Four years before the founding of the first kingdom

"You know, Andral's birthday is tomorrow." Apaidia, never much of a domestic, was never-the-less attempting to sew new clothes for Andral.

Pronos tended the fire in their small fireplace as the fall weather had turned cold early. He could easily afford to buy all of them new clothes, but he hoarded his kerma buying only the cheapest of drink. "So, what?"

"So it was the custom among his father's tribe to take their sons on the z'taema on their thirteen birthdays."

Pronos laughed. "Amantis was never a member of our tribe except by marriage. A fact he would often take great joy in reminding us."

Apaidia flushed angrily. "By blood or by marriage, it doesn't matter. He needs someone to take him on this z'taema thing."

"And you want me to take him out in the wilderness and lose him, eh? Do I look like his father?"

"No. You're not even half the man he was, but Andral needs you. He's thirteen years old and being raised by a single old widow—"

"You were never married—"

"He needs someone to show him how to be a man!"

Stunned, Pronos looked at the boy frowning in the doorway of the room. Though he was only thirteen, he was as big as a man. "Is that what you want? Do you want to be a man?"

Andral squinted at him but said nothing.

Pronos chuckled as an idea occurred to him. "Very well." He drained his drinking bowl. "If we're going to do this, we might as well do it now."

"What? You agree?" Apaidia asked sounding incredulous.

"You made a convincing argument, woman. You certainly aren't going to be able to show him what it means to be a man." He gestured for Andral. "Come. Grab your cloak. It's cold outside."

"You're not going to take him into the wilderness, are you?"

"No," Pronos opened the door. "We'll not even leave the city." Pronos stepped outside and waited for Andral to join him on the steps wearing a patched and stained cloak. His angry frown had given way to sullen concern.

"Don't worry. You may even like it." Pronos led him to a certain small house jammed in between a laundress and an herbalist. Seeing the door closed, they waited around outside in the growing cold.

"What are we doing here?" Andral finally asked.

"Waiting our turn."

"Why don't we just go inside? It's cold."

Pronos chuckled. "That would be impolite."

After a few minutes, the door opened and a man came out. A moment later a woman came out wearing a brightly colored dress that appeared to be too small for her but which had once been fancy.

Pronos walked up and showed her a handful of coins. "Are you available?"

"For you?"

"No. For the boy."

She turned an evaluating look on him and smiled. "Is this his first time?"

"Yes."

She held out her hand. "I'll make it special for him."

Pronos tipped the coins into her palm. "You're the professional."

"Come with me, dra," she said to Andral and stepped back into her door.

Andral frowned after her, but didn't move.

"Go on," Pronos urged. "You said you wanted to go inside."

"Come on," the woman urged. "I'll make you feel all good inside."

Andral let her take him by the hand and slowly followed.

<====|==|====>

Andral had not understood much of the talk about making him a man. In his world there were men and boys and they didn't have much to do with each other if they could help it. But all this talk about making him into something else made him nervous. In his mind, to make something into something else required that you destroy or undo the thing being remade. The beetles had wanted to eat him and were only now being held at bay by the other darker spirits. Whatever Pronos or this strange woman had in mind, he would refuse to be anything other than who he was.

The woman smiled and took his hand. She seemed nice enough and might have been pretty, but it was hard to tell as she wore a lot of colored paint on her face. She spoke kindly, leading him inside with a soft hand on his shoulder and closed the door behind him.

"Now you just relax and sit over here," she said, leading him to a large bed piled with pillows and soft sheets. She directed him where to sit and gently pushed him back against the pillows. With surprising ease, she slipped out of her clothes and suddenly she was sitting next to him, naked, leaning toward him and rubbing her soft hand across his tunic covered chest. Her hand slithered like a snake down his belly and suddenly she was rubbing his crotch.

Andral jerked and started to sit up.

"Now, now. Just relax," she soothed. "I'm going to make you feel really good. "

She smiled at him, but it was the smile of a predator and he froze. Strange feelings of fear and uncertainty rose up within him mixed with vague desire.

She untied the knot of his trousers and slid her hand inside. At the touch of her warm soft hand on his most personal parts he tried to sit up and break free, but through some strange gymnastics she twisted his movements so that she ended up lying beneath him while he knelt over her, his trousers down to his knees.

Shame and passion rose up in him and, looking down on her naked form, he realized what he wanted.

Andral slipped his hands around her throat and squeezed.

The woman's heavy-lidded eyes snapped open, bulging. Her mouth moved, but not even a gasp escaped as Andral leaned into her, feeling the bones of her throat pressing against his thumbs. Her face purpled and she batted against his arms, but Andral had received worse beatings by more vicious people. Andral sat on her, riding her as she kicked and thrashed in the bed. She tried to scratch at his face, but he just ducked his head and leaned on her more. In moments her thrashing subsided, her movements grew weak and her eyes glazed underneath their heavy lids.

When Andral was certain she wasn't going to move again, he slowly unclasped his hands and sat back up, leaving dark purpled prints on her throat.

<====|==|====>

Pronos paced up and down before the prostitute's door. He wasn't expecting a long wait but he was still surprised when the door opened after only a few minutes. Andral paused on the front steps, clothes askew, looking confused and thoughtful. "That was quick, even for a first time," Pronos said. Did you actually..."

He paused, but Andral just gave him a blank expression. "Oh, you probably wouldn't even know," Pronos grumbled. He brushed past Andral and saw the naked corpse on the bed. Even in the dim light, he could see she had been strangled. He shot Andral a dark look. "You did this?" He knew it must be the case, yet he still found it hard to believe.

Andral nodded.

Pronos looked back at the prostitute, then back at Andral. For a whore, she wasn't actually bad looking. "Why?"

Andral shrugged.

Pronos sighed. "We better hide the body. We've probably been seen." He searched the small room and found a wooden chest that looked big enough to hold her. He opened it and dumped out a pile of clothes and random objects, pausing to pocket a pouch of coin. He moved to the bed and grabbed the corpse by her upper arms. "Take the feet," he told Andral. "You made this mess; you'll help clean it up."

With a sullen expression, Andral grabbed the woman by the ankles and helped drag her to the chest. Pronos lifted her into it and struggled to fold her arms and legs inside. They both had to sit on the lid to close and latch it and he heard the sound of snapping bone as he did so. Pronos turned to Andral. "If she wasn't dead before, she's dead now. Come on."

Andral rose. "Where?"

"We have to sneak this out. Help me lift this." They bent to either side of the chest and picked it up. "Not that way. Out the back."

With much grunting and thumping against walls, they managed to maneuver the chest to a window at the back of the building, facing a small courtyard which was little more than an alley. Pronos climbed through, but Andral proved unable to lift the chest, so he climbed back and helped Andral over the sill. Squatting low, he was able to lift the chest to waist height and, after repeatedly banging it against the wall, he was still unable to lift it up to the window. Exhausted, he set it down and helped Andral climb back inside. Together, they lifted the chest and tipped it over. It fell into the alley with the crack of splintering wood. They scrambled back outside and Pronos examined the chest. "It should hold together. At least until we get her in the water."

Together, they lifted the chest with much creaking of wood and waddled awkwardly to the harbor. Andral dropped his end several times, each time with more cracking of wood. "Stop it!" Pronos hissed through clenched teeth. "If you keep dropping it, we'll have nothing but splinters to throw in the water."

Andral growled but said nothing.

After pausing in the shadows to catch their breath for a few moments, they resumed dragging the chest down the pier. Dawn was beginning to pink the horizon and, though their breaths frosted the air, the sweating Pronos didn't feel cold. "Hold a moment," Pronos said as Andral shoved the chest to the edge of the pier. He wiggled loose a couple of splintered pieces of wood on each side of the chest. "That's to let in the water and the crabs." He gestured to the water with the fragments. "Right, toss her in."

Andral had to get down on one knee and put his shoulder to the chest. With much grunting, he pushed the chest and tipped it over into the water. Afterward, he sat on the edge of the pier panting. Pronos sat next to him and for a moment, they watch the light creep up into the sky behind the mountains.

Pronos clapped a hand on Andral's shoulder and laughed. Andral gave him a puzzled look.

"Well she wanted you to be a man. If that didn't do it, I don't know what will."

Andral smiled.

<====|==|====>

Dolem followed the sewage down the narrow winding streets to the western end of the harbor district. Downwind were the dyers and tanners and abattoirs, their effluvia draining through the low-rent district of Mari. Dolem turned down a narrow set of basement steps of a brewery. There among the large empty clay pots, the last of the mob met in darkness.

Nobody said anything for several minutes as Tarakae tapped nervously on a broken clay lid. "Is this all that are coming?" Tarakae asked.

Dolem shrugged. "Probably. A number have gone over to the guard. The rest have quit."

"Cowards," Tarakae muttered.

"The guard pays better."

"Speaking of money," Tarakae said. "How much did we get?"

One of the men tossed a small bag of coins on the crate before Tarakae. "This is from the weavers."

"This is from the smiths." Another bag followed.

"These are from the butchers, or at least most of them." Dolem toss a third bag next to the others.

Tarakae opened them and dumped the coins in a pile. He sifted through the bronze kerma, but didn't bother to count it. "That's much less than last month."

"All the wealthy merchants and craftsmen are being protected by the guard," one of the thugs said, his voice carrying a note of complaint. "That only leaves us with the poor ones living in the areas of town where the guard don't go. That doesn't leave us with much to collect."

Tarakae stared at the coins in silence. Dolem knew what he was thinking. They were all thinking the same thing. Their little movement was dying, losing money and members. The rich were winning and it was only a matter of time before they were forced to admit defeat. All that rage at injustice had spent itself in pointless destruction to be swallowed up in frustration and the larger indifference of those who should have joined their cause.

Tarakae looked up at Dolem. "You said most of the butchers."

"Yes, well, Sarco refuses to pay."

"Why haven't you given him the red hand?"

"He's a friend of the oracle. We don't harvest from friends and family."

Tarakae's smile was mostly a sneer. "You mean the boy Pronos fosters."

"Yes."

"Well, Pronos isn't a friend of ours anymore. Make an example of Sarco and take whatever coin he's got hidden away."