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CHAPTER 39: PAINS
FLASHBACK
It was Master Brandon's mother who announced to Mariah that her time with Brandon was over. Mariah put down the feather duster she was using and picked it up again, unsure if Mistress Greta meant that she would be leaving immediately or if she should finish her task. "There, there," Mistress Greta said. "It's nothing personal. It's just time to let Brandon make his own mistakes."
"Yes, Mistress," Mariah said. Fleetingly she wondered what it would be like if it were personal.
Mistress Greta did not bring Mariah back to Mistress Dominique for a new placement, but to the Exchange. When in her surprise Mariah stopped in the doorway and protested, Mistress Greta stared at her. "I thought she would have told you, since you were a favorite. Dominique closed the training center. Said she'd done her share and earned a rest. True enough I suppose."
Mariah felt shocked, and then unexpectedly bereft, and then scared. She had hated Mistress Dominique, of course. She hated them all when she allowed herself that luxury. But Mistress Dominique had taken some care in Mariah's placements, and perhaps had protected her from worse treatment.
Mariah hadn't realized that she had remained motionless in the doorway, until Mistress Greta raised her whip. "Of course, if you make me punish you you'll be taken for a torture cunt at the Exchange." Mariah followed her to the Exchange master to be registered.
PRESENT DAY
Animal half-woke from his doze. The warmth of Rose's cheek passed through his shirt to his chest. Her arms rested around him, her legs were between his, and her belly was pressed against his sated cock. He floated on the sensation of her. With Gabriel and Mariah not expected back before dinner, and an hour until the light would be right for painting, they could . . .
"Rose!" Animal blinked his eyes open at Gabriel's exuberant shout. "Are you out here?"
Rose lifted her head, confused and still mostly asleep, as Animal groaned. The sound attracted Gabriel, but the back of the divan faced his door and he couldn't see them. He hurried over as Rose slowly pushed herself up. "You've got to see the book I found! It's ancient recipes with . . ." He stopped short as he saw them at last. "Oh," he said, reflexively backing up.
"You said you would be teaching all afternoon," Animal growled, refusing to cover himself.
"No one showed up," Gabriel muttered, half turned away from them. "Mariah and I went to the library instead."
Rose looked uncertainly from Animal to Gabriel as she continued to disentangle herself from her master. "Found a book I thought Rose would want to see," Gabriel continued. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Animal snapped. Turning to Rose he told her, "Go clean yourself up, and then find Master Gabriel."
"Yes, Master," Rose said. She stood up slowly, and then hurried off to Animal's apartment without a backward glance at him.
"Sorry," Gabriel muttered again, and turned to his own apartment, trying to look as if he was not fleeing. Scowling, Animal found his pants, neatly folded on the ground with his underwear neatly folded on top. Carrying them, he stalked off to his shower.
FLASHBACK
The Exchange was well-organized. Master Victor set up separate areas for those most likely to be chosen as skilled laborers, factory workers, crafters, and, of course, house slaves. As Mistress Greta had intimated, there was an area for torture slaves as well. To Mariah's relief, after a brief conversation Master Victor sent her to the corner for house slaves.
She was chosen by two men, Gregg and Peter. They were a striking couple; both tall and well-muscled, Gregg was ruddy and blond and Peter was dark skinned and shaved his head. They were devoted to each other but casually cruel to Mariah. She learned that they used only housegirls, not houseboys, to avoid developing any attraction that could come between the two of them. Having little interest in her, they liked to tease.
"What did the little pussy do all day?" Peter would ask in a baby voice.
And Gregg would answer in a sickly sweet imitation of Mariah, "I cleaned up from breakfast, and thought about fucking. And then I swept, and thought about fucking. And then I looked out the window and thought about fucking. And now I'm so tired from all my hard work and so horny."
"Ooh, poor little pussy," Peter would say. "So many responsibilities and so little fucking. Does little pussy want to fuck?"
There was an endless variation on this. Mariah was surprised at how annoying she found their treatment of her, although she had to admit that it was an easy posting as far as work went. Gregg and Peter both had assignments that kept them out of the apartment most days. Gregg was an accountant at the food exchange, responsible for calculating how much and what food to bring in from the fields and pastures, and Peter was a scribe. Both were neat and not fussy about their food, and they rarely entertained. The hall monitor had told Mariah, with a meaningful look, that most of their housegirls volunteered to help the hall in their spare time, by doing laundry for other households or assisting with heavy cleaning. Mariah merely shrugged, and the issue was not pushed on her.
Her masters' teasing generally continued as one of them fingerfucked her, almost to the point of coming. And then he would stop, talk more baby talk, and walk away. When Mariah's body had calmed down the other master would molest her but stop before she came. Again, a pause, and the other would take his turn. When she finally orgasmed the master who had carelessly pushed her over the edge was the loser in their game, and he would pout and punish her. Mariah tried to make sure that it was Peter and not Gregg who would do so. Gregg favored hot sauce and red ants and the like, while Peter generally used the strap.
Gregg came home early one day from his assignment, carrying an odd bouquet. Surprised, Mariah leaned the broom against the wall and dropped to her knees. "You've been a naughty pussy," Gregg said from across the room. Mariah blanched. Did he know about the unauthorized walks she took, almost every day? But he continued, "It's not nice for little pussies to play favorites." He gestured for her to approach him. As she did so, he took a pair of gloves out of his pocket and put them on, then pulled from his bouquet a long thin plant that looked like mint with spikes.
"Hold out your hand to me," he commanded her. She gave it to him, palm down. He turned it over and scraped the plant along the length of her lower arm and inner wrist. It tickled. And then it itched. And then, to Mariah's horror, little red bumps appeared on her skin and it burned.
"Stinging nettles," Gregg said. He put the plant down and took off his gloves. Taking her hand again, Gregg led Mariah to the armchair he favored and sat her on his lap.
He knew her reactions well and aroused her efficiently. But when he was squeezing her nipple with one hand and teasing her cunt with the other, Mariah wriggled on him and he hardened beneath her. They both froze for a second, and then Gregg sprang up, causing Mariah to crumple to the floor.
Gregg grabbed Mariah by the arm and dragged her to the wall, where he strung her up, feet spread wide, arms over her head. Disappearing for a moment, he came back with the nettles. Deliberately he started with her nipples, which he had made so sensitive. Like with her wrist, it tickled and then itched and then burned. Mariah cried out and struggled but Master Gregg did the same to her other nipple. He waited a moment before he went lower, to the undersides of her breasts, and then to her underarms.
When he ran a fresh nettle over her belly Mariah forgot all her training and panicked, pulling on her shackles in a futile attempt to get free. "Now, now, little pussy needs to learn her lesson," Gregg said with an intensity that scared her more than the nettles did.
He moved lower still, to her inner thighs. Over and over until she was sure she was covered with blisters upon blisters. Mariah sagged in her bindings.
Greg swirled the tip of a fresh plant against her asshole. It stung, it burned. He brought it forward, to her cunt, to her slit, burning her, and at last to her clit. Over and over he circled. Mariah was crying, huge, heaving sobs. He kept going. The burning was unbearable, her clit would never recover, she was ruined. He stopped for a moment, but only to get a fresh nettle. He returned and started again. Mariah couldn't help it; she begged incoherently. And suddenly she exploded in an orgasm so powerful she screamed until she fainted.
When she came to, she was laying on her masters' bed. Peter was gently covering her blisters with lotion. She didn't know where Gregg was. "I'm sorry," Peter said quietly. "You've been well-behaved and didn't deserve this."
In her delirium Mariah reached out to Master Peter. "I'm not a pain slut, master," she said.
"No, little one," Peter responded. "There are a million ways to push a slave over the edge. Gregg found one of yours, that's all."
In gratitude Mariah clung to his hand, but Peter pulled away. "You can rest for a little while before you make dinner," he said, and he left the room.
Neither Peter nor Gregg mentioned the incident again, but as soon as her blisters healed Peter took her back to the Exchange.
PRESENT DAY
Animal wandered into Gabriel's apartment, his hair still damp from his shower, his expression still sour. Gabriel, Rose and Mariah sat at Gabriel's table. Mariah, as usual, was poring over the map book. Gabriel was reading to Rose from a different book. Rose's eyes were shining.
When Animal came close enough to see the book he stopped short, arrested by the luscious illustrations. On one page, a simple bowl of raspberries -- but not simple at all. The bowl itself was decorated in a pattern Animal had never seen before, blacks and turquoises and purples and yellows in odd geographic shapes. The colors should clash but somehow brought out the strengths in each other. And the raspberries -- each one a marvel of shading, their pistils visible. Looking at them actually made Animal's mouth water.
On the opposite page was a picture of a casserole dish. Animal didn't recognize the food -- some kind of spiral noodles, in several different colors. He could see the heat rising from them in waves.
Without thinking, Animal turned the page. Gabriel and Rose looked at each other and then scooted their chairs to the side to make room for him. The book was filled with marvelous pictures -- roasts and salads and fish and dishes he had never seen. When Animal came to a picture of beets he muttered, "Carmine." A sound from Rose made him look up. Yes, they had once used that color to describe beets she had served.
"Imagine," Gabriel said softly. "The librarian told me there was a time when every household had a book like this."
Animal stared at him, trying to get his bearings. They could build a wing of the museum around this book. "No," he said hoarsely. "That can't be right."
Gabriel nodded. "Books like this, and others like it," he said.
Suddenly Animal felt ill. He sat down. "The value they must have placed on art," he said. "So beautiful, in every dwelling." He looked at the book again. "What happened to civilization?"
"Death and destruction and collapse," Gabriel said. "In medicine too, so much knowledge was lost. I found a book . . ." But he stopped when he realized that Animal was not listening.
"We survived," Animal said bitterly. "Humans survived through that time. We have plenty again." He stood up. "But it's as the Bearer said. People would rather look at a slave hanging on a wall than a picture."
He stalked to the window and stared out. The sun was lowering. He remembered that he had intended to return to the revel room for evening light. "Come, Rose," he commanded.
Rose stood up slowly from the table as Gabriel turned the page of the book. "This one sounds good," he said. "Rose, do you have a baking dish like this?"
Rose came back to look at the picture he was showing her of the tall, round dish. "Raul might know where to find one, Master," she said. "What's it for?"
"Souf . . . Sooffel?" Gabriel said. "It puffs up in the oven, I guess," he continued, reading through the description. Rose sat down next to him again.
Unnoticed, Animal walked out.
FLASHBACK
Mariah was sitting in the Exchange, leaning against an oak tree. Her left ankle was shackled to a chain that was long enough to let her wander to a group of slaves a few yards away, had she did not. She knew a couple of them and tried to ignore their laughter edged with nervousness. Percy, who had been a hallmate a couple of assignments ago, nodded at her. Mariah scowled and looked away.
"I just can't find what I want here." Mariah glanced at the source of the nasally voice. A tall thin man was walking with a woman who barely came up to his shoulder.
The woman patted his arm. "There's dozens of fresh blood, here, Dell. You're too picky."
"I'm not!" Dell said angrily, pulling away from her. He approached the group near Mariah. "Can any of you cook, clean, and fuck?" he asked. They all looked at the ground.
Dell sighed and walked on. When he came to Mariah, he said, "What about you?"
Without thinking Mariah said, "Not all at the same time, Master."
He tore his whip off his belt. "You sass me?" Before he could strike, the woman was at his side. She had curly red hair and freckles dotted her face.
"Don't waste your energy, Dell," she said.
"She sassed me, Iliana," Dell said to her. Again without thinking, Mariah rolled her eyes. Dell didn't see her but Iliana did. Her lips twitched.
"I saw some likely candidates over there," Iliana said. "One of them is blonde and barely marked." Dell allowed himself to be distracted and proceeded down the walk. Iliana did not follow him, but looked down at Mariah curiously. Mariah stolidly stared straight ahead.
"Do you know why he didn't look out the window this morning?" Iliana asked her.
Mariah blinked, trying to make sense of the question. "No, mistress," she said.
"Because he wanted to have something to do this afternoon."
Mariah blinked again, and Iliana laughed. "It's a joke," she said. Mariah blinked again.
Mistress Iliana said, "I went to dinner at my brother Harold's yesterday. There was a rooster in his living room. Harold had the loveliest slave girl, and she served the most delicious dinner. Harold kept throwing scraps to the rooster all through dinner. Finally I asked him why he was doing that. He said, ‘I caught a water nymph while I was fishing. She gave me three wishes on the condition that I let her go. So I wished for a beautiful slave, delicious food, and an insatiable cock.'"
Again Mariah blinked.
"Why do slave girls have legs?"
When this question was followed by silence, Mariah looked at the woman. "I don't know, Mistress," she said.
"So they don't leave trails like snails when they walk."
Mariah inhaled quickly, then scowled.
"I saw that," Mistress Iliana gloated. "You almost laughed." She regarded Mariah, who glared at the ground. "Do you want to come home with me?" she asked
Mariah knew the proper response, but she asked, "Do you live with him?" and she gestured to Master Dell, who was coming back towards them, frowning.
When Iliana smiled her dimples appeared. "No," she said. "Not yet. I have too many windows, I guess."
Mariah couldn't help it, she started to laugh and then tried to disguise it as a cough. Iliana took that as assent. She waved the Exchange boy over and ordered him to unshackle Mariah.
But as the boy fiddled with his key, Dell strode up. "What's this?" he demanded. "You're not looking for someone today. You said you were enjoying your privacy."
Iliana shrugged. "Changed my mind," she said. "This one's so cheerful, I couldn't resist." She winked at Mariah.
PRESENT DAY
Animal's bedroom window opened to the courtyard so Rose could not see the sun rise, but the soft light of dawn made her smile. She did not expect Master Animal to wake up any time soon; he had returned home the previous night late and half drunk. Although they had fallen asleep on separate sides of the bed, with Animal quickly snoring, now they were pressed together, Rose's back to Animal's front, his arm around her, his morning erection pressing against her. For a moment she considered softly wriggling against him, but the excitement that had woken her so early won out. The ingredients for the -- what had Master Gabriel said they were called? creeps -- were waiting for her in the kitchen. After she made the batter it would need to rest for an hour. So if she wanted them ready for her master's breakfast, she had better get started.
She tried to slide away from Master Animal without waking him, but he tightened his grip on her and kissed the top of her head. She held still as he palmed her breast and moved his lips to that spot right below her ear. His hand wandered down to her legs, and he tried to force it between her thighs, but she did not cooperate.
As Animal turned her from her side onto her back, Rose closed her eyes, hoping he might think she was still asleep. He kissed her mouth. Without thinking Rose pressed her lips together.
She felt Animal sit up abruptly. "What are you doing?" he said harshly.
Rose opened her eyes. Animal's face was angry. Worse than yesterday. Rose shrank down. "Forgive me, Master," she said. "I need to start breakfast, or else . . ."
Master Animal interrupted her. "You deny me because you want to cook?" He stared at her, unbelieving.
Rose dropped her eyes. "Master, I'm sorry. I . . . "
He cut her off. "Go," he said, harshly. He turned over and stared at the wall while Rose slipped from the room.
FLASHBACK
Mariah lifted her head from between Iliana's legs, to see if she wanted more. Her mistress had come three times to Mariah's count. Sweating, tousled, Iliana raised her hand slightly to gesture Mariah forward. Mariah slithered up until her head was resting on the softness above her mistress's breast. Mariah could feel her heartbeat, pounding. She trailed her hand up, until in rested on her mistress's other breast. "Mmm," Iliana said, sleepily. Mariah sighed. She could not expect her own satisfaction, but how she burned.
But after a few minutes, Mistress Iliana roused. She moved out from under Mariah. "Lay on your back," she ordered. Mariah complied, and Mistress Iliana lay next to her. She moved her hand over until it was on top of Mariah's crotch. She curled her finger up and down Mariah's slit. "Quickly," Iliana said. "We need to leave soon." The words were unnecessary. As soon as she began to circle Mariah's clit, Mariah exploded.
Mistress Iliana smiled, but gave Mariah no time to rest. "Hurry and wash up," she ordered.
Mariah had forgotten that all the residents, slaves and humans alike, of the hall had been told to assemble at the nearest revel room. She assumed it was to witness a punishment, but why then were the humans also to be present?
When they arrived half an hour later, both still damp from their showers, the revel room was crowded. Mariah noted that it was not just with the residents of Mistress Iliana's hall, but much of the entire wing. Mistress Iliana wandered over to share a chair with Dell, while Mariah sat randomly among some houseslaves she vaguely knew from the exercise yard.
A girl was being strung on the stage. Her hands were cuffed together and lifted by a rope towards the ceiling. It stopped while her feet were still flat. Her ankles were shackled to spreader bars, only about a foot wide. She would be able to twist and turn.
"Teraza," a man said to her, and she looked at him, her eyes pleading but her voice obediently silent. "She hasn't done anything wrong," he said to the seated slaves. "She is going to be punished because I wish it."
It was such an obvious statement that Mariah blinked.
Two more human men walked onto the stage. One of them was shirtless. He looked dazed. A hush fell over the room when the audience realized that his hands in front of him were cuffed. The other man attached the chain of his cuffs to a hook, which was raised until his arms were over his head. Only when the movement stopped did he look at the man who had led him. "Josiah, please, don't do this," he said, but there was no hope in his voice.
"It's not up to me, Mack, you know that," the man answered with a shake of his head. "The Bearer set your punishment." He took a piece of paper from his pocket and read to the audience, "This man, Mack, son of Clenott, has been convicted of violating the most sacred laws of our land, to wit, purposefully fathering a child with slave girl Rachelle and raising the pup as if it were human." A collective gasp rose from the audience. "He is hereby sentenced to ten lashes with a bullwhip, laid hard on, to be followed in two weeks time by a year's labor in the coal mine where he will work side by side with slaves."
Mack's eyes filled with tears. "Promise me you'll take care of them," he begged raggedly, but Josiah shook his head and stepped off the stage. His place was taken by another human, whose head was wrapped entirely in a scarf, leaving only a space for his eyes.
Mariah felt queasy. She had seen bullwhips hanging on walls as decorations, and once she had seen, or rather heard, a master crack one like thunder. Compared to those monstrosities, the thin, soft whips typically used on slaves were like children's toys. One healed from them, physically at least, in hours or days. Was there any healing from a bullwhip?
The man in the scarf took his position behind Mack, and the other master took his position behind Teraza, holding a simple flogger. They nodded at each other, in unison raised their whips, in unison struck.
Teraza grunted. Mack screamed. As if they had planned it, the two twisted at the same time. Teraza's back was marked with a single whip stroke. Mack's back was torn open.
Again the whips were raised, again brought down in unison. Again Teraza grunted and Mack screamed. Again, again, again. But by the eighth stroke there was no sound from Mack. He had fainted. Blood flowed down his back. The man in the scarf slapped his face, waking him. Two more strokes. Again he fainted, but this time it did not matter.
Teraza's master lowered the chains holding her arms, and untied her. She fell to her knees. She was still his beautiful, well-trained slave, ready to serve.
Mack's handcuffs were removed from the hook, and he landed on the floor with a thud, groaning, the fall waking him. Healers came to bind wounds. He grasped at the foot of one of them. "Take care of them," he muttered, "take care of them." The healer stepped back.
Mariah thought she might throw up. She glanced across the room at her mistress, Iliana, who was looking back at her. Her usually cheerful face was drawn and haggard. Iliana nodded at her ever so slightly, and Mariah knew that they were of one mind: No one, human or slave, should suffer like that.
PRESENT DAY
Mariah allowed herself to notice and appreciate the luxury of a closed bathroom door. Not all her owners had favored privacy for their slaves. Here, not only was the door to the bathroom closed, but the door to the bedroom -- her bedroom -- was as well, and would stay that way until she chose to open it.
She washed her face and brushed her hair, still uneven but long enough that the new growth no longer stood straight up.
Returning to the bedroom, she began with the stretches Jordan had showed her. Then the strengthening exercises Gabriel had recently added. Finally, the stretches Gabriel had first taught her. Arms, back, chest, all gentle as Gabriel had emphasized, although Mariah recognized that she was much more flexible than she had ever been.
Finally, the breathing exercises. Mariah closed her eyes and took in as much breath as she could. She stopped when her rib cage complained. Slowly exhale. And again. She could hear Gabriel's voice instructing her. She quieted it, replaced it with her own voice, the visions she chose to see, as she had done every morning for the last several weeks. First, Gabriel on the road so many months ago, outside the gate, telling her which way to go, convincing her to trust him. Then Gabriel waving down the hunters, pointing them in the direction he had just sent her. Gabriel curing her elbow; Gabriel betraying her to the hunters. Gabriel placing a cool cloth on the forehead of a feverish slave; Gabriel petting the hunters' dogs. Gabriel laughing with Master Animal; Gabriel watching the hunters race after her. Gabriel reading the cookbook to Rose; Gabriel smiling with satisfaction at his success.
Certain at last that she would make it through the day without forgetting she was living a mindgame, Mariah stepped into Gabriel's living room, expecting to see Rose. But it was Mistress Tabitha, the hall mistress. She was running her finger along the top of a bookshelf. Catching Mariah's movement from the corner of her eye, she turned to her. "Ah," she said.
Mistress Tabitha was a striking woman. Older than Animal and Gabriel, tall and strong, her thick black hair was streaked with gray which she did not bother to color. Raul adored her more than he feared her, but not by much.
Mariah wasn't sure what to do. Always in the morning Master Gabriel went to the stable to ride and either Rose or Raul waited with her. Should she fall to her knees? Perhaps only because Master Gabriel would not want her to do so, she did.
Mistress Tabitha cocked her head. "You may get your gruel," she said. She watched Mariah as she stood up and crossed the room, and then went to where she had been kneeling. She peered into Gabriel's bedroom and then Mariah's. As Mariah stood awkwardly at the stove, scowling, as she waited for her gruel to heat through, Mistress Tabitha said to her, "Your bed is not made."
Mariah nodded her head in acknowledgment. Mistress Tabitha regarded her. "Rose must have come in early to make Master Gabriel's bed and then do her duty to Master Animal."
Again Mariah nodded her head. She did not think Rose had come in that morning. She supposed Master Gabriel had made his own bed. Now that she thought of it, he probably did so every day.
"That girl works herself to the bone," Mistress Tabitha said. "I know your master is an outlander, but I'd think you'd make some effort to not add to her burden."
Mariah flushed. "Master Gabriel says I'm not strong enough to work, Mistress."
Mistress Tabitha sniffed. "He says you're almost good as new. Making your own bed won't strain you any."
Mariah spooned the gruel into her bowl. She had never given it a thought, but of course Rose made her bed every day. Unless Master Gabriel did it.
"Why did Master Animal send Raul away yesterday?" Mistress Tabitha asked abruptly.
Mariah, surprised by the change of subject, looked blankly at Mistress Tabitha, who hissed impatiently. "Did Rose mention nothing?"
Mariah thought back to the previous evening. Rose and Gabriel had been excited about the cookbook, and Animal had been out of sorts. But Mariah had spent the evening poring over the mapbook, as she often did. "No, Mistress," she said.
Mistress Tabitha sighed. "No matter. I'd best keep him away from this suite for the time being." In another abrupt change of subject she said, "I spoke with your master Cassander the other night."
Mariah abruptly put her bowl down on the counter, causing some of the gruel to spill over the side. Mistress Tabitha observed her as she found a rag and cleaned it up. When Mariah had rinsed off the cloth and hung it up, she had no choice but to look at the mistress.
"He said he admired you," Mistress Tabitha said. "That you surprised him, and that doesn't happen very often."
Mariah's heart hammered. She felt queasy.
"He's not a bad man," Mistress Tabitha continued. "I've known him most of my life. He's no pansy, but he's sensible and not cruel."
Mariah stared at her gruel.
"I have to wonder, if you can so thoroughly fool a man who knows what he's about, what are you keeping from a man who's a stranger, who has no knowledge of our ways?"
It took Mariah a moment to realize that Mistress Tabitha meant Gabriel. Nothing, she thought to herself. I keep nothing from him. I couldn't if I tried. That's the mindgame.
Mariah was saved from responding by the door opening and Gabriel himself walking in. He greeted Mistress Tabitha was some surprise. She nodded acknowledgement and turned back to Mariah. "You may tell Rose," she said, "that the apartment has passed inspection."
FLASHBACK
When Mariah was clearing the dishes the next day, Mistress Iliana remarked that she had done a good job preparing the meal. "Thank you, Mistress," Mariah said, but her back was turned and she felt safe scowling, forgetting that her face was visible in the decorative mirror on the wall.
Mistress Iliana laughed and Mariah turned to her. "I should send you to the theater master," Mistress Iliana said, "the way you pretend to be all dark and forbidding."
"Yes, Mistress," Mariah muttered, looking down. She wanted her darkness to be an act, but if it was, she did not want anyone, certainly not any human, to know it.
Then Iliana was at her side, forcing Mariah to look at her. "I see light behind the darkness," her mistress said softly to her, and kissed her on the cheek. And Mariah's heart was lost.
PRESENT DAY
Animal had gone back to sleep, but he was still in a foul mood when he walked from his bedroom to the living area that morning. "Breakfast ready?" he demanded of Rose, who was in the kitchen.
Rose hurried to him and fell to her knees before him. "No, master," she said, and her voice trembled.
"What? Why not?" Animal asked, his mood almost engulfed by his astonishment.
Rose sniffled, and she lowered her forehead to the ground. "I'm sorry, Master," she said.
"Stand up," Animal ordered her, "And stop crying. Why didn't you make my breakfast?"
Rose stood up, but she continued to cry. "I tried, Master," she said, as she followed Animal to the kitchen. It was a mess, with dirty pans on the stove and in the sink, and strawberry hulls on the cutting board.
"What's this?" Animal asked.
"I'm sorry, Master," Rose said again. "I tried to . . ." And Animal realized that she was crying out of frustration, not fear.
He suddenly understood. "You tried to make something out of Gabriel's cookbook?"
Rose nodded. "It didn't work," she almost wailed. "I wanted to make something special for you. Creeps, Master Gabriel called them. I don't know what went wrong. But they wouldn't set and I kept trying to fix them and . . . I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," Animal said. He looked at the mess with some amazement. It reminded him of when he had tried his hand at papier mache a couple years ago. It had ended with nothing to show but a room in shambles.
"This is why you left my bed?"
Rose nodded.
"Was it worth it?"
Rose looked at him, wondering that he would tease her. But his face was curious.
She turned to the kitchen, and back to her master, and thought for a moment, and wiped her eyes, and nodded. "I think I used too much milk," she said. "I couldn't remember . . . When I try again . . ." she caught herself. "If you'll let me try again sometime . . . Not today, I mean . . . " She faltered.
Animal smiled at her tolerantly. "If you like," he said. His face changed suddenly and he looked at shoulder. "Did you cut yourself?" he demanded.
Rose twisted so she could see where he was. "No, Master," Rose said. "It's strawberry sauce."
"Really?" Animal said as he pulled her towards him. "Then I guess I get my breakfast after all." He licked the sauce off.
With the smallest of sighs for the filthy kitchen and her own exhaustion, Rose followed him back to bed.
FLASHBACK
For a while Mariah tried to repeat that moment with Mistress Iliana, when she had felt that her mistress was reading her soul. When she fell asleep at night she thought of her mistress telling her, "I see light behind the darkness," and she carried on imaginary conversations with her, revealing herself bit by bit.
But Mistress Iliana never looked at her in that way again. Mariah had come to see that her cheerfulness was something that she put on like clothes each morning. Mariah could not fathom the reason. But she wanted to.
One morning Mistress Iliana walked in on Dell and Mariah fucking in her living room. It was not the first time, and Mariah, although she felt some physical pleasure, found the act entirely uninteresting.
Iliana, however, grew quite somber as she watched them. Dell invited her to join in and she merely shook her head.
Dell rushed through the act and left Mariah unsatisfied. Pulling up his pants, he said to Mistress Iliana, "Still up for fishing today?"
She nodded but did not smile. Turning to Mariah, she said, expressionless, "I expect the apartment to be spotless when I return."
And Mariah knew, with a thud in her stomach, that her service of Iliana was over.
PRESENT DAY
As Mariah showed a slave boy -- man, Gabriel corrected himself, he was a man -- how to prepare a mustard wrap for his mistress, Gabriel peered out into the waiting room. Two left. A human (man, Gabriel reminded himself, just a man), standing and swaying in obvious discomfort, and a . . . a slave, sitting quietly, marked, but apparently neither seriously hurt nor ill.
As the woman with the chest cough walked out, holding the arm of her slave, the man in the waiting room said harshly to Gabriel, "I've been here long enough, and drunk all that foul liquid. You will see me now?"
"Liquid?" Gabriel said blankly.
"The stuff you gave your rag to give me to drink," the man said impatiently, and then grabbed his middle and groaned.
Gabriel looked at Mariah, who shrugged. "Master Kirk has kidney stones," she said. "I gave him a glass of water."
Gabriel grabbed Mariah's elbow and, over the man's protest, pulled her into the treatment room and closed the door. "What made you think it was kidney stones?" he asked calmly.
"There have been two others," Mariah said. "No one else sways like that." She met his eye, defiant.
Gabriel said carefully, "Thinking you know more than you do is a dangerous thing, Mariah. There are some injuries where water can kill a man."
Mariah colored and scowled. She started to say something, but stopped. Gabriel let the silence hang, before he said, "You're almost certainly right." Mariah breathed out breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "But I want you to check with me between diagnosis and treatment, okay?"
"Yes, master," Mariah muttered, her face burning.
Gabriel opened the door to the waiting room and beckoned Kirk to come in. As Mariah slid past him Gabriel called after her. "Please stay," he said. He had that deceptively calm expression that Mariah had learned meant there was no point in trying to disobey. She rolled her eyes at the slave in the waiting room and turned back to Gabriel and Kirk.
Gabriel took his time examining the man. He explained each step to Mariah and had her place her hands on Kirk's abdomen. When Kirk sputtered and complained Gabriel ignored him. Gabriel asked him seemingly endless questions about symptoms, his diet, his previous ailments. With each answer Gabriel told Mariah what he was eliminating -- ulcer, food poisoning, appendicitis . . . At last Kirk stood up, red-faced, while Gabriel was in the middle of a sentence. "What is this?" he demanded. "I'm in pain and you're using me as entertainment for your rag? What's the matter with you?" He gasped and grabbed his abdomen. "What's the matter with me?" he ended on a croak.
"My . . . rag . . . told you before," Gabriel said shortly. "Kidney stones."
"And what do I do about it?" he moaned.
"Drink two quarts of water a day," Gabriel said. "I'll give you a mild sedative that will lessen the pain. If you haven't passed them in a week, we'll try something else."
"Passed them?" Kirk said. "What do you mean?"
"You have sharp little rocks in you that need to come out through your penis when you pee," Mariah said in a completely bland tone.
"You speak to me?" Kirk said, and he fumbled for his whip but was interrupted by a spasm of pain. Gabriel hustled Mariah to the storage room and told her what herbs he would require. When she returned with the jars Gabriel had requested, he opened, smelled and tasted each one in turn before blending them. At last he handed a packet to Kirk and said, "I've written it down. Steep a tablespoon of this mixture in a cup of hot water every four hours when you're awake. Stay in front of the pain or it will get worse. Come back in a week either way."
When Kirk left Gabriel turned to Mariah. She met his eye innocently. He shook his head, but his lips quirked up despite himself. "Your bedside manner could use some improvement."
Mariah shrugged as she looked at the slaveboy in the waiting room. "One more," she said.
The slave looked familiar. Older, heavyset, strong. Angry, fresh welts crossed his chest.
"Turbo?" Gabriel asked uncertainly.
"Yes, master," Turbo responded. He stood up. Gabriel automatically started to hold up his hands, to ward off Turbo falling to his knees, but Turbo merely stood respectfully.
"What can I do for you?" Gabriel asked.
Turbo started to answer, as if reciting from rote, "My mistress, Carmen, who as you know is the Bearer's daughter, sent me to say . . ." He broke off, and began again. "Master, these marks aren't her doing, I swear it. She's been real good to me for weeks. I got these from some people having sport, in the corridor. My mistress was so upset she practically cried." He stopped and bit his lip, realizing he had said too much.
"Go on," Gabriel said encouragingly
Turbo took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling, going back to his script. "Master, everyone knows you've come hundreds of miles to treat her. And she wants to get better, she does, and she wanted to show you by treating me right, and then just when she was thinking it had been long enough I come home looking like this, and then she didn't want to try to see you, but I begged her and said you seem like a good, fair human and maybe you'd let me explain it to you." He started to fall to his knees but stopped himself. "She told me not to beg, you're an outlander who don't hold with that." He looked at Gabriel. "But I don't know what else to do, except beg. She's out in the hallway, waiting so patiently you'd think she's . . . someone else altogether."
"She is?" Gabriel said in surprise. "Please, tell her to come in."
"You'll see her then, master?" Turbo said eagerly. He didn't wait for Gabriel's "of course" before he practically ran out to the corridor. A moment later he returned carrying Carmen, and placed her gently on the examination bench in Gabriel's treatment room.
Carmen was paler than when Mariah had last seen her, her white face contrasting sharply with her dark hair bound back in a braid. Gabriel regarded her. "It's nice to see you, Carmen," he said.
Carmen didn't respond, or meet his eye. She played with the fabric of her skirt.
Gabriel placed his hand on hers, calming her fidgeting. "What can I do for you?"
For a moment Carmen did not speak. She grasped Gabriel's hand and held it. "I . . . " and her voice came out as a squeak. She stopped, took a breath, and started again, deeper. "I want to walk again. I want to ride my horse again. Can you help me?" She looked at him at last.
Gabriel smiled softly. "I think so," he said. "For walking, at least. Let's see what kind of progress you've made in these last weeks." He led Carmen through the exercises they had worked on together, and with each one he smiled and nodded. Carmen had clearly been making an effort, and her progress had been good. He thought she could probably stand if she had help, but he didn't want to push his luck. Instead he promised to come see her the next day.
"There's something else," Carmen said. Gabriel waited politely. Again the pause, and then Carmen continued, "It's my father. He's not well."
"Not well, how?" Gabriel asked.
"I don't know," Carmen said. "He doesn't talk about it. But he's tired all the time, and sometimes when he's talking, or walking, he just stops, like he can't catch his breath. And then a few seconds later he starts again, as if he hopes no one noticed." Tears filled her eyes. "I don't think anyone does notice," she said.
"You notice, Carmen," Gabriel said gravely.
Carmen nodded. "Will you come?" she said. "He'll be at home now."
"Of course," Gabriel said. He turned to Mariah, and frowned, torn. "You'll stay close?" he asked her in an undertone. Mariah blinked, not understanding. "You've seen what it's like the Bearer's quarters. I could bring you to Animal at the revel room."
Carmen snorted, her old, imperious self reemerging. "Nothing will happen to your rag in my household, Healer," she said. "We all know my father gave her to you. That's as good as a gold bracelet, which at least in our home we respect." She glanced at Turbo. "Even if others don't," she added.
Gabriel continued to look at Mariah. "You'll stay close?" he asked again.
Mariah nodded curtly, blushing. Gabriel's mindgame was sometimes more humiliating than she could have imagined.
FLASHBACK
Mariah was not surprised the next morning when Mistress Iliana told her they were going to the Exchange. But she was surprised when she fell to her knees and pleaded. "Mistress, I'm just a rag to Master Dell. I didn't mean to . . ." She stopped. Of course she hadn't meant to . . . do anything. Master Dell had told her to spread her legs for him and she had obeyed, nothing more.
Mistress Iliana gestured her to stand up. "You think I'm jealous of you?" she asked incredulously. Mariah's face burned. She was so stupid. But Mistress Iliana drew her close. "It was Dell I was jealous of. I didn't like to share you with him."
They stared at each other, frozen, for a moment, and then Mistress Iliana leaned in and kissed Mariah. Mariah felt enveloped by her, certain that it was all a misunderstanding, that her mistress would make everything right.
Mistress Iliana pulled back abruptly. "I could get lost in you," she said shakily. She turned her back to Mariah. "I think about you all the time. About how we are the same, the way we act. You scowl and I giggle to keep our distance." She turned around again, put her hands on Mariah's shoulder and leaned her forehead into Mariah's. "I think I have unnatural feelings for you."
"Then don't send me away, Mistress," Mariah whispered.
Mistress Iliana stepped back again. "No!" she said, and she slapped Mariah hard on the cheek. When Mariah did not fall, she raised her hand, threatening, and Mariah slipped to her knees.
"I'm sorry," Mistress Iliana said. Mariah kneeled motionless. "If you stayed, I wouldn't be able to . . . You would turn me into a pansy." Her voice cracked. "I can't live like that. I'm weak."
"Mistress, if you have feelings for me . . ." Iliana waited, but Mariah did not continue. What could she say? If her mistress had feelings for her, she would keep her? She would not send her to the Exchange, where she could be turned into a torture cunt, or sent back to the farm, or . . . But that was exactly what she was going to do. Mariah understood. What Mistress Iliana called unnatural feelings could be set aside, without regard for what would become of her, the dangers, the torture and degradation that awaited her sooner or later outside of Iliana's protection. The puppy love Mariah had felt for her disappeared with a bang, replaced by cold, familiar hate.
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