It was why Matyas was so dangerous just now. It was more than jealousy or uncertainty or restlessness. He had lost face to Kim, and that loss burned in him like a brand.
Kim looked past him, noting how his followers, Tom and Carl, had positioned themselves at the pool's edge, crouched forward, watching things closely, ready to launch themselves into the water at any moment. Then he looked back at Matyas and smiled.
"Ts'ai neng t'ung shen," he said provocatively, and heard Anton, behind him, splutter with surprise.
"Shit!" Josef exhaled softly, off to his right. "That's done it!"
Kim kept the smile on his face, trying to act as naturally as he could, but the hair on his^neck had risen and he could feel a tension in his stomach that had not been there a moment earlier. A golden key opens every door, he had said, playing on Matyas's use of golden. It seemed simple enough, innocuous enough, but the jibe was clear to them all. It was Kim to whom doors would open, not Matyas.
It seemed a reckless thing to say—a deliberate rubbing of salt into the open wound of Matyas's offended pride—but Kim hoped he knew what he was doing. There was no avoiding this confrontation. He had half expected it for days now. That admitted, it was still possible to turn things to his advantage. A calm Matyas was a dangerous Matyas. Infuriated, he might prove easier to beat. And beat him Kim must, for the sake of face.
Matyas had turned in the water, facing Kim, the leering smile gone, his cheeks red, his eyes suddenly wide with anger. Kim had been right—the words acted on him like a goad. Without warning he lashed out viciously with one arm, but the weight and resistance of the water slowed his movement and made the blow fall short of Kim, who had pushed out backward, anticipating it.
There was a loud splash as Tom and Carl hit the water behind Kim. Without a moment's hesitation Anton and Josef launched themselves into Kim's defense, striking out to intercept the two boys. As he backed away, Kim saw Anton plow into Carl and, even as the boy surfaced, thrust his head savagely down into the water again before he could take a proper breath. But that was all he saw, for suddenly Matyas was on him, struggling to push him down beneath the surface, his face blind with fury.
Kim kicked out sharply, catching Matyas painfully on the hip, then wriggled out under him, twisting away and down. He kicked hard, thrusting himself down through the water, then turned and pushed up from the floor of the pool, away from the figure high above him.
For the moment Kim had the advantage. He spent far more time in the pool than Matyas and was the better swimmer. But the pool was only so big, and he could not avoid Matyas indefinitely. Matyas had only to get a firm grip on him and he was done for.
He broke surface two body lengths from the older boy and kicked out for the steps. He had to get out of the water or Matyas would hurt him badly.
Kim grabbed the metal rungs and hauled himself up, but he had not been quick enough. Desperation and anger had made Matyas throw himself through the water to get at Kim, and as Kim's back foot lifted up out of the water, Matyas lunged at it and caught the ankle. He was ill balanced in the water and could not hold it, but it was enough. Tripped, Kim sprawled forward, slamming his forearm painfully against the wet floor and skidding across to the wall.
Kim lay there a moment, stunned, then rolled over and sat up. Matyas was standing over him, his teeth bared, his eyes blazing, water running from him. In the water the others had stopped fighting and were watching. Carl coughed, then fell silent.
"You little cockroach," Matyas said, in a low, barely controlled voice. He jerked forward and pulled Kim to his feet, one hand gripping Kim's neck tightly, as if to snap it. "I should kill you for what you've done. But I'll not give you that satisfaction. You deserve less than that."
A huge shudder passed through Matyas. He pushed Kim down, onto his knees. Then, his eyes never leaving Kim's face, his other hand undid the cord to his trunks and drew out his penis. As they watched, it unfolded slowly, growing huge, engorged.
"Kiss it," he said, his face cruel, his voice low but uncompromising.
Kim winced. Matyas's fingers bit into his neck, forcing Kim's face down into his groin. For a brief moment he considered not resisting. Did it matter? Was it worth fighting over such a thing as face? Why not kiss Matyas's prick and satisfy his sense of face? But the thought was fleeting. Face mattered here. He could not bow to such as Matyas and retain the respect of those he lived with. It would be the rod the other boys would use to beat him. And beat him they would—mercilessly—if he capitulated now. He had not made these callous, stupid rules of behavior, but he must live by them or be cast out.
"I'd as soon bite it," he said hoarsely, forcing the words out past Matyas's fingers.
There was laughter from the water. Matyas glared around, furious, then turned back to Kim, yanking him up onto his feet. Anger made his hand shake as he lifted Kim off the floor and turned, holding him out over the water.
Kim saw in his eyes what Matyas intended. He would let him fall, then jump on him, forcing him down, keeping him down, until he drowned.
It would be an accident. Even Anton and Josef would swear to the fact. That, too, was how things were.
Kim tried to swallow, suddenly, unexpectedly afraid, but Matyas's fingers pressed relentlessly against his windpipe, making him choke.
"Don't, Matyas. Please don't. . . ." It was Josef's voice. But none of the boys made to intercede. Things were out of their hands now. It was a matter of face.
Kim began to struggle, but Matyas tightened his grip at once, almost suffocating him. For a moment Kim thought he had died—a great tide of blackness swept through his head—then he was falling.
He hit the water gasping for breath and went under. His chest was suddenly on fire. His eyes seemed to pop. Pain lanced through his head like lightning. Then he surfaced, coughing, choking, flailing about in the water, and felt someone grab hold of him tightly. He began to struggle, then convulsed, spears of heated iron ripping his chest apart. For a moment the air seemed burnished a dull gold, flecked with tiny beads of red and black. Lights danced momentarily on the surface of his eyes, fizzling and popping like firecrackers, then the blackness surged back—
a great sphere of blackness, closing in on him with the sound of great wings pulsing, beating in his head. . . . And then there was nothing.
"Have you heard about the boy?"
T'ai Cho looked up from his meal, then stood, giving the Director a small bow. "I'm sorry, Shift Andersen. The boy?"
Andersen huffed impatiently, then glared at the other tutors so that they looked back down at their meals. "The boy! Kim! Have you heard what happened to him?"
T'ai Cho felt himself go cold. He shook his head. He had been away all day on a training course and had only just arrived back. There had been no time for anyone to tell him anything.
Andersen hesitated, conscious of the other tutors listening. "In my office, T'ai Cho. Now!" Then he turned and left.
Tai Cho looked about the table at his fellow tutors, but there were only shrugs. No one had heard anything.
Andersen came to the point at once. "Kim was attacked. This morning, in the pool."
Tai Cho shivered, the whole of him gone cold. "Is he hurt?"
Andersen shook his head. He was clearly very angry. "Not badly. But it might have been worse. He could very easily have died. And where would we be then? It was only Shang Li-Yen's prompt action that saved the boy."
Shang Li-Yen was one of the tutors. Like all the tutors, part of his duties entailed a surveillance stint. Apparently he had noted a camera malfunction in the pool area and, rather than wait for the repair crew, had gone to investigate it personally.
"What did Tutor Shang find?"