by J. Naomi Ay
"There he is," the Father said, opening the door of his great office. A fire burned in his hearth and instantly warmed my bones. There was brandy in cups upon a tray, and other foods, but I knew they were not for me. The Father gazed fondly at the boy as we entered and reached out to touch his beautiful black hair. Senya shirked away. The Father laughed.
"Let me teach you something, child," he said taking Senya's hand from my own and pulling him to the sofa. "You are too stupid to learn books. You are so dumb you cannot even speak. You are obviously of Karut blood and lower than a dog, and this is why your family pays me handsomely to hide their shame. You are beautiful, and because of that you may live, but there is naught you can do in this life save one thing. Meri and I will teach you how to do this and I will reward you. Isn't that right, Meri?"
"Yes milord," I replied even though my heart was trembling. Senya turned his silver gaze upon me and his brow furrowed.
"Come now," the Father said, pulling tightly to Senya's hand. "See what I have here." He opened his robes to reveal his great and ugly manhood and placed Senya's little hand upon it. "Meri, teach the boy what he must do." Senya tried to pull away, but the Father held him fast. "You have one of these too, little Senya." The Father reached for the boy's crotch. "Yours is still small, but if I stroke it the same as you stroke me, we can make it stand tall too."
Senya shook his head frantically and pushed himself away.
"Meri!" The Father ordered. "Make him obey, or I shall beat him."
"No!" I cried. "Please Senya. Do as the Father says." I had been beaten by the Father's belt, and the pain lasted for days. This would all be over in a few moments as the Father was aged and had not the stamina of a younger man. I grasped Senya and pushed him close into the Father's embrace. The Father shoved his hand into the boy's pants, and Senya shrieked like an animal.
"Ah, there it is, and a very nice one too," the Father said. "Come Meri; show him what you can do with mine." I knelt before him and took him in my mouth. "See child, this is what you must learn to do. You will be very popular if you can pleasure as well as Meri. Good Sister Meri."
Senya screeched again and lashed out with his hands. He scratched the Father's face leaving long, deep tracks that seeped with blood. The Father roared. He slapped the boy hard sending him flying across the room. He hit me too though I was only doing my best to pleasure him. I fell down against the floor. Senya scrambled to his feet, and though he was quick, the Father trapped him and pushed him down.
"So you don't like it that way, Karut?" The Father hissed, ripping the trousers off the child. "Maybe you'll like it better this way. Are you pretty like a girl?"
"No," I screamed. "No milord, please don't do that." I threw myself upon the Father's back and pounded at him, but he shoved me away as I was weak and inconsequential. Senya cried and made horrible screeching noises, but I was powerless to help him. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, so I was not witness to this. I called to the Saint, and his Blessed Being shone upon me and compelled me to open my eyes again. My eyes searched the room as if they no longer belonged to me for I could not control where they looked. They seized upon the hearth, the fire burning brightly and the poker which stood immediately to the side. I believed I could grab the poker. I could take it and hit the Father across his back. I could hit his head. I clambered to my feet, but I faltered because I was weak and the Father had fed me and kept me warm and safe all these years. I was ashamed of myself for my weakness. I fell again to my knees, and I wept and prayed to the Saint for strength. As I wept, I saw the poker moving of its own accord, releasing itself from its holder and flying across the room. I saw it dive at the Father, pierce him and I heard him scream in agony as it became lodged in his body. His body collapsed, and blood poured from him. Senya scrambled out from beneath the Father. The silver light shone from his eyes as bright as the fire and for a moment, the face I had cherished since first I held him was unknown to me. For a moment, I saw the devil himself reflected therein and then it was gone, and I saw only my Senya. His was bleeding.
"Go in the washroom there!" I said and pointed to the door. I knelt down beside the Father. His eyes were open and wept as he dribbled blood from between his lips.
"Help me Meri," he pleaded. He could not move. He was impaled upon the fireplace poker which flew across the room as the bottles flew from the warmer years ago when Senya was an infant. I realized now I had no choice. We had to run out into the snow and as far away as possible. I scrambled to the Father's closets, and looked for a cloak to wrap Senya, and something for me, as well. When the boy emerged again from the washroom, I had found pins to hold his trousers together, a heavy fur lined cloak with a hood that hid his face and large fur lined boots that would not be destroyed by his claw like toenails. For myself, I had taken several blankets from the bed and three gold coins that lay upon the table there. I helped Senya with his boots and cloak and then taking his hand, I led him to the door at the rear of the chamber, though the Father with a weak and gasping breath cried for our help
"What are you doing?" I said when the boy loosened his grip from my hand. He hurried back toward the Father, his eyes ablaze with the wicked silver light.
"Help me child," the Father wept.
Senya stood above the Father illuminating him with the light from his eyes. He held out his small fist and then opening his hand, he dropped something. The Father's body erupted in flames.
"Senya!" I screamed as the smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed the room. The boy turned back to me and ran to my side. A moment later we were outside in the bitter cold, stepping upon drifts of snow that turned the night as light as day. There were no busses that ran in these hours so all we could do was walk, my own boots soaking through in short order and Senya tripping awkwardly in the garments far too large for his small body. We walked none the less and when the morning came, the snow still fell, but we were so far away that I felt safe enough to sit upon the steps of a building for a few moments to catch my breath.
"Do you think they will come after us?" I asked the boy.
"No," the boy responded and I was surprised as this was the first word that he had spoken. A man came up the steps just then and looked upon us with disdain. He spat in the snow.
"Are ye here to rent the room?" He said.
I was struck dumb. I looked helplessly at the man.
"Aye," Senya replied.
"Well come on then," the man said and together we followed him into the building. We went up three floors, and he opened a door to a small flat with a kitchen, a toilet and a sitting room. There was an old couch with tears and stuffing coming from it, a chair and small table in the kitchen, and a bathtub that was filthy and would need a good scrubbing.
"Have ye got some coins?" The man asked, and I held out my hand with the three coins. "Three months ye get fer these," he said. "Then I'll expect ‘nother at the start of each month. Dun't be late, or I'll toss the both of ye out on the street."
"Thank you sir," I said. He looked at Senya for a moment and spat on my floor.
"Fucked a Karut, did ye? Spose that's all that would want a lass as ugly as ye." He shut the door behind him.
"We've got a flat," I gasped and collapsed on the sofa. "We're free, Senya!" The boy walked the length of the small room holding out his hand.
"It's warm in here!" I cried joyously. Senya disappeared into the kitchen. "But we have nothing to eat and I have no more money." Senya returned and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" I jumped up and smothered him in my arms. "Don't leave me."
"I'll get ye some food," he said in the Mishnese of the street. I was shocked because he spoke and at the song of his voice. He pulled away from me and left me alone standing there. I watched him go from the window of my flat. His eyes were hard and narrow, thin slits of sliver light. His face was set with a frown, and I thought myself a cruel woman to send this poor child out into the street in search of food because I was too stupid to hold onto my coin. I kne
w what I must do now to retrieve a coin and make more. It was what I was good at or so I had been told. I marched down the stair and to the flat where the name on the door said 'Manager'. I knocked, and the man opened it to see me standing there.
"What do ye want," he sneered as if he knew full and well.
“I need a coin to buy food,” I said.
"Yer an ugly Karut lover," he replied but his door cracked open a few inches more.
"You won't be disappointed," I said. "If you are, you don't have to give me the coin." He smiled, and his teeth were yellow, and several were missing.
"Alright then," he agreed. "Deals a deal."
When Senya returned with his pockets full of coins, I had already set out fresh bread and soup. There was milk for him to drink, but I had not enough money for butter and eggs. He sat and drank the soup, and I asked where his coins came from.
"You didn't get them the same way I did?" I asked fearfully. He shook his head and then showed me with his finger how he could make the coins lift from the table and dance and fly.
"You're magical Senya," I said. "The Saint has blessed you."
He shook his head again, and his eyes flickered.
"Tis a curse." He left me to go sleep in the bathtub wrapped in the Father's fur cloak.
I was pleased because I was warm and my belly was full and for the first time in my life, I had a home that was all my own and a child who was nearly my own to love and care for. But I was fearful too. Senya spoke and though his words were sparse it was clear he was not of small brain but one who has seen and heard far more than his years. He lived with me for perhaps two years more sleeping in the bathtub wrapped in the fur cloak during the winter and on a blanket in the summer. He disappeared during the day or whenever I had a Chester to service, and then he returned at odd hours during the night, sometimes with scratches and bruises, sometimes with blood on his hands. Over time, his absences grew longer and longer until perhaps once a week or less, he returned to sleep in the bathtub. By the time the guardsman came looking for him, he did not stay with me at all. I saw him rarely, and that was only when I baked, and he would come looking for sweet treats or buns.
