Mind Games

CHAPTER 44:  THROUGH THE GATES

       PRESENT DAY

       Mariah had not intended to stay so long in Master Animal’s apartment, but after proudly serving the soufflé Rose had been eager to show Mariah her new sketches. The two had long since made up from their fight about the encounter in the corridor.  Rose had cried as she hugged Mariah and Mariah had heroically refrained from recoiling from her embrace.  Nevertheless, Mariah was unsure that their friendship had completely recovered from the bruising it had taken.  As a concession to Rose she tried to exhibit an interest in her detailed description of the shading technique Master Animal was teaching her.    

       In Rose’s exuberance she handed her chalk to Mariah.  Mariah found that making marks on paper gave her a curious sense of possibility.  She wondered out loud whether the artist who had drawn the maps in the atlas had begun his training with chalk. Master Animal animatedly held forth about the printing presses the ancients had used. 

       What seemed most important to Mariah was not the mechanics of making the book but that the maps told a person how the world is put together. "So does all good art," Master Animal growled.  "Or how it falls apart." But he was looking at Rose as he spoke, and even Mariah noticed that his sour expression was only half-hearted. 

       By the time Mariah went home through the courtyard the nightwatchers would have long since been guarding the corridors.  She was disappointed but not surprised that Master Gabriel had gone to bed.   

       She dreamed that she was Gabriel’s sister – and yet not his sister – hiding in a wagon to follow him to some unknown destination where ice falls from the sky. But then she was in Master Cassender’s wagon and he was driving it to the wall.   

       In the morning as she did her breathing exercises Mariah could not bring into focus her meditation on the mindgame.  Where she usually visualized Master Gabriel talking to the hunters, pointing them to where she hid, she instead saw him as he had sat at the dining room table the day before, tracing in the atlas the path from Harmony to Rattletown.  And then she saw the look in his eyes after she had put her hand on his.

       Master Gabriel had wanted her, Mariah was certain of it.   Mariah had felt, for a moment, that she wanted him too.  But it was a different kind of desire than what she had known.  It didn’t seem to come from her groin, although she felt it there, acutely.  Rather, for an instant, she had wanted to share herself with him, not just her body but her heart and soul.

       And then he had pulled his hand away. 

       She had been hurt, yesterday. But now she thought more about what he had said when he was drunk.  He had said that spanking could be pleasurable, and that he would never spank a girl unless she said she wanted it – and unless he believed her. 

       It was true that spankings were often pleasurable, if the human doing the spanking intended them to be.  But they were also punishment.  And the punishment was not just the pain but also the pleasure itself. 

       Humans used pain and the threat of pain to keep her in fear, to keep her enslaved.  But they also used pleasure and the threat of withholding pleasure.  That had been why the Bearer had told her he would circumcise her if she went beyond the freedom Gabriel granted her.

       Until recently the need for pleasure had been forced on her by the very food that she ate.  It had driven her, and it had made her weak.  She had hated it.

       There had been times that she had thought that she had been in control.  She had believed that at the training center, in those first weeks when she chose a different person each night to “make love” with.  She almost laughed out loud, remembering Taejon using that term but then being unable to explain its meaning. Even then, though, she had been driven to her choices by the food she ate, and by the unspoken fact that if she did not take it upon herself to learn skills that would please humans Mistress Dominique would have forced her to learn them in much less pleasant circumstances. 

       Since she had become a housegirl there had been no pretense that she chose any of her partners.  When she fucked other slaves she was told to do so by her masters and mistresses.  And when she fucked her masters and mistresses – Mariah shuddered.  She had never felt any true desire for any of them.

       Not even for Mistress Iliana, who she had thought she loved. But Mariah had not really craved her physically; she had serviced Mistress Iliana and Mistress Iliana in turn had fulfilled her need for sex, just as she fed her and saw to it that she got enough sleep and exercise.  Sex with her had been a necessary release, nothing more.

       Mariah had been desperate for Mistress Iliana to notice her, know her, be kind to her.  And, Mariah now realized, Mistress Iliana had done those things, to the best of her ability. Then fear had bested her.  How could Mariah blame her for that?  There had been a connection between them but it had not been, after all, very deep.  It was nothing like the bond between Master Animal and Rose, and Master Animal had been a pansy for years and had Master Gabriel to guide him.

       Master Gabriel.  

       He had wanted her last night.  But, while Mariah had seen a glimpse of what it meant to desire him in return, she had been not just hurt but also relieved when he had pulled his hand away. For all of Master Gabriel’s seeming kindnesses, as she drilled into herself every morning, as she should be drilling into herself now, he had betrayed her at their first meeting.  She must never trust him.  And therefore she must never want him. 

       Had Master Gabriel pulled away last night because he had sworn never to have sex with a slave?  Or because he knew that Mariah did not really want him? If the latter, it was one more kindness that could never balance the scales against the first betrayal. 

         Mariah remembered a little guiltily that she had left Master Gabriel alone with Kishamie.  She wondered how long it had taken him to get rid of her. 

       But when Mariah emerged from the bedroom, Kishamie sat at the breakfast table across from Master Gabriel.  She looked at once uncomfortable at being seated with a human and inordinately pleased with herself.

       Gabriel smiled at Mariah in greeting.  Her eyes suddenly stinging, Mariah ignored him.  She abruptly returned to her bedroom and commenced her breathing exercises again, now picturing over and over again Gabriel with a hideous leer on his face walking the hunters to her hiding spot. For good measure she imagined him laughing with Master Animal as they planned each step of the mindgame.  Was Kishamie part of it?  Mariah opened her eyes and shrugged.  She had no way of knowing, nor did it matter.

       When she emerged from the room again Gabriel and Kishamie were at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, crushing herbs. Fenugreek, by the smell.  Kishamie was using Mariah’s pestle.  She said something and Gabriel chuckled, softly, appreciatively.

       Mariah took a deep breath and held her head high.  She proceeded to the kitchen and began to prepare her gruel, making a clatter as she did so.  Kishamie turned to stare at her, wide-eyed, then turned back to Master Gabriel.

       “Did you sleep well?” Gabriel asked Mariah in a pleasant, bland voice.

       Mariah ignored him, but she met Kishamie’s look with a cold stare. 

       “As soon as you’ve eaten, we’ll drop Kishamie off at her apartment on the way to the clinic,” Gabriel said. 

       “Why not bring her with us?” Mariah asked.  “Or to the hospital?  I’m sure she’d love to see what an abscessed bed sore looks like.  Or an infected eye.”

       “My mistress ordered me home by midmorning,” Kishamie said.  Her voice trembled slightly and she looked to Master Gabriel for reassurance.   

       “She ordered you to please Master Gabriel, and I’m sure it would please him to show you how to help people whose limbs are slowly rotting off.”  Gabriel, giving no indication that he had been listening to the exchange between Mariah and Kishamie, handed Kishamie a container for the fenugreek. He moved slowly, as if he was tired.  Mariah scowled at him.

       Kishamie’s mistress lived in the opposite direction from the clinic.  “She can get herself home,” Mariah muttered as they walked through the endless corridor.  Kishamie murmured something to Gabriel and he turned into a side hallway, taking her hand as he did so. 

       Kishamie tapped on a door about halfway down the hallway.  It was opened almost at once by a slave girl who was, in her way, as beautiful as Kishamie, if not so appealing.  She had long raven-colored hair and heart-shaped lips, and greeted Gabriel by bowing her head and saying softly, “Come in, Master.” 

       Gabriel entered the apartment, still holding Kishamie’s hand.  Mariah trailed in behind them.

       Mistress Esmerelda stood up from her table.  Gabriel said heartily and loudly, “Truly, I can’t thank you enough! You’ve given me one of the best nights of my life!” 

       Mariah stared at him.  Why was he using such a strange, exuberant tone?  But Mistress Esmerelda smiled triumphantly.  “She pleased you, then?”

       Gabriel nodded his head enthusiastically up and down.  “Oh, yes!  She was terrific!”

       Mistress Esmerelda was a large woman, both tall and broad.  She wore a floor-length green dress that made her seem even more imposing.  But, almost childlike, she clasped her hands together under her chin.  “I’m so pleased!” she said.  "If you would like to keep her, she's yours."

       For a moment everybody in the room froze.  Then the raven-haired slave girl half-gasped, half-sobbed, and turned away.  As Mistress Esmerelda’s disapproving gaze went to the girl, Mariah saw Master Gabriel look at Kishamie and Kishamie give a slight shake of her head. 

       “You are so very kind,” Master Gabriel said to Mistress Esmerelda, as hearty and as loud as before.  “But Kishamie has told me how much she adores you.  I wouldn’t feel right taking her away.” 

       “Nonsense!”  said Mistress Esmerelda.  “It’s not for her to say whether she stays or goes.  If she meets your needs, she’s my gift to you.”  Nevertheless, she looked gratified.

       “My needs are fully met,” Master Gabriel said.  He glanced at Mariah. who scowled.  “But I will savor the memory of last night.” 

       Esmerelda nodded.  “Very well.  Kishamie will give me all the details, of course.”          

       “Of course,” Gabriel said.  He let go of Kishamie’s hand.  “I thank you again.”

       He turned towards the door, but Esmerelda interrupted him.  “Healer, you must come to the full moon revel.  You know my husband and I are in charge of planning it this month.  The theme is Nature’s Wondrous Bounty.”

       Gabriel expelled a small breath.  “Thank you.  I’ll try to come.”

       “You must promise me,” Esmerelda said.  When Gabriel did not respond immediately, she turned to Kishamie.  “You ask him,” she said.  “Show me how much of his affection you gained last night.”

       Kishamie looked down, clearly troubled.  Very quietly she said to Gabriel, “Please, my lord, it would mean a great deal to me if you would come.”

       “Very well,” Gabriel said.  “I shall certainly attend, for you, Kishamie.”  Then he strode out the door so quickly that Mariah had to run to catch up. 

       Flashback

       One of the hunters found Master Cassender working in a field about two miles to the east of the cabin.  Ascertaining that Mariah was firmly chained to the wagon, he drew Master Cassender away. The hunter looked at Mariah as he whispered, but Master Cassender shook his head and said loudly enough for Mariah to hear, “She’s a rag through and through.  No need to worry about her.”

       The hunter shrugged but stopped whispering.  “Rag or no, she’s your concern inside the wall but she’ll be mine if she gets out.  You’re fairly warned, in any event.” 

       Mariah froze.  Did the hunter know her thoughts?  No, he was giving merely a general warning.  The hunter looked at her sharply, and Mariah lowered her eyes.

       Current day

       Animal sat cross-legged on the scaffolding in the revel room staring at the newly cleaned section of the wall.  He wanted this section to be something he had only recently thought of: a drawing from a slave’s point of view.  But what?  His experience of slave life was limited; mostly he knew only housegirls, and then only for the small portion of their lives when they served as such, and only when they interacted with their masters.

       Rose would help him.  But she was at the exercise yard. That was a whole area of her life he barely knew. Perhaps he would go with her tomorrow to see what it was like.

       He heard the clang of the door closing.  When he saw who had come in he scrambled to his feet and climbed down the scaffolding.

       Amalie crossed the room, looking as wary as Animal.  But when she came close her expression suddenly changed.  She threw her arms around him.  “Let’s not fight any more,” she said. 

       Animal hugged her back.  “Okay,” he said. He kissed the top of her head before he let her go.   

       “That’s settled then,” Amalie said.  She scanned the pictures on the wall.  “You’ve made a lot of progress.”

       Animal inclined his head in acknowledgment.

       Amalie continued to look around the room.  Seeing a lone easel on the floor, she walked over to it.  “New student?” she asked.  “The lines aren’t strong but the composition is interesting.”

       “Her lines will come,” Animal said.

       “If she keeps with it.  Anyone I know?”

       “Yes,” Animal said.  “Rose.”

       

       Amalie looked blank.  “Who?”

       “My housegirl.  You’ve met her several times.”

       Animal watched Amalie’s expression slowly change to one of recognition, then surprise, then shock. “You’re teasing me, right?”

       

       “No.”  Animal crossed his arms.  “Are we going to fight about it?”

       Amalie expelled a breath, and looked more closely at Rose’s half-finished charcoal sketch of the scaffolding. “I told you, I don’t want to fight any more.”  Her voice was low and controlled.  “Tell me why you’ve done this.”

       Animal stood next to Amalie and looked with her at the sketch.  He spoke cautiously.  “A lot has changed since last time I saw you.” 

       “The day we argued,” Amalie said.

       Animal nodded, but didn’t continue.  Amalie finally prodded him.  “Tell me.”  

       Animal flipped the pad on the easel to a clean piece of paper.  He picked up Rose’s chalk and began to sketch the same view of the scaffolding Rose had been drawing.  He drew swiftly but without much thought.  As the picture began to take shape, he

recounted to Amalie how he had whipped Rose, how Gabriel, and Rose, had forced him to understand that she was as human as he was, as Amalie was, and how from that he had come to understand that all slaves were human.  Then he described how Rose had asked to draw, how she had shown in just a few weeks that she loved the act of making art as much as anyone he had ever known, as much as he himself did. 

       When Animal stopped speaking his sketch was done, depicting not just the scaffolding but the room around it and the bright light shining in through the windows.  He put down the chalk and turned to Amalie.

       She had listened without interruption.  Now she took his hand in hers.  “You have unnatural feelings for her,” she said, her voice flat.

       “Weren’t you listening?” Animal twisted his hand out of Amalie’s grasp.  “I love her, and she loves me.”

       “I’m sure she does,” Amalie said sharply.  “In the way that a slave can love her master.  But, Animal, that’s all she is.  A slave.”

       Animal sighed with frustration.  How many times had he had this same conversation with Gabriel, before? 

       Amalie continued, saying carefully, “You’re my best friend. I know how deep your feelings run.  If you say you love this girl, I believe you.”

       Animal nodded, relieved, but Amalie wasn’t done.  “You’re other things beside my friend, though.  The greatest, most dedicated artist of our generation.”  Animal inclined his head at that.  “You are,” Amalie said, “and I know you know it.”

       She picked up the chalk that Animal had put down, and added to his sketch.  Her hand flew over the page, darkening a line here, sharpening a corner there.  She stood back and they both looked at it.  Whereas before the focal point of the sketch had been the bright sunshine reflecting off the scaffolding, illuminating it, after Amalie’s additions the eye was drawn to the dark corners of the room. 

       Amalie said, “You’re also a man who should be thinking of fathering children soon.”  Animal started to protest but Amalie continued, “What woman will have you knowing that you love a slave?”

       Animal pointed at the mural panels he had painted, and at the empty panels that circled the room.  “These are my children,” he said.  “My legacy.  They’re all I need.”

       “Them and a slave you think is human,” Amalie said drily.  But at the end her voice gave way to a half-sob.

       Animal took her hand again.  “Will you let me try to convince you?  For the sake of our long friendship?” Amalie nodded slowly.“You still have those triplets, right?” Animal asked.

       Amalie nodded again.  “I don’t love them, Animal; I don’t even have unnatural feelings for them.  They’re just my houseboys.”

       “You don’t have to have feelings for them,” Animal said.  “Just notice them.  Talk to them.  Ask them about themselves.”

       “I may as well ask my sofa about itself,” Amalie said with a small laugh.  “

       “Please Amalie,” Animal begged her.  “Promise me you’ll try it.”

         

       Amalie looked again at the sketch on the easel.  “Okay,” she said softly.  She hugged Animal briefly, and hurried away as if afraid of what more he might say.  But as she approached the door a sign caught her eye.  She shook her head.  In Animal’s unmistakable calligraphy he had written, “This room is a no torture, no punishment zone.” Animal was looking at her.  All she could do was laugh.

       Flashback

       As usual, as Master Cassender entered her he demanded that Mariah look him in the eye.  When he finished, he said with a satisfied smirk, “You came twice.”

       Disgusted, Mariah rolled away from him.  It was a small movement but she froze.  Had he noticed? 

       It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the facade with Master Cassender.  She had been here with him for weeks and she felt like she was rotting inside, from boredom, from loneliness, from the strain of pretending to be a rag.

       She made up her mind. 

       After, she did not have to wait long.  The next day Master Cassender announced a trip to the gatehouse. 

       When they arrived, Mariah was taken aback by Griley’s condition.  He sat on the porch, rocking and crooning to himself. Master Cassender put up the horses and locked Mariah to the porch before knocking on the door.  When Mistress Tanya answered Master Cassender asked, “What’s the matter with him?”

       Mistress Tanya shrugged.  “He didn’t like me drowning some kittens this morning.  He’s been this way ever since.”  She scowled.

       “Why’d you do that?”  Master Cassender asked sharply.  “They keep the mice away.”

       Mariah didn’t hear Mistress Tanya’s answer as she shut the door, leaving Mariah alone with Griley.

       She expelled a breath.  She had never seen a slave as skinny as Griley.  Did Mistress Tanya not allow him to eat?  Such punishments were forbidden but not unheard of at the mansion.

       Mariah sat down next to Griley.  He continued to croon and rock. She said his name, softly.  He gave no indication that he had heard her.  Mariah sighed a little.  In her deceit of Master Cassender she would do the same thing.  Was Griley playing her game?  She touched his arm and said his name again.  Griley continued to croon and rock. 

       Mariah waited, her hand on his forearm.  It would be at least an hour before Master Cassender would come out. She could be patient.

       Several minutes went by before Griley looked at her. When he finally did, Mariah’s nerve almost failed.  But she had to try. 

She had no choice. 

       “I want to escape.”  She had carried those words inside her for so long, ever since Rolanda had first told her that escape was possible.  It was such a relief to say it aloud.  All of a sudden she was crying. 

       Griley kept rocking, but he stopped crooning.  Mariah took that as a sign that she should continue.  “A hunter came to Master Cassender.  He was warning him that I might get outside the wall.”

       To Mariah’s relief, Griley nodded.  But he didn’t say anything.

       “Please, Griley,” Mariah begged.  “I’m at the breaking point.”  She hadn’t realized that was true until she said it.  She took her hand off his wrist and wrapped her arms around herself. 

       She must have gotten through to him, because he spoke, his voice rough. “They said the same thing to my mistress.  But she laughed at them.  Said I can’t crawl to the end of my dick, much less seven miles”

       “Seven miles?  To where?”  Mariah had spoken too soon, too eagerly.  Griley retreated back into himself. 

       “Please,” she said in a small voice. “You couldn’t save the kittens, but you can save me.”   

       Griley winced, then opened his eyes and looked at Mariah as if he had never seen her before.  Slowly, he pointed in the direction of Master Cassender’s cabin.  “To their gate.”

       “The hunters have a gate?” 

       Griley nodded.  “The lock is broken,” he whispered.   

       Current day

       Gabriel stared with fascination as the woman's face bulged and shrank, bulged and shrank, bulged and shrank.  He thought that he should make a note of it so he could discuss it with Pieter, his mentor.  Then he remembered that Pieter wasn't here, but back home in Harmony.  Bubbles came out of the woman's mouth. He realized that the bubbles were words, and the shape-shifting was the woman talking.  He was flooded with disappointment.  He hadn't discovered a new medical condition after all.  He turned away.

       Now he was somewhere else.  No, it was the same revel room, but he had somehow drifted to a different section.  He was closer to the music.  His heartbeat sounded alarmingly loud to him.  Not his heartbeat; it was the percussion from the band.

       A woman was touching him.  She was insanely beautiful.  She had glittering green eyes and was wearing a skintight costume, so tight she almost seemed naked.  She was naked.  She was a slave. She was unbuttoning his shirt and then kissing his stomach, sucking gently as she massaged his chest with her hands.  It was heavenly.  He was so lonely.  She looked up at him.  Her face became Pieter's, and Pieter was saying "No."  Gabriel remembered he didn't make love to slaves, although he couldn't remember why. Sadly he backed away from the woman.  She fell with a cry and he realized he had shoved her.  Gabriel continued to back away, until he bumped into a divan.  He fell onto it.

       The music was different now.  His head was pounding.  After several attempts he was able to open his eyes.  The crowd was thinner.  People were making love in groups all around him.  He would leave in a minute.

       He opened his eyes again.  There was no music.  Slaves were cleaning up around lumps of sleeping people.  Something was the matter with his shoulder.  No, someone was shaking it.  It was Animal.  "Wake up," he said.  "How much did you drink?"

       "Not, not much.  Just a few sips of punch."  Gabriel sat up slowly, trying to bring the room into focus.  The punch had tasted funny, musky almost.  He had danced, and then...only flashes.

       He groaned again, his forehead pounding.  "You'll live," Animal said, although he looked worried.  "Rose can fix you a concoction."  He sat down next to Gabriel, put Gabriel's arm around his shoulders, and lifted him up.  Gabriel's knees buckled on the first try, but they managed it on the second.

       "I was drugged," Gabriel said in a voice that would have sounded outraged if it wasn’t so pathetic.

       Animal ignored him.  "Where's Mariah?" he asked. 

       "Didn't she go home?" Gabriel stumbled.

       Animal steadied him as he shook his head, frowning.  Gabriel should have known better than to bring Mariah with him.  But of course he couldn't have known; he'd never been to a revel before. Animal would have warned Gabriel if he had told him his plans instead of leaving a note he had only just found.  "You sit.  I'll look for her."  He pushed Gabriel down into an armchair. 

       Gabriel struggled back to his feet, but by the time he had achieved them Animal was out of his limited focus.  He tried to concentrate past the dizziness and the pain in his head. 

       The revel  room was the same size as the one Animal was painting.  The detritus of the festivities littered the floor and the furniture.  Slaves were cleaning up around the masters and mistresses who were passed out as he had been.  One master stood near a paper mache tree.  Gabriel blinked hard and saw that he was being given oral sex.  The slave had dark brown hair, a little unkempt, like Mariah's.  Gabriel tried to stumble closer.

       Surely it was Mariah.  She kneeled in front of the master, who grasped her head with both hands and held her face tight against his groin.  Her arms were tightly hugging his buttocks.  Her knees were spread wide.  Another slave girl lay under her, her head propped up by cushions, and licked and fingered her.  Mariah's hips bucked and she hugged the master tighter.  He thrust deeply forward and moaned.  Slowly he released Mariah's face and pulled his now half-limp cock out of her mouth. 

       Gabriel tried to move towards her, but his legs would not obey.  He sank to the floor. 

       The master walked around to the slave girl who had been under Mariah.  The girl rolled over onto her hands and knees. 

       "Shall I command this one to pleasure you?" he asked the slave girl, indicating Mariah.

       "I would be so grateful, Master Paul," the girl answered, pleadingly.

       "Would you?" he asked, seeming to consider it.  "How long has it been since I've let you come?" 

       "Please, Master, days and days," the girl said.

       Her master smiled down at her.  Then he stepped back, pulled his right leg back, and kicked her, hard, in the left breast.  The force of the blow sent her sprawling.  "Get back into position," he snarled.  The slave girl quickly returned to her hands and knees.

       He turned to Mariah, who was still on her knees.  "How long did I give her to make you come?" he asked her.

       "Five minutes, Master," Mariah answered.

       "And did you come in five minutes?"

       "It's not her fault, Master," Mariah said.

       "Silence, cunt!"  Paul unhooked his whip from his belt, and handed it to Mariah.  "Whip her ass," he commanded.

       Mariah looked calmly from the whip to the master, who towered over her.  "I don’t whip slaves," she said.

       "What?"  The shout was so loud that it woke up a nearby mistress, who grumbled and turned over.  Paul pulled Mariah to her feet by her hair and then threw her sprawling on the floor.  His whip was more ferocious than well-aimed, but it caught her on the shoulder blade and left a mean weal there.  The next stroke curled around her lower back.

       Before another blow could fall Animal's hand was laid on the master’s shoulder.  "Excuse me, friend," he said.  "You must have missed my girl's do not molest bracelet." 

       The man pulled away from Animal and turned to face him. 

"Excuse me, friend," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  "Your cunt sassed me and I'll not allow it."

       "Surely not?" Animal said, his voice full of surprise.  He walked over to Mariah and turned her over with his boot.  "You stupid slut!" he said to her angrily. "Maybe an hour in the mosquito cage will teach you to behave!  Now get up and apologize!"

       Mariah rose to her knees and then bowed her forehead to the ground near Master Paul.  "This slave humbly begs your forgiveness," she said.

       "If I ever see you again I'll give you the beating you deserve,"  Paul growled.

       Animal pulled Mariah to her feet and hurried her out of the revel room.  When the door shut behind them he turned to her angrily.  "What were you thinking?" he asked.  "Don't you know he could have been killed you?"

       Mariah pulled away.  "He asked me to whip his slave.  I don't whip slaves!"

       "You're a stupid, stupid girl," Animal said angrily.  "He's probably in there right now giving her a far worse beating than you ever could."

       "Leave her alone," Gabriel said blearily from the door he had managed to push open.  He stumbled, and the other two rushed to him.  He put his arms around their shoulders, not noticing that a good deal of his weight was falling on one of Mariah's new whipmarks. Mariah said nothing, but held up his weight.

       Flashback

       Master Cassender had come out of the gatehouse sooner than Mariah had expected.  He took no note of the whispered conversation she was having with Griley, but Mistress Tanya looked at them with narrowed eyes. 

       On the ride back to Master Cassender’s cabin Mariah turned over in her mind everything that Griley had told her.  The hunters had a gate, a few miles past Master Cassender’s cabin. You wouldn’t see it unless you knew to look for it; it was little more than a small door in the wall.  One of the hunters had turned the key with too much force, breaking it in the lock.  They couldn’t get it out, and now the gate was unlocked and would remain so until a metal worker arrived from the mansion, which would take days. 

       Only days.  Mariah would need to make her move soon. She felt a pang for Griley, left alone with his misery, swaying and crooning.   

       Current day

       Gabriel’s head pounded rhythmically.  His tongue felt like it was swollen to three times its normal size.  He wasn’t sure whether he needed to throw up again.

       There was worse.  He tried to avoid thinking about what he had seen in the revel hall, but the memory kept pushing its way to his consciousness.  With an oath he sat up and reached for his boots. The room tilted around him but he ignored it.

       His living room was empty.  That wasn’t surprising; he recalled that he had snapped at Rose for hovering over him. Even Animal had buzzed around him like a gnat, demanding that Gabriel recount exactly what had happened.  Only when he was satisfied that Gabriel had not been seriously harmed, and that no one but the slave girl he had shoved away had touched him, did Animal allow his friend to go to sleep.

       Rose had left a glass on the table, filled with the same stuff she had insisted that Gabriel drink while he was answering Animal’s questions.     

       He took a gulp of the mixture.  Too fast; he had to take deep slow breaths to keep from puking it up. 

       When his stomach somewhat calmed he forced himself to sip the rest of the drink.  He rested for a few minutes and then, feeling marginally better, made his way to the door.

       He wondered suddenly where Mariah was.  Then, shrugging, he kept going. 

       In the corridor he ignored both the greetings and the startled looks that were thrown his way.  He hadn’t changed his clothes since the day before, nor combed his hair.  He assumed his face was greenish. 

       When he exited to the lawn the noon sun made his head pound harder than ever.  He stopped halfway to the stables under an oak tree, but continued on when he saw a woman – he couldn’t remember her name, she had come to him once to complain about her thinning hair – walking purposefully towards him.

       He usually visited the stables early in the morning or late in the afternoon, not in the middle of the day.  It was quieter now; most of the horses were pastured or out with their riders or grooms.

       Gabriel stepped into the shade of the third entryway, and sat on a bale of hay against the wall to rest for a moment. 

       He heard Stefan’s low drawl just before the stablemaster came inside with Remarque, who was leading a gray colt.  Gabriel pushed himself to his feet.

       Stefan glanced at him, then did a double take.  “You look like hell,” he said.  “What’s the matter with you?”

       Gabriel sat back down. “Drugged,” he said.  “At the revel last night.”

       Stefan frowned.  “You too?”  At Gabriel’s surprised look, he said, “You weren’t the only one.  Everyone’s talking about it.  The Bearer is investigating.  His deputy will want to speak with you.”  He tilted his head.  “Were you harmed?  Besides the obvious?” 

        “Danced like an idiot, then passed out,” Gabriel said.  What about Mariah?  Had she been drugged as well?  No, he remembered that Animal had told him she had not been.

       Stefan took the colt’s bridle from Remarque and ordered him to fetch some water, then squinted at Gabriel.  “You’re in no condition to hear this,” he said, “but Pegasus has an abscess in her right forehoof.  I had assumed you would want to drain it yourself, but we can have a vet do it.  Either way, she’ll need to rest for a few days.” Gabriel grunted noncommittally. 

       Remarque came back with a waterskin.  Gabriel took it, but put it down rather than drinking from it.  “I’d say she’d like to see you,” Stefan continued, “but you’d probably scare her when you pass out in her stall.  How about I find a runner to help you back to your apartment?”

       Gabriel shook his head.  “I just need a minute,” he said heavily.  “Then I’ll check on her.”  

       A horse and rider came into the stable.  Although it was too bright in the entryway to make out the details, Gabriel recognized the horse from her unusually wide chest; she was a roan mare named Vagabond. The rider had short, flyaway hair; it must be Jordan. 

       She started to dismount, standing up high in her saddle before she swung her leg over.  Gabriel rubbed his eyes and looked again.  There was something odd on the saddle.  A thin rod sticking up about a few inches from the seat.  Gabriel stood and walked over to it.  “What is this?” he said.  He touched it.  It was covered with some kind of gel, and when he pushed on it, it bent.

       “It’s my saddle, Master,” Jordan said.

       “Why does it have a handle?” Gabriel asked. 

       “You don’t want to touch that,” Stefan said. 

       Gabriel looked from Stefan to Jordan to Remarque.  “What is it?” he asked again, confused.

       No one answered him.  He closed his eyes, and saw again Jordan’s silhouette as she rose from the saddle.  The rod was not a handle; she had been sitting on it.  But how?  Why?

       He backed away from the mare in horror.  “Was this inside you?” he asked Jordan, an edge of hysteria in his voice.  “Was it?”  He grabbed her shoulders.  “Was it?” 

       Jordan nodded.  “Yes, Master.  Slave saddles have butt plugs.”

       “No, they don’t!” Gabriel said.  “I’ve ridden with you!” He shook her, trying to get her to make sense.  Realizing what he was doing, he lifted his hands off her and took a step back.

       “She’s always ridden Midnight when she’s with you,” Stefan said calmly.  “He was a mustang brought in by hunters.  Jordan tamed and trained him herself.  A slave saddle would have been too . . . “  He broke off for a minute.  “I didn’t want her using it on him.”

       Gabriel’s mouth hung open.  He backed up until he bumped into the bale of hay, and sat down on it. Then he jumped back up.

       Was this another hallucination?  He didn’t think so.  But he must be misunderstanding. “You use horses to rape slaves in the ass?”  He had trouble forming the words.

       Stefan frowned.  “The stablehands, yes. Sometimes others.”

       “Why?  How could you?”  His voice shook.

       Stefan gave a short, humorless laugh.  “Why, Healer?  The same reason we feed them gruel that keeps them undeveloped until they turn 18.  The same reason that we force them to crave sex but don’t let them choose when to have it, or who to have it with.  The same reason that we keep them under the constant threat of the whip and worse torture.”

       “Why?” Gabriel asked faintly.

       “To control them.”  Stefan glared at Jordan and then at Remarque.  “Look at them.  Beautiful specimens, strong, brave, Riders of the finest horses.  Both of them have been as far as the wall, and then at a snap of my fingers have turned back.”  Remarque stared stolidly ahead.  Jordan blushed and looked down. “Because no matter how fast or how far they ride on their fine horses, they have a stick up their backside to remind them that they are slaves and nothing more.”

       Gabriel recalled that he had punched Animal for doing less to Rose than Stefan was declaring that he did every day to the grooms.  He pulled back his elbow and made a fist.  Stefan saw but made no move.  Instead of striking out, Gabriel sat again on the bale of hay and covered his face with his hands. 

       Comfortable in the apartments he shared with Animal, Rose, and Mariah, and in the routine he had established, he had allowed himself to forget that this land was built on torment; that every slave he passed in the corridor was traveling from one suffering to another with hope only of the occasional and brief respite; that most humans considered it both pleasure and art to cause excruciating pain in others.

       Gabriel had known from his first visit to the stables that Stefan whipped his slaves.  Scarcely a week went by without fresh marks appearing on Jordan’s back. And yet Gabriel had allowed himself to ignore them, to focus only the facts that the stablehands seemed to both respect and like Stefan, and that Stefan, despite his sardonic demeanor, had often revealed that he felt the same about them. 

       Had Gabriel seen the torture saddles but simply not allowed himself to notice?  He tried to concentrate.  Maybe out of the corner of his eye or a blur when he was focused on something else. Yes, if he could have been bothered to turn his head he would have known.

       He had allowed himself to overlook the reality of the stables out of convenience to himself; he needed a place to keep Pegasus.

       His stomach heaved.  He barely managed to twist so that the vomit landed on the hay instead of on himself. When he was empty and spent, he sagged back.

       A moment later Jordan was holding the waterskin to his lips.  He tried to turn his head but did not have the energy.  He took a sip.  “Master,” Jordan said softly.  “If I had a choice I would choose this life.”

       Gabriel swatted her away, causing some of the water to spill.  “You would choose to be tortured?” he rasped.

       Jordan looked to Stefan, who nodded.  She spoke carefully.  “Without the slave saddle I couldn’t have the horses, or the other stable hands.  They are my friends.  I would choose them, yes.”

       Gabriel shook his head weakly.  “If a horse rears, or runs away, you could be torn, even killed.  You would have neither horses nor friends.” 

       “The phallus is safe, I assure you,” Stefan said.  “It’s completely flexible, and it comes off at the hinge with any pressure.”

       Gabriel was struck by a horrible thought.  He grasped  Jordan’s hand. “When you’ve ridden Pegasus, when I couldn’t come to the stables, did you . . . ”  He couldn’t continue.

       “No, Healer.”  Stefan answered for Jordan.  “Out of respect to you, at my order she uses a standard saddle when she rides Pegasus.”

       “Am I supposed to thank  you for that?” Gabriel spat.  And yet he did feel gratitude, and relief.

       Stefan shrugged and turned away.  “Remarque, clean this up,” he said, gesturing towards Gabriel’s spew.  “Jordan, go about your duties.”  Jordan withdrew her hand from Gabriel’s.  She patted him on the shoulder before she turned to take Vagabond’s reins and lead her away.  Stefan was expressionless when he spoke to Gabriel.  “I’ll take you back to your apartment now.  Unless you need a rickshaw.”

       Gabriel lurched to his feet.  “I can get myself back.”

       “No, you can’t,” Stefan said.  “The Bearer would hear of it if I sent you back unattended.  And like Jordan, I’m fond of my situation in life.” 

       He moved towards Gabriel but Gabriel stepped back.  “Don’t touch me!” he hissed.

       Stefan shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  As long as you can stay upright.”

       They made their way slowly out of the stables and towards the mansion.  Gabriel swayed a few times but mustered all his willpower so he would not have to rely on Stefan’s assistance.

       As they entered the path that cut across the lawn, Stefan looked straight ahead as he said, “When I first became a stablemaster I didn’t use slave saddles, and I didn’t whip my grooms.”

       Gabriel did not reply.  He concentrated on putting one foot in front of another.

       “They let the work go.  Disregarded my orders, almost to my face.  Within weeks my stables were a shambles.  They made a fool of me.”

       “So out of revenge you decided to make their life an endless misery?” Gabriel asked, as harshly as he could muster. He overreached himself, and stumbled. 

       Stefan grabbed Gabriel’s arm to stop his fall.  “Don’t you understand, Healer?” he said angrily.  “The horses suffered!”

       Gabriel twisted out of Stefan’s grip.  “I don’t believe you.  Jordan, Remarque, the others, they are dedicated to the animals.”

       Stefan expelled a breath.  “It was a different group of slaves,” he said.  “All except Chafee; he had remained stalwart and obedient.  But the others -- I had ruined them.  I had to send them away.”  Stefan’s voice was suddenly husky.  “Chafee helped me rebuild.  By then I had learned my lesson.”

       “You learned to torture,” Gabriel retorted.  “Congratulations on your achievement.”

       “I did what I had to do,” Stefan said. 

       “No, you didn’t!”  Gabriel was yelling now. People walking on the lawn turned to watch.  “You didn’t have to!  You chose to!”  He pushed Stefan on the shoulders, so weakly that Stefan barely swayed.  “You disgust me.”   

       “Healer, do you require assistance?”  It was one of the Bearer’s retinue.  Crawford was his name, Gabriel recalled.

       Stefan answered for him.  “Yes, the Healer is ill.  He needs help back to his quarters.”  Without waiting for a response from Crawford or a reaction from Gabriel, he turned and walked back towards the stables.   

       Flashback

       At the cabin, Master Cassender attached the long chain to Mariah by a wrist cuff and went to put the horses in the stable.  She shook her lower arm to feel the firmness of the cuff, and tugged on the chain attached to it.  One key, and she would be free. 

       Present day

       Gabriel’s headache and nausea had disappeared by the next day, but he still felt sick.  He dragged himself to the stables, and having no better option allowed Jordan to distract Pegasus as he searched the horse’s hoof for the source of the abscess. Pegasus shivered with relief when the grayish, foul-smelling stuff poured out. 

       Gabriel wrapped the hoof, petted and spoke softly to Pegasus for a few minutes, instructed Jordan to keep the horse in the stall, and left the stables without a word to anyone else. 

       He gave an interview to the Bearer’s deputy who was investigating the spiked punch at the revel.  It didn’t take long for the culprits to be found – a couple of teenage boys who had sought to separate a slavegirl from her doting mistress.  Although they had intended a mere prank, apparently they cried when they realized that it was only through dumb luck that no one had been seriously harmed. 

       As one of the victims Gabriel was asked for input on what their punishment should be.  He had nothing to say on the matter, except for a snarled no when the deputy asked if he would like recompense by having the boys mix his medicinals. 

       They were made to speak to each person affected.  Gabriel accepted their apology solemnly, but in his heart he did not forgive them. It was their drug that had made him know what he could never unknow, and he hated them for it.   

       He followed his schedule, going to the clinic and on his rounds and to the dissection room.  If it was harder for him to summon the energy and compassion needed for the ill, or the patience needed for those who wanted to learn, few seemed to notice.

       Mariah met his depression with seeming apathy.  She went where she was supposed to go and did what she was supposed to do, but initiated no interactions.  That suited Gabriel just fine. 

       Animal and Rose were concerned, but, after Gabriel accused Animal venomously of keeping knowledge of the use of the slave saddles from him and claimed to only half believe him when he denied it, for a time Animal kept a wary distance. 

       When Gabriel’s mood had not lifted a couple of days later, though, Animal confronted him and refused to be put off.  He went so far as to suggest that the effects of the drug had lingered, and the healer himself should seek healing. Gabriel met the first part of Animal’s concern with a bitter smile, but responded to the second with a semblance of normalcy.  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said mildly.  “But maybe I could use a change of pace.”  And so he made plans to visit the west fields to investigate the slaves he had heard about who used needles to cure diseases.

       It was easy to arrange.  Although Gabriel felt a pang about leaving Pegasus in the stables, her hoof still needed aftercare and he could not ride her yet.  He had to trust that Jordan would tend to her properly.  He found coverage for his clinic and told his students that the autopsy lessons would resume when he returned.

       On the morning of his planned departure, Gabriel pushed back his chair from the breakfast table and grabbed the pack he had left leaning against the wall.  “I’ll be back in a few days,” he said. 

       For a moment the only sound in the room was the scraping of the straps of Gabriel’s pack as he adjusted them.  But as he began to walk towards the door Animal asked, “You’re not taking Mariah?”

       Gabriel glanced at her and shrugged.  “She can come or stay, as she pleases.”

       Mariah stiffened, and stared at her plate.  Animal nudged her.  “Go on,” he said.  Her face burning, Mariah followed Gabriel out the door.   

       She lost her breath as she kept up with Gabriel’s long strides.  They neither looked at each other nor spoke as they crossed the mansion towards the distant westernmost exit.  When they came at last to an entrance hall, grander than the one near Gabriel’s apartment, Mariah put her hand out to Gabriel's arm.  "Master,” she began, and faltered. 

       Gabriel slowed.  Mariah scowled as she said, "I didn’t know about the slave saddles, I swear.”

       Gabriel nodded, but he made no other response.  “You believe me?” Mariah asked.  There was an angry challenge in her voice, but, had Gabriel been looking, he would have seen that he eyes were pleading. 

       Again Gabriel nodded.  “Why would you lie about that?” he asked, emphasizing the last word. 

       “I haven’t lied about anything,” Mariah snapped.  Gabriel raised his eyebrows, with a shadow of his usual humor.  “Not to you,” Mariah amended.  “Not about anything important. And when I did lie, you always knew it.”

       Gabriel’s lips twitched into an actual smile, his first in days.  Mariah did not respond in kind, but the pressure lifted somewhat from her chest. 

    Although Gabriel’s smile did not last, his face was less closed than it had been.  He took off his pack and sat down heavily on a bench across from the picture window of the entrance hall.  Not sure what to do, Mariah sat next to him.  “I’ll never forget the first moment I saw you,” Gabriel said, so softly that he could have been speaking to himself.  “You were wild and regal and magnificent.”

       Mariah recalled that Gabriel had said something similar once, a long time ago. “I was a runaway slave, nothing more,” she said.  

       “I saw that in the next moment,” Gabriel responded.  Mariah bowed her head.  “But by then it was too late.  I thought I had already seen into your soul.”  His voice was without warmth.  “All this time I thought that.  All this time I didn’t understand.” 

       “Understand what, Master?” Mariah asked bitterly.  “That I’m not wild or regal or magnificent?” 

       “I didn’t understand that you were playing a mindgame with me.” He laughed humorlessly.  “At first I didn’t know what a mindgame was, so you can’t blame me.” 

       His words hung in the air between them.  At last Mariah said stiffly, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

       “Don’t you?”  Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said,  "I saw you the other morning, after the revel."

       Mariah looked at him blankly.  "Of course, Master.  I helped Master Animal bring you home."

       "Before then.  I saw you giving that man oral sex."

       Mariah nodded, still puzzled.  "I gave a blow job to a master.  That's right."

       Gabriel's eyes bored holes into her.  "You enjoyed it," he said, disgust pouring out of him.

       Mariah nodded again.  "Of course.”  She froze suddenly, Understanding crept onto her face.  “You’re shaming me?” she asked, both incredulous and hurt. 

       Gabriel recoiled, and shook his head.  “No, I . . .”  Then he shrugged, but before he could continue, Mariah’s face changed again.  It was closed, and angry, as closed and angry as Gabriel had felt until a moment ago. 

       “Are you going to tell me you didn’t enjoy fucking Kishamie?” she demanded.

       “Who?” Gabriel asked.

       Mariah stared at him.  “The slave girl you spent the night with.” Gabriel continued to look at her uncomprehendingly.  “The one who Mistress Esmerelda trained to be to your liking!”

       “Her?” Gabriel asked, genuinely confused.  “You think I had sex with her?”

       Mariah bristled at the mindgame and considered not answering.  But she did, furiously, ticking off her reasons on her fingers.  “She was trained to be to your liking.  You spent the night together. You were exhausted the next day.  You told Mistress Esmerelda she had given you one of the best nights of your life, that she was ‘terrific.’” 

       Mariah’s voice dripped with loathing, but to her chagrin, Gabriel snorted. He held up four fingers to match Mariah’s, and bent them down as he responded to each of her points in reverse order.  “I lied to Esmerelda. I was exhausted because I spent hours convincing that dull girl that Esmerelda wanted her to please me and she could please me best by lying to Esmerelda, and then I had to teach her how to lie.”  Mariah looked confused, and then surprised, and then she started to laugh.

       Gabriel wasn’t finished.  “And if Esmerelda had truly wanted to send me someone to my liking, she wouldn’t have sent a simpering kitten.”

       Still laughing, Mariah asked, “What would she have sent, then?”

       “Don’t you know?” Gabriel asked softly.  Mariah shook her head.  “She would have sent a dark-haired green-eyed beauty who scowls more than she smiles.  A woman who would never admit to listening to my lectures, but who could tell me without thinking the ingredients of a tea I would give to someone with a wrenched back.”

       “That’s easy,” Mariah said.  “Ground turmeric root with honey.” Gabriel nodded, and Mariah suddenly understood that he was talking about her. He leaned in closer to her. 

       “A woman who laughs rarely but with commitment,” he continued softly.  “A woman so smart that if her circumstances and her temper allowed she could hope to sit among the wise, but so foolish that she doesn’t know who her friends are.  A woman brave to the point of foolhardiness, but too scared to recognize the truth of her circumstances.” 

       Gabriel’s forehead was almost touching Mariah’s and he bored into her eyes with his look.  Mariah wanted to gasp for breath.  She felt like her ribs had broken again.  Without thinking she reached up to touch Gabriel’s face. 

       But he pulled back with a jolt, and shook his head.  “But not a slave,” he said.  “Not a girl who takes pleasure in her own degradation.”   

       Mariah had to stop herself from crying out.  Instead, after a moment, she said, dully, “I do what I have been trained to do.”

       “I know,” Gabriel spat.  “Just as Jordan has been trained to ride a horse with a rod up her ass.  Just as she would choose that, you choose to enjoy being raped.” 

       The tip of Mariah’s nose slowly turned red, and she blinked her eyes rapidly.  She stared stonily ahead, unmoving. 

       Gabriel had been lost in his own bitterness, but when he glanced over at Mariah he was shocked by the look on her face.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

       “Of course you didn’t,” Mariah snapped.  “You would never mean to hurt someone’s feelings.”  Gabriel started to respond but Mariah was still talking.  “That would be beneath your dignity.  You are good and kind.”  Gabriel shook his head.    “You are good and kind and smug and sanctimonious,” Mariah said.  “You think that because you have choices in your life that slaves have choices in ours.  And maybe we do.  Maybe I could have avoided catching that master’s eye, or directed him back to his own slavegirl.  Maybe I just wanted to feel the touch of someone else for the first time in months.  Maybe I was jealous of Kishamie.” 

       Mariah stood up and faced Gabriel.  He had to force himself to meet her glowering eyes.  “But for you to judge Jordan, for choosing to do what she has to do to work in the stables . . ..”  Mariah seemed momentarily at a loss for words.  “I don’t see her every day as you do,” she said, “but even I know how much she loves the horses and riding them, how she cares for the other stablehands and even for Master Stefan.”  Gabriel shook his head.  Mariah continued, ruthlessly, “You’ve never been faced with a choice between tortures, and you never will be. You will never understand.  You couldn’t live a slave’s life with one tenth the grit that Jordan has.  And yet you pronounce her unworthy!”

       Abruptly Mariah fell to her knees.  “This slave begs permission of her master to return to his apartment.” When Gabriel did not reply, Mariah sprang to her feet, and walked away.  

       Flashback

       In the end, it was easier than Mariah has ever dreamed it would be.

       The idea came to her as she examined her wrist shackle for weakness.  Twisting it too hard, it chafed her skin.  She continued to twist it, ignoring the pain.

       That evening, as Master Cassender lay on top of her, she raised her hands over her head.  When he inevitably put his own hands on her arms, she cried out in pain.  Surprised by such a reaction from her, Master Cassender withdrew. “What’s the matter?” he demanded.

       Mariah crooned in imitation of Griley, and held up her shackled wrist.  With a curse Master Cassender stumbled to his trousers where the key was in the pocket, and unlocked the bond.

       After that it was merely a matter of fucking Master Cassender until he couldn’t move.  The second time Mariah made the smallest of overtures, touching his chest with her hand.  The third time, she dropped her rag act, reaching for him and taking him in her mouth.  Although he was clearly surprised by her initiative, he did not stop her, and when she finished he dropped snoring to the bed.

       Mariah looked at him as he slept and could not feel the familiar hate.  He had not been the worst master, and had never been purposefully cruel. “Thank you,” she whispered, and walked out the door. 

       The half moon provided enough light.  She walked straight to the wall and then turned right and followed it, traveling easily on the hard clay. 

       In the darkness her hearing was more acute.  From the other side of the wall came the sounds of small animals scurrying on fallen leaves, and then a howl; Mariah was not sure whether it was a wolf or a coyote.  She hurried forward.  She had been walking about an hour, but a horse could make the distance in a quarter that time.

       And then the sun was rising.  If the light had not improved Mariah might have walked past the hunters’ gate without seeing it.  It was merely a break in the barbed wire at a strange angle. She pushed, and stepped through, and was free. 

       

       Present Day

       

       It was lucky that Mariah encountered no humans at leisure as she made her way back to Master Gabriel’s apartment, because any master or mistress who saw her defiant, angry face would surely have punished her into humility. 

       She slammed the door to the apartment so hard that one of Master Animal's pictures fell off its hook and slid down the wall.  The bottom of its frame landed on the floor with a thud. 

       Mariah hung it back up. Animal changed the wallhangings frequently and Mariah had not seen, or maybe had just not noticed, this one before.  It was a sketch of Gabriel lying on the couch, his arm thrown over his face, clearly exhausted.  Mariah had seen him in this pose many times, after long days in which masters and mistresses clamored for his attention, for themselves and for their favored slaves.  Even with the coterie of apprentices, they were too much for him. 

       "I don't care!" Mariah said, startling herself with the sound of her voice.  "I hate him," she said more quietly.  She looked at the picture again.  He seemed so alone, and, Mariah realized suddenly, so lonely. 

       Until recently all of Mariah's life had been occupied with survival, and beyond that only rebellion.  And now, alone in a room, a Do Not Molest bracelet on her wrist, her body free of pain or immediate threat of pain, a memory came to her from long ago.  She remembered being carried blindfolded on a horse to the factory, only she didn't know then where she was going.  She had wondered what kind of person she was, and whether she was brave. Life had taught her since then that she was.  As Master Gabriel had pointed out that morning, courage to the point of foolhardiness was one of her chief characteristics. 

       She looked at the picture of Gabriel again, and it suddenly seemed to her that as Master Stefan had once mocked her, her courage was only bravado.  Her life was focused on running away, to nothing.  But Master Gabriel had run to something; to a job to do, to a stranger's life to save.  And every day, when he, a free human, could so easily say no, he said yes, to everyone, to the point of exhaustion. 

       Mariah forced herself to remember her morning meditation; it was Master Gabriel who had turned her over to the hunters.  She visualized herself crossing his path.  She had begged his mercy and he had pretended to give it to her, sending her to a place he had said would be safe.  And then, not trusting him, she had doubled back and been found by the hunters.

       She had doubled back.

       Master Gabriel had meant to send the hunters away from her.  They had found her only because she had doubled back. 

       Mariah’s pulse pounded in her ears.  She stared at the portrait on the wall.  Master Gabriel was a good and kind man. It was cowardice that had made her deny it for so long. 

       He had hurt her that morning, both ignorantly and cruelly.  But he had also made her heart soar.  How could his words have such power over her?  

       “Because I love him,” Mariah said aloud.  With gentle fingers she touched the figure in the picture.  “I love him.”        

       The Western Mansion 

       Gabriel looked after Mariah, aghast, as she retreated down the corridor.  He said, softly, to her retreating figure, "I know Jordan is worthy." 

       He sat on the bench for a long time, lost in thought.  He watched as the mansion came to life at a time of day he once thought only invalids would yet be arising. 

       Slaves scurried by on their errands, some looking fearfully at him and others, mostly those with Do Not Molest bracelets, barely giving him a glance.  Parties of masters and mistresses and their slaves sauntered on their way to some picnic or sporting event.  A slave opened a door Gabriel had not noticed and came out with a cart full of sheets and towels, which he wheeled purposefully in the opposite direction.  A gaggle of children raced past, kicking at a slave three times their age who did not defend himself.  When they went by Gabriel sank lower into his slouch.  After a time he muttered to himself, "I don’t know what it's like, but I will." 

           

       When the hallway was momentarily empty, Gabriel ducked into the door through which the slave had brought sheets and towels.  He found himself in a large closet, lined with neat shelves of bedding, towels, and dishrags on one side and cleaning supplies on the other.  Gabriel took a deep breath.  He removed his medicine pouch and placed it, along with his pack, behind a stack of towels on the top shelf.  He took his boots and trousers off, and his tunic.  The slate floor felt cold on his bare feet as he folded his clothes and put them next to his medicine pouch.  He took a deep breath and pulled his underwear off.  As he moved the towels back in place in front of his belongings, the door behind him opened.

       "You git!"  The slave Gabriel had seen earlier confronted him crossly.  "This is my closet!  You need anything, you ask for it through proper channels, you hear me?"

       "Sorry," Gabriel said.  He started to move past the slave, but was stopped by the man’s strong arm across the doorway.

       "I haven’t seen you in my corridor before," he said.  "Are you new?  Who do you answer to?"

       While Gabriel tried to come up with an answer, the slave looked at him suspiciously.  "You aren’t a runaway, are you?  Because if you are, I'm getting my mistress right now." He turned as if to make good on his threat.

       "No, no," Gabriel said desperately.  "My master's from the central wing.  He came this way this morning with some business in the western fields, and he sent me back to get him some water."

       The slave glared at him.  "There’s no water in this closet, fool.  Get on with you, or I will get my mistress, and she'll give your smooth skin some what-have-you."  Gabriel ducked under the slave’s arm before either of them could change their minds, and walked what he hoped seemed purposefully to the exit door.  A group of masters were coming in and he stepped aside, looking down.  They paid him no mind, and when they passed he went outside onto the stone steps. 

       The sun was bright, and Gabriel wished he had thought to put some aloe on his skin to prevent burning.  He hurried down the steps and into the shade besides them to try to decide what to do.  He had not thought that being naked would make him so self-conscious, especially after all these months surrounded by slaves.  He resisted the urge to cover his penis with his hands.

       "You there!"  Gabriel looked up, startled, into the imperious face of a master who was reaching for his whip.  The man was tall and fit, a little older than Gabriel.  At his side was a mistress, black-haired, blue-eyed, annoyed at the interruption.  "What's your business?" the master demanded of Gabriel.

       Gabriel stammered, "My master...he was thirsty... he sent me to get water, but I..."

       The whip slammed into Gabriel's front, around his arm and into his lower back.  Before Gabriel could react, the master hissed at him, "Don't you look me in the face!"  He raised his whip again.  Instinctively Gabriel raised his arm to defend himself.  He realized his mistake and lowered it, but it was too late. 

       "You dare?" The master sounded more surprised than angry.  He looked over at the woman with him, who shrugged.  "Standard position," he ordered Gabriel.  Gabriel struggled not to hesitate to comply as he raised his hands behind his neck and spread his legs.  Fear started to fill his belly like water, but before he could begin to get it under control the master had kicked him in the stomach with his booted foot.  Gabriel fell to the ground, doubled over.  "Get up," the master said with a deathly calm, but Gabriel didn't hear him.  The master raised his whip again, but before he could strike his consort stopped him.

       "Leo, he is unmarked," she said to him.  She stepped closer to Gabriel's writhing figure.  She turned him over with his foot.  "No scars, nothing...Just the one whipmark you gave him." 

       Gabriel fought to control himself.  He opened his eyes and saw the mistress looking at him almost kindly.  "What is your business?" she asked.  Gabriel thought wildly about telling the truth--that he was just playing a foolish game.  No, he told himself firmly as his wind started to return.  I will see this through to the end.

       "My master," he gasped.  "He’s going to the western fields.  He sent me to get water.  I...got lost." 

       Leo's whip slammed into Gabriel's buttock.  Gabriel gave a short, piercing scream, fire threading through his body.  "Show respect when you speak to Mistress Pria," Leo growled.  Gabriel struggled through the pain to figure out how to do that.  What would Mariah do?  She would spit on them and dare them to punish her some more.  But if she were playing a different game...the one where she cooperates... Gabriel rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled the few feet to the Mistress.  He kissed her shoes.  "Forgive me, mistress," he panted.

       Pria looked him over.  "He doesn't have a do not molest bracelet," she said to Leo. 

       Leo shrugged.  "Wouldn't care if he did," he said.  "I won't have a boy saucing you, love." 

       "Stand up," Pria ordered Gabriel.  Gabriel tried to do so, his body still racked with pain.  He straightened as quickly as he could and put his hands behind his neck, remembering to look at the mistress’s feet.  "He is very healthy," Pria said, looking him over.  "His master must be punishing him, or playing a mindgame."  She stroked her fingernail across Gabriel's nipple.  Gabriel fought to think of something else, but the mistress trailed her hand down slowly across his stomach and abdomen and groin until she was gently stroking his penis. 

       She laughed delightedly.  "He's so tender,” she said, "almost as if he’s unbroken."  She raised her hand on Gabriel's shoulder.  "Look at me," she commanded in a low voice. Gabriel raised his watering eyes to hers.  She petted his jet black hair.  "Who is your master?" she asked him.

       "His name is An...Master Animal," Gabriel answered.  He added quickly, "Mistress." 

       "The painter?"  Pria and Leo exchanged surprised looks.  "I never knew him to keep any slaveboys." 

       Leo shrugged.  "But everyone knows he's a pansy," he said.  "That explains why the boy is unmarked." 

       Pria considered Gabriel for a minute.  "Did he send you out without a bracelet to punish you?"

       "I don't know, mistress," Gabriel said.    

       Someone laughed when he said this, and Gabriel realized for the first time that a small crowd had gathered around in a semi-circle about them.  He did not know how long they had been there.  Pria looked around in annoyance.  "Finders keepers," she said.  She snapped her fingers. 

       When Gabriel didn't move, Leo put a foot in front of him and pushed him, causing him to trip and fall onto his hands and knees.  "Crawl, boy," he growled. 

        

       Gabriel obeyed.  Within a few yards the pain started in the palms of his hands and his knees.  It quickly spread to his wrists and his lower back.  He reached into his mind for numbing techniques.  A whip flashed onto his buttocks.  "Faster," Leo growled.  Gabriel suppressed a groan.  The crawling hurt much more than the whip.  Could it only have been a few hundred feet when they turned to go into the mansion?  He was shaking with the strain.  Pria noticed and laughed.  "Stop," she ordered him.  Gabriel thought she might take pity on him when she stepped in front of him.  But she untwined a ribbon from her hair.  "Open your mouth, dear," she said.  Gabriel obeyed, and Pria put the center of the ribbon in his mouth. She gathered the ends behind his head like they were reins attached to a bit.  Then she sat cross-legged on his back.  "Don't let me fall, there's a good horsey," she said.  "Giddyup." 

       The Central Mansion

       Mariah prowled restlessly around Gabriel’s apartment.  She tried to do her breathing exercises but could not focus.  When the patio door slid open she turned around eagerly, but her face fell.  “Rose, we need to . . .”  Animal began.  Then he saw it was Mariah.  “What are you doing here?  Did Gabriel decide not to go to the western fields after all?”

       “He went without me, Master,” Mariah said.  Animal blinked.  “I haven’t seen Rose.  Can I help you with something?”

       "You?"  Animal snorted.  "I need pigments mixed, not glared at."  He went to the kitchen area and started rummaging through the oversized spice jars Gabriel kept there.

       Mariah followed him.  “What are you looking for, Master?  I know how Master Gabriel organizes his herbs.”

       Animal put down the jar he was holding and looked at her, his eyes narrowed.  "What are you up to?"

       Mariah started to shrug and turn away, but then she met Animal’s eye.  “I want to help," she said.

       "Help a human?"  Animal said.  He crossed his arms.  "Why?"

       "Not help a human," Mariah said.  "Help you.  And . . ."  Her voice faltered.  "I just want . . ."  She coughed a little, and then looked at Animal defiantly.  "I want to be better," she said.

       Animal stared at her, and then softened.  "Oh, dear one,” he said.  "Don't you know that you're spectacular just as you are?"

       Mariah scowled.  "No," she said.  "I'm selfish and mean. I'm no use to anyone."  She stood up tall and said, defiantly, "I'm going to change."

       “That would be a loss to us all,” Animal said. 

       Mariah shrugged and looked down.  Animal could see her taking a deep breath.  When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. Her voice broke.  “I want to be worthy of--”  She stopped.        

       Animal looked at her steadily.  "Of him, you mean?  Of Gabriel?”  Mariah nodded.

      “You never will be,” Animal said. 

     

      Mariah gave out the softest of whimpers, and raised her hand to rub her eyes.  Animal took an almost clean cloth from his pocket and handed to her.  “No more than I’ll ever be worthy of Rose,” he said.  “But they don’t mind.”

       Mariah shook her head.  “Gabriel minds,” she said.  “He said things to me . . . “  She wiped her eyes with Animal’s handkerchief. 

       Comprehension dawned on Animal.  "He told you some hard truths about yourself that you didn’t like to hear.”  Animal grimaced.  “He’s done the same to me.  It hurts.”

       Now Mariah shook her head.  “Not truths,” she said. “Mean things.  Not just about me, about Jordan too.  He was hateful.”

       Animal regarded her.  “You know he hasn’t been himself these last days,” he said, gently.  “If he’s not back to normal by the time he returns from the western fields, I will make him see a healer.  I’ll talk to the Bearer if I have to.”  He picked up a jar from the counter and turned it so that the glass glinted in the sun coming through the window.  Carefully looking down, he asked casually, “Why do you suddenly care what he says?"

       Mariah froze.  She couldn't answer. 

       But Animal rescued her.  "You love him," he said softly.  She nodded.  He tilted his head and looked at her with a peculiar glint in his eyes.  "You realized it when he said mean and hateful things to you?"

       Mariah bristled.  “Of course not!” she said hotly. “I realized it when I looked at your picture.”  Animal raised his eyebrows and looked where Mariah was pointing to his sketch on the wall.  “You captured him,” Mariah said.  “Rose could say how, maybe.  I just know that I looked at what you drew and I saw him and I remembered . . . “  She faltered.  “I realized . . .  I felt . . . “  She trailed off. 

       Animal stared at her, then grinned and bowed.  “Another art connoisseur, under my nose,” he said, mostly to himself.  Louder, he said, “If you’re serious about helping me, find me Gabriel’s stock of yarrow.”   

       THE WESTERN MANSION

   

       The iron collar around Gabriel's neck was attached by a short chain to a ring in the floor, so he could only lift his head a few inches.  Even this act was made difficult by the fact that his hands were cuffed behind him, and his knees held wide by a spreader bar.  He was trying to eat off a plate on the floor. He remembered a time when he had wanted to taste slave gruel and Animal had warned him away.  An innocent time.  Before Mariah.

       Gabriel sobbed, which made some of the gruel, mixed with drool, fall out of his mouth onto the plate.  Nobody noticed.  His master was sitting at his desk tapping pensively with a quill pen on a piece of blank paper.  His mistress was plucking the pubic hairs of their housegirl, Kevra.

       Gabriel couldn't remember what he was doing here.  He had wanted to make some kind of point with Mariah, but what?  And why?  He had saved her life and she had responded by spitting on him.  He had devoted himself to her and she called him a liar.  Well, now he was one, pretending to be a slave.  It was time to end the charade.  He raised his head as high as the chain would allow, and cleared his throat.  "Excuse me," he said.

       THE CENTRAL MANSION

       Mariah spent the afternoon with Rose, helping her to mix pigment.  Later, after dinner in Master Animal’s apartment, Master Animal looked at Mariah awkwardly.  “I give you my true word, Master,” she said.  “I won’t run.”  Animal nodded, and Mariah walked across the courtyard to Master Gabriel’s apartment, feeling suddenly lonely and bereft.

       The next morning Rose invited Mariah to join her in the exercise yard.  Mariah accepted, relieved that she would not have to spend the morning alone. 

       She was surprised when a groom handed her a breast band.  She had never needed one before, but as she started to skip rope next to Rose she was grateful to have it.  She had gained weight and her breasts bounced with each jump.

       

       Within a short time Mariah was winded and covered with sweat.  As she slowed she looked around cautiously for the yard mistress, but the woman was examining the knee of a boy on the other side of the yard. Mariah started and stopped several times while Rose jumped steadily, a little flushed from the exertion but barely breathing heavily.  When they finished, Rose led Mariah over to the weights, where Mariah was able to hold her own. 

       After a stretching session Mariah started to follow Rose to the showers lining a wall of the courtyard.  A groom stopped her. He touched the end of Mariah’s hair and tsked.  "We’ll get you to the front of the rotation today.  Are you new to this wing?”

       One of the other slaves, who Mariah did not recognize, answered for her.  “She’s not new.  She’s Mariah.  She belongs to Master Gabriel.”

       “Really?”  The groom looked at her with new interest, but then turned his attention back to her hair.  “Well, your master may be a vet but I guess he doesn’t know how to fix split ends.  Come find me after your shower.  I’m Ollie.” 

       It had been a long time since Mariah had been properly groomed. When Ollie asked her what her master wanted, Mariah remembered that Gabriel had called her a green-eyed beauty, and smiled foolishly.  Ollie rolled his eyes. 

       He did nothing drastic but he took his time.  As he was putting a coat of clear polish on Mariah’s fingernails, a girl sat in the chair next to hers. Ollie sneered.  “It’s not your day,” he said.  Mariah, surprised by his sharp tone, looked at the girl.  She seemed on the verge of running away, but instead she said in a voice so low Mariah barely heard her, “Will you talk to me?”

       “No!” Ollie said.  “Stop bothering her!”

       Mariah bristled, but before she could say anything the girl whispered, “It’s not up to you.”

       Mariah looked around and saw the yard mistress near the weights, counting down as a group of slaves did pushups.  "She won't mind," the girl said to her, "as long as we don’t make a fuss."  She glanced at Ollie and then away from him. 

       “I’ll talk to you,” Mariah said.

       Ollie shook his head. “I’ll be back to put on a second coat when this is dry,” he said.  “If she bothers you, just kick her away.  She’ll like it.”

       Mariah flushed in anger.  But the girl’s face had turned the same color, and tears filled her eyes.  Taking a deep breath, Mariah put Ollie out of her mind.  

       "What's your name?" she asked the girl.

       "Juicy."  Mariah stared at her.  "Because I'm a slut."

       "You don't have to say that to me," Mariah said. “I’m just a slave.” 

       "I do," Juicy said.  "That's what I have to say whenever anyone asks my name.  My mistress will know if I don't."  She looked down at her hands.

       Mariah was at a loss.  She wished Rose were here, but she spotted her near the massage tables chatting with Raul. 

       "Is it true what they say about you?  That you escaped?"

       Mariah relaxed, relieved to be back on familiar territory.  "Yes," she said.  "I was outside the wall for five hours." For the first time her words sounded hollow to her.

       "What was it like, being free?”

       The eagerness in Juicy’s voice made Mariah pity her. She had talked many times about those hours outside the wall, before the dogs came, but she had never allowed herself to relive them. "At first it was glorious," she said.  "But then . . . ”  She remembered the overwhelming fear she had felt when she realized she was completely alone, with no food, no water, no shelter, no friends. Her heart started to pound, and she gripped the seat of her chair with her hands. 

       “How did you do it?” Juicy whispered.  “Did you have help?”

       Mariah forced herself back to the present.  Was Juicy a spy?  No, it wasn’t possible.  She was beaten down and close to defeated.  This conversation was clearly taking every ounce of energy she had. She had no room for a mindgame.

       Mariah thought about the girl’s question.  For so long she had told herself that it was her own ability to plot and deceive that had allowed her to escape.  But in the exchange, when she first met Master Cassender, Brewster, and other slaves whose names she never learned, had helped her convince him that she was a rag.  Griley had pulled himself from the depths of his despair to give her the information she had needed.  With a pang she wondered if he had been punished for his role in her escape. 

       “I had help,” she said.

       Juicy reached over and grabbed Mariah’s hand convulsively.  “I want to escape.”  Mariah stared at her, hearing the same words she had said to Griley, in the same strangled tone, as if the very words hurt her.

 

       But she shook her head, finally believing what Gabriel had been telling her for so long, what she had seen in the map book she had studied on so many evenings.  “There’s no escape,” she said.  “If you get outside the wall, even if the hunters don’t catch you, there’s no place to go.  You’ll die.” 

       “I want to die,” Juicy said fiercely, forgetting to keep her voice low. 

       “Don’t touch her!”  Ollie came striding over.  Juicy immediately let go of Mariah, and cowered in her chair.  “Your mistress should tie your hands behind your back to keep you from infecting decent folk,” Ollie snarled.

       Mariah stared at him.  “I’m just a slave like her,” she said.  “And so are you.”

       A small group had come over with Ollie.  A boy said, “You’re not like her.  Don’t you know she’s a pain slut?”

       Juicy had sunk down in her chair and covered her face with her hands. The slaves stared down at her.

       All of a sudden Mariah was transported in her memory back to the fields.  It was night and she was approaching a fire where a group of slaves were torturing a rabbit.  Then there had been nothing she could do but break the rabbit’s neck to put it out of its misery. 

       But Juicy was no rabbit.  And Mariah was no longer a young, unbroken slave just learning who she was.  She felt the same righteous anger she had felt then, but something else now: control. 

       She stood up.  She took a moment to center herself, and then looked at Ollie and matched her breathing to his.  The other slaves took a step back, not sure what to expect.

       Without breaking her eye contact with Ollie, Mariah reached down and took Juicy’s hand, pulling her up.  “Have you never been forced to be something you did not choose?” she asked.

       “I was born a slave,” Ollie answered stolidly.  “But I never choose to take pleasure in pain.”

       “Don’t you?” Mariah said. “Because you seem to take pleasure in giving pain to this girl.” 

       “She likes it,” Ollie snarled.

       “No, I don’t!” Juicy pulled away from Mariah’s grip. “I can’t help what my mistress made me!”

       Suddenly the slaves around Juicy and Mariah fell to their knees.  Too late Mariah saw that the yard mistress had approached, her whip in her hand, a mixture of fear and fury in her face.  The mistress grabbed Ollie by the hair with her left hand.  “What is going on here?” she demanded.

       Ollie seemed to be at a loss for words.  Juicy fell to her knees sobbing.  Mariah, the only slave still standing, said, “Forgive me, Mistress.  This is my fault.”

       “No!” Juicy kneeled up beside her.  “It’s mine.  Don’t punish her, Mistress Sue!”

       The yard mistress looked at Juicy with repugnance.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she said.

       And then Ollie was on his feet.  “She didn’t do anything, Mistress.” he said.  “I did.”  Mistress Sue blinked in disbelief.  “I disrespected her.  I won’t do it again, I promise.” 

       “I did too.”  A slave girl stood up.

       “And I.”  A boy this time.

       Soon all the slaves except Juicy were on their feet, taking blame upon themselves.  Mistress Sue stared at them, bewildered and nervous.  She raised for her whip.  Mariah, in a desperate attempt to keep the mistress from punishing any of them, fell to her knees, grabbing Ollie’s hand and bringing him down with her.  The other slaves followed suit, each kneeling before Mistress Sue, eyes lowered, obedient, awaiting her pleasure. 

       Mistress Sue surveyed them, breathing hard.  At last she said, quietly, “Disperse.”  The slaves silently stood.  Ollie went the table where he had left his kit and began putting his tools away.  The others moved towards the exit, Juicy in the middle, protected.  Mariah nodded to herself, satisfied that she had done what she could.  But that wasn’t enough.  The words she had said to Juicy echoed in her head.  Outside the wall there was no place to go. 

 

       THE WESTERN MANSION

       Gabriel couldn't sleep.  They had taken off his chains except for one that manacled his wrist to the floor, and Kevra had given him a blanket.  But the penis-shaped gag that his mistress had forced into his mouth when he started to explain who he was prevented him from getting comfortable, or even from doing his breathing exercises properly.  Every part of his body was in pain, and he needed to pee.  

       The window faced southeast, and he watched scattered clouds turn from dark gray to orange and pink.  The same sunrise they could see in Harmony.  His eyes filled with tears as he realized that due to his own stupidity he was unlikely to ever see his home again. 

       "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Gabriel started.  He hadn't realized that Kevra had sat up on the pallet next to his.  He nodded.  The tears overflowed his eyes.

       Kevra put her arms around him.  "Don't cry," she said softly.  "Everything will be okay." 

       Gabriel sobbed while Kevra held him, crooning softly to him.  At last he was able to catch his breath.  "Thank you," he tried to say, but the gag prevented him.  Kevra smiled and started to speak, but suddenly she pulled away from him and scooted back to her own pallet and pretended to sleep.  Gabriel understood why when, a moment later, the mistress emerged from her bedroom.  She snapped her fingers and Kevra sat up, feigning sleepiness. "Tea, now," she said.  Kevra hurried to the kitchen. 

       His mistress turned to Gabriel.  "Poor darling," she said.  "Couldn't sleep?"  The kindness mindgame, Gabriel thought.  Kevra's humanity towards him had cleared his head.  He reminded himself to pretend to be a slave.  He kneeled before his mistress, then bowed low until his head touched the floor.  "Good boy," she said.  "You are improving already.  Your master would be proud."  She walked behind him, nudging his knees wider open with her foot, and then gently prodding his balls with her foot.  Gabriel made no move and no sound. 

       "Bravo, my dear," Gabriel's master said from the doorway.  "You'll have him trained in no time."  The mistress laughed.  "Shall we remove the gag?" she asked.  "I do prefer to hear them beg." 

       Gabriel's master shrugged.  "Suit yourself," he said.  "I think you have made him understand the consequences of speaking without permission."