The Trainer (24 page)

“Well, I suppose I asked for that.” Grendel
lowered his head and ran fingers through his hair. “I... it seemed
like the best way to handle him. His responses were... amazing.
God, what a player!” He became more animated, pushing himself up in
the chair. “I never had so much fun doing that level of emotional
torment. It was almost vampiric, but I can honestly say we probably
fed from each other more or less equally.”

Anderson smiled slightly. “That’s the way it
works best, isn’t it?”

“For some things, sure,” Grendel said. “The
trouble comes when we confuse the pleasure with utility. And
believe me, Anderson—there isn’t a more downright useful boy to
have around. I thought we were prepared to continue without him
when he was ready to move back here, but I swear, a week doesn‘t go
by without me wondering how the hell we ever kept up before.” He
sighed. “But it was too much. We used him, all right, used him like
a slave. In so many ways. Except for the obvious. He’s caught in
this state of... liminality. And you’re right. We put him there. It
was wrong to drag it out this long.”

“Don’t throw that pity party yet, Grendel, I
think what you did was exactly right,” Anderson said. “Don’t you
think I do the same thing?”

Grendel forced a slight smile. “Here’s where
I get to say that he never told me much about you.”

Anderson laughed. “Well, I hope you didn’t
expect otherwise, my friend. But you know, I don’t need a
five-dollar sociological term for the boy, he’s been betwixt and
between all of his life. He was happy with you, and useful, he was
doing what he was born to do, and that was fine—for as long as it
lasted. But we’re all grown-ups here. Nothing is forever. It was
time for him to finish up this paper and move on.”

“But how has he moved on?” Grendel insisted.
“He’s beyond your student, Imala, he doesn’t belong here doing
apprentice work. He’s a Master Trainer—he surpassed our house ages
ago, and we’ve been holding him back.

“The paper is just an excuse, and a lame one
at that. So, if he doesn’t move on, then why the hell wait for some
bolt out of the blue to change the way things are? You know what he
wants. We know what he wants. And so does he, however much... ah...
“ He paused to consider a word. “However much nonsense he feeds us
all about wanting only to do the right thing.”

She smiled at his neat avoidance of even a
mild profanity. “And if I told him when he came back to pack his
bags and go back to you, what would that solve?” she asked. “Would
you take him on as what you’re so sure he wants to be?”

Grendel looked down into his lap and nodded.
He stretched out a leg to reach into his pocket, and pulled out a
silver chain with two small rings set into the ends. A lock dangled
from one end, with a key inserted into the bottom. He dropped it
into a glittering pile on the desk and retrieved his coffee.

Anderson eyed it but didn’t pick it up.
“This is a new development.”

“Alex and I discussed it last night. We do
miss him, and not just as a trainer, although he certainly is
priceless there. He brought a sense of balance and security to the
house. And, he kept us on our toes, which is a good thing!”

“He does do that,” Anderson admitted with a
nod.

“If he’s not going to go on to be an
independent trainer, then the only other path for him is to the
auctions. There’s no way around it. Who else would he work with,
other than you? And I’ve been imagining him on the block—and every
time, I start to think about how we couldn’t afford to buy him. And
I think of how many people would love to get their hands on him—and
how deeply he—” He paused, and took a breath. “He was happy with
us.”

“That’s charmingly—submissive of y’all,”
Anderson said, settling back in her chair.

“Well, what else can I do? Don’t you think
I’ve been wondering if I drove him away? If I denied myself and him
something that could have worked just because it would have been
difficult to manage?”

“I notice your pronouns have changed a
bit.“

“You’re a riot, Anderson. Now stop analyzing
me, and give me the real story here.”

“All right, I’m sorry about that. It’s
habit; I have to learn not to do it with my friends.” She stopped
playing with her bracelet and leaned forward herself, putting her
elbows on the desk. “Here’s my most basic analysis of our boy. He’s
still figuring out what he wants, because there’s nothing perfect
for him to go after. He’s owned, he’s served, and he’s trained, and
nothing has worked out perfectly, has it? Call it a mid-life
crisis, call it a damn heavy case of depression, call it
irresponsible—but he’s waiting for someone to up and tell him which
way to go. I won’t—I can’t. And you’ve just become someone who
might. Now, he has to consider that offer, and make up his damn
fool mind.”

Grendel grinned as her accent became
stronger. “You wouldn’t like it if he took me up on this.”

“Oh hell, if it makes him happy, he should
do it. And if anyone will go out of their way to make him happy,
it’d be you and Alex. However inappropriate I may think that is.”
He laughed, and she waved one hand limply at him. “It’s true,” she
protested. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that everyone
should do this kind of soul searching to make their slaves happy.
And believe me, if that’s what’s gonna come out of your mouth,
there’s a house in Santa Cruz that recently lost a trainer... Maybe
they’ll take you in.”

“But you made your best point, Trainer. He’s
been there, done that. Paid the dues. Maybe it’s time he got what
he needs to make him happy.”

“Happy again? Now, since when does everyone
have the right to be happy? We have our jobs to do, Grendel, and
sometimes they’re not going to be richly, personally fulfilling. No
matter how much we pay in dues. You have to weigh the plusses and
minuses here—where do you think he should be? Off playing, or doing
what he has to do?”

Grendel laid a hand down over the collar.
“This shows I am not playing any more.”

“Oh? And what will you use for leverage in
these mental games he adores so much, these emotional torments you
feed from—when he has what you’ve only teased him with for these
few years? Hmm?”

Grendel’s eyes narrowed, and he folded his
hands. “Will you act as his trainer and make the offer?” he asked,
his voice tense.

Anderson stared at him and started to say
something, but she bit back the words. Then, she smiled gently. “Of
course. Why, Ah’d be honored, suh.” She raised her shoulders and
bent her head in an exaggerated bow. “But I’ll also answer his
questions honestly when he asks them. As his trainer.”

“That’s fair,” Grendel admitted, relaxing
again. “A damn shame, since he’ll listen to you, but fair.” He ran
his fingers through his hair again, sweeping it back. “But if he’s
smart, he’ll take the chance on a collar. I shudder at the thought
of being in your debt, Trainer of Trainers, but I’m glad I
came.”

“I’m glad you did, too, and believe me,
there are few things worse than owing me anything, Mr. Elliot. But
we’ll see what Parker says, and more importantly, what he does. How
is Rachel working out, by the way?”

“Wonderfully. Excellently. But she was well
trained, as you know. Well prepared, at least. We always feel a
little short staffed—the trainees have to learn household chores
earlier than usual. But it all works in the end.”

“That’s what we hope for, Grendel. That it
all works out in the end.”

Chris came in at 12:30. The early-to-rise
household seemed asleep as he let himself in the front door. He was
preparing to hang up his coat when he heard the discreet cough
beside him. It was Tara.

She said softly, “I’ll take that, Chris.
Trainer is waiting for you in the kitchen.” She took his coat and
bag, and he patted her fondly as he passed her heading toward the
rear of the house. It took skill to come up behind him so quietly.
He rubbed his chest through the shirt before he stepped into the
harsh white light of the kitchen.

“An early night for you,” Anderson said as
he came in. She was seated by the counter, idly flipping through
Vicente’s index file. There were a few cards on the counter beside
her.

“And a late one for you. Is there something
wrong?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. But come on in and
set a while. It’s time for another chat about you.”

He sighed, but took a stool. “What
happened?“

“I saw Grendel tonight.”

He stiffened, and looked a little surprised,
and a flash of pain showed just for a second. He recovered his
composure and nodded for her to continue.

“Well, there’s no reason to mince words. He
brought this.” She nudged the collar across the counter toward him,
from where it had been hidden by her sleeve. “If you’re willing to
serve, they’re willing to own.”

That one got him. He took a deep breath, and
his right hand came up to cover his mouth, index finger tucked
across his upper lip. Anderson didn’t smile, but she knew that
gesture, as she knew dozens of others in him, some of which he
probably wasn’t aware himself. This one was a cry for security. And
a sign that he was very, very tired. She looked at his eyes under
the steel rims of the glasses, and then focused her attention on
the chain. She generously gave him the time he needed to gather
himself, and when he started stroking his mustache and let his hand
drop a little, she nudged it again.

“Nice quality. Not their usual style, is
it?”

“No, it isn’t.” Chris sighed and picked it
up. “No, they usually use steel, larger links. This is a formal
style.” He let it slide from one hand to the other. “So. This would
be... acceptable... to you?”

“If it were not, I would have said so to
Grendel. No, I think this is something important enough for you to
make the final decision on.” She didn’t have to stress the word
“final“—she could see he caught it anyway. He ran his fingers along
the chain thoughtfully, looking down for a moment, away from her
eyes.

“What do you think?” he finally asked.

“It’s about time you asked me that.”
Anderson stepped off the stool and stretched. “What do I think? I
think it would make you very happy—for a while. And then you’d
realize that it’s all too easy for you, and you’ll start thinking
of new ways to make your life harder, and I’ll hear from you in,
oh, a year? Maybe two.”

“It’s a kindness that you’re so gentle with
me,” he said wryly, rising along with her.

“You don’t respond to gentleness, my boy.
You like a boot in your butt to get you going. Now, I’m giving it
to you. You think it’ll be different because you’ll wear a collar?
Hell, Grendel and Alex will give you anything you want to come back
and make things better.”

He closed his fist around the collar. “I’m
sure you didn’t mean any disrespect by that, Trainer.”

She waggled her finger at him. “Don’t go all
formal on me, buster. You know I like them both. They’re my
friends, and you love them, and that’s great. But it’s not enough
for you. You can’t keep running away from these decisions, Chris
Parker. One of these days, it’s gonna be one way or the other. You
play, or you serve. Or give it all up and join a monastery.”

“We don’t have monasteries,” Chris said
softly.

“Well, whatever y’all have. Be a rabbi,
whatever. Don’t change the subject. If you take this offer and go
back, what will you be?”

“Their majordomo, I suppose. I would be best
suited for the job.”

“Right. And Rachel will go back to being
housekeeper then?”

He sighed. “Which would not be fair to
her.”

“Forget her, we’re talking about you. So
there you’d be, in the exact same place you were last year. And
what will have changed for you? You’ll still need the attention,
won’t you? Or will you wean yourself off of all that, and be happy
just training?”

“I could be.”

“Oh, give me credit for having half a brain,
Chris Parker.”

“It could be different. If I were truly
theirs, I could—”

“Parker.”

“But I could be useful, Imala—”

“Training novices? For how much longer? How
many times are you gonna break them in and let them go? How long
can you go on without the credit, without the freedom to establish
your own school?”

“Maybe I don’t want my own school,” he
snapped. “And it’s not about my own school, is it? It’s about
yours!”

Anderson gave a little hoot of surprise and
smiled. She leaned slowly against the counter and said, “Ohhh. My
first name, and a raised voice.”

He looked a bit shocked himself. He
immediately stepped back and drew himself up before her. “Trainer,
I’m very sorry for losing my temper. And for the tone of voice.
Please excuse me—I’ll not do it again.”

She softened her smile just a little and
reached out to touch his shoulder. “And if I called you to formal
manners, you wouldn’t hesitate, would you? You’d hit the tiles so
fast, you’d smash your kneecaps. And it would be a relief, wouldn’t
it?”

He closed his eyes and turned his face away
from her. “Try me, Trainer.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. Let’s go up front
and pretend that we’re equals, all right?”

He followed her mutely, and sat stiffly in
the arm chair by the fireplace.

“Would you rather go formally into the
Marketplace?” Anderson asked. “In two months, you could be at the
Amsterdam auction.”

“Don’t you think I’ve considered that? It’s
been on my mind for years.”

“Yes, I know. But you haven’t asked me to
prepare you in quite a while. I just thought you’d decided not to
leave your life up to chance. It’s a valid decision, especially for
you.”

“No, it’s not!” Chris banged the arm of the
chair, hard. “I’ve spent years teaching other people how to bear
it, and dammit, I should be able to do it! But I can’t! I’m not—I’m
not good enough for the block.”