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Cassiel's Daggers	By : bewaretheshort1 Category: G through L > Kushiel's Trilogy Views: 1881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever, own Kushiel's Legacy, or its affiliates written by Jacqueline Carey. Any characters and/or ideas are the exclusive property of Jacqueline Carey. Furthermore, I do not make any money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 5
- 6
- 7
The days before we became initiates were much like my first day. As we watched the initiates perform their exercises, I longed to one day be able to move like them. I was eager to start our training in truth, for as enlightening as Brother Guy’s lectures were, I quickly grew bored with doing little more than sitting in a library day after day. I was Camaeline, and we do not handle idleness easily.

I thought the day that we would be allowed to learn would never come, but there was an order to this, like everything in the Sanctuary. The final day of summer, just before harvest, we were woken at dawn by Brother Guy. At first, I thought a storm had settled in the mountains, but when I looked out the window, I saw that it was nothing of the sort.

I looked to Astin, and saw by his confusion that he did not know what was going on either. We dressed, and were led not to the library, but to the receiving hall where I had been taken the first day of my arrival. Lord Bouscevre was there, as was Brother Gautier, and every Cassiline Brother and initiate.

We were made to stand before the Prefect in a line. As one, we bowed awkwardly, arms crossed like we had seen. It seemed like forever before he spoke.

“You have all come here to be taught the ways of Cassiel,” he intoned, looking at each one of us with his hawk’s gaze. I quailed under that look, and struggled not to show it. “To protect and serve. Brother Guy has been watching you, all of you, and has determined that you are ready to take the next step in your training. From this day hence, you will cease to be what you were outside of this Sanctuary. Whatever you were before, whether it be Duc’s son or farmer’s son, you are now and until your take your vows, initiates of the Cassiline Brotherhood.”

Relief filled me, for a moment when he had mentioned my own heritage, I thought he might expel me from the walls of the Sanctuary. I saw the relief echoed in the faces of my peers, and Astin grinned so broadly I thought his cheeks might break.

“You are dismissed to begin your training,” Lord Bouscevre told us. With that, he dismissed the whole of the gathering. Every Brother and initiate, ourselves now included in this, bowed to him, and he returned it. Quicker than I would have guess, the receiving hall emptied, and we turned to Brother Guy, who was regarding us with a smile.

“Come, initiates,” he told us, gesturing that we should follow. “I will take you to your first tutor.”

As it happened, our first tutor was the Cassiline Brother I had seen lead initiates through their exercises, who was called Vachel. Like almost every Cassiline Brother I had ever seen, he was tall and well-built. Though his red hair had faded and was streaked with white, his face was unlined and his dark eyes every bit as piercing and fierce as Lord Bouscevre’s. He stood on the flagstones of the courtyard, dressed only in a grey shirt and pants.

“Line up,” he barked, and despite his tone, I was enthralled. His voice was as beautiful as a nightingale’s song. “Four across, four deep.”

We hastened to obey, so excited we were to learn the complex, fluid motions we had watched for weeks now.

“Look across from you and to your sides,” he told us. Astin was to my left, but the other two were those I knew only by sight. “Those boys you see, they will be your guides and your responsibility. You will help them keep time, as they will help you. Their failure will be your failure. If even one of you makes a mistake, it will be the mistake of all of you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Brother Vachel,” we intoned, wide eyed. I could see Patrice, glaring at his companions, and straightened. I would be nothing like him, I vowed to myself.

“Before you can begin, you must be limber,” he told us. “As you are now, you are stiff and unwieldy. You are like mature trees, who stand strong in the wind, but break in the storm. Instead, you must be like the grass that grows by the river, who bends with every breeze, and remains even after the most fierce of storms. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Brother Vachel.”

After that, he took us through a series of stretches for the better part of the morning. I was impatient to begin, but after mastering each new position, he gave us another, and another and another. I found myself growing annoyed as the hours passed, and we still had not yet learned one of the fluid movements or even learned how to hold a dagger.

“Brother, how long must we do this?” I asked, breaking the silence. He looked at me, and though I flinched, I kept his gaze.

“Come up here, initiate,” he told me. I picked my way through my peers until I was in front of them. “What is your name?”

“Edouard, Brother,” I said. Though I was rebelling, Emil had impressed upon me the necessity to always, always address a superior by their title or rank.

He looked me over and nodded. “Camaeline, huh? Well and so, you should know that you can’t properly do anything unless you are prepared for it. Touch your toes.”

Limbered though I was, I found that my fingers were still inches shy from touching them. I was stubborn, though, and forced my body, ignoring the pain, until the very tips of my fingers were brushing the very tops of my slippers. I turned my head as much as I may to look at him.

“Not bad,” he said gruffly. “But not good enough.”

With that, he bend down and not only touched his toes, but put his palms flat on the ground. I straightened and stared, and the class stared with me.

“You can see,” he said as he fluidly rose, “the importance of these exercises. If you cannot master one, you cannot master the others. Failure to even be unable to do what I just did, means that you fail in doing something like this.”

He suddenly broke into fluid motion that was too fast for our eyes to properly follow. It happened in an instant, and though I was closest and taught by Emil what I could learn, could only make sense of it after he completed the form.

Brother Vachel had thrown himself forward, landing on his hands, and springing up to land on his feet. In doing so, he stopped facing away from the class, in a crouch so low that I thought at first that he was sitting. His arms were outstretched, hands in position to hold dagger. He was there only for a heartbeat, before launching himself up over my head. Before I could even turn to face him, he had his powerful hands on my shoulders, keeping me in place.

“It is impractical in true battle,” he told us, pushing me back towards my peers. “But you will come to see that later. However, it is only a part of a circle we call ‘The Storm in the Mountains,’ and to master the circle, you must be limber.”

Abashed, I took my place among the other initiates and we commenced our stretches without complaint. If I did not like Brother Vachel, and I did not, I could not help but respect his ability. If I was to stretch in order to perfect “The Storm in the Mountains,” then I would do so.

If one thinks that was the most taxing thing we were to do at first, I may say that after stretching, we were taken to another Brother, Grosvener was his name, and it was he who was to teach us tumbling and acrobatics. There are many who believe such things is the province of players and adepts from Eglantine, and were we to become soldiers, they would be right in their beliefs. Yet, we were not training to be warriors nor were we training to be soldiers. For all that we may put pretty names to it, we were training to be elite bodyguards, defending our companions from an assassin’s dart or a hidden blade, and we needs must be dexterous in order to do it.

We were then taken to eat breakfast, later than we were used to, and made to meditate for an hour while our bodies digested. Afterwards, it was to yet another Cassiline Brother – Gaston was his name – who would teach us balance and concentration. It was his way to set us on a strip of lumber, not four inches wide, with several pieces of flat planks on our heads, and force us to recite a bit of poetry or describe our ever-changing surroundings while we walked to and fro.

Then we were taken back to Brother Guy for tutoring, where we were taught the holy days of all the Companions, and to memorize their components and what each symbol meant. In addition to this, he would further instruct us on the various ways one might serve the Companions, including Naamah, and give us impossible riddles with no right answer to think over in addition to our other lessons.

It was this that I, as well as Astin, struggled. My strength lay in physical activity, and such scholarly behaviors were quite unnatural. More than once, Astin and I, as well as others, were sentenced to the library to look up an answer that eluded us. He gave us no hint, no clue, and the Brothers who tended the books were only instructed to help us retrieve them, and not tell us where we might find the answer.

As I have said before, we initiates were also charged with the keeping and running of the Cassiline Sanctuary. Every day, before and after our grueling lessons we were to fetch water, change bed linens, wash clothing or dishes, clean various rooms, take care of the horses, and many, many other things that are necessary for keeping something as large as the Sanctuary from falling into disrepair. In this, we were helped by older initiates, whose job it was to train us in these tasks and ensure we did them correctly.

Though I was not heir, I was still a privileged son of a Duc. Learning the proper way to wash bed linens and how to muck a horse’s stall was every bit as grueling as my lessons. I can say this though, that for all that Patrice and Renault were from a noble house, they went about their chores as willingly as I. It might have fallen differently, but those who disobeyed were punished, and harshly.

I recall one incident where the day before I tumbled from the balance beam, and found my arm very sore. I tried to shirk some of my duties as stable boy by tossing a thick coat of straw over the old in the stables and was caught at it. The Brother in charge of me took me a garden, where I had not yet been sent to work in. I did not recognize the whipping cross in the middle of the garden, but I recognized the commingled pity and speculation in the eyes of the initiates who worked there. He told one to fetch Lord Bouscevre and another to find my class of initiates.

He told me to strip off my shirt, which I obeyed without thinking. I did not know what manner of punishment I was to receive, as in my father’s house the worst I could expect was a sharp word. When Lord Bouscevre and my peers had arrived, I was forced onto the rough wood, and lashed into place.

It was then that I realized what would happen. I had heard Emil tell me of disobedient soldiers who were forced to be whipped in front of their peers. Fear shot through me, but I refused to show it.

I cannot say how long the beating lasted, nor how many blows I received. Suffice to say that afterward my resolve to show no fear or tears was broken, and I was hanging by my bonds, voice hoarse from crying and pleading.

I was allowed down and forced to look at my punisher. To my everlasting shock, it was a stern-faced Brother Guy. He asked, his voice strained, if I repented of my crime. I do not know what I said, doubtless I said that I had. I was then taken to the infirmary, where my wounds were washed and dressed, but if I expected to be allowed to rest, I was wrong.

I was sent back to the stables to complete my chore. I only wish that it had been the last punishment I was to receive, but it was only the first.

That night, I lay face down on my bed, trying not to move overmuch. Brother Guy had not quite broken the skin on my back, but the welts ached and had wept clear fluid. I was contemplating sleep when I felt a weight settle on my bed. It was Astin.

“Shh,” he hissed, glancing at a sleeping Patrice and Renault. “I went to the infirmary to get you some salve to help you heal.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I mumbled. “What if they caught you?”

Astin smiled at me. “It’ll help.”

He spread the salve over my injuries, and I could feel it start to work. My back no longer felt as though it were on fire. Without the pain keeping me awake, I grew tired. I fell asleep to Astin gently applying the mixture on my back, and knew nothing until morning.

It need not be said that I did not try to shirk my duties, for neither the pain of my punishment nor the sting of embarrassment at it being public was quick to fade. My fellow initiates took well the lesson of my own punishment and followed it as I did.

The days soon grew shorter and colder, and still our lessons outside continued. We were all given coats to help keep us warm, which did little to do so as they were also meant to allow us still full mobility during training.

In truth, it did not matter what the weather was like on any day. We trained out of doors, while our instructors told us that we should learn to ignore the elements. I recall waking one day to seeing that it had snowed the night before.

We donned our clothes and slipped, and I felt that such gear would be woefully inadequate for the snow. When we reached the courtyard, however, I was surprised to see that Brother Vachel had with him boots enough for all of us.

“Put them on, quickly,” he told us. “The sooner you don them, the sooner we can work to clear this snow.”

“What about our stretches?” Patrice asked, grumbling.

“We will stretch after we’ve cleared the snow,” he said. “First, we need to make sure that it will be ready for the others.”

I daresay it did not take long for us to shovel the snow into four large piles in each corner of the courtyard. Still, it was exhausting work, and despite the cold, we were all sweating at the end of it. I would have removed my coat if I did not know that I would freeze without it, especially as wet as my body was with sweat. Brother Vachel inspected our work and pronounced it adequate. He retrieved our boots, and instructed us to commence our stretches.

As winter approached, I came to look forward to the Longest Night. In Camlach as with everywhere in Terre D’Ange, it is a time of celebrations and fêtes. I had been too young to attend the Longest Night with my family, and spent it with Emil in the nursery. I told Astin about it, who only had bad news for me.

“Cassilines spend the longest night in meditation,” he told me. “They call it Elua’s Vigil.”

I gaped at him, as did Patrice and Renault.

“But, all the other Companions celebrated it, even Cassiel,” Renault protested. As he grew comfortable with both Astin and my presence, he grew bold enough to speak on occasion.

Astin shook his head. “Yes, but Cassiel spent it watching over Blessed Elua. He abstained from actual celebrating.”

Later, we asked Brother Guy about it, who only echoed Astin’s words.

“We honor Blessed Elua when we do this,” he said to us. “It is a time to reflect on the year, and pray for guidance in the coming year.” He smiled, and in that moment, I saw an image of the boy he had been, impish and mischievous. “Besides, it gives our own companions time away from us.”

So it was that we were to help the Brothers prepare to journey to a nearby temple of Elua. We washed clothing warm enough to keep them and prepared bread and dried meat for the walk. There were some of the older initiates who begged to go with them, but they were, like us, confined to the Sanctuary.

The day came when the Brothers were to leave the Sanctuary. To be sure, they would not leave any initiate unsupervised, no matter how old, and some handful were to remain behind and keep watch. As it was, however, I felt that their leave taking betokened somewhat else. I cannot help but how I was raised, and to see such able bodied men leave, even if just for a night, had ever meant battle was to follow.

None of my peers felt this anxiety, and I struggled to conceal it. Astin, though simple and struggled with complexities, was perceptive to my discomfort, and compassionate besides. He asked me when we had a chance alone.

“Is everything all right, Edouard? You’ve been acting strange.”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” I told him, forcing a smile. He did not believe me, I could tell, and furthermore was hurt I offered a lie in place of truth. I sighed, then. “In Camlach, they would be going to battle, not a temple. I can’t help but feel that I might night see some of them again, that’s all.”

He blinked and smiled, and to my surprised, threw his arms around me in a tight hug. “It’ll be alright, Edouard! They’ll all come back, you’ll see!”

“I know that,” I said, but could not quite muster enough pride to push him away. “It’s just how I feel, it doesn’t have to make sense.”

Still, when the Brothers walked out of the bounds of the Sanctuary, I watched, wary and anxious, and tried to avoid Astin’s too-knowing gaze.

For us, the initiates, we were to also maintain vigil. The courtyard had been cleaned and all equipment we used in training had been pushed to the sides. We stood, we who were younger shivering in the cold, watching as the sun slowly sank behind the mountains. We watched as the sky bore the colors of twilight, and when even the last band of bright blue was gone, we knelt on the flagstones.

Silence fell on the courtyard, and but for a shift of fabric here and sniffle there, was maintained the whole of the night. Braziers had been placed throughout the courtyard, and though the air was still very cold and the flagstones like ice beneath our feet and knees, we did not freeze. Of that night, I remember very little, for it wasn’t long until my mind began to drift and my body doze.

I do not know if I dreamed or if I only thought, but I recalled a similar vigil, shared with Emil. There was no feeling of peace then, as there was now, nor was there any semblance of it to be found. It was only days after our mother died, the illness claiming her life at last, and we were so terrified that in the night we would lose Father, or even each other. So we remained awake, clinging to each other for hope and comfort.

It had been years since I thought of that, yet the whole of it came crashing down on me once more. I could do nothing to stop the tears that fell from my eyes, nor the grief that wreathed itself around my heart. Then, I had Emil to cling to through the night; now I was alone. I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. In truth, I stopped feeling it.

Blessed Elua, I prayed, please, help me!

At my plea, I felt a warmth fill me, chasing away my despair and fear, and replacing it with naught but peace. My mind grew calm as I felt the presence of Blessed Elua fill me. His eternal compassion for all things helped me to realize that my current fears were groundless. I basked in his presence and felt for the first time the peace I had heard of so much.

Dawn came too quickly.

I felt a shake on my shoulder, waking me, and blinked up at a bleary-eyed Cassiline Brother. He smiled down at me, and went to the next initiate, leaving me to wonder if it had not all been a dream.
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Cassiel's Daggers