Avrielle's Lesson

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

Ignace had convinced me, with the appropriate amount of flattery and monetary encouragement, to take the part of teacher for a new Valerian girl, just transferred- my condition was that it be done in my own way. It had been, in all, a reasonably easy arrangement.

That day was the girl's first lesson and I had made certain arrangements such like some of the more stubborn younger students required- a freshly-killed pig and a set of lashes, even robes to throw over her clothing so nothing would be damaged. It would be a messy, but hands-on, experience for her and I hoped I managed to give her the teaching that was required.

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I arrived at Mandrake House with the kind of breathless anticipation that comes from waiting for something that you can't believe has come. I had purposely selected an easily removeable gown; lessons with Douleur had taught me that I would often be bereft of my clothes. This one tied with ribbon around the shoulders that slipped open when the ribbon was untied.

I was admitted by one of the younger adepts, who very coolly showed me to the Dowayne's office.

"Welcome to Mandrake House," said the Dowayne. "I am Ignace no' Mandrake. Please have a seat, Mordred will be by to collect you shortly."

Mordred? I silently exclaimed.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

I'd been waiting in the garden for a time before I was notified that Avrielle was waiting in the Dowayne's chambers. Well, Ignace always did like picking over the newest batch- no wonder my order that she be brought straight to the gardens had been unheard. Standing with a sign I walked at a moderate pace to the Dowayne's chambers; no reason to rush, after all.

Eventually I made my way there and was admitted to the office, nodding respectfully to Ignace as I did so. "Well, she seems to be ready," I said after I had told the Dowayne my plans. "She'll come back in one piece unless she does something incredibly silly."

ignace raised a brow and I understood it for what it was, both a rebuke and a sign of understanding- they didn't make trainees like they used to. "Well Avrielle, seems you have chosen your place," I said as I idly turned to her. "Come along, today's lesson will be in the gardens."

Turning on a heel and fully expecting her to follow I left the room.

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I rose quickly and followed him to the garden, politely nodding to Ignace as I walked out. A million questions rose in my head. Did you know you were going to be teaching me? I didn't expect to see you again. Did you teach before me? Why me? But I kept silent as I walked behind him, keeping up with his pace, my feet utterly silent with each step.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

The walk was most likely a scenic one but I was completely blind to the garden around me until we reached the site of the lesson. The pig carcass, moderately large and hanging by the rear legs. Eyes open and glazed, skin still warm, covered in a layer of fur- most people never got this close to a dead creature in their lives.

Walking briskly to the robe I had laid out I thrust it to her. "Put this over your gown, it will keep the worst of the mess from your clothing," I told her in a normal tone but promising to become more harsh if my words were ignored. I was not here to be personable unless it was of the upmost necessity but I would teach her very well. "Before you ask, yes I have taught before- that is why Ignace came to me to ask this favor."

Once the robe was over I stepped closer to the pig and beckoned her. "Have you ever been near a recently killed creature?"

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

"No," I said quietly. The pig istelf was not frightening, but the stench of death was everywhere. I wondered what it was for, but I was sure Mordred knew what he was doing, and I trusted him.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

"Come here," I told her firmly, taking her hand and placing it on the warm flesh. "This is a dead animal, recently killed- and how we all end up. Her throat was slit with a single motion of a very sharp blade. Whether it's Heaven, Hell or anywhere in between, only she would know."

Letting go of her hand I let her do as she would. "Today, this pig is going to be a demonstration dummy for the tools that a Mandrake and a patron would typically use. When you are ready, sit down and we may begin."

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

The pig was hot and sticky and bristly under my hand, and I could smell death on it. When he let me go, I distreetly brushed my hand against the robe before sitting down obediently, kneeling abeyante, never taking my eyes off him and the pig.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

She was obviously distressed by her brush with death. Raising a brow I walked to stand in front of the girl. "What do you think of this creature?" I asked calmly, wanting her to understand the nature of this thing, that one day someone unthinking could render her in such a way with a single blow. "Do you know why we're doing this particular thing?"

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I nodded. "The pig is me," I said quietly. "This demonstration is to teach me what is going to happen to me, but will serve to remind me that it is dangerous, and can cause death if boundaries are overstepped or a blow or stroke goes awry." I fell silent again. I didn't know if that was the answer he was looking for, but that was certainly how I felt. I wanted to be an adept, but I did not want to die, and I would watch carefully, and learn from him.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

"It is also to demonstrate the different capabilities of every tool and help you to recognise the different forms of pain they can cause," I added. "Everything in Mandrake has at least two purposes. While patrons favor appearance, function is also a necessity. While you are learning caution you will also be learning to recongnize and appreciate skill and dismiss your fear."

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I nodded, taking mental note of his words, running them through my head so I would not forget them. "Yes," I said, "I understand."

My lessons with Douleur had taught me to speak a little and learn a lot. Settling back on my heels, I watched him, waiting for him to begin, my heart thumping in my chest.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

"Then we'll start. Which thing do you think is the most dangerous?" I asked, cocking my head sideways to watch her as I walked past a table festooned with tools.

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I remembered the lesosn with Douleur where she had asked me what I thought the most powerful tool was. The answer had been the patron's will. But that was not the question. "The flechette," I said, "Because if one is cut in just the wrong place, one could die."

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

"If one is damaged in the wrong place with any of these things one could die," I told her with a raised brow. "Let me demonstrate as such."

Picking up a flechette I drew a harsh, fast line across the pigs flesh, letting blood well; it was a deep cut along the ribs, rending tissue. "The flechette can kill." Picking up a heavy whip, one with no metal at all but tightly-braided leather, I drew it in a sharp, hard strike across the ribs of the carcass, exposing bone. "So can this. It is the person's will who decides your life or death."

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I sucked in my breath as the flesh of the pig parted, revealing sinew and bone. The blood was pounding in my ears. You are the pig, I reminded myself. Take heed and listen and watch.

Blinking, I exhaled slowly. "So it really is the patron's will that is the most powerful," I said quietly to myself. "No tool is more dangerous than that."

I looked up at him, a question in my eyes. "Are deaths of adepts usually on purpose? Why would anyone want an adept to die?"

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

"Some people find a thrill in death, the danger of doing such a thing, some of the body's reactions, the complete control over a person's possible fate- all of those are things that some crave. That is why the Night Court is arranged as it is, with the signale and the contracts." Taking the flechette back to the table I washed it with a cloth and then set it down. "What next?"

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I pointed to the whip that he had used. "How do you use it without killing?" I asked. Now that I had seen what it could do at its worst, I wanted to see what it could do at its best.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

Nodding, I turned and did as she asked, the whip cracking and leaving a line of blood across the skin of the pig, well-executed and full of concentration thought it looked effortless. Years of training make things like that possible, as well as a lot of chances to practice.

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

His skill was unprecedented, his movements perfectly performed. It made me smile a little to watch him. The sound of the whip and the line of blood make my skin tingle, and I took a deep breath. "Thank you," I said. "I see."

"You are very skilled," I noted. Even as a novice, I knew a quality adept when I saw one.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

"Thank you- it took much time and effort to become so," I said as I brought the whip to her. "If you look, you'll see that only the very tip of the whip is used- people who aren't as skilled will use more, causing more damage and changing the nature of the pain."

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I examined the whip with my hands, feeling the braided leather with my fingertips. It was soft, and I thought ruefully that it had a double-sided nature: soft, but so painful, and sweet. I looked at the tip, where the thongs of the whip came together seamlessly. There was no blood on it, which spoke of his skill: The whip had dropped before blood had time to rise to the surface. "I see," I said, when I had finished observing it, handing it back to him.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

Taking back the lash I oiled it carefully and then coiled the braided length, setting it back on the table. "I know you're probably going to forswear flechettes- most do these days," I told her as I picked up the case, the slightest note of general regret in my voice- adepts in these times took few risks such as that, "But I'm still going to show you the right way they should be done."

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I nodded in acceptance of his judgement. "You are probably right," I said. "It will take a lot of trust on my part to even think of them." I shifted a little as I watched him take up the flechette again. Even if I would not use them myself, it was a pleasure to watch him. He was very thorough in his methods, and I was learning a lot by observation.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

Taking up a narrow, sharp flechette I drew it across the dead animal, raising a thin line of blood that was almost delicate in its art, the blade pulled away before the first drops of blood even fell and very little was spilled at all. "The entire nature of the flechette is that the pain is not even felt until the blade is away from the skin and blood begins to flow from it."

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I nodded to show I understood him. I was mesmerized by his skill with the flechette. If he wanted to use it on me, I would let him, I thought. It was not that I was especially attracted to him, but his skill impressed me, and I trusted him implicitly. Listening and watching, I waited for him to continue.

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

With a quick motion the flechette was cleaned and I picked up a flail, continuing the demonstration- first a harsh blow, then a correct one. "Now, how many patrons do you think will fall into this 'skilled' area? Most of them?"

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

I thought about his question. "Not most," I said, "but many. After all, if a patron likes Valerian, he will come often, and will probably improve his own skill with time. But no, not most."

[Mordred no' Mandrake]

"You are wrong," I told her as I turned. "Patrons are not concerned with learning skill, only with finding their pleasure, at least for the great majority. A Shahrizai and a Mandrake are the exception- others will not care. Do you understand?"

[Avrielle nó Valerian]

"Yes," I said, a little horrified at the truth, but accepting of it nonetheless. "I do."