“How things have been done in the past is no concern of mine. The Exalted Father has given me charge of this household. Changes will be made as I see fit. None of you know this guest as I do, and the Exalted Father desires that Diego be given the best of care. Redhead Boy is too clumsy at table.”
What? No one had ever complained of my service. Giulietta cast sharp eyes around at us, as if to quash any further dissent. No one said a word. She’d drawn blood on many a common slave.
Avijit raised his hand and questioned her again in a calm voice. “So, you want me to attend the guest during the meal, but not afterward?”
“No, Shardul will go to bed with him.”
“Not both of us?”
“Him alone.”
“Should I take refreshments to the bedchamber?”
“No, no, no! Everything is arranged!
Marco and I snickered. She turned to us. “Once all are finished dining, music and the dancing will begin. After that, the Exalted Father will present Redhead Boy to Diego.” Her pointed gaze landed on me. “You know what is expected of you.” She clapped her hands. Avijit gritted his teeth. “Hurry now, they are coming!”
Marco and I slipped behind the curtain and waited for our cue to enter. I took off my chartreuse silks and handed them off to a slave. My dancing partner and I both wore the usual ornaments and a kind of cloth called a dhoti tucked around our bums to leave something to the guest’s imagination. I wanted to get the whole tawdry thing over with. Even though Marco and I had a laugh improvising the dance, the entire thing chafed more than the damned dhoti. We were temple artists, not strippers in an all-male review. Even if a dance was meant to be erotic in nature, it was tastefully done.
Pulling the curtain aside a bit, I peered out onto the hall. Giulietta waited by the door, greeting Diego when he entered with Kalidasa. She extended a hand for him to kiss. A pomaded, dyed-black head bent down. Straightening up, he stroked a moustache that Dali would envy. His cologne reeked from across the room. Marco was spot on. Diego was repulsive. The Spaniard embraced our mistress and pecked her on both cheeks, fussing over her. Kalidasa waddled to his place, assisted by Sita and Padma. Raj followed, meticulous in Armani eveningwear. My master barely glanced at Sandhya when she bowed to him. His eyes focused on Giulietta.
Avijit stood behind Diego’s chair, bowing as the guest took his place. Diego’s eyes raked over him. The alpha’s pasty hands flew up. Numerous rings and a gold watch caught the light. “Exquisite boy.”
Giulietta threw off a little laugh. “This scrawny one is nothing compared to what I’ve planned for you.”
The creep fondled Avijit right then and there. The adept took it all with grace. After a century and half of being everyone’s bitch, I guessed he’d developed a thick skin. “It’s difficult to believe he could be surpassed,” Diego commented. “Eyes like great dark pools…delicate as a gazelle.”
“You will be pleasantly surprised.” Giulietta smirked and clapped her hands.
Slaves served platter after platter of food and pitchers of wines mixed with warmed blood. From my vantage point behind the curtain, I watched Avijit serve as the loathsome thing flirted with him. I didn’t dare express my disgust to Marco, as it would be heard. In any case, I wouldn’t have had the chance anyway because Diego opened the discussion.
“It’s a pity they aren’t all this compliant.”
Kalidasa smiled on Avijit. “Our adepts are in service to our Mother Kali. They are trained in self-denial and take vows of obedience. Isn’t that so, Little Mongoose?”
Avijit’s words flowed like honey from his lips. “Indeed, Exalted Father. We live to serve.”
The Spaniard raised his eyebrows. “It’s unfortunate that Brovik’s boy wasn’t so schooled. We have a full-scale rat rebellion in America. The authorities have seized Gaius’ compound in Miami on a tip Kurt gave them. If it hadn’t been for Gaius’ connections in the government, we wouldn’t have gotten out and escaped discovery. Gaius believes the rats will strike again unless this problem is snuffed out. We have dogs placed at all of our holdings, and we’re training others to send to New York, where the boy is now holding court.”
Kalidasa smirked. “You don’t really believe the young one is behind it? Philip is more than capable of keeping him in line. Philip plays the part of a fool, but he’s no idiot. He’s a master assassin. Three centuries ago he single-handedly quelled a bloody uprising within his own house.”
“Kurt killed Brovik, I assure you, and then ran off with Ethan’s cast-off to America. That girl, Mia, is a witch. She murdered our man, Dirk.”
“That pretty little thing?” Kalidasa laughed his roly-poly chuckle from down in his shaking belly, like a turbaned Father Christmas. “Killed Gaius’s second?”
Interesting, Kalidasa played ignorant, even after he’d ordered the murder of the rats in Bangkok. I wondered why he took this position. Diego took a deep breath, as if trying to control his impatience with the Chief. “Brovik made the boy bleed her to induce a confession, but she held out. She and Kurt both had a hand in Brovik’s murder. Ethan trained her as an assassin.”
The chief pooh-poohed this. “So he claimed—ridiculous—a female assassin.” Kalidasa went on stuffing his face. Food sprayed out as usual when he spoke. “I had that girl once. She’s clever enough but no threat to anyone. In my opinion, it was a quarrel between Brovik and Ethan that went bad. An unseemly bond existed between those two.”
Diego coughed as if something had gone down the wrong way. “Be that as it may, the rats have made a cult figure out of the boy. They claim he’s been sent to avenge them.”
Raj leaned over to Kalidasa. “The rats call this mysterious leader of theirs, Loki, Exalted Father.” The chief shrugged this off. My master prodded him some more. “The name alludes to the Norse mischief maker who brings about the downfall of their gods. All evidence points to Kurt as this leader. Perhaps this matter warrants your personal investigation?”
The great slug stopped cramming food into his mouth for a moment, but I couldn’t read his face to tell whether he felt threatened. “Diego, you abducted Kurt and held him captive. Did he give you any reason to believe he was leading a rebellion?”
“He steadfastly refused to cooperate with us, even with persuasion,” Diego replied. “All that I know is that when Gaius and I went to meet with business associates in Miami our compound was attacked and Kurt escaped. Also, my boy Arturo was stolen from me. They killed Gaius’ concubine, Lissette, and four of his guards as well. I want my slave back, and Gaius wants the girl and Kurt Eisen as compensation to replace Lissette and the dogs.”
The chief skewered a piece of meat and prepared to stuff it into his mouth. “You want my advice? Forget these slaves. Let Philip deal with them.”
“I want my boy back.”
Kalidasa jabbed a finger his way. “You acted wrongly in abducting Philip’s slave. The Code clearly states that another slave may be taken as restitution if a slave is abducted.”
“We took Kurt to question him about some property that belongs to Gaius. The girl stole this from Dirk when she killed him.”
Kalidasa raised an eyebrow. “What sort of property?”
Diego cleared his throat and fussed with his napkin. It looked to me he was hiding something. “Certain valuables,” he said. “We’ve received no satisfaction from Brovik or Philip in this matter. In any case, Exalted Father, the rats that attacked us to liberate Kurt are organized and armed. This threat cannot be ignored. The poison is rapidly spreading. One hears of uprisings all over the world.”
Kalidasa dropped his jovial demeanor. He surveyed Diego with a calculating eye. I realized then that his Old King Cole thing was just an act. No one held onto power for thousands of years without a certain, cold-bloodedness. “Very well, I will go to New York myself and investigate this matter thoroughly. Now no more talk of this upsetting business. My Lady has planned this banquet in your honor. I understand she has arranged some very special entertainm
ent.”
Giulietta clapped her hands. Sita and Padma took places to play the tabla and flute for Marco and me. The beat of the drum provided hard driving rhythm for the dance that relied much on simulated sex and show of muscle. The guest leaned forward in his chair to see us better. Marco and I panted, bathed in sweat, when we came to a near-climax at the end. I caught Raj’s eyes for a moment as I took my bow. His mouth curled up. I looked away from him. Kalidasa called me to come forward. Prostrating myself before the chief, I rose to give an elegant bow to the guest.
The chief gestured to me with his fork like I was an item on the menu. “Shardul is the newest of our adepts, only weeks since his debut. Does he meet with your approval?” The guest had the presence of mind to close his open mouth and nod. Kalidasa gave a beneficent wave of his hand. “His favor is yours.”
Diego’s eyes traveled over every inch me with a gleam of entitlement. “This is an unparalleled honor, Exalted Father.”
Shields went up inside my head. My consciousness retreated behind them, knowing what my body had in store. After all this time, it didn’t get any easier. Only Li Cheng had been different.
“You’ve never enjoyed the attentions of an adept?”
“No…I understand it is an unforgettable experience.”
Kalidasa chuckled and signaled me to lead him away. “You won’t be disappointed.”
I extended my hand to the guest. He took it into his sweaty palm and followed me out of the banqueting hall, along the corridor to his suite of rooms. Two dark-suited dogs stood guard. Diego gave orders not to be disturbed until daybreak. The guards opened the doors to admit us to one of the finest guest apartments, usually reserved for visiting elders. I turned up the fans and set about making preparations. My adept’s chest stood ready on a table near the wide bed. I moved to set out vials, bottles and toys used in the ritual, turning back the sheets to perfume them.
A little girl, no more than seven or eight in form, had preceded us and was setting out dishes from a tray laden with the guest’s favorite treats. She bowed and stood trembling before Diego. He caressed her cheek and dismissed her with a flick of his hand. The Spaniard took a seat in a large armchair near the bed. I mixed the blood and wine with the hallucinogen.
“Shardul is it?” he said this with a pronounced Castilian lisp.
“Yes, my lord.”
He fiddled with his rings and shirt cuffs, like he didn’t know quite what to do with his hands. “What sort of name is that?”
“It means Tiger, my lord.” We made eye contact for the first time. His held the hungry look I knew so well. He offered me the same sticky smile he gave to the child. “Perfect…” Smoothing down the knees of his trousers, he settled back into the chair. I wondered if his head would leave a grease spot on the brocade.
I motioned to the refreshments on the table, taking care that my sleeve made a graceful sweep. “Shall I serve you, my lord?”
“They say an adept’s every move is poetry.” He tugged playfully at my choga. “I want to see if it’s all true.”
I resisted the urge to slap his hand away and forced a smile. “Would my lord take blood and wine?”
“I only take blood on the hoof.”
That didn’t surprise me. I fought down my disgust. “This is a ceremonial libation to release inhibition. We will drink from the same cup. You’ll find it enhances your pleasure.”
“Then, by all means.” He sat there like the chair was a bloody throne. I poured out the drink into a goblet and presented it to him on bended knee. He accepted it with one hand and stroked my cheekbone with the other. “You move like water over rock. Yet you’re quite young…newly made, I would say.” His tongue moistened his upper lip.
“Nineteen, my lord, and less than a year in the blood.”
“And already so graceful?”
“I’m told I’m gifted, my lord.”
“I am sure you are.” He sipped from the cup and offered some to me. I took the cup and drank a mouthful, wanting the drugs to numb all as soon as possible. Diego’s fingers traveled from my face to throat and underneath my robe, kneading my shoulder. “My pleasures take a different form than those of others. I see that you have brought an assortment of implements…mine are much better. Fetch the case from the wardrobe and set it on the table.”
I hefted the heavy leather case. What on earth did he carry in there? I set it down. Diego rose and opened it with loving hands, taking out metal implements, including what appeared to be antique surgical instruments. Light glinted off the blades. He took them up in his hands to admire them. “You are not the only artist in this room, my pretty one. You’ve heard of the Spanish Inquisition?”
A line from Monty Python went through my head, but this was no laughing matter. I laid on the sweet tone. “My lord, I’m happy to indulge your habits, but my person is consecrated to the Mother.”
“I too once served a jealous deity, but I seldom had the pleasure of working on such…unblemished flesh.” He lifted one of my braids with the knife and whispered into my ear. “Do not fret my Titian-haired beauty. There will be no permanent marks left on that smooth, white skin.” He took up a bulbous, metal contraption in the palm of his hand and held it out for me to see. “This is called The Pear of Anguish. I save this for only the most deserving of subjects. So…take off the loincloth and get onto the bed.”
A sweat broke out on the aforementioned skin. No way was he putting that thing inside me. “My lord…this sort of thing isn’t allowed in the ceremony. Our union celebrates the Mother’s gift of eternal life. You can’t imagine the pleasure her power confers.”
He hauled off and backhanded me across the face. I recoiled from the force. His voice never rose above a whisper. “Heathen rituals mean nothing to me. I prefer my own. Do as I say…or I will tell Kalidasa that you are an assassin in the pay of Loki, and that you made an attempt on my life. He’ll cut that lovely neck in two and suck your goddess’ gift from the stump. Get on with it.”
With shaking hands, I unwrapped the dhoti and sat on the edge of the bed. A slight smile etched the corners of his mouth. “On your belly, spread-eagled.”
I did as he said. He took leather straps from his case and secured my limbs to the bedposts, pulling the bonds tight until I cried out from the pain. Screaming rose in my head. The child inside of me died once more. I chanted the mantra, willing my soul from my body. No such luck. Diego traced the henna on my back with the flat of a cold blade. “This gives me a pattern to follow.”
This one was a complete psycho. And I couldn’t say a word about it. I didn’t scream through the entire thing, biting my lips to stifle my agony. A cup touched my broken mouth. Blood dribbled between my lips and down my throat—not nearly enough to restore me. Diego released the bonds. My head swam from exsanguination. He sat there dabbing my blood off of his ridiculous moustache with a napkin. My hair stuck to the knitting flesh and drying blood on my back. I winced as he pulled it free. He bent down to press his lips to my ear. “Not bad…” He wiggled off one of his many rings from a finger and slipped it onto one of mine. Opening the door, he called for one of his dogs to take me back to the slave quarters.
The brute hefted me over his shoulder like a rolled carpet and bore me away. He dumped me at the harem doors. The dogs standing guard there didn’t acknowledge my condition or offer assistance when they opened the doors to admit me. The bastards hated adepts as much as the rats did. I gritted my teeth and somehow managed to rise to my feet, staggering through the doors where lesser slaves lay in twos and threes, asleep on pallets and mats, cuddled together for comfort, safe from the burning sun soon to rise outside.
I reached for the golden door to the ashram, only to crumple to my knees again swooning and dizzy. With the last of my strength, I inched my way on my belly across the open courtyard to my room. The sky above turned from black to purple to lavender. In another thirty minutes, the rays of the sun would cook my tattered flesh into Bolognese. It seemed like a good idea. I
collapsed against the paving stones. Deep inside of me a voice called my name—only it wasn’t my name.
Shardul!
I lifted my aching head. The sacred spring lay between my room and me. The Goddess stood sentinel above the pool. Her arms beckoned. The waters hastened healing. I pulled myself over and eased in, letting the water bathe my broken skin. It stung and burned, but at least I knew that I was still alive.
Kali’s black face looked down. Her long tongue stuck out as if to taunt me.
I clung with what strength remained to the pool’s stone lip. “Is this what you mean about the tyranny of the flesh?” But she didn’t answer. She remained silent and oblivious as death. “Bitch…” I lost my grasp on the edge of the pool and slipped below the surface, still gazing into her unseeing eyes.
I thrashed, but couldn’t pull myself to the surface. My body sank like a stone. Water filled my throat and nostrils. Consciousness dissipated into an explosion of dots, like colored pixels. My Mum’s voice floated in my head.
Hush a bye, don’t you cry
Go to sleep my little baby
When you wake, you shall have
All the pretty little horses…
The wavering image above me dissolved into golden skin and waves of dark hair. The Mother reached out two arms and pulled me from the water. The avatar’s supple, golden form suggested Parvati, consort of Lord Shiva. An aura of pulsating color surrounded her. I sputtered and coughed the liquid out of my lungs, collapsing into my benefactor’s arms. My head rested against a bosom soft and rounded, not hard and bony.
The Goddess lifted me as if I were a child, bearing me away to my room. She rolled me belly-down onto my bed. My head lay on its side. The hand stroking the wet hair away from my face felt warm. Lips full and red with blood kissed mine. Was this real, or was I hallucinating?
Gentle hands anointed and bandaged my wounds. She pressed her own wrist to my lips to restore me. Blood never tasted so sweet. Warm tears bathed my face as she kissed my mouth again, a sweep of silken hair brushing over my arm. As she drew back, my eyes focused, and her image became clear.
My Fearful Symmetry Page 17