Graham’s heart went out to her in a way that surprised him. He’d always thought of her as a slut. As a bitch. As a dangerous woman who didn’t have feelings. He’d never thought that he’d want to protect her.
She stood suddenly, and Graham darted for the shadows.
Still crying, she turned around and stormed back the way she’d come.
If they saw her last time at Riverbend, then she’s probably picking up where she leaves off each time. But why? What could she think is out here?
He was worried about her, certainly. In her current state a one legged corpse singing Dixie could sneak up on her. But he had been hunting in these halls at least twice in these last few weeks. It wasn’t easy to find any devils here. He trusted that she would be safe.
He also turned about, his fingers trailing along the wall which Molly had been following.
What in Hell is she looking for?
He used the wall to backtrack where she had come from. He knew the area well, and he wasn’t interested in finding secret passages in the stone, so he was able to travel a good bit faster than Molly had been.
What does she know that we don’t? Did Julian somehow give us the slip? Was the boy’s wheat really in here? Or maybe his sinfruit?
Whatever it was, he decided it had to be important. The woman wouldn’t be looking so hard for something this deep into the wilds unless it was worth the risk. Most of the Harpsborough people wouldn’t travel this far out even if they were starving.
After a while, he passed the curve in the river which the Harpsborough people had named Riverbend.
He recognized the next few chambers and shook his head.
There’s nothing out this way.
Or maybe she wasn’t looking for anything at all. Maybe she was just following the wall because it helped her find her way back. Maybe she just wanted to get away from it all.
But then why was she looking so closely for passages or markers in the stone?
It just didn’t add up. He’d report to Mike, of course, and maybe the First Citizen would be able to put two and two together.
I can go just a little farther.
The next few rooms looked very familiar.
I’ve been here recently. But for what?
He jogged along the wall, his heart quickening.
He stopped when he came upon the Golden Door. Suddenly her motivations became clear.
She’s looking for the Infidel Friend.
Arturus had been able to catch a little bit of sleep, but he doubted it had been much more than an hour. The man was still staring at him. Arturus wondered if that was what had awakened him. He had a vague memory of a dream where he was being watched.
Many of the others were sleeping as well.
The door opened.
“Alright, serfs, on your feet,” the soldier ordered.
“I’ve got to shit,” said the staring man.
“That’s where we’re taking you,” the soldier assured him.
“And after that?” asked the trio’s leader.
“Maab.”
Queen Maab lay, reclined in her bathing pool, her breasts protruding through the surface of the water like mountains. Two soldiers stood silently along the back wall, almost disappearing against the dark purple stone. Two of her priestesses sat on a stone bench that was by the pool, the hoods of their satin cloaks thrown back to reveal their sharp and beautiful faces. Two young girls attended her in the pool. They looked to be ten or eleven, and already their eyes were devoid of innocence. A young man was also in the room, perhaps Arturus’ own age, or just slightly younger. He was nude.
The room was lit with a pair of torches and perhaps a hundred candles. Arturus couldn’t imagine even Michael Baker burning so many at one time. The waste of it all shocked him.
Her resources must be endless.
Maab raised one of her slender arms and waved.
The young man responded, coming to her.
“Toband, fetch me the sylvium tea.” Her voice sounded whimsical. “And some more hot water.”
The candles were made, at least in part, with fat, giving the room the odor of a man’s flesh burning. Arturus felt bile come up in the back of his throat.
Maab’s arm returned beneath the water. He fought not to stare at her nudity and averted his eyes. The rest of the slaves were doing no such thing. They looked at her with equal parts fear and lust. Fear, as if she were that Minotaur which she had broken. Lust, as if she were some goddess.
In a way she is.
Arturus shook his head to clear his thoughts. The smell of the candles and the feelings that Maab’s naked flesh stirred within him made the effort useless.
The boy she had called Toband returned, a stone mug on a tray. Behind him were two more naked men, carrying between them a pot of steaming water. Slowly and carefully, they poured it into Maab’s bath. The steam filled the room, drowning out some small part of the candles’ aroma.
Arturus found himself watching Maab as she sat up to drink the tea. Her breasts met the water at her nipples, which were wide, pink, and relaxed. She sipped at her drink, delicately. Arturus looked away again.
The tea’s odor was even more pungent than the candles’. It smelled of rotting mint.
Arturus stood with the other eleven silent and awestruck slaves as Maab continued to bathe. She stood up from the water. Arturus watched the liquid pour down the curves of her body. Watched it flow down from her hair and run across her chest. Watched as her nipples hardened in the cool Carrion air.
He swallowed.
The young girls stood beside her, each with a washcloth. Maab walked up the steps that led into her bathing pool and stood ankle deep in the water.
She’s barely taller than me.
The girls cleaned her gently, paying special attention to her breasts, buttocks and womanhood. Arturus could feel that the slave on his right was shaking. He was stuck shoulder to shoulder with the man, and there was not enough room for him to distance himself without stepping forward or back.
Arturus swallowed again.
The man’s shaking became more violent, and Arturus looked at him in alarm. The slave’s eyes were opened unnaturally wide. Froth was collecting at the corners of his mouth. Around him, the other slaves weren’t fairing much better.
What’s wrong with them?
Maab shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the young girls switched from the washclothes to drying towels. Her legs were long and slender. The hair between them was also blonde, but a slightly darker variety.
Arturus noticed that he was also shaking.
What’s wrong with me?
Maab had been fully dried. Arturus looked forward to the moment where she would put some clothes on, as her body disturbed him deeply. She stepped down from the lip of the bathing pool and walked towards the slaves. At first they flinched back, all except Arturus. Then, finding their courage, they moved back in line, some even being brave enough to step forward.
“So many,” Maab said. “Surely, after taking the bull, I could only want desert.”
They blanched in fear, and those that had been brave enough to move forward stepped back. Arturus tried again to look away from her, but that seemed to be impossible. It was as if she filled the room.
“Still, I’ll want him to last a little while, at least,” she mused, placing a finger on her chin. “Which one of you, do you suppose, is the strongest?”
All the slaves raised their hands. Arturus did too, trying to make sure that he didn’t stand out, but he was a little later than the rest.
“That’s nice.” She smiled. “All of you are. Well, Little Ladies, do you suppose you could take these big men back there and find the toughest of them?”
The young girls nodded.
“Follow the Little Ladies, serfs,” she ordered.
The young girls walked towards one of the exits and the men began to follow. Arturus fell in line.
“Except you.”
Arturus
stopped.
“You can stay here.”
She knows. She knows I don’t belong.
The slaves laughed uncomfortably, perhaps unsure of whether they should be jealous, or if one of their competitors had been eliminated from the lottery. They filed out.
Maab’s deep blue eyes rested on Arturus.
He felt a catch in his throat and fought not to swallow. He failed as she stepped forward and looked him up and down. Maab turned back to her priestesses.
“See to the gathering. Make sure everyone is ready to leave when I’m done.”
They nodded as one, bowing a little as they did so, and left the room. Maab then turned to her soldiers.
“Get Kayla and send her in. You may leave after that.”
They nodded as well, and followed after the priestesses. For the moment, at least, Arturus found himself alone with the Queen.
She walked back to the pool. She crouched down beside it, her knees together, and dipped one finger into the water. She leaned back, sitting along the lip of the stone and let her feet down into the water. “What’s your name?”
Arturus had to fight for his voice. “Turi.”
“Good. Come here, Turi, and wash my feet.”
Her feet?
He began to walk forward. He heard a scream of pain from one of the slaves in the room beyond and then a giggle from one of the young girls. He almost stumbled.
What’s happening to them? What’s happening to me?
“Turi, are you dense?”
Arturus stopped, unsure as to what he had done wrong.
“How are you going to wash my feet without a washcloth?”
He nodded, and walked over to pick up one of the ones that the Little Ladies had discarded.
“Not a dirty one, Turi. One of the fresh ones over there.”
Arturus spied the fresh cloths by a few of the burning candles. He walked over to them. It felt uncomfortable to walk with Maab’s gaze on his back. He looked back towards her, but she wasn’t actually watching. She was holding her foot out of the water and appraising it.
Without looking away she spoke to him again. “There’s a bowl over there too, Turi. Bring it.”
His legs were still shaking.
He picked up the bowl and the washcloth. He moved back towards her. His heart was beating fiercely in his chest. He didn’t know what she was going to do to him, or how, but he was terrified. He dipped the bowl into the water and removed it. He placed the washcloth into the water with both hands, and wrung it.
“Slowly, Turi. You’re going to wash your goddess’ feet. Not the dishes.”
Arturus nodded. He looked for a moment into her eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Beside her, Alice would seem plain. He looked down quickly. His heart was forming feelings that he knew he could not afford.
“Sit, Turi.”
He did so. Some of the water from the bath had spilled out onto the stone floor. He felt the warm liquid soaking through his robe and into his pants. She placed one of her feet on his leg.
“You may begin,” she said.
Arturus nodded. Her toes were well manicured. The nails seemed shiny. She didn’t even have cuticles. Her foot was smooth, devoid of any calluses. He started at the toes. He watched the water drip down between her big and middle toe in a small river that spilled off of her ankle and on to his pants. She stretched her arms, her pointed nipples rising and falling with her movement. He fought to keep his hands steady.
She noticed his shaking and smiled.
He continued washing as best he could, running the rag along the bottom of her foot. He felt the ball of her foot beneath the cloth, which seemed a little dry. He dipped it in the bowl again.
What if I’m doing this wrong?
Would she have him killed? What if she found out he was an outsider? What if she knew already?
“Who is your priestess, Turi?”
Arturus was stunned. He didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know any of their names. Surely he would be discovered. “I have no priestess. There is only you.”
She laughed. “Are you a virgin, Turi?”
Arturus looked down.
“I mean with women of course. I know you serfs sodomize each other. Oh, don’t worry. I’ll not stone you for it. It’s to be expected, I must guess. Men have such terrible appetites.”
Arturus didn’t answer. He began to run the cloth over her heel.
“You are, aren’t you? You’ve never been with a woman.”
Arturus felt shamed.
“I saw you at the ritual. At first I thought you were just fresh. Maybe you are. But then I saw you bull your way through the crowd. Jealousy, it must have been, that propelled you? You are young to be a Kruk, but that’s something to be proud of I suppose. Has your priestess ever recommended you for baptism?”
Arturus shook his head no. He moved the cloth over to the top of her foot and then ran it along her ankle. She lifted the foot away, over his head, and placed it to his left. He found himself staring at her from between her legs. Warmth spread through his groin. There were tears in his eyes.
I want to go home.
She placed her other foot in his lap. He bit his lip and dipped the rag back into the bowl.
I don’t care what happens to me. I just want to go home.
He began again at her toes.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to be sitting next to Alice. I’m supposed to love her. I’m supposed to be able to look into her eyes.
I could love Maab.
But there could be no loving a woman like this. There could be fear. There could be obeisance.
And hatred.
He looked at her again, meeting her eyes.
It struck him that hate was a thing very close to love. So close that he didn’t know if he would be able to tell the difference between the two when one came, or if there even was a difference at all.
“Compliment me,” Maab said.
He had no words. His feelings seemed to block them out. The weight of her expectation fell heavily on his shoulders. He searched desperately for something to say. For the greatest compliment that he had ever heard.
“Speak, Turi.”
He found his voice and looked into her eyes. “Yours is the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Illium. Sweet Maab, make me immortal with a kiss. Suck forth my soul, and see where it flies. Please, give me my soul. Here I will dwell, for heaven is in those lips. All is dross, that is not thee.”
Her slap sounded as a crack. He felt the warmth of it on his face, the sting where her hand had touched him. He felt sad for having somehow insulted such a creature.
“Helen is half mortal, Turi. You may not compare me to her.” Her voice was cool and loving, and she leaned forward, kissing him on his cheek. The warmth there multiplied. His whole face felt warm. “But those are sweet words, Turi. Uttered as they were from the mouth of a damned man, they are quite touching. The first kiss was for the attempt, Turi. Stand, and I will redeem you.”
Arturus stood unsteadily.
She moved down into the pool, onto the first step, so that she was just slightly shorter than he. “Have you ever kissed a girl before?”
Arturus shook his head.
“Relax, Turi. You learn this one by doing. Kiss me.”
He leaned forward slowly, unsure of himself. He felt her wet breasts pushing into the clothing at his chest. He opened his mouth, just a little at first, and then wider from her coaxing. He was unsure of how to move his tongue. He pushed his forward, but she kept it back, and he made sure not to push it so far again. He felt her tongue moving inside his mouth, or rather, he realized, inside the space their mouths created together. He kept pace with her. It was a slow thing, the kiss. And as the motion became second nature, he felt his blood surge. His world had collapsed into that tiny space they shared.
He was breathing heavily, he realized, through his nose. She felt so small beneath h
im. So exquisite. So soft.
The feeling did not last.
She came out of the water and was suddenly taller than him. He had to lean his head back to keep kissing her. His neck felt horribly vulnerable. She seemed stronger than him, too, pushing him back across the stone floor. He hit a stone wall and could go back no farther. She was all about him, protecting him—loving him or hating him. He couldn’t tell which and didn’t care either.
He felt safe. She wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Maab would keep him safe.
She stopped, suddenly, their lips still touching for one last moment, and then drew back.
He was out of breath.
She filled his vision.
Whoever I kiss, ever again. I will always think of her. I will never be rid of her.
Someone else entered the room. Screams of pain were coming from that direction. The slaves there were in terrible agony. More laughter, too, from the Little Ladies. It all seemed so distant.
Maab leaned down and kissed him again. Her touch was so soft, so gentle. He felt like he was a delicate thing in her arms. Of course she had to be gentle. She would break him otherwise. This time she finished by sucking his lower lip.
“Have you been toughened at all?” Maab’s voice was a whisper.
Arturus shook his head, unsure as to what that meant, but harboring a terrible suspicion.
“Not even a little?”
He shook his head again.
“A shame,” she smiled. “I’ll spare you.”
She turned to the person who had entered the room.
“Kayla, I like this one. Mark him as mine and return him to his priestess. Maybe we’ll have him baptized in the next few years.”
The priestess bowed low. “This way, serf.”
Arturus fought not to look back as he followed the dark priestess out of the chamber.
He failed.
Maab was sitting down on the stone bench, looking towards her upraised foot.
Kayla led him down a corridor, passing the room where they had imprisoned him previously. There were two soldiers standing there.
Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) Page 37
