Chapter 10
Bradwin sat in his empty board room long after the rest of the Council had been dismissed. He stared out the window over his wheat field, not really seeing what he was looking at or hearing the maids cleaning up the room behind him, until the sun hovered just above the horizon. He had a lot of thinking to do, yet he found he could not concentrate. There were simply too many things to consider all at once, and he was tired. He was so very tired.
There was a knock at his door that brought him back to reality. "Enter," he barked.
His secretary poked his head into the room and announced that Jiti Ton's transport was coming up the drive. "Very well," he said, dismissing his man.
Jiti Ton had been Tenet's best friend as a child. The son of one of Bradwin's workers, the boy was of such a low caste that Bradwin's gut instinct had been to forbid the friendship. However, Jiti Ton was a very trusting boy. He had high hopes and dreams, and Bradwin saw an opportunity. He not only allowed the friendship, but saw to it that Jiti Ton was able to join the academy. In all the years since, Bradwin never regretted that decision. Jiti Ton was now his top military advisor and worked with a diligence he wished his own children had possessed.
Poor Jiti Ton, Bradwin thought with near sincerity. The past few months had thrown the man's very world into chaos. Like most of the people in the upper castes, and almost all commoners not living near the actual border itself, Jiti Ton had been shocked to learn of the Borderlands. Many decades before, when the Borderlanders refused to incorporate with New Canada and Southland in one united government, it was decided by those in charge, mostly Bradwin's ancestors, that for the peace of the population it would be best to pretend the area was uninhabitable. Since all education and religion were state controlled, it was simple to tame the sheep. The transports that flew over the Borderlands during the biannual migrations had no windows in the civilian cabins, so they could not see the world they flew over. Bases were established near the border to abduct and train any who crossed the border. Those who did not keep their information to themselves ended up in the state run mental asylums, and the few times there had been stories in the press about the Borderlands, it had been a fairly simple matter to discredit the reporters and get them out of the public eye permanently.
In more recent years, the growing population in Bradwin's nation required his father, the man in charge at the time, to search for other food sources beyond what his people could grow. His father traded with the third world nations, but they had very little to offer. Early in his career, he had orchestrated trading with the gangs from the Borderlands, the Cons who ran the place. He'd trade for meat for the poor people who didn't care what they ate, and whatever bean and corn crops he could get his hands on. In the beginning, he traded drugs grown in Southland. It was a simple solution for him, since the warmer growing fields of Southland produced excellent coca plants for cocaine and the right type of flowers for heroin. It took nothing to requisition extra fields off the books to grow enough to meet Con demand, and very little effort was necessary to keep the chain of delivery a secret. Once Bradwin took the reins from his old man, he kept up the exchange. It never ceased to amaze him just how much one would do to feed their family.
It was a good system, in Bradwin's opinion. It worked for forty years. If the Borderlands hadn't decided to get tough on the Cons, to make its own legitimate government, the uneven trading would still be working that very day. The new government didn't care for letting their citizens be drugged out on cocaine. Slowly they began to shut down Bradwin's supply lines, until Bradwin had no choice but to offer them legitimate trades. Money. Cloths made from cotton. Fancy foods for the elite they couldn't grow in the temperamental Borderlands climate. Though it galled him to have to pay real prices to a bunch of heathens, barbarians, and witches, his people needed to eat. It was as simple as that. He paid for enough things to make it seem as if he'd changed his ways, and the Borderlands fledgling government shifted its priorities to more pressing internal matters, leaving Bradwin alone for the most part.
And then that young government started to get a swelled head. They shut more and more of his drug runs down, and threatened to cut off all trading if he didn't start treating them like a viable world power. He had scrambled for years trying to find other food sources, but every option turned up short. He tried to pass a law that would limit the number of children per family as a measure of population control, but that had been an utter failure. He made up his mind years ago that his citizens would need to learn of the Borderlands, if only so he could gain the upper hand again. But, he knew it would have to be done carefully. He began to make diplomatic trips to the border to meet with some of their representatives. He had signed bullshit treaties to keep them quiet, all the while sizing up for himself their level of power and to get a feel for the enemy. He spent years quietly planning, grooming his people, and laying the foundation for a unification of nations. Or a hostile takeover. He personally didn't care either way as long as he got his payday in the end.
But, Bradwin had to go carefully. He was on the cusp of all he wanted, and one wrong step could risk it all. He thought he may have taken that wrong move when he blew off the meeting in Leonsburg. He never expected it to be any sort of real summit. He planned the stop simply as a ready excuse to explain his presence in the Borderlands in case he was spotted. He believed he would meet with some local government official, pump hands in front of their media, make a few bullshit promises to an eager crowd, and leave. He believed it would be a glorified photo op. Instead, he had walked into an official summit, complete with high brass and legitimate treaties of trade.
Bradwin was normally good on the spot. So many years at the helm made thinking on his feet an ingrained habit. However, his granddaughter was sitting in the running hover plane on the helipad on top of the building. He got a brief glimpse of a group of official-looking riders bearing down on them as the door of the plane closed and was certain that Jace would sell him out in a heart beat. And Violet had cried and cried the entire plane ride, even when he threatened that she'd never see her Mumma again if she kept it up. Quite simply, he had been rattled and frazzled and pretty much blew off the whole summit. He did what he had planned on doing. He shook some hands, mugged for the cameras, and left.
Bradwin's spies on the border had quickly reported back, and it wasn't long before he realized just how much of a faux pas he committed. The Borderlands officials fumed. They closed all trades immediately and armed their borders. At first, Bradwin had panicked. But the days of meetings, both official and off the records, along with further intel sent from his men across the border had calmed him. He didn't screw everything up, not yet. In fact, he simply pushed the time line up a little. The Borderlanders closed their borders and trades. The next obvious step if Bradwin persisted was an assault, and he planned on giving them just the type of provocation needed to ensure that would happen. And then what would he have? He'd have barbarians threatening to kill his citizens, that's what. He'd have their strong-arm tactics be the very first, ghastly introduction his people would have to the backwoods culture. He'd play on the Enlightened Humanism tenets of peace and serenity and let those stand in stark contrast to the outlaw warriors. And if that wasn't enough, if his nation was still hesitant to go to war, then he always had the ace up his sleeve.
Poor Jiti Ton, though, was almost as much in the dark as the rest of his people. He knew outlaws lived in an area they called the Borderlands, since he'd lead the official search for Tenet all those years ago. He, of course, had stumbled upon their border and been summarily turned around by renegades. Bradwin remembered with glee how shaken up Jiti Ton had been at the very thought that people would break the law and live in the "Badlands". That incident had played out better than Bradwin had expected, and he gave the boy a promotion for his "discovery", assuring his strict confidence. Yet, every new piece of information Jiti Ton was allowed to "discover" shook the kid to his core. It tugged at something in Bradwin, but
it couldn't be helped. Jiti Ton was an excellent litmus test for the rest of the nation.
As soon as the young man knocked and entered, Bradwin wasted no time. "It's been a long day, Jiti Ton. This better not be another blow."
"I've received a report I believe you must hear, sir," Jiti Ton said, taking the seat across from Bradwin's desk. He waited until the old man sat, then got right to the point. "The borders have not only been closed, but they are now armed." He passed over a report he received from one of the outpost bases closest to the border.
Bradwin didn't even look at the com. He already had his personal task force reporting on the border. "So it would seem."
Jiti Ton was surprised Mr. Bradwin already knew. "I, uh...well that is, we did not understand that the renegades had any formal military force."
"Those renegades are very well organized, much more than they should be," Bradwin confirmed to the soldier. "They've spent years stealing our weapons and ammunitions right out from under our noses." He watched the look of outrage spread across Jiti Ton's face and had to keep down his own smile. "It's unconscionable."
"You said yesterday that they claim to want a real government. I don't understand why they have turned their noses up at the very basics of diplomacy."
Bradwin snorted. "Because they are barbarians! Pigs! Dogs who scratch in their own shit. They are desperate people who are doing desperate things, and that makes them dangerous." When Jiti Ton looked hesitant, Bradwin lifted a shoulder. "I have been there myself, Jiti Ton. You would not believe the horrible conditions they allow their people to live in. Squatters in their own filth, that's what they are. They kill and then wear the very skins of the poor animals!" He hissed the last part in a disgusted voice and it had the desired effect. Jiti Ton paled in front of him. "They put their children in those skins. And you expect those animals to be capable of reason?"
Jiti Ton shook his head. "I can't believe that's where Tenet chose to go."
Aha, thought Bradwin, holding his hands firmly on the table so he wouldn't clap with excitement. "I have said before that I question whether he had a choice in that escapade, and after seeing how my granddaughter was..." he let his words trail off as if he couldn't bear to say them out loud.
A muscle clenched in Jiti Ton's jaw. "I'm sorry, sir. I know he is your son, but captive or not, how he could allow such goings on..."
Bradwin patted the young man's shoulder. "Yes, it is a mystery. Perhaps if I had been able to find Tenet." He sighed heavily again. "If only I had been able to search longer...but at least I got my granddaughter. At least I saved her from that witch."
Jiti Ton looked even more uncomfortable. "Sir, are you absolutely certain the girl is Tenet's?"
"We've tested the blood. It's a direct match." He gave a firm nod. "She's my granddaughter."
Jiti Ton shook his head and felt the years of regrets press down on him once again. "I know Tenet and I didn't part on the best of terms, but I never wanted this for him. Do you think we'll ever get him back?"
Jiti Ton had been jilted at the altar by a bride Bradwin convinced him had eyes only for Tenet. To say that the two didn't part on the best of terms was an understatement. If Bradwin could get a man who hated Tenet to feel pity for his son, then he knew he could get the rest of the world that had mourned Tenet's loss to fully rally behind his cause. "I'm certainly going to do my best," Bradwin said, sounding every bit the concerned father. "Was there anything beyond this report that you needed?"
Jiti Ton shook his head. "No, that was all."
"I thank you for it. I'll be sure to look through your figures later. I'm certain they're more accurate than the half-assed reports I get from the bases." He saw his compliment do the job and by the time Jiti Ton rose to leave, the soldier looked eager and determined. Bradwin almost pitied him.
Once Bradwin was alone, he called his butler to summon Irmara. It was several minutes before the butler returned to announce that Irmara would be along presently. Bradwin rose and walked to the window once again to watch a tractor hover down the row of wheat. He knew the workers were testing its ripeness, that it was almost time for the harvest. Once the wheat harvest was complete, he'd have no choice but to move the family down to oversee the corn crop reaping, where they would be in the spotlight. Though the press hounded them on their wheat ranch, the bulk of society spent Winter far more south, down in the corn and barley sectors, preferring the near tropical weather. Normally that's where Irmara and Nada would spend their Winter. He longed for his normal solitude, but some things could not be. At the moment, they all had to make sacrifices.
Irmara's heels clicked quickly outside the door and she strode into his meeting hall without knocking. "I was eating dinner with Violet. This better be important. She's still got so much to learn."
Bradwin turned and looked at his wife. "I require a progress report, a real one."
Irmara's lips twitched in a faint, wry smile. "I take it you find Mr. Canton's dry verbiage a little circumspect."
Bradwin rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I think the boy believes I'll skin him alive if he just comes out and says what's on his mind."
Irmara took a seat. "Yes, he does tend to skirt around the problem."
Bradwin quirked an eyebrow. "And is she?"
"A problem?" No, she wanted to tell him. She is only wild and free. But that was not what Bradwin would accept, nor what she could honestly say. "She is coming along."
Bradwin snorted. "You sound just like Canton."
Irmara reined in her impatience. "What would you have me say, Bradwin? Is she working hard? Yes. Is she looking better? Yes. But she is only a child, and it's only been a few days. You can't present her, not yet. You need to give it a little more time."
Bradwin turned and looked out the window, clasping his hands behind his back. "They've closed the borders and cut off all trades. We are running out of time."
Irmara's jaw clenched tightly and she fought the urge to childishly stick her tongue out at Bradwin's back. "Had you informed me of the situation sooner, I could have been better prepared."
Bradwin hated the anger in her tone, but had to admit that he deserved it on some level. He had kept the fact that Tenet lived to himself for many years while he reconfigured his long term plan. He never expected the bounty hunter to do anything but turn the boy in. When she ran with Tenet, it threw all his hard work into chaos. It was easier to sell the story that Tenet died to Irmara than to risk having her discover the truth. His life was hard enough without that. So when he told her a few months back that her son actually lived, that he was captured and sold into slavery in the Badlands, he knew it wouldn't go over well. The look in her eyes at the time also said that she didn't believe Bradwin was innocent or unknowing the whole time, either. He couldn't blame her for being angry. However, in his opinion, she really was carrying the grudge a little too far. She had the child, didn't she?
"You have everything you need here," he said calmly, refusing to rise to the bait. "You simply need to push her harder."
Irmara scoffed. "Five years old, Bradwin. You can't expect miracles."
"Do not make excuses for this one like you did with Tenet. We all know how that turned out."
Irmara pulled back as if she'd been slapped, Nada's accusation still fresh in her mind. "You stand there and blame me for the way Tenet turned out?"
"Is it not the mother's responsibility to raise a child? Instead you were too busy screwing the farmhands."
It took all of Irmara's self control not to scratch his eyes out. "At least I was there. At least I tried to do something with the boy. You never once treated him as anything other than a burden."
Bradwin spun around. "What did you expect? You tainted him from birth! You turned him against me before I even had a chance!"
"That's because I knew what kind of a monster you were by then!" Irmara was beyond caring about appearances and stood, shaking with the pent up rage.
Bradwin snorted. "You didn't think I was a monster when
you spread your legs for me." Irmara's eyes flared and Bradwin felt an old stirring. She never showed emotion anymore. She never let herself feel. And in her anger, she was beautiful. She was that young, wild little thing he couldn't resist.
"You were thirty years older than me," Irmara said slowly and clearly through clenched teeth. "Thirty. Years. You were a sophisticated full grown man and I was a naive, sheltered child who knew nothing about the real world."
Bradwin groaned. "Here we go again! I'd like to remind you that I didn't exactly strip you of your maiden head."
Irmara threw her hands in the air. "And now we come to the part where you belittle my people. Come on. Let's have it. Let's throw my heritage up in my face once again."
Bradwin looked at her and all his anger fled. He simply felt old and tired again. He turned back to the window and listened to her heavy breathing. He could almost feel her pull her feelings back inside and put them away. He heard her pour herself a glass of water from the carafe on the table and then place the glass down. He didn't have to turn to know how the scene looked. How many times had he watched Irmara change back to stone?
"What happened with Tenet happened," she said, her voice once again gone cold. "And I am doing everything in my power to make sure that Violet does not go down the same path. She is bright and eager. You simply must give me more time." Irmara turned to leave and got almost to the door before Bradwin responded.
"You could have left a long time ago, Irmara. I gave you that option dozens of times and you chose to stay. I'm a monster? Maybe. But then, what does that say about you?"
Irmara's hand was shaking as she turned the doorknob and it took all of her will not to run from the room.
Bradwin heard the click of the door and smiled to himself. He knew his wife would worry over that for the rest of the night. He knew it would make her squirm. She could have left. The plain truth was, she didn't want to. She wanted the fancy perfumes and the big houses. She wanted the money and power Bradwin could give her. She liked to be above the law and took every advantage she could, just like him. She stayed because at heart, they were two peas in a pod. The only difference was that Bradwin accepted that fact while she continued to fight it even after all these years together.
No matter how angry she was, Irmara would do right by the girl. Bradwin was certain. Though Nada was an annoying, insipid, spoiled child, she was considered a paragon by society. She was everything the peons strove to be, and Bradwin gave all that credit to Irmara. Perhaps Irmara simply didn't have it in her to raise boys. He had every faith that his wife would turn Violet into an acceptable granddaughter for the exalted Leader. The only reason he summoned Irmara was to needle her, to make certain she'd make him eat his words, to stiffen her resolve if only to spite him. Bradwin let out a small laugh. Yes, she'd spite him. And in doing do, she'd once again give him everything he wanted in the end.
There was another knock on the door, and a butler announced that his private council had assembled and was ready with the latest reports from the border. Bradwin put aside all thoughts of his wife and granddaughter, satisfied that things would be handled on that front, and spent the rest of his night deep in discussion with his secret detail.