ivaka, that meant more coin. For everyone else, including the Penitatas, it meant more work.
Ivaka caught Hafn struggling to stifle a yawn. The boy had been up late last night, and a gaggle of thirsty drinkers from the Builders Guild had demanded they get up early to help until more hands could be summoned. The bar manager swept the room with a practiced eye and judged things had slackened off. "Hafn, go find Ros. You two need to wash up and have breakfast."
"Yes mum," Hafn replied sleepily, only to jolt awake when he realised what he'd just said. "Ma'am! Yes ma'am!" He hastily corrected himself before fleeing in embarrassment.
"That's twice he's done that," Eskal chuckled as he lounged on the bar and sipped from a pint of new ale Ivaka had taken a punt on.
Ivaka smiled warmly. "He wants a mother, he just doesn't want anyone to know he wants a mother."
"I get it. Lad wants to look tough," the Dawnsider male observed while his eyes wandered between the tables. There were plenty of rejuves in the Sinking Light these days. They turned up at all hours, although more than Ivaka would like were sippers; folks who bought a cheap drink and dragged it out so as to have an excuse to stick around. By their clothes, grooming and general behaviour, Eskal had a solid hunch on who was homeless and who simply didn't want to go home. Close to the door, a Nightsider Voluntaras known as 'Grandpa' was conducting a masterclass in sleight of hand at a game of Eight Man Hunt, robbing unwary adult gamblers of their coin. He didn't win every game, but he won more than most, and he did so every night. Try as the noble-born Kyyreni might, he couldn't see how Grandpa did it.
"How's the new ale?"
The question made Eskal aware that he'd drifted out of their conversation. He took a sip, held it in his mouth to consider it and swallowed. "Not a bad pint. A little fruity, perhaps, but it seems popular enough with the newcomers."
"I knew it would be," Ivaka answered proudly. "I pay close attention to what's loaded onto the delivery van, and there's always several kegs loaded up for other bars and clubs."
Eskal couldn't help but join the Nightsider in her glee. Ivaka had an uphill battle compared to most businesses; not only did the Sinking Light have a reputation as a 'rejuve bar', which was a double-edged sword in and of itself, she was also an independent establishment. The walls were lined with Guild crests, denoting their patronage or her right to provide their goods, but the Sinking Light was in her name alone, the latest in a line of independent managers who dreamed of succeeding on their own merit. It was the way of life he'd chosen so long ago. "Oh, before I forget: if it stays quiet I'd like to go to the Common later, just for a few hours."
Ivaka's eyes widened at the request. "You want to go to the executions?"
"I want to be seen at the executions," Eskal replied. "You should come along too. We've a new Lord Governor, and with everything that's happened it's a bad time to seem un-patriotic."
"Maybe your right," the Kyyreni woman conceded. "I suppose we can step out for a few hours without the whole place burning down.
While Ivaka went into the back to announce their departure, Eskal turned his eye back to Grandpa's table. The boy had three players at his table, with a mountainous pot and the black-furred boy down to his literal last coin. The nobleman-bouncer studied the cards in front of each; one player folded with junk on the table, the other had a lone trio, and the third had two-pairs, with a chance at something much better. Grandpa had a lone pair. Coins clattered, cards came down, and a roar of outrage shook the ceiling: Grandpa had won with a five-two couple beating out a double-trio. Eskal was moving before the furious gambler had lifted his backside from the seat, and reached the table just as the swindled party looked set to flip it. "That pile of coin better be our tip, because if it isn't you and I will be discussing illegal gambling with the Enforcers!"
All four at the table turned to Eskal, studying his features and weighing up their options. One of the smarter men offered, "Nah, lad needed to borrow some coin and... we were pooling our change. Right?" Grandpa needed no more excuse to scoop the little silver disks into his waist-bag.
"That so? Good. I'd hate to have falsely accused you fine gentlemen of wrongdoing. Hope to see you all again soon." The hint was taken, and the table began to disperse. Grandpa stayed stuck to the chair, watching intently as the three hustled Dawnsiders went their own ways. "You had best lay low for a while; I might not be here to save you from your next victim."
Grandpa smiled weakly, mumbled an excuse about buying a drink and hurried to the bar as Ivaka returned. "What did I just miss?"
"I just saved a criminal mastermind," Eskal said with a wry grin. "Come on; nobility awaits."
Palace Common heaved. The open central space had been cordoned off from public access, but the perimeter was choking with people, stalls and spectacle. Up-market establishments had notices in their windows proclaiming special offers in honour of the day; a stark contrast to their closed doors guarded by temporarily increased security. The riff-raff that comprised most of the crowd were to share their coin with the carts and pop-up mobile shops, lest their poorness and lack of breeding stain the opulent carpets.
The executioner's stage had been repurposed, with a speaker's stand front and centre, and comfortable seating arching around behind it. Banners and bunting concealed the grimmest features of the stage, although an equally morbid construction lurked behind, temporarily hidden by sea-blue curtains. A multi-screened digital display stood high above the stage to ensure everyone would be able to see the speeches, and strategically placed speaker sets would carry their words to the throng. Currently, the screens were black with scrolling runic script that informed everyone which Guilds, Houses and wealthy individuals were proud to support the day's events.
Wokun, Lord Governor of Taviksaad, emerged from behind the curtain to a thunderous roar. He was dressed in a white leather tunic and shorts, fastened with gold, gem-studded fixings and styled with steel and silver rings woven like chainmail. Ivaka thought it made him look like a hero from a sword-and-sorcery fantasy, and perhaps that was the idea, for both the scars upon his muzzle and the blade upon his hip were a healthy grounding of reality to the ensemble. The Lord Governor did not address the crowd beyond a smile and a raised paw. After basking in the adulation for a short while, Wokun stepped aside from the podium and stood half-facing the crowd. With a subtle twitch of his fingers, Wokun beckoned his guests to begin their approach to the stage.
The Lord and Lady Tavik were first, the latter without her newborn child, and with them came an assortment of subordinates. Quiet words were exchanged between the three nobles before the couple took their seats and most of their companions vanished behind the curtain, save for two bodyguards who stood attentively behind their masters. Ivaka's attention was then drawn to the nobleman who followed: a short Dawnsider, made fat by the weight of crimson silk and white, speckled furs he wore. Like with the Taviks, an entourage of guards and hangers-on followed in his wake, but flanking him, bound to him by chains, were two Daysider children. The boy's fur was fiery orange with a cream belly, while the girl was an earthy red from ears to tail-tip. Both were nude save for the collars and the shackle cuffs on their wrists and ankles, all gilded.
"Bjol of House Gronahl, my future land-lord," Eskal commented, following the Nightsiders' gaze.
"What do you know about him?" Ivaka asked while watching the two children. She caught the glimpse of a rune on the girl's paw - a Penitatas.
Eskal cradled his chin thoughtfully. "Born prematurely to an unusually young mother; required facial and spinal surgeries due to birth defects; blind in one eye by age nine, the other by thirteen, had implants a year later. Charged his father with crimes against nature, who responded with a demand for combat. The father lost his head, despite skewering Bjol through the heart. By sixteen he was Lord of Gronahl. It just occurred to me that isn't what you meant."
"Really?" Ivaka answered with a sarcastic smile. "Here I thought you were supposed to be smart!"
Eskal let the insult slide. "He's progressive, I suppose. He supports rejuvenation, and like the Lady Tavik, he believes in reforming criminals. Generous, merciful, but capable of ruthlessness when needed. I would say he's a good man."
"Then why the Penitatas?" Ivaka pressed the question, pointing to the rejuves who trembled meekly at their lord's side as he delivered an animated greeting to the Lord Governor.
"Maybe he thinks they're a status symbol? There's always a certain degree of prestige to slave ownership."
"Vak certainly though so. He ran the Sinking Light before me, bought Hafn and Ros to 'give the place status'. When he moved out east, he said I was welcome to the pair of them. Especially Hafn."
The comment made Eskal's head turn. "Are you saying that Hafn drove off his first master?"
"Oh don't you dare say that around him! If that idea takes root I'll have your hide!" the Nightsider tugged on Eskal's tail for emphasis. The exchange gave them both a welcome laugh before the sour events of the day began in earnest. Lord Bjol had taken his seat with the Penitatas knelt in submission beside his legs, and the formal greetings went on. It was over-long, and hardly exciting, but Ivaka felt a sense of pride in how much importance was placed upon tradition. These were the rituals established at the founding of the world, which were themselves brought from other worlds, stretching all the way back to the homeworld, Urokon, and the ancient peoples of that planet. It was a comforting continuity, even if the Nightsider couldn't quite express why.
In time, the formalities finished and the speech was made. It was hardly ground-breaking in its content. Wokun expressed thanks to all who attended, noble and thrall; he spoke words of mourning for his father, and thanked the Gods that the Dawn King had survived and was now enjoying a second childhood thanks to his father's rejuvenation program. That program, Wokun made clear, was something he was truly proud of, and would defend. He spoke of his desire for progress, and of the need for order and justice. That note lingered as his words died away and the applause began, applause which drowned out the terrified pleading of the first act of Wokun's display of justice. Like a well-oiled machine, the finery was subtly withdrawn - Nobles rose from seats that were spirited away, stepping back in near choreographed synchronicity as guards of the First House led out four terrified Penitatas. Wokun rested a paw upon the speakers platform and calmly walked backwards to the right-hand side of the stage, and the podium slid beside him as if it weighed nothing at all. As the four rejuves - a Daysider boy, a grey-furred Nightsider girl, a vivid-blond Dawnsider boy and, to Ivaka's horror, a second girl: Lyy.
The four were bound to the wooden poles normally reserved for execution. They were nude, and each was shackled facing the pole with their arms pulled high above their heads, forcing them to stand on paw-tips. With a coldness that could only be born of malice, Wokun proclaimed, "There are those who believe the Penitatas live a life free of punishment. Let today assuage that fear."
The crowd bayed for blood as they always did, and blood they got. The crack of the whip was lost in the dull roar of the throng, and Lyy was first to feel its sting. Her screams, however, were not lost. There was a change to the mob; not a silence, but a lowering of tone. For those with an ear to find them, one could find where doubt was taking root in the minds of the onlookers. The first crack had barely faded when the second whipper, spaced safely apart from his colleague, began to punish the back of the Nightsider girl. The sound of their torture reverberated through the Common, impacts alternating, and with each bite the whips tore away fur and left bloody streaks in their flesh. After both girls had suffered four strikes of the whip there was a pause, as if listening to words spoken into an earpiece, and they quickly moved to deliver a matching four to the sobbing boys next, the wounds delivered much more hastily than before. The reason was clear to Ivaka, and almost certainly clear to the Lord Governor; there was anger in the mob now, palpable and dangerous. The beast, normally unified in its hatred for whatever souls were offered up as sacrifice, was now fractured; enclaves of outrage and islands of zealotic fervour mixed in an overwhelming sea of doubt.
Wokun left before the Penitatas were released from the poles. No other rejuves were punished, and the torturers gave way to adult criminals and their executioners. The Lord Governor did not stay for the hangings, and neither did Ivaka.
"Gods, that poor thing!" the woman lamented to Eskal as they headed out of the Common as quickly as they could. "I've been hard on Hafn when he needed it, and he bloody well did at times, but that... I need to speak to Javik, and get a stiff drink. Not necessarily in that order."
They found an open-fronted café along one of the main thoroughfares and took a table. Soft, classical music played inside and young, attractive Dawnsiders took their drinks order. Across the street, a towering Drakonian with her scales covered in actors paint stood in the shade of a grand office building. On her back was a Kyyreni juggler, stood on one footpaw and wobbling comically, but deliberately as he kept four red balls in motion. The crowd, mostly children, seemed delighted by the display. Ivaka felt it was an unsettling tonal shift, given what was happening just out up the road.
"So, this is what life's going to be like under the new Lord Governor?" Ivaka asked. The question seemed more for her benefit than to get information from Eskal.
The noble-born Kyyreni replied, "in my experience, leaders like to put on a show early to make their mark. It's the only chance they get, you see; nobody likes instability, and he'll have peers eager for things to settle back to how it was before. They don't mind a bit of pantomime, promising the masses whatever will make them cheer, but if you start actively living up to those promises... well, those swords aren't for show."
"The boys had it rough at the Winter Hall," Ivaka continued without acknowledging Eskal's answer. "Public spanking, even came away with a few blisters. I accepted that. That's kind of how it works, right? Their life with me is better than any they'd have if they were thrown into Black Pit or shipped off to a labour camp, so there has to be some trade-off. Blisters once a year sounds a lot better than breaking rocks every day."
"Oh definitely," Eskal answered, guessing Ivaka just wanted a chance to talk to herself without looking strange.
The woman's glass of spirits rose off the table and clinked down again, empty. "I don't think I can put my boys through that. Hafn got hurt for being stupid, but he recovered. There was... a sort of balance to that, as if the Gods themselves had made him suffer for being stupid."
"But you can't see the thread here. The boy's done nothing to earn his back being lashed apart."
"Exactly!" Ivaka finally turned to face her companion. "Those Pennys were all six or seven, so they're not rapists and murderers! They don't deserve that kind of abuse!"
Before Eskal could reply, Ivaka's pocket began to buzz. She stepped away from the table and answered the communicator, speaking softly and growing both confused and anxious as the call went on. She even took a moment to examine the device's screen to confirm who was calling. When she returned, the Nightsider dropped a handful of coins onto the table. "That was Korat from the Lifter Guild. He wants us to come to a warehouse and help them with something they found."
"Why us?" Eskal asked, drinking up and adding an extra coin to the pile.
Ivaka paused, her eyes briefly flicking back towards the Common. "He said they need help with a Penny."
"Thanks fer comin'," the Lifter said as Ivaka and Eskal arrived in the warehouse. He was a typical Lifter in all respects; Savannah blond with a dirty, near-black mane and a face like a smacked arse. He was the kind of man who struggled to get through a sentence without cursing, who'd drink himself stupid given half a chance and start a fight with the other half. All that, Ivaka knew from experience; Lifters were frequent customers of hers, after all. But she also knew he was the kind of loud brute who wrung his paws and cried into a pint with worry whenever his daughter had a fever. There was a lot such a man might do, but Ivaka found it hard to believe he'd ever dream of raising a fist to her, even in a dark, secluded warehouse.
"Not a problem. What can we do for you?" Ivaka answered with a friendly smile.
The Lifter scratched at his chin awkwardly. "Well, it's like this, right? Some little shits've been sneakin' about lately, an' so we come eye things out in case the bastards were robbin' owt. We sees this lockup's got a docket out of date, an' while we's here we pop it open for a snoop, lookin' fer any hint of an owner like. Then we see the sphere, an' while we're rappin' an' tappin', this little lad inside starts howlin'!" The Lifter stepped back and gestured towards his fellows, who were both knelt beside a deathly thin Daysider child.
Ivaka hurried over to join them. "What happened to him?" she asked as she knelt down to give the boy a closer inspection.
"Damn near starved," one of the Kyyreni men said. "The sphere was full of feeder tubes and waste tubes and drug dispensers, all running on empty. No way to open it from the inside, so the poor lad was wasting away for Gods knows how long. Weeks, maybe. Months if the tanks were topped up."
"Why haven't you contacted the Enforcers? Why summon Ivaka," Eskal asked, his paws shifting to his waist instinctively.
The Lifter pointed to the boy's paws. "He's a Penny, that's why! We see stuff like this sometimes; criminals and shifty types get themselves plugged in and drugged up so smugglers can get them off-world. I'd reckon the boy was booked for a trip, but the pick-up never happened. Maybe they got busted after locking him in and never squealed where they hit the lad. Either way, the poor thing don't want no E's to come for him."
With care, the Nightsider checked the boy over. She had basic knowledge of first aid, enough to be confident he had no physical injuries beyond those caused by his confinement. Mental damage was another question entirely. "Can you hear me? My name is Ivaka. What's yours?"
"R-rhyd," the boy stammered, his voice dry and rasping.
Ivaka froze. She stared into the boy's green eyes. Her mind clicked the pieces together - the name, the eye colour, the shade of his fur. The revelation made her flinch. "You're the one who attacked Hafn!" she snapped, anger flaring up from nowhere and making the child recoil in fear.
The woman rose to her feet, a scorn of disgust upon her features. "We should-" she began, but a terrible image of Lyy being whipped bloody formed in her mind. Angry as she was, Ivaka wasn't certain she was eager to subject anyone to that. With a huff she continued, "We'll bring him back to the Sinking Light. I'll contact Corrector-Captain Kadan and speak to him. This boy has done a lot wrong, believe me, but I'll make sure he's treated fairly."
Rhyd struggled a little as he was lifted up and carried from the warehouse, but not much. The Lifters were kind enough to provide a car for the trio, and before long the familiar frontage of the Sinking Light stood before them. One of the serving girls was stood outside shouting about upcoming events, a pretty young woman whose swaying hips and exposed, perky breasts were doing a fine job of grabbing attention. Ivaka made a note to chastise her later; she wasn't running a brothel!
"Eskal, take him upstairs and put him in the boys' room. I'll be up in a minute. Stay with him until I get there." With orders given and followed, Ivaka searched for the one person who needed to be told of their guest above all others. To her complete lack of surprise, one of her Pennys had taken her absence as an excuse to sit at a table and chat. "Hafn? Come with me, please. I need a word in the kitchen."
The boy gave his Nightsider companion an unhappy glance before falling in behind his mistress. The kitchen was picking up speed to handle afternoon diners, so Ivaka chose the storeroom for the meeting. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble," she said straight away to try and relieve the boy's concerns.
"Then... what this about, ma'?" Hafn asked shyly.
"We found a boy on our way home, a Penitatas. He was near dead, deprived of food and water, so I decided we're going to try and take care of him for a little while, at least until I'm certain he'll be treated fairly. But, and this is going to be difficult for you to hear, he's the boy who attacked you. Rhyd."
"What?" Hafn cried in shock. "Why are you helping him? Have you forgot what he did to me?"
"Of course I didn't! Had we found him yesterday I'd have turned him over without a second thought!"
"Then why not today?" the boy insisted, growing increasingly emotional with tantrum-like gestures.
Ivaka cupped the boy's face in her paws and lowered her tone. "Hafn, please listen to me. I understand why this is so hard for you, but please trust me when I say things could be turning very bad for Penitatas right now. I don't know what the Enforcers would do to him, and I need to know he'd be treated fairly."
"You mean like I was?" the boy whimpered in reply as he blinked out tears.
"Oh, Hafn!" Ivaka let go of the boy's muzzle and hugged him tight. "I know you've been treated badly, but do you really want others to suffer like you did?"
"I do if it's him!" the boy pouted. When Ivaka pulled back, Hafn saw in her face he'd pushed his luck too far.
"I can understand a lot, Hafn, but I draw the line at malice. He's staying here until I say otherwise, and you're going to accept it, or you can be made to accept it. Do I make myself clear?" the boy gave a timid nod, which was enough for his mistress. "Alright. Wash your face and come back out the front. Sit and talk with your friends a while if you like."
As much as he was lost in his sulk, Hafn was never one to pass up a chance to not work. With his usual friends absent, he made for the table by the door where Grandpa was practicing with cards. The Nightsider was splitting the deck with one paw, fingers flexing in odd ways that somehow caused the cards to shift and dance in movements that seemed unnatural. Grandpa smiled warmly as Hafn pulled up a chair. "Hello there, pup! Why the droopy muzzle? You get a hiding back there?"
"No. That'd be better in a lot of ways," Hafn huffed. "Mum's insisting we have to look after the Penny who tried to kill me."
Grandpa raised an eyebrow at 'mum', but chose instead to focus on the main issue. "You mean the half-dead thing Noble carried in earlier? Maybe the matter will resolve itself?"
Hafn gave another grumpy snort in reply. "I don't see why we should help him!"
The Nightsider calmly dealt out two sets of eight cards, all face up. He frowned briefly at the resulting hands, which were mostly garbage, before scooping them all up and returning his focus to Hafn. "Look, pup, you've got to understand who and what you are; a criminal. You may not be in a dungeon, but as I see it the rules are the same: it's convicts vs guards. In this case, it's Penitatas vs their masters. The boy wronged you and that has to be paid for, but given as the Shepherd might be calling for him soon I'd say he's paid. Let it go."
"And what if I can't?"
"Then you'll suffer more than you have to, maybe fuck up any hopes of an early parole and have to be a Penny for longer, maybe earn extra thrashings. Point being, whatever short-term satisfaction you might get from seeing this boy hurt will be repaid to you ten-fold later. Is it fair? No, but nothing in your life is ever going to be fair again. You will be shit on by the Lord of Unfairness for many years to come, and opening your mouth's only going to make it worse."
The pair sat quiet for a time and watched the Sinking Light carry on around them. Four Lifters strolled in, loud and laughing in a manner that suggested they'd already started the afternoon's drinking elsewhere. Eskal had reappeared, only to vanish back upstairs with a tray of soup for Rhyd. Ivaka was stood in the corner with a half-naked serving girl, likely scolding her judging by their body language. The girl hastily fled into the back, and the Nightsider manager put on a smile as she returned to the bar to greet the new arrivals. Then there was Ros, pad in hand, smiling as he conversed with a table of diners. "Do you know why your friend's always so much happier than you?" Grandpa asked, "He's accepted his lot. This is going to be his life for the next five or ten years, maybe longer, and so he's going to give this place his all."
"Did he tell you that?" Hafn asked, glancing back at the rejuved former-convict.
Grandpa shook his head, "he doesn't need to. I can tell when someone's going all-in and when they're just coasting along, like you are. Maybe he doesn't want to be here, maybe he's faking that smile and that energy, but I'd wager it'll put him in good standing when it's time to decide if he's to be freed from his bondage. You, meanwhile, are known by everyone as lazy and a troublemaker."
The Penny boy growled at the accusation, "it's not like I try to get in trouble!"
"Then it must come naturally!" Grandpa countered. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you need to. You are not in control of your life, nobody's going to come and give you a pardon and whisk you off to a life of wealth and comfort. Fate has given you a chance to show you can suck up your pride and do what others demand of you. Grasp it, pup!"
"Yeah, sure. Thanks," Hafn said flatly as he slipped out the seat. He was in no mood for lectures from people who were supposed to be his friends; grown-ups gave him plenty of that! His eyes flicked toward Ros once more and he headed for the boy in hope of receiving the validation he needed, only for Ros to climb up onto a stool at the bar and wave to Ivaka.
"They were asking after the Terran drinks," Ros announced as Hafn shuffled into earshot. "Did you know we keep getting people who ask about them?"
Ivaka gave a dismissive grunt, "they can ask all they like, but it's not worth the cost for us to stock the stuff. We had to flog half the stock as loss-leaders after that Birthing event!"
"Well, maybe we can try restocking and selling at a profit? People do want them," the boy insisted.
The Nightsider scoffed at Ros' observation. "I know what people here want: cheap food and drink disguised as something fancy. If we waste money on something exotic it'll be put up on the top shelf and fester there until the end of time."
"I think you're selling our customers short," Ros countered, turning to point out a table of drinkers nearby. They were well-groomed and in their early twenties, with loose, but well-tailored clothes and small gems in their subtly-worn jewelry. "People know this place has a rising reputation, and word about Eskal's getting around. The rich and powerful drink here, or so they think, and so they expect drinks to match."
Ivaka's eyes flicked back and forth as she read ledgers inside her head. "It's an expensive gamble, Ros. Trying to drive me under?"
"No!" Ros startled, "I want us to do well! If we have to close I could end up anywhere, and I'm not keen on being stuck in a Pollen Farm or... other places round here."
Reading the anxiety in the six-year-old's voice, Ivaka reached over and grasped his paw. "Oh alright, we'll gamble. But if this doesn't pay off it's your backside on the line! Deal?"
Ros gave a nervous smile, only half-sure that Ivaka was joking. "Deal!"
"Good, now go be busy. Hafn? Did you want something?"
The older Penny gave a forlorn glance toward Ros as he returned to work, cursing that he was robbed his chance. "I... no. I guess not. Actually, I don't feel well."
"I had a feeling you'd be unwell, because I was just about to ask you to start taking orders again," Ivaka shot back sarcastically. "Go tend the tables, please? If you still feel sick later you can go to bed early. I'm sure Eskal will let you have his room for tonight."
With an unhelpful huff, Hafn did as he was told. His first stop was to the Lifters, hopeful to learn something of Tosjig. The merry drinkers had only the vaguest of answers, and could offer no hint as to when his rarely seen friend might reappear. More customers trickled in, alone or in groups, and Hafn tried to focus on the rejuve tables; Grandpa's especially, as men who won at cards tended to be in a good mood and would give him sips of drink or a bite of whatever they were snacking on. On his third visit he even got a few coins, which he hid by the stairs for later. Sadly, the rest of the customers were nowhere near as charitable. Regulars were alright, giving their orders and dismissing him, or complaining that one of the young women weren't 'tending to their needs', as they put it. The passing custom was less predictable and ranged from a trio of humans, who found being served by a child an oddity, to rowdy Kyyreni that had clearly spent most of their coin in ale elsewhere and were all the worse for it. Twice, Ivaka pulled him up on his appearance. "You're supposed to make them feel welcome, Hafn! Smile, be sociable, take an interest!" The second time, the very next drunk took one look at his smile and took it as a personal insult, howling the place down until the party from the Lifters Guild stepped in and escorted the raving nuisance out. They came back in with reddened knuckles.
In time, frustration grew to anger, and anger threatened to become a tantrum. After snapping at Danin over something inconsequential, Ivaka took Hafn firmly by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen. The boy braced for a telling off, or worse a spanking, but instead his mistress just stood and studied him. "You're tired," she announced. "Stay here."
Less than a minute later, Eskal came to collect him with Ros in tow. The noble ushered the pair upstairs, promising the use of his room, and made a point of seeing them both wash their paws and face, put the day's clothes in the washing basket and climb into his bed. "Did you spill someone's drink on yourself? I can still smell beer on you," Eskal noted as he helped Hafn wriggle under the covers.
Hafn shrugged, and chose to divert the discussion. "How long until we get our own room back?"
"Just a day or two, I'm certain. Ivaka will speak to the Correctors tomorrow, and when she's confident the boy will be treated fairly, she'll hand him over. Don't worry; everything will be back to normal before you know it."
For Ros, at least, sleep came easily. Hafn had intended to stay awake, but his body had other intentions. He had been listening with one ear to the low roar of the Sinking Light blow him, more muffled than usual due to the higher floor of Eskal's room, and with the other to the background din of Vices. It was never silent, but the noise was ever-present and he barely noticed without actively concentrating on it. At some point, Hafn closed his eyes for just a few seconds and awoke to silent darkness. The hall light was off, the Sinking Light below was still, and the City was a distant whisper. The boy strained his ears a little more, but only Ros' gentle snoring could be heard. Hafn wondered what had stirred him, only for an urgent pang to strike his crotch and send him scurrying for the latrine as the afternoon's stolen sips of beer caught up with him. It was after he'd taken care of business that the Penny realised he was the only one awake in the building, and with that a wicked thought raced like lightning through his mind.
Crouched low to the floor like a thief, Hafn practically crawled down the stairs and back to his bedroom. The door was ajar, making his entrance easier, and he was greeted by a sharp scent of soaps as he crossed the threshold. Squinting in the dark, it seemed someone had put new sheets on the bed, changed the pillow cases and - he sniffed again - given Rhyd a thorough bath. It was easy enough to see the Daysider at least; with the room undisturbed for hours, the child lit up like a beacon in Hafn's thermal-sense. He eased onto the bed and reached out carefully to grip the boy's muzzle and hold it closed. As soon as his paw made contact, Rhyd's eyes snapped open and the stick-thin Daysider began to yelp and squirm.
"Sssh! Quiet! You've got to be quiet! I'm trying to help you!" Hafn whispered urgently, although it seemed Rhyd was unconvinced. "I'm trying to save you from the E's!"
That, at last, made Rhyd settle. Hafn carefully released his muzzle and the boy sat up. "Why would you help me?" he hissed. The child's voice was weak and pathetic compared to when Hafn last heard it.
"I... I got sent to Black Pit by mistake a while back. I was only there a little while, but it was awful. Buried alive, in the dark, wondering if-"
"Stop!" Rhyd whined. The Daysider clenched his eyes shut and cradled his head as if struck.
"You know what that's like, huh?" Hafn pressed.
"Of course I do! That fucking monster put me in a hatchling pod and left me there! I couldn't... I was..." Rhyd broke down in tears, weeping so loud it sent Hafn into a panic. The Dawnsider frantically tried to shush the broken boy back to calm.
"Okay, okay! That's why I'm here! If you stay they'll bury you, but you could just slip out now while everyone's asleep! The E's don't know you're here yet, and by the time anyone thinks to coming looking you could be halfway across the City, or even hiding out beyond the dome!"
"I... I can't," Rhyd whimpered. He raised his boney arms to show his state. "I can barely stand, let alone run!"
Hafn ignored the Daysider's protests. "Everyone thinks I should forgive you for what you did to me, so this is me forgiving you! Get up and let's get you out of here!" It was easyenough to get Rhyd to his feet, although getting him to stay on them was another matter entirely. The Daysider proved unable to support himself, and each time he tried would end the same way; with arms and tail flailing before toppling back onto the bed. Hafn took some of Ros' clothes, which he helped Rhyd into, and once he was vaguely stable on his footpaws they headed for the stairs. Holding paws every slow, careful step of the way, the two Penitatas made their way downstairs and towards the back door. Hafn's heart was in his mouth the whole way, so much so that he struggled to speak whenever he needed to give Rhyd some instructions. "Take that bag there and grab some food. There's juice there, and some squeezy meat paste. I'll get the door."
The door code was punched in while Ros shakily took the indicated supplies. "Did... did Alif get away?" the boy asked uncertainly.
"Alif?"
"Y-yeah, the other Penny who was with me. I... I always thought he'd save me. I thought he'd come looking for me, but he never did. I cried out to him for days and days, begging for him, begging for him to come and save me. Why didn't he save me?"
Hafn hurried over and forced himself to comfort Rhyd so the fragile Penny didn't burst into tears again. "Hush! Alif's okay! He got caught, but he's a Penny with a new master, a teacher."
"Oh..." the explanation silenced Rhyd, but it was impossible to say exactly how the boy felt about Hafn's answer. All that mattered was that he stopped crying and was content to mutely clutch his stolen provisions.
With a grunt, Hafn pulled the stiff security handle and swung the door open. The streets were as well lit as ever, but beyond the city's dome it was a cloudy, moonless night. This was not what compelled the Kyyreni populace to take to their beds; having evolved on a tidally locked planet, Kyyreni slept beneath the midday sun as comfortably as under the moon. The choice was born of farmers, builders, haulers and the myriad of other outdoors occupations for whom sunlight was a benefit to their work, and thus through social pressure had compelled the majority of the planet to sleep at night.
Hafn watched Rhyd stumble across the threshold and into the alley. The Daysider lingered there, sheltered in the doorway and casting fearful looks towards the street. "Well? Go already!" Hafn snapped impatiently. To his surprise, Rhyd turned to face him with a pleading look in his eyes.
"Come with me?" the Daysider whispered weakly as he leaned on the wall for support. "I don't know if I can make it alone. If you come, help me until I'm strong again, we can get off world together."
"I can't. Besides, you didn't want me last time," Hafn replied with a low growl.
"I didn't trust you before. I've never trusted your kind, not since I was a cub. I think... you might be the first Dawnsider who's ever helped me."
"Oh..." Hafn trailed off at the confession as his mind reeled. He knew all he had to do was close the door and get back into bed, safe in the knowledge that Rhyd wasn't likely to get anyone's attention. The boy would be gone, and that would be the end of it. But the knot in his stomach was now caused by more than a fear of getting caught. His mind returned to his trip to Udum's home and the confession he'd made to Alif. He had no love for Daysiders, and it was obvious many of them felt the same. Why, then, did he find it so sickening to turn his back on one now, especially one who least deserved his compassion? "No, sorry, I can't go with you."
"Why not? Why would you ever want to stay with these people?" Rhyd pressed.
Hafn glanced back over his shoulder into the darkened interior of the Sinking Light. "I don't have a family anymore," he sighed, "but Ivaka took me in, offered to be a mother for me. I can't run away from that."
"She really wants to be your mother?" the question brought Rhyd back into focus, as did the tone of disbelief in his voice.
Doubt gnawed in Hafn's gut, and he mirrored it by chewing at his gums. He was becoming increasingly certain that Rhyd had no hope of hiding for long, and the talk of Ivaka had created a new fear to linger over; she had taken Rhyd in, and now he was undermining her. Did he trust her judgement? The question hurt to think it, and that in itself was the only answer Hafn needed. "She does, and she said we were going to look after you, to make sure you get treated fairly. Mum was... scared about something. 'It's a bad time to be a Penitatas', she said. Rhyd, we need to go back upstairs. I should never have done this."
"But you said-"
"I know what I said! I was trying to get rid of you!" Hafn blurted out. "You stabbed me! I thought I was going to die that day, and having to be in the same building as you was unbearable. But we both know you're not going to get far... and when they find you again they'll take it out on my backside. I lied to you before, but I swear I'm telling the truth now: Ivaka said she wants to help you, and she will."
Rhyd stood in silence for a long while, leaning on the wall and breathing hard as he studied Hafn's anxious features. "Can I get something to eat first?" he asked as he staggered back inside. Hafn all but laughed with relief.
With the door closed and locked, Hafn set about preparing a basic meal of meat paste, buns and butter, washed down with juice cartons. Rhyd wolfed the food down with worrying ferocity, almost choking himself in his urgency and prompting Hafn to slap him hard on the back to dislodge the errant bread. As startling as the moment was it led to some levity between them, with both boys sharing nervous chuckles over the foolishness of the moment. Yet before Rhyd could take another bite of his bun the boy froze, ears up and alert. Hafn mirrored the action, glancing towards the doorway and spotting a tell-tale heat shimmer in the dark that choked him in fear.
Eskal slid silently into the room. Both boys watched him, and both saw the clear glint of a blade in his hand. "What are you two doing down here?" he asked as he sheathed the weapon.
"I... I went to check on Rhyd because I couldn't sleep. He said he was hungry so... I brought him down here to get some food," Hafn offered up as an excuse.
"Right. Well I'm afraid your little snacking session's over. Get him back to his bed and then get back to yours. I'd be quick, lad; Ivaka will be furious with you if she finds out. Go on, I'll clean up after you."
Thankful that the noble was willing to let them off, Hafn eased Rhyd up the stairs and back to the bedroom. He was undressed and back under the covers with minimal fuss. It was only when he himself was back under the covers with Ros snoring down his ear that Hafn finally relaxed again. Disaster, it seemed, had been averted.
The next morning was quiet, which Hafn took to be a good sign. The Sinking Light wasn't open to the public for several hours yet and this brief, but much needed respite gave time for those who lived there to have time to themselves. Hafn was last to wake, finding everyone, Rhyd included, had already woke and gone downstairs. Ros was tucked into his favourite alcove with a book in paw and only crumbs left on his plate, but Hafn's ears and eyes were drawn to Ivaka and the pair stood with her; Lyy and Javik. The Daysider Penny looked utterly miserable, which Hafn at first assumed was because she'd been brought to spend time with a boy she now despised. However, as he watched his former friend, Hafn noted the subtle difference in her nature. The clothes she wore were shockingly plain and conservative, concealing everything bar her paws and head. Exposed fur was the norm for Kyyreni; shins, arms, even chests being exposed wouldn't draw all that much comment, especially not for a child. Ivaka caught him staring and raced over, breaking line of sight between the two Rejuves so as to hold all of Hafn's focus.
"I want you to go eat your breakfast. Go on, over there with Ros," there was no arguing with the Nightsider's tone. It drove right through Hafn's ears and into his spine, making his tail curl between his legs reflexively. He did as ordered, finding a cold breakfast of meat slices, peppery crackers and a light sauce dip. In truth, it seemed less a proper breakfast and more a side-order left over from last night, but food was food.
"What's up with mum? And why is Lyy here?" Hafn asked his companion as he set to his meal.
Ros carefully lowered the book, revealing to Hafn a face full of worry. "Didn't get a good listen, but it sounds like Lyy got a lashing."
The word made the boy's paw freeze half-way to his mouth. "like, a 'lashing' lashing?" Ros nodded unhappily. The very idea of it almost put Hafn off his breakfast. Everyone who grew up on Taviksaad got a good knowledge of corporal punishment - from their father's belt to the boiling pole and everything in between. Punishment, it was often said, was something that had to be seen, and in that fashion the Enforcers carried out all manner of cruelties on those who broke the laws of the land. Often it was as quick and crude as a beatdown - fist and boot and cudgel to leave a man broken and bloody, followed by a trip to the cells to lick their wounds. Then there were the public beatings; the criminal stripped bare and bound in such a way as to be helpless, only to be thrown to an angry mob and left to ride the tides of fortune. But formal punishment, done deliberately and with calculation, those were the stuff of nightmares. These, for the most part, were the exceptions to the rule. Nobody but the victims saw the hangings or the drownings, and only convicts got to know the inside of a labour camp like Iron Gaol, or the stygian nightmare of Black Pit. Before the Penitatas came among with their 'special day' of Winter Hall, the two worst punishments a man could suffer in front of the mob were lashing and the pole. Hafn had seen only one lashing, dragged there by his father to remind him what became of bad little boys. Thirty lashes for a man charged with raiding Taviksaad shipping under no flag. The only thing worse than his screaming was when the screaming stopped on the twenty-second lash.
After eating, Hafn focused on listening. He sat as close to the edge of the booth as he dared, ears up and turned toward the adults. Bits and pieces came his way, just the odd word or a tone of voice, but he couldn't be sure what was shared between Ivaka and Javik. Noticing the boy's attempted eavesdropping, Eskal stepped over and cleared his throat for attention. "Hafn? Grab those plates and bring them to the kitchen please."
Both Pennys knew what the request truly was; an excuse to get Hafn alone, which almost certainly meant a telling off. Normally the Penny boy would sulk at such things, but memories of the night before turned his sourness into cold terror. The mute Penny slunk into the kitchen behind Eskal, where Rhyd turned out to be waiting. The Daysider boy was perched on a stool eating soft biscuits and meat paste.
"If you're going to make a habit of lying, you need to learn to control your tells," Eskal said with a slight upturn at the corner of his muzzle. "So, what were you really doing last night?"
Hafn set down the plates before shuffling over to Eskal. He spoke at a whisper so that Rhyd wouldn't hear. "I wanted to get rid of him. I tried to persuade him to run away out the back, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I realised what I was doing was wrong and then, well, Rhyd was hungry so we got food..."
"Fair enough," Eskal said before raising his voice so Rhyd could hear. "I understand why you wanted to run. I might well have done the same in your place. However, I hope you understand that this has shaken my trust in you, so I expect you to do exactly as we say from here on out. Am I clear?"
"Yeah, I understand," Rhyd answered, trying his best to look brave in the face of a telling off.
Not longer after being sent to rejoin Ros, Ivaka decided it was time to bring her boys in on the discussions. She confirmed Ros' claim, having witnessed it herself, and advised the boys the importance of offering Lyy their unconditional support. The Daysider was ushered over soon after, and by the look of utter despair upon her muzzle she seemed to be the most miserable six-year-old on the planet. Ivaka helped the girl onto the soft seats of the alcove, where Lyy sat hunched forward so her back wouldn't touch the seat rest. It was an awkward reunion that Hafn was ill prepared for; he was too afraid to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing. Ros, far less uncertain, asked if she needed anything. Her reply: "yeah, a really strong drink!"
It wasn't clear if it'd been meant as a joke or not, but Ros obliged regardless. His absence gave Hafn and Lyy time alone for the first time since their falling out, and the boy felt obliged to take some advantage of that fact. "Lyy? I wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened. Yesterday, I mean. And before, when I said all that stupid stuff at school and made you mad. You know I never wanted to hurt you, right? I just... I screw everything up. I always do. Last night I came this close to fucking up so badly they probably would have sent me back to Black Pit!"
"Do you know why I got lashed?" Lyy asked in a low, sullen tone. "Lottery. I didn't do anything, they just picked me at random! How is that fair?"
"It's not," Hafn agreed, but he had no idea what else to say. He placed a paw on the table and tried to inch it toward Lyy's own in the hope they might grasp one another, but the girl pulled her paws down into her lap before his crawling fingers reached her. He quickly withdrew his paw, deeply embarrassed by the failed attempt at affection.
Kadan arrived while Lyy was still waiting for her drink. Skal and Kas were with him and both joined the Pennys just in time for Lyy to partake of a shot of cheap spirit. With her anguish dulled by the sedative properties of the spirit, the Kyyreni girl opened up to her friends. With flattened ears and a dead-weight tail beside her, Lyy recalled being taken from her bed before dawn and delivered to the Enforcers, of waiting in a cold, dark cage and then being taken out and flogged by men of the First House.
"Did you know about this?" Skal asked in an accusing tone when Kadan stepped over to check on them.
The Corrector-Captain nodded slowly. "Of course I did. I was tasked by the Lord Governor to find the Pennys for the flogging. He wanted examples made."
"There are supposed to be boundaries!" Skal snapped, jumping up from his seat as if it burned him. "We have contracts! You put them in place!"
"They are common law contracts, and common law doesn't apply to nobility! If the Lord Governor wills it, then it's done!" Kadan barked in return. His paws curled into a slashing claw posture as he shouted.
The reminder of reality caused some of Skal's anger to splutter out, replaced by a look of childish helplessness fitting of his physical age. Kadan softened somewhat and addressed him again in a calmer tone. "A lot of what we did before was only possible because we had a Lord Governor who listened. Not nearly as often as he needed to, and often not to the right people, but old Vaskal wanted this whole rejuve thing to work. I don't know if Wokun does, and if he does he certainly wants Penitatas to be put through a living Hell."
"But the Guild has autonomy, doesn't it? The Compact?"
Kadan shook his head. "The Compact isn't going to help us, Skal. The independence, autonomy and expanded powers were written for a specific purpose, one that we accomplished a long time ago. There's no remit there for us to be in charge of Penitatas - we just saw a power vacuum and claimed it. We did the same thing with the prisons, the labour camps, the border-militia; we took them over under the argument that making them part of the Guild helped crush the rampant lawlessness that made the Compact necessary, and everyone simply went along with it. But the truth is we have no legal grounds to back these things. All it would take is one Arbitrator with a convincing argument and all our sub-offices would be dissolved or broken off from us. That's why the Guild made the Office of Correctors - not to help Penitatas, but to put us out on a limb that could be severed to save the Guild as a whole. Now is not the time to set ourselves against the Lord Governor. Do you understand me?"
Skal made his understanding known by his sagging, defeated posture. With a grunt and a twitch of his head, Kadan slipped back into the role of cold-hearted Enforcer; his posture straightened, his ears snapped forward, and a snarled returned to his muzzle. "Alright, let's see about this runaway. Come on, it's only right you get involved."
Leaving the other rejuves off to one side, Kadan and Skal sat down with Eskal while Ivaka fetched the runaway. Skal was shocked at how sickly he looked. Beside him, Kadan tensed, subtly. They both listened in silence as Ivaka recounted how the boy came into their care, and when she'd finished Kadan asked the obvious question. "Why didn't you turn him over to the Guild?"
"Because I was at Palace Common yesterday," she answered coldly, her large, dark eyes shining with disgust at the memory. "I won't hand him over to be tortured. He's suffered enough."
"I'm sure he has suffered, but he's also broken the law. He ran from his master, resisted detainment, assaulted an Enforcer, conspired to escape justice, and attempted to murder your own boy over there!"
"I haven't forgotten that!" Ivaka snapped back, causing Rhyd to flinch and whimper. "No, I haven't forgotten that at all, but there is such a thing as going too far. Eskal told me even Hafn's showed concern for the boy last night, checking on him during the night. Isn't it clear we don't want to press this?"
Kadan let out a low, impatient growl. "You can forgive him all you like, but his actions brings the Guild and my office into disrepute. If the Lord Governor learns we go soft on runaways it'll be used against us, so an example has to be made."
Eskal raised a finger in objection. "Actually, I think what will bring you into disrepute is the fact he evaded capture for so long. When Hafn was attacked you had not been made aware they'd fled their master, correct? But now, after all these months when you were supposed to be looking for him? It makes you look incompetent, if I may say so."
"Watch it," Kadan snarled.
"What about, umm, 'Commons Justice', was it? I read something about it; the Guild doesn't have to get involved if injured parties have taken care of things themselves, right?" Skal offered, trying hard to recall the minutiae of Guild regulations he'd read over the past few months.
"I just said this isn't about Ivaka and Hafn-"
"I know, but it doesn't have to be the injured parties, right? We can sign off on punishments inflicted by other people if we feel it sufficient. It's why other Guilds can handle things in-home, isn't it?"
Kadan considered the boy's line of inquiry. "Lifters found him, so we could say they'd kept him," he mused.
Eskal jumped on the thought. "If he was being held deliberately as punishment, then you can always claim you knew of his location all along and saw no reason to intercede. You save face, and justice is done."
"I think, yeah, we could spin it that way. But there's one last problem - Rhyd has to go somewhere, and I'm not willing to leave him with you. He broke a Penitatas contract, so as far as I'm concerned that means he doesn't want to be a Penny anymore." The implications of Kadan's words hung over the table, prompting the starved Daysider boy to blub softly. "The boy will serve the rest of his time at Iron Gaol. They'll nurse him back to health there. I'll even request reviews so he might be able to return to being a Penny later. But I'm not interested in debate or weasling - he goes to the Gaol or the Pit. His choice."
The matter was ultimately settled, although it was some time before Rhyd was removed from his temporary home. Ivaka remained concerned, wanting assurance of the boy's treatment that Kadan gave via short, blunt replies. When at last he took the weakened rejuve away, Kadan allowed Skal and Kas to stay behind. "You should be with your friends, you've not had much time with them lately," the captain said. Skal did not need much prompting.
Kas and Ros were missing from the table when Skal rejoined it, but Hafn didn't seem to have noticed. He was instead trying his best to be a friend to Lyy, who seemed no happier than before. "I couldn't help him," Skal said, guessing the pair had been listening. "Seems like there's nothing I can do right now."
"How'd you do it before?" Hafn asked. "How'd you get the contracts to set rules for how we're treated?"
Skal chose not to answer. That had been a dark period in his new life, when Kadan had been an abusive stranger. He had no desire to think on those days. "I don't think Kadan can fix this for me this time," he said eventually, "this is about 'high law', and we'd need nobles on our side to make any changes."
"Eskal's a noble!" the older Penny piped up. Hafn eagerly waved to get Eskal's attention as Skal tried to argue him down.
"I don't think Eskal can help, he's an off-worlder. We need someone in the Houses, like... Lady Tavik, or someone like her to help us." Skal paused, eyes twinkling as a thought struck him. "Wait, we can get her to help! Ivaka, who's the land-Lord here?"
"Most of Vices belongs to House Tavik," Ivaka answered, having followed Eskal to see what Hafn was so excited about. "Why do you ask?"
"Thralls have a right to petition their Lords, don't we? Guilds do it all the time, but by the letter of the law anyone can! If enough people contacted House Tavik about how Pennys are being treated, especially if a big Guild got involved as well, then maybe they'd take notice!"
"It seems a long-shot, Skal. Besides, from what Kadan said it could just as easily make things worse," Ivaka countered, but there was uncertainty in her argument and her eyes kept flicking to Hafn. "I can reach out to the Lifters, I know some people there. If they feel strongly about all this then I'll spread word around Vices. I think more people will speak up if they have the Lifters at their backs."
"Thank you," Skal said, grateful to finally find someone willing to help. Ivaka's attention had already shifted, however, and after a brief head count of the rejuves she headed upstairs with a frown. What followed was a muffled shout, then Kas came barrelling down the stairs as if his tail was on fire.
"Skal! I have to get back, s-so you can make your own way home!" the Medicalos took off again, low and swift with his tail straight out behind him. Hafn, Lyy and Skal all sat puzzled by this strange display, albeit briefly. Their little ears caught the distinct wailing of a Penny in distress coming from the bedroom.
When Ivaka finally returned, Ros was trailing at her tail. The boy was red faced and anguished, his fur streaky with tears and both paws furiously rubbing his backside. "Sit with your friends. If you behave I might let you have something to soothe your rear," the Nightsider said before leaving the four to their own company.
"Makes a nice change to see your arse getting smacked!" Hafn laughed.
Ros gave a shy grin and spat a half-hearted retort, but it was enough to lift his mood and lighten the table. It served as a reminder that, whatever help Ivaka or Kadan managed to get them, a Penitatas backside was always at risk - they just had to live with it.