I shuddered, and Cheri noticed my reaction. She looked at what I was gazing at matter-of-factly. "Aye, that be a dreadful one, certain." She looked downcast. "Suze has such a stick, I'll tell you that for nothing. And if she's catching you at nasty touching, it's a cleaning and the spanking right…" she lowered her voice, "… on your pussy."
I gaped, open-mouthed. Truly, no words came to my mind. Cheri, oblivious to my reaction, took the book from me, and turned to another section. She smiled. "I'm always thinking this one's a funny one, though." She showed me an illustration of a woman turned over what appeared to be a shopkeeper's flat counter which opened onto a public street, being punished with a leather strap. Her legs, dangling into the air, were kicked wide apart. Many on-lookers laughed and pointed, although a red-faced man who was clearly the shopkeeper watched the punishment grimly, his brawny arms crossed in front of him; the bride's face was turned towards her angry husband, a mask of pain as her eyes followed the descending strap. A quick glance at the tale told her crime: the wife had thieved a pastry.
I was just opening my mouth, attempting to ask Cheri exactly why she found this particular story "funny," when the door banged opened behind us, and Matron Suze entered with Rohan. His glittering blue eyes found me instantly. "Go outside with Suze, girls," he said to his sisters and Raisa, sparing them not even a glance. Raisa stiffened in outrage, but none of them said a word. Cheri closed the book quickly, and they all hurried away. Within a moment, Han and I were alone.
He grasped me by the arm, not hard but very firmly, and pulled me quickly over to the bench where Marlou and Raisa had been sitting. "What's this you're saying to Suze, lass? That there are little watchers no bigger than a nubbin?"
I had no idea exactly what a nubbin was, but it sounded small. I nodded. "Yes. Actually about the size of a fingernail, to be honest."
"And how it be working?"
I shrugged. If he wanted a technical explanation as to the electronics that made them function, he'd come to the wrong place. "Do you mean how are they built?"
"No." Rohan brushed the question away. "I wasn't thinking you knew how to build them. I mean how can they be seeing them? Above."
I understood his question now. "They're dropped by the hundreds, and then a tech just sits in front of a term and checks the feeds. Most of them fall somewhere useless. In a bucket, or on a road. But sometimes one falls in a place that's useful, like a windowsill. The tech will mark that one, and it will be fed into another term, where someone else watches maybe ten or fifteen feeds."
"Looking for what?"
"Signs of technology." I looked straight at him. "Things like elevators and doors that open by themselves."
"Aye." His jaw clenched as he considered my words. "And what are you thinking are the chances that they've already seen ye?"
I considered the question. I'd been, after my false execution, ensconced below ground for days, then brought out through an elevator and taken directly into a room of the castle. Dressed as all the other young women here, only my short hair differentiated me. It would have taken a remote fallen in a very lucky place, and a tech watching at just the precisely the right moment. Furthermore, since the tech would believe me dead, he would have no reason to watch for me, someone who, in addition, he'd never met or met only briefly once or twice.
The chances of my being spotted at any point were poor, considering that the craft would likely move on in several days. May have already moved on, I amended mentally, adjusting for the time I was unconscious. I saw no reason to give Rohan a less than honest answer. In fact, I quickly saw many advantages to downplaying the danger; the last thing I wanted was to live in a cave for the next few weeks. As appalling as his sisters and Raisa were, at least outside there was sunshine and sweet-smelling air.
I explained my thinking to him, concluding with, "I don't think they've seen me, Lord. It's pretty much a random thing. They think I'm dead, don't they?"
He shrugged his massive shoulders. "The docs don't know if they could tell above that the watchers in your friend's wee head went off. If they know we were trying to take them out, they might wonder if they've been hoaxed."
"If they couldn't see the feeds because we were below ground, I don't see how they could know."
One of his eyebrows went high. "Are ye thinking that, then?" He seemed to genuinely want my opinion.
"Yes. I think I'm safe. As long as I cover my head when I go out of the room, there's no chance they'll see me, if I'm dressed like everyone else." I considered. "One could come in on some clothing, but it's not very likely. Most of the ones that work the best fall on to a windowsill or something outside that's stationary—not moving," I amended, not knowing if he knew that the word meant.
Rohan looked relieved. "Well, it's glad I am to be hearing that, because I was not wanting to have to put you back below. You'll be working there during the day as it is, but the nights you'll be up here." He glanced at me, his face severe. "And a good thing that is, because you've much to learn about being a proper maiden, that's clear."
I turned my face down to the ground, and in spite of myself, my mouth twisted into a pout. Proper maiden, indeed. I rolled my eyes, but was too intimidated by what he'd done to me twice already that day to say anything. Unexpectedly, though, he twisted my face up, his long fingers hard on my chin. "Are ye rolling your eyes at me, Jen Marin?"
"No," I snapped sullenly.
"And a wee liar to boot," he stated matter-of-factly. "Not very bright, are ye lass?"
That got me. I'd always done very well in school, and was considered talented, even gifted in my field. "I have a very high IQ," I asserted.
"Well that may be," Rohan responded. "Whatever that is. But you're not very bright. I'd spank you for lying to me—to say nothing of the sass in your looks—right here and now, save your going to your marking, and they can't be doing it on a fresh spanked bum. 'Course," he looked at me thoughtfully, "I could just be using the linden on your thighs…"
I swallowed hard, again understanding a hard lesson. There was no compromise about behavior here. None. The fact that he'd punished me twice in the last few hours was meaningless. Desperately, I tried to distract him. "But I don't want to be marked."
He appeared to take the bait. "There's no choice, lassie," he stated flatly. "Every female has her Fa's clan mark put on her bum as soon as she comes to her womanhood. If the others here saw ye without it, even a linden couldn't stop the questions, I'm thinking."
"No!" I asserted. "I don't…"
Abruptly, he rose and towered over me, glaring down at me. Suddenly, I thought of what he had just asserted—that I wasn't very bright—and I realized he was correct. I was, in fact, insanely stupid. "There's other places that can be spanked besides your bum, lass. You're going to your marking or no, if I hear one more word o' sass out o' ye, I'll tan your thighs with the linden 'til you're not walking easy." He actually looked genuinely baffled. "Most lasses around here look forward to the marking from the time they're weens. And you, Jen Marin, are having something no lassie's ever had. You can be picking your own mark, since your Fa's not from here. It'll not be handed on, that's true, since your girls will be carrying your husband's mark, but for your whole life you'll have a mark no one else does." He smiled warmly, as if he was offering me a very special treat.
A variety of responses came to the tip of my tongue, all likely to earn me an experience with the oft-mentioned linden, which I now knew for certain was the limber stick which hung only a few feet away from us on the wall. Everything about his comments infuriated me, from his casual assumption that I would have children to his attitude that I should be pleased about being allowed to select what it was that was to be engraved into my backside.
"So." Brusquely, he drew me to my feet. "Fetch your head wrap, girl. We'll not be taking you one foot outside this door without it."
When he saw that I didn't have one, he summoned Suze quickly, who retrieved the strip of cloth and tied it around my head deftly
. There was a small looking glass that hung by the door of the building, and as Rohan and I walked past it, I saw my reflection. Somehow, seeing myself made it all too real… and I almost collapsed at that reality.
I—Jen Marin—was trapped firmly, irrevocably, on a planet that was the most bizarre combination of primitive barbarism and modern technology possible. I was clothed in a white suit and head gear that left my hair modestly covered—like something out of the old Arabic countries on Earth—yet the loose baggy trousers were split totally open along the crotch, allowing complete and immediate access to the most intimate portions of my body, portions of my body that had been spread, probed, and "cleaned" in ways I could never have imagined only days earlier. I still felt the bareness of my shaved sex every time I took a step. And I was being taken, this very instant, to some chamber of horrors where I was to have a mark—a tattoo—permanently emblazoned on my body.
And, if I needed the lesson brought home any more graphically, (which I did not) as we left the suite and went out into the courtyard, just as we stepped into the sunlight, a loud crack met my ears. I squinted briefly—the light was very bright—but all too soon I found the source of the sound. Suze, apparently deciding to leave the indoor chamber to Rohan and me, had picked this moment to administer the promised punishment to Marlou—the punishment that had been delayed earlier when I had revealed to Suze the truth about the small remotes. Rohan grasped my arm, forcing me to pause. Plainly he wanted to watch the discipline of his sister, and wanted me to observe as well.
The large woman was seated squarely on the bench, Marlou turned firmly over her black robed lap. Her trousers were completely gone; she was totally naked from the waist down. Again another crack resounded; Suze, it seemed, had retrieved the flat wooden paddle from the wall when she'd brought me my head wrap, though I hadn't seen her.
Marlou was in the position that had been assumed by the girls we'd seen punished at the school, legs were well apart, and every dusky intimate fold of her body was well-displayed between her thighs. She looked back at Matron Suze, a frightened expression on her face. "Please, Matron, I'm sorry for tale-bearing. I won't do it again."
Matron Suze, however, took no notice of Marlou's pleas, and continued to crack the flat wooden paddle into her plump bottom, turning it rapidly from white, to pink, to red. She wasted no time on scolding or lecture. Again and again, she drew the implement back and brought it down soundly against the upturned cheeks, hard and very very fast. Marlou was stoic through the first eight or ten hard paddles, but before long she began wailing and shrieking, wagging her poor punished cheeks from side to side. Once, when she dared to close her thighs, she was rewarded with a high firm smack, just with the tip of the paddle. It was accompanied by a curt order: "Open yourself." It was the only time Suze spoke during the discipline. The girl complied, but still kicked her legs frantically.
Behind Suze and the screeching Marlou, against the wall, stood Cheri and Raisa, watching with a combination of fear and excitement on their faces. No doubt, they did not expect to be punished, but their expressions showed just a little wariness. I wondered if sometimes Suze simply spanked everyone, for good measure. It seemed as if that might be the case, and this knowledge kept them from fully enjoying the spectacle.
Finally, Suze seemed to decide that Marlou's upturned cheeks were appropriately scarlet. Without a word, she stopped the spanking, set the paddle down next to her, and jerked the girl off her lap. "Against the wall, lass," she ordered. Snuffling and stumbling, Marlou moved over towards the courtyard's wall, where she took the required position, tunic held up. I could hear her whimpers from where I stood. I noticed that when she bent forward, she also turned her toes in, as I had seen the girls do in the hall at the school, and I realized that caused her butt to stick out even further.
Suze rose, and picked up the paddle. "Anyone else hoping for a spanking while I have it out?" she asked, looking at the other two girls severely. Both looked down meekly and shook their heads, the expressions of glee I had noted only seconds earlier now completely gone. It was almost amusing, and Rohan did let out a small snort which I thought might have been a laugh.
Rohan again grabbed my arm and moved us towards the gate of the court. "So you'll be minding Suze now, I'm thinking. She'll not spare you one bit, if it comes to that." There was nothing to say in response. I didn't doubt it at all.
In spite of what I had just seen, as soon as we moved out of site of the red-bottomed Marlou, my thoughts fixed on the marking. Although I did not want to give him the satisfaction, I had to know. "Lord?" I queried tentatively, as I moved along in his wake, trying my best to match his long strides. "Will it hurt? The marking?"
He glanced back at me, as we twisted and turned through the castle's narrow passages. "Is that what's making your tongue a tad too sharp, then? The worry?" He stopped, considering my question. "All lads are marked at sixteen. Are ye knowing that?"
I shook my head. How would I have known that, I wondered, though did not voice the flippant question. "Where?" I asked curiously. "On their? You know."
Rohan looked horrified at the suggestion. "Are ye daft, lass?" He paused a moment. "Though I don't know how it is ye could be knowing," he finished softly. "No, lass, here." Rohan turned to the side, and loosened his trousers, then lifted his loose shirt, exposing his muscular back and shoulder blades. The same intertwined gold rings which I'd seen on Cheri's bare bottom were tattooed onto his right shoulder blade. "And as for it hurting, well, any lad that shed a tear would be a laughing stock, I tell you that for nothing. But out o' the lassies, ye might be hearing a whimper or two. There's a cream they put on… before. It's not bad. Not as bad as a hard spanking, I'm thinking." He started walking again. "So ye best be thinking on what it is your wanting on your bum."
Of course, the obvious answer that I wanted nothing on my "bum" would not be acceptable, so I said nothing. He did not seem to notice my lack of responsiveness… no doubt he assumed I was eagerly selecting my tattoo… and after just another few steps we moved out into the castle's main courtyard and then through the gate. With no words spoken, three young soldiers followed in our wake.
Before, Christy and I had been led through the streets by three soldiers, and while our unusual garb had definitely garnered attention on that occasion, the interest then was nothing compared to what we earned now. On that earlier day, though, most of the glances had been aimed at us, while this day, I may as well have been almost invisible. In my maidens' garb, with my head covered, most people, I assumed, thought that I was one of the princesses.
Many smiled at me in a friendly way, but the fawning bows were saved for Rohan. For the first time, I saw men who did not wear the soldiers' garb. Many wore aprons or a sort of working smock, and as they hurried out of shops with their wives behind carrying children, I could only assume that they were shopkeepers or tradespeople of some sort.
Unwillingly, I recalled the illustration that I had been looked at earlier with Cheri, of the young wife turned over the counter and strapped bare bottomed by her husband while passers-by looked on. I saw many such shopkeepers, many such counters. My first impression of the city, that it was very similar to a medieval town in Europe, was strengthened.
Seeing him among the people of the city, I realized for the first time how much of a prince (or even a king) he really was. He seemed to know many of them by name. I stumbled along behind, barely ahead of the soldiers, wanting to ask him where in the world he was taking me, but I assumed that even if I were one of his sisters, speaking to him in public unless he spoke to me first was a breach of modesty. If I tried to question him, he just might take it into his mind to correct me, and from what I'd seen so far, it seemed that a correction could and would happen… anywhere. Again I recalled the dreadful illustration in the picture book. I kept my mouth shut.
It was not really that much of a problem, actually, as I was very interested in what I was seeing. Now that I knew that the whole city had been built to hide the a
ctivity surrounding the protection and research on the space craft, I understood why everything looked so new. Many of the buildings facing the paved street we were walking on appeared to be shops, but many others seemed simple residences. Numerous times, I saw a walkway that passed between buildings, going to the rear. When I looked down these tunnels, I could often see open courtyards. I was also surprised to see several buildings that simply had to be churches.
At a few minutes brisk walk, we arrived at a large building that looked little different from the shops that surrounded it. Casually, again without instructions being exchanged, the soldiers arranged themselves around the doorway. I wondered at it a little. Rohan was so large and the city seemed so safe, did he really need a bodyguard? Or was it more for show?
We entered the building, to a waiting area. It was not at all ornate, just a few simple benches ranged around a plain room. Three adult women, dressed in bright tunics and trousers, their heads covered with the white clothes, sat on the benches. Each was accompanied by a young girl, all in white, head similarly covered. All the girls looked a bit younger than the age of Rohan's sisters, perhaps sixteen Earth years or so. Even on brief inspection, the girls all looked nervous and just a tad fidgety. Everyone in the room leapt to their feet as soon as they recognized Rohan, and almost immediately, every adult woman's eyes narrowed in curiosity as they saw me.
A black garbed older woman rushed in from behind a curtain. "Lord Rohan."
Rohan favored me with a hard glance. "Mind your manners, lass," he snapped, and walked off with the woman. I sat on the hard bench, with my face cast down. I was the object of intense scrutiny, and I had no desire to meet anyone's eyes. I wondered, just briefly, why Rohan had not sent me with Suze; clearly his presence here was unusual. There was little time for speculation, though, as Rohan emerged almost immediately and gestured for me to follow him. Wordlessly, my stomach rolling sickly, I did.
Betrayed (Hidden Worlds Book 1) Page 17