 |
|||
|
|
Chapter 26: Choosing
The next morning Mistress Celia, Mistress Dominique's daughter, ordered Mariah to the food exchange with a group of other new arrivals to the training center. By the time she returned in the early afternoon, Taejon was in the center's courtyard, assigned to yardwork.
That evening Mistress Dominique took Taejon home with her. Mariah felt a pang, not so much at his going -- she had known that Taejon was Mistress' Dominique's favorite -- but that he did so without a glance her way.
The following day was much the same, but that night Mistress Dominique left alone. It took Mariah a few minutes to work up her courage. Finally she walked over to where Taejon was leaning against a counter, talking and laughing with seven or eight slaves. She stood quietly, unsure of herself, until Taejon glanced over at her. Then she took a deep breath and said as boldly as she could muster, "You said all I had to do was ask."
When Taejon looked confused, and his friends stared, amused, Mariah had the sinking feeling she had made a stupid mistake. "To . . . to make love," she muttered. Then she saw that Taejon's hand was intertwined with a slavegirl whose name Mariah had not yet learned. Her face hot, Mariah started to back away. "I'm sorry, I didn't . . ." Someone tittered.
Taejon disentangled his hand and followed her. "It's okay," he said. "There's always room for one more." He smiled his slow smile. "Do you know Angela?"
"No!" Mariah said, still walking away. "That's not what I . . ." She turned away. "Maybe some other time," she muttered. "I didn't . . ."
Taejon looped his hand around her elbow. "Don't be embarrassed," he said, his voice intimate so that no one could overhear. "We'll have our time again, alone if that's how you like it." He waited until Mariah nodded. "But in the meantime," he continued, indicating with his head the many slaves in the room, "you should enjoy yourself. There won't be many times in your life when you can make love with whoever you want. I know, I've been in the mansion . . . " He shuddered. "Take advantage of it."
"Okay," Mariah said, unconvincingly.
Taejon smiled his slow smile as he released her and turned away. "We'll be together again," he repeated, over his shoulder. Mariah didn't know whether he meant it or not. But how she hoped so.
***
Gabriel was having breakfast in Animal's suite the next morning when Mariah slipped in through the patio door, her hair damp. She ladled herself some gruel from the pot in the kitchen, humming softly. As she sat down, Rose said to her, "You seem cheerful this morning." Mariah colored slightly, but didn't contradict her.
Animal stood up abruptly, his breakfast half uneaten. "Come, Rose," he said curtly. "I don't want to be late."
Rose looked at him, bewildered, but stood as precipitously as he and followed him as he stalked out the door. Gabriel merely smiled benignly at Mariah as she ate with an appetite that was rare for her. When she finished, he said, "I was wondering if you would be willing to help me."
Mariah looked at him warily, but not as warily as usual. She said, "It is my privilege to serve you, Master."
"Uh huh," Gabriel said. "Anyway, I have a problem in my clinic." Mariah said nothing, but did not scowl either. Gabriel pressed ahead. "When slaves are brought to me, they're afraid. I spend more time trying to get them to tell me what hurts than I do examining or treating them."
Mariah shrugged. "They don't know how to play your mindgame, Master," she said.
Gabriel nodded. "I want you to tell them that I mean them no harm." When Mariah continued to merely stare at him he laughed ruefully. "I'm not asking you to lie," he said. "I'm sure there's something you could tell them that would convince them that . . . " he trailed off as Mariah remained carefully expressionless. He sighed, but then said carefully, "You'd be alone with them, sometimes. You can say whatever you want to them, then."
After a moment, Mariah nodded. "It is my privilege to serve you, master." Gabriel rolled his eyes.
***
Mariah did not follow Taejon's suggestion that night, but the next day she found herself looking speculatively at her fellow slaves in the training center. Although a couple, like Taejon, had lived in the mansion, most had come straight from the factory. However, almost all had been in the training center for weeks or months longer than Mariah. As she looked from one to another she wondered what it would be like to be with them -- to "make love."
That evening she approached a tall, thin slave with sandy blond hair and a shy manner. Like her, he was relatively new to the center. Mariah enjoyed feeling her way with him. But she enjoyed just as much knowing that the next night -- even the next morning, or later that night -- she could be with someone else, someone she chose and who chose her, experimenting, learning, actually enjoying herself.
***
Gabriel led Mariah into his clinic, which was made up of three rooms. A waiting area, with a mismatched collection of chairs lining the walls, opened into the room where Gabriel met with his patients. Both rooms also had a door to a third room, which Gabriel used for storing his medicines.
As soon as Gabriel had finished giving Mariah the brief tour, the door to the waiting area opened. A human woman, short, middle-aged, cradled her left wrist in her right hand. Gabriel invited her into the office, and Mariah, unsure what she was supposed to do, followed. Gabriel asked the woman what had happened and then gingerly examined her swollen thumb. He numbed it and then lanced it, carefully explaining each step to the woman as he did so. As pus drooled out of the woman' thumb Mariah refused to look away, although her stomach clenched.
After Gabriel cleaned and bandaged the wound, he turned the woman's hand over and touched the vein in her wrist. "If that turns red, you get someone to find me, no matter what." The woman nodded, and Gabriel said, "Promise?" He would not let go until the woman said, "Yes, yes, I promise."
Gabriel gave her instructions and medicine and sent her on her way. He rinsed the metal bowl that had caught the pus, put it in a bucket with a tight lid, and then meticulously cleaned the area and his hands. Mariah wondered if she was supposed to offer to help, but of course did not.
By the time Gabriel opened the door to the waiting area again, several people had come in. Gabriel looked around the room, scanning it for anyone in need of urgent attention. Seeing no one, he asked, "Who was here first?" as he looked at a list on a chalkboard on the wall.
A dark haired man, a little younger than Gabriel, raised his hand. "Over here," he said. He was using as a footstool the back of a slavegirl on her hands and knees in front of him.
Gabriel frowned at the man. "You know my rules, Charles. That's not allowed in here."
"I'm not torturing her," Charles protested. "I'm treating her good. I brought her here to see you, didn't I? She's sick or something."
Gabriel just looked at him until he shrugged and took his feet off the slave. She remained motionless, staring at the floor. "I'll see her next," Gabriel said.
Charles stood up, but Gabriel raised his hand. "I'll see her alone," he said.
"Why?" Charles protested. "She sick, I told you that. She can't do anything for you, and she's got a bracelet on."
Gabriel regarded him calmly. "I'll see her alone so I can diagnose her without interference. If you want me to help her, tell her to stand up and come with me."
Charles shrugged. "Go on, Guckel. Do as he says."
The slave stood up quickly, coughing a little as she did. Mariah could see that her face was pasty white. Gabriel started to reach his hand out to her, but he stopped, and simply walked back into his office. Guckel followed him, and Mariah after her.
The slave was short and squat. Mariah wondered at that -- why was she allowed to eat so much?
"Please, sit down," Gabriel said to her, indicating the same bench where the mistress with the infected thumb had sat. Wordlessly Guckel obeyed him, coughing slightly again. Gabriel riveted his attention to her at the sound, and she quickly suppressed it, ending in a wheeze.
"How can I help you?" Gabriel asked her, his voice kind. Guckel did not answer, apparently unaware that Gabriel was speaking to her. Mariah snorted, but suppressed the sound as quickly as Guckel had suppressed her cough.
Gabriel tried again. "Charles says you're sick," he said. "Is that right?"
Guckel stared at the ground. "My master is always right, my lord," she said, the words ending with a wheeze.
Gabriel nodded, smiling faintly. "Is it your stomach that hurts?" he asked.
"What?" Guckel asked, surprised. "No, my lord. I mean . . ." she stopped in confusion, "Only if it pleases you."
"Ah," said Gabriel. "Your throat then?"
"Only if it pleases you, my lord," Guckel repeated.
"Does your head ache?" asked Gabriel.
"Only if it pleases . . . ," Guckel began, but her words were lost in a wheeze.
"I just had a woman in here with a sore thumb. Is that it with you?" Gabriel said.
Guckel stared at Gabriel in open amazement. Even Mariah could tell that Guckel was not breathing right. What mindgame was Gabriel playing? Then she remembered, not long after she had woken up after the torment, when Gabriel had cured her arm. He had done something similar then, pretending not to know what was wrong when he had known all along. But why?
Guckel looked down, staring at the floor now. When Gabriel remained silent, she muttered, "My lord, it hurts when I breathe." And she coughed again.
Gabriel nodded. He reached for his stethoscope and put it on. He took a step toward Guckel but stopped a couple of feet away. "I'd like to listen to your lungs, if you'll let me," he said.
"I am yours to command, my lord," Guckel said.
"You too?" said Gabriel, with an amused smile at Mariah. She scowled back at him, and continued to scowl as Gabriel examined Guckel much as he had examined Mariah, when she had first awoken after the torment. His soft tone was the same. His gentleness was the same. His intense concentration was the same.
Mariah's stomach clenched, as it had when Gabriel had lanced the mistress's thumb earlier. The mindgame again, invading her. She was nothing special to Gabriel. She had not even realized that she had thought she was. She was merely someone to cure, just like Guckel. But he couldn't cure her stupidity.
"You have bronchitis," Gabriel was telling Guckel. "Very treatable in someone young and healthy." He squeezed Guckel's hand as he went to the storage room, and Mariah scowled at the slavegirl.
Nevertheless, when Gabriel had closed the door behind him, Guckel asked Mariah, "Will you tell me . . . Is this a mindgame?"
"Yes!" Mariah snarled. But when Guckel's face fell, Mariah amended, her voice bitter, "Oh, he'll make you better, if he says he can. But after . . . " She took a deep breath until her ribs announced their limit.
"I don't care what happens after," Guckel said. "I just want to be able to breathe." She began to cough again.
Gabriel came back in, two medicine bottles in his hand. "Charles has promised that he will follow my instructions," he said to Guckel. "Do you think he will?"
Guckel said, scandalized, "He is my master, my lord."
Gabriel sighed, and then shrugged. "Very well," he said. "I'll explain to both of you what you need to do." He opened the door to the waiting room and called Charles in. Mariah's self-recrimination rang in her head -- "I'm a stupid, stupid fool!" -- but over it she heard Gabriel's explanation of the doses of the mullein tincture, and how to turn the peppermint into vapor. As he walked them to the door, Gabriel said to Guckel, "You should be feeling better by the day after tomorrow. If you don't, come back." Charles gave no indication that he heard, but he allowed Guckel to walk upright out the door.
Gabriel smiled briefly at Mariah before he called his next patient. "That was a relief," he confided to her. "I thought at first she had asthma." Mariah scowled, shrugged, and looked away. "Asthma is a chronic condition," Gabriel continued, as if he believed Mariah were interested. "It can be controlled but not cured."
Mariah's mood continued to darken over the course of the morning, as Gabriel addressed whatever ailments were brought to him, always with kindness, whether to human or slave. Mariah felt as if she were in a cave, surrounded by dark rock, trapped. If slaves attempted to speak with her she looked at them coldly and refused to respond. If humans took notice of her she fell to her knees and stared at their feet. If she saw Gabriel's puzzled, hurt looks she gave no sign. She was nothing to him and he was nothing to her.
|
|
|