Mind Games

OT note by the author:  If you tried to email me any time in the last two years, I didn’t receive it.  My new email address is lovelyandsad (at) gmail (dot)com. 

       CHAPTER 3:  IN THE BEARER’S CHAMBERS

       Animal tried to look relaxed as he reclined in an overstuffed divan in the state room. Looking around the room, he saw that the other supplicants were as uncomfortable as he, all undoubtedly wishing, like he was, that their appointments with the Bearer had come on a night when His Eminence was in a better mood.  The Bearer was now roughly tongue-lashing a squabbling couple who came to him to determine which of them should get to keep their apartment, dog, slave, and antique oak table.  The Bearer leaned forward ferociously on his throne, gripping his scepter, spittle spraying from his mouth as he balled them out for wasting his time, for wasting the time of the other supplicants who waited to discuss matters worthy of him, for acting like slaves rather than human beings.  He paused for a breath and then looked at them both from his enormous gray eyebrows.  "Are you absolutely positive you want me to make this decision for you?" he asked.

       Interested and half amused despite his own concerns, Animal wondered if the feuders would have the sense to say no.  They stood uncertainly for a few seconds, and then the man crossed his arms about his chest and nodded.  A little slower the woman nodded as well.

       The Bearer snorted with disgust.  "Very well," he said, indicating with a toss of his chin that the scribe should take notes. "Jacques gets the dog and the apartment, Teena the cunt and the table." 

       Both of them looked at him wide eyed with horror.  "But, DeLarus," Teena shrieked, her voice verging on panic, "That's not fair."

       "SILENCE," the Bearer roared, pounding the bottom of his scepter on the floor.  "I have spoken."  He ignored the couple and glared around the room, at the dozen or so people waiting to be heard.  "If any of you have any idiotic disputes, I suggest you solve them yourselves."

       Animal again wished he could have seen the Bearer on a day when his mood did not vent quite so ragefully.  Nevertheless, as four people who had thought the better of things scurried out of the room, he had to admire the Bearer's tactics. 

       He was startled and unprepared when he heard his own name called by the scribe.  Damn it, the supplicants who had left had all been ahead of him on the roster, and he was caught off guard and in the brunt of the Bearer's ferocity.  Nevertheless he stood up with pretended nonchalance, and ambled to the hearing area.  The Bearer glowered at him.

       Animal bowed slightly from the waist, his uncharacteristically clean shirt crackling from the starch his slave had put in.  The movement was lost on the Bearer, who was flipping through the petition Animal had submitted.  At length he looked up and said, with an eyebrow raised, "You ask Riviera to cede you a wall in the Great Banquet Hall." 

       The other supplicants tittered, and Animal felt his face flush.  "I ask leave to paint a mural," and he added after a moment, "Sire."

       The Bearer leaned back in his velvet-covered throne and merely looked at Animal.  The other supplicants watched the scene, happy to be amused.  At last the Bearer said, harshly enunciating each word, "You ask to put the entire community at great inconvenience so that you can cover a wall with egg whites."

       The tittering broke into laughter, and Animal glared about him.  "I want to cover the wall with a great painting, Bearer," he said.  "The egg whites preserve the pigments."  Inwardly he raged against the cretins who surrounded him.

       

       The Bearer raised his hand for silence.  "Tell me," he said, "What will Riviera gain by giving this wall over to you, other than not being able to use its best revel room for who knows how many solstice celebrations to come?" 

       Animal realized that the Bearer was toying with him for the fun of it.  He also realized that there was nothing he could do about it.  He said, much more composedly than he felt, "Riviera gains a record of its civilization, which it will pass on to generations to come." 

       The Bearer pursed his lips. "Your petition would be best served without your sardonic tone, Supplicant."  Animal felt his face flush again.  The Bearer continued, more mildly, "I would like to preserve the record of my reign.  Tell me, what would you paint in this myoo-ral?" 

       Animal took a deep breath as he sought an answer than would convince the Bearer.  He said slowly, "I would paint scenes of our life, Bearer.  Families at the breakfast table, girls strolling in the early summer peony gardens, people picking slaves from the Exchange or attending revels; all that we do, I would capture it." 

       The Bearer drummed his fingers against his cheek.  Animal motioned to his slave girl.  "I have brought sketches with me, if you would let me demonstrate."

       The Bearer swirled his hand, indicating assent.  At a look from Animal, his slave girl, trembling violently, brought him two canvasses that had been leaning backwards against the wall.  Taking one from her, he carefully turned it around to face the Bearer.  Hearing a gasp from one of the supplicants, he allowed himself a tiny smile.  The watercolor was of the Bearer's mate, at a revel, perched on a chair, looking dreamily into a glass of sparkling wine.  Animal was grateful that it had the desired effect on at least one person in the room, as he had chosen it for the obvious reason.  The Bearer, however, gave no sign of being placated, merely continuing to drum his fingers against his cheek.  Animal gave the picture to one of the Bearer's own slaves to hold, and took the second painting from his slave.  This was one that Animal would have turned over to use the back side of the precious paper, except that it was the sort of thing the Bearer might admire.  It showed a pink and orange sunset over the fields.  When Animal made it he had hoped to paint into it the glimmer of peace that sometimes comes when viewing creation, but he had been unable to capture it on the canvass and the picture was merely a sentimental sunset. 

       The Bearer glanced at the painting.  "These pictures aren't bad," he said to Animal almost kindly.  "But," he continued, "Most people would rather have a living slave hanging on a wall than a picture."  He looked around the room and the supplicants laughed softly on cue.  "What practical value do these pictures serve?  Can you beat a slave into submission with them?"

       

       Animal felt the tip of his ears go red.  "A painting helps you see what is not in front of your nose, Bearer."

       Ignoring or unaware of the insult, the Bearer said drily, "Or they hide what is front of my nose with the smell of rotting eggs."

        In the laughter that followed Animal heard the door behind him open, and heavy footsteps came up behind him.  He ignored the distraction, concentrating on meeting the Bearer's gaze, until a man's excited, slightly breathless voice said, "Bearer, I bring the Healer come from Harmony."

       The Bearer leisurely looked at the interloper, and Animal released a short sigh of relief.  Jonquil, that fat turd, strode self-importantly forward, obviously delighted that he had a matter with which he could interrupt official proceedings.  Behind him, walking shyly, was a man about Animal's own age.  His clothes were oddly cut, and, where not covered with caked dirt, were sun-faded.  His hands and face, however, were meticulously clean, as was his hair, so black that it was almost blue and clearly self-cut without the aid of a mirror.  He was gaunt, his flesh as threadbare as his clothes.

       All this Animal's practiced eye noticed in a moment.  In the next moment he noticed the man's eyes, gray like deep fog, and flecked with yellow.  Immediately Animal began to imagine him as the subject of a painting.  A portrait, but not like he painted of the bored woman and men who posed for him for the sake of having something, anything, to do.  More like the sketches he kept in his studio, like his second, secret portrait of the Bearer's mate, towards the end of the revel, drunk and methodically torturing a stray slave, nothing but a hazy ennui showing on her face. 

       The man continued forward until he was standing near Animal, where he paused and addressed the Bearer.  "I am Gabriel," he said, in a tenor voice that sounded clear but bone-weary.  "I have answered the summons carried by your son, to try to heal the injured lass." 

       Jonquil did not care to have his thunder stolen.  He broke in excitedly, "That's right, DeLarus.  I found him at Holden's Gate, and thought it only proper to show him escort."

       The Bearer said drily, "Aye, brother, and to escape from boundary riding as well."  Jonquil sputtered for a moment and then fell silent.

       The Bearer turned to Gabriel.  He leaned his heavy frame on his tall scepter and stood heavily, and said in his deep formal voice with the almost rolling r's he reserved for ceremonial occasions, "Healer, you are most welcome here.  You have answered the summons to look at my daughter, and for that Riviera welcomes and thanks you."

       Gabriel nodded acknowledgement, and it seemed to Animal that for all the Healer's ragged appearance his dignity was equal to the Bearer's.  Looking at the tableau, Animal thought he had the subject for his painting.

 

       The Bearer sat down heavily in his throne, assisted by slaves on each side of him.  "I trust my son has not further disgraced himself," the Bearer said to the room in general.

       Gabriel took a step forward, eager to share his news.  "Your son did very well indeed, for a lad his age.  He arrived at Harmony two moons ago, ill with pneumonia, but he never wavered from his purpose.  By this time he is probably full well." 

       Animal was not the only person in the room to lift an eyebrow in surprise at the kindly respect in the healer's voice.  The Bearer, however, merely snorted.  "Foolish boy, foolish quest," he muttered, and then remembered himself. "No offense to you and your errand of mercy, sir.  But first the boy lames his sister playing too rough, and then rides off risking his own hide, and yours as well.  Girl don't need legs.  Plenty of slaves to fetch and carry for her."

       Gabriel looked around at Jonquil as if for a friend and then quickly away again.  "Indeed, sir," he said, "I do not know if I can help the child or not.  But surely if she can get her legs back she should have them."

       There was a shocked silence in the room.  Then, suddenly, the Bearer guffawed.  He laughed long and hard.  "That's the first time in a week I've been amused," he said at last, "and I thank you for that.  Hmm, hmm.  She should have her legs back indeed."

       The Healer stood with a quietness that seemed to come from his bones.  Animal felt sorry for him.  He didn't know offhand how far Harmony was from Riviera, but surely it was a great distance, and from the look of the man not an easy journey. 

       The Bearer must have had the same thought, for when he regained his composure he looked at Gabriel with some remorse.  "You must be tired," he said, "and in need of food and comfort."  He furrowed his eyebrows again, and Animal thought that it was amazing that he did not have permanent lines in his face from it being so often stretched into this position. 

       The Bearer motioned to one of his assistants, who had watched the scene while idly playing with a tassel that hung from his divan.  "The Healer will need lodging and slaves to see to his needs," he said.  "Have a runner sent to the exchange, with a note.  See if there's a decent cunt or two who know how to cook and fuck."  He looked over to Gabriel and added offhandedly, "Unless you prefer the boys, of course. It's all easily arranged."

       Gabriel opened his mouth but before sound could come out Jonquil stepped forward and said self-importantly, "He prefers neither, DeLarus.  In fact, he quite strongly disapproves of slavery and will have nothing to do with the whole thing."  Jonquil rubbed his hands together for emphasis, all too obviously enjoying being the bringer of this news.

       The Bearer sat back in his throne, perplexed, and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  "Hmm, hmm, of course," he said.  "Harmony, rebels, all that."

       Gabriel interrupted him.  "Sir, my errand is really the lass.  Perhaps if I could look in on her ..."

       The Bearer brushed him off.  "The girl is asleep, sir," he said.  "Still early for us, of course, but the children sleep all night so that they can squabble all day."  He thought for another minute.  "Best thing to do is to get you settled.  Tomorrow, or the next day, is plenty of time to look in on Trya.  She's not getting any better, but no worse either.  Day or two makes no difference."  He turned to Jonquil.  "You've cared for him thus far, Brother.  Take him home with you.  You've enough slaves to handle the task."

       Jonquil grimaced and turned red to the top of his bald head, raising his hands to ward off the suggestion. "Oh, no, DeLarus.  Makes no sense at all.  None at all.  My quarters are on the other side of the mansion from yours.  And the lad's got a horse he wants to visit, in the main stables. Much too far from there. Oh, no, not me."  Gabriel looked relieved to learn that parting company would be no more unpleasant to Jonquil than to himself.

       

       The Bearer frowned.  "He should stay with me, I suppose," he said mostly to himself.  "But I've eight brats running around, and dozens of slaves, and no room to think in my quarters as it is.  We need visitors more often.  No procedures in place."  He looked around the room at the various supplicants, who each in turn dropped their eyes.  At last the Bearer's baleful gaze landed on Animal.  They were both struck with the same thought. 

       "Well, Painter," the Bearer said gruffly, "You ask Riviera to inconvenience itself by giving over to you its best revel room.  What do you offer it in return?" 

       Animal swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned to the healer.  "There's an empty suite in my quad," he said, not quite managing to keep all the sourness out of his voice.  "It is near to the Bearer's quarters, and the front stables."  Seeing the Healer biting the inside of his cheeks, he added, gruffly, "You are most welcome." 

       The Bearer raised an eyebrow and nodded approvingly. "Nicely said, Painter," he said.  "I'm glad to see you've got some community spirit."  He stroked his chin, and added, "Tell me, how do you live?"

       Animal indicated the slave girl who had handed him the paintings a few minutes earlier, and now stood quietly except for the rattling of her knees. "I've had this cunt for nigh on two months now.  She is well-trained and obedient."

       As Animal spoke, the slave girl fell to her knees and put her forehead on the floor.  Her shaking knees gave way to great tremors throughout her body.  The Bearer looked down at her.  "Stand up, cunt. I want to see you." 

       In a clumsy movement the slave girl stood.  Animal saw that her face was positively green, and wondered if she might not throw up.  Serve the Bearer right to have to smell it for days to come. 

       "Hands behind your neck, and turn around slowly," the Bearer commanded the slave.  Animal rarely had his slaves assume the standard position, and she hesitated a moment before obeying.  She turned around slowly, her knees knocking so badly that she nearly lost her balance.  Animal was reminded of the day she had first come to serve him.  She was as frightened as today, but with only average patience on his part she had calmed down.  She was a good housekeeper, nice in bed, and a better than usual cook.  Truth be told, he realized with surprise, he was fond of her.

       When the slave had completed a full circle for the Bearer she again fell to her hands and knees, her forehead on the ground, still shaking.

       The Bearer said suspiciously to Animal, "The creature is practically unmarked."

         

       "I don't keep slaves who require beating," he responded, a little defensively. "She behaves well and I don't punish her."

       The Bearer tsked.  "A pansy, are you?" he said.  He turned to the prostrate figure before him.  "I didn't tell you to move," he said, annoyed.  "Stand up and speak to me."

       The girl tried to stand but her knees gave way and she would have fallen if Animal had not stepped forward to steady her.  "A cunt who cannot stand on her own two feet can scarcely take care of you, much less the erstwhile healer," the Bearer remarked.

       Animal tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.  "You've frightened her," he said, stating the obvious.  He added, after a moment's hesitation, "But if you prefer, I will trade her in."  Animal thought he heard the cunt make a guttural sound in her throat, almost a protest.  He was a lenient master.  All of his cunts hated to leave him.  He never kept them for more than a few months, on the theory that if they had not yet started to take advantage of his kindly nature they surely would soon.

       The Bearer ignored Animal.  "Slave, look at me," he said.  The girl slowly raised her eyes, filled with tears and fear, to his.  "How does your master call you?"

       In a small voice, strained with tears, she stammered, "Please, master, he calls me Rose." 

       The Bearer smirked a little and leaned back in his chair, evidently enjoying himself.  "Your master says he doesn't beat you," he said.  "Is that true?"

       Rose's knees buckled slightly, but she caught herself.  Rescuing her from the trap the Bearer had laid, Animal said, "I have beaten Rose occasionally, when she has deserved it. Lately she has been good."

       The Bearer looked annoyed. "My dear sir, if you can't allow your slave to stand by herself, at least allow her to answer for herself."  He turned back to Rose, and sternly ordered, "Turn and look at Master Gabriel." 

       Rose turned slowly to the stranger, and Animal saw that he gave the slave a tiny encouraging smile with the side of his mouth that was turned away from the Bearer.

       The Bearer continued, "Your master is kind, and Master Gabriel is a rebel who does not believe in slavery."  If Rose understood this, she gave no sign.  "But I am not kind, and I do believe in slavery." His voice was deep and stern. "Master Gabriel is a visitor here, and an honored guest.  You show your master every attention, accord him every courtesy, and obey his every whim, do you not?"

       Rose responded in a soft, quavering voice, "I try, my lord."

       The Bearer nodded.  "Well said, cunt.  All you do for your master, you must do ten times as well for Master Gabriel."  Animal fought the annoyance he suddenly felt.  "Repeat that back to me."

       Rose stammered, "All I do for my master, I must do ten times as well for Master Gabriel."  Her voice went up an octave towards the end, as Animal accidently painfully tightened his grip on her arm. 

       The Bearer continued, "Between your kind master and the rebel, you may think you can cut corners.  But I will be watching you, and hearing about you, and I will punish you if you do not obey.  Do you understand?"

       Rose managed to answer in a hoarse whisper, "Yes, my lord."

       The Bearer lowered his eyebrows at her, causing her to tremble even more.  "I am going to give you a small taste of my punishment now, as you have no doubt forgotten the kiss of the lash of late."  He turned to Animal.   "I assume your master does not dispute my jurisdiction over you?"  Animal gave a half shrug to indicate his assent, keeping his face carefully blank.   

       The Bearer leaned over to one of his attendants and whispered in his ear. The attendant strode out the back entrance of the throne room, and returned almost immediately with a largish tasseled pillow, covered with maroon velvet.  He placed it in front of Rose and said to her, "Lay your head on it."  Animal let go of the slave who, in her haste to obey, dove for the pillow and lay full out on the floor, her head on top of the pillow and her arms encircling it.  The attendant removed a long, narrow whip that was coiled on his belt.  He stood over the prostrate girl, his muscles rippling, and looked at the Bearer, who nodded at him.

       The attendant raised his arm and brought the whip down with a thunderous clap, leaving a huge red welt from Rose's left buttock to her right shoulderblade.  She shrieked through closed lips and clutched the pillow convulsively.  "One," the attendant said calmly.

       He raised his arm again and brought the whip crashing down, this time from one side of Rose's back to another.  Rose sobbed.  "Please," she cried, "please."  She was bleeding where the two welts crossed.

       "Two," the attendant said.  He moved around so that he was standing over Rose's shoulders, facing her feet.  "Spread your legs wider," he ordered. Rose complied in an instant.  The whip came down vertically across her buttock, curling around her thigh.  Rose bit the pillow to stifle her scream.

       "Three," the attendant said.

       As he raised his arm for another stroke, the Bearer stopped him. "That's enough," he said.  "The cunt has tender skin, and this is just a warning.  She must be able to care for our guest." He turned to Gabriel.  "You must consider this slave to be yours in all things."