by JM Guillen
I sobbed.
The world grew soft, beautiful. Everything shined.
A lazy smile drifted across my face.
Ten thousand years drifted by.
“Are you better, sweet one?” He caressed my head, his touch so tender I could weep.
Aglow with Rydia’s Blessing, I nestled into him. “Yes, Sire. Thank you.”
He covered me in thick furs, and I rested against his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breath soothed and sang to me.
With the fires of passion cooled, I thought no more about Orin Devariis or his poor, barbarian slave girls. My thoughts of the family Marklus and why they had tried to kill a temple priestess all fled. I cared only for the warmth of my Sire’s arms and the sweet, empty dreams of one who is truly spent.
He held me for the entire night.
7
“Breakfast, Handmaiden.” Brys awoke me with his usual aplomb. I blinked against the sunlight and pushed myself up in bed.
“What time is it, Brys?”
“Morning Bell sounded three hours ago. The Sire bid me to allow your rest.”
I sat up, not even bothering with modesty. Brys had seen much more of me than my breasts and had never batted an eye.
“Thank you, Brys. I’m ravenous.” I reached for the tray of fresh fruit, sweet cream, and a still warm pastry delicately arranged on a glassware plate.
“Ever yours, Handmaiden.” He smiled.
Oh, Goddess. The phypani fruits were sweet and sticky and exactly what I needed. They burst with nectar as I bit. I wiped the sweetness from my chin.
Brys was already leaving when Sire Mattias opened the door.
He was, as usual, all business.
“You have only a few moments, so don’t dally. I’ve spoken to the Headmaiden’s office, and she wants a full report on last night.”
I smiled at him, dabbing cream from the edge of my mouth. “Perhaps now she will listen to your concerns.”
“That’s my hope.” He gave me a foreboding look. “There’s something not right about all this, something I can’t quite point to.”
“Is the Headmaiden upset?” I knew it was possible. My Sire had not exactly asked permission to seek out Devariis. This wasn’t the first time that Sire Mattias had overstepped his authority on a gambit, and it was unlikely to be the last. He had little respect for hierarchy.
“Nothing we can’t handle.” He gave me a soft smile. “Eat your breakfast and get ready. I’ll be back in a moment, and we can go.”
My thoughts swam with possibilities as I finished the sweet cream. Headmaiden Lithia made for an unpredictable priestess. I had seen her be warm and loving, gentle as the summer sky, but then I had seen her be harsh as well, brutal as the tundra snows. Able to sense artifice as if the sweet lie were etched on one’s forehead, she suffered no trifling.
When we reached her door, he smiled at me. “Are you prepared, pet?”
I gave him the bravest smile I could. “Yes, Sire. Where you go, I follow.”
He gave me a rare smile of affection and opened the door.
Thick carpet, shining marble, and rare bronzewood filled Headmaiden Lithia’s opulent rooms. The eastern wall made a bookshelf, filled with all manner of treatises, from books on the human form like Corpus Vulgae to the books on the art of seduction written over a thousand years before like The House of Wind and Flowers. I loved perusing the books on the occasions which I had the opportunity. The Headmaiden was proud of her collection and oftentime sent explorers and gatherers to the far flung reaches of Aelthien simply to gather more.
“Sire Mattias,” the Headmaiden’s voice dripped like warm honey. She sat behind her great desk with balcony windows behind her. This morning the pink and golden sunlight shone through, dancing in her midnight hair.
“Headmaiden.” Sire Mattias took a knee, and I followed suit.
She stood and walked over to him.
“So formal,” her face held a cat’s smile. “Come and sit with me, Sire.” She gestured to a chair in front of her desk. I stayed where I was, kneeling on her plush carpet. I would stay there until bid otherwise or until I collapsed. I had no idea how long the Headmaiden would leave me on my knee, but that didn’t matter. I had sworn to obedience. If the head of my order wished me to kneel on her carpets until daybreak, I would do so.
Headmaiden Lithia settled behind her desk. “Come, have some tea and tell me what your Handmaiden has gotten herself into.”
My eyes widened a bit at her phrasing.
Fortunately, Sire Mattias caught it as well and hurriedly explained, “Keiri hasn’t done anything that wasn’t at my bidding, Headmaiden. I am sorry if I wasn’t clear about that.”
Headmaiden Lithia pursed her lips and reached for her silver teapot. She poured and then pushed the pot to my Sire.
“Perhaps you should be clear now, Sire. Tell me what this is about.”
Sire Mattias took up the teapot.
“I came to you at the beginning of this year, Headmaiden, concerned about some rumors I had heard.”
Lithia inclined her head.
“At the time you told me that the resources of the House were stretched too thin to look into the matter.”
“I remember.” Headmaiden Lithia took a sip. “I remember telling you that this matter wasn’t worth the Houses’ attention.”
“You did.” Sire Mattias’ voice remained cool. “After long meditation, I decided this matter was worthy of my attention. We are taught, after all, that only by taking responsibility can we become strong.”
Lithia’s violet eyes glittered coolly. She waved a hand toward him. “Carry on.”
Sire Mattias watched Devariis for months. He had danced with courtesans and wrested secrets from them. He had played tiles with men who had bought slaves from Devariis. He had attended galas that the man had held and asked Orin himself where he could buy slaves in the city.
My Sire had been meticulous, all for the purpose of discovering if Devariis was selling illegal sex slaves, particularly human-kin, as that was a strong indicator of sorcery, since human-kin were often used in dark rites.
Of course, all evidence now showed that he was trading slaves and practicing sorcery, both grave infractions of the law.
“If you had evidence, why send Keiri? Why risk one of the House’s Handmaidens on such a gamble if you already knew the answer?”
My Sire leaned forward, his hands in his lap. His dark eyes remained serious, thoughtful.
“Words can be mistaken, Headmaiden. By sending Keiri, by asking her to use Rydia’s gifts upon the man, I have solid proof that he is illegally trafficking in flesh and a sorcerer besides. No authority of the temple would question a Handmaiden’s vision, whereas my… theories could be misconstrued or dismissed.”
The room fell quiet for a long moment.
Headmaiden Lithia turned to where I knelt on the ornate crimson carpet. Her violet eyes chilled like ice. “What did you see, Handmaiden? Does your vision back up the Sire’s concerns?”
I nodded. “Everything that Sire Mattias guessed is true, Headmaiden.”
She gestured to a chair, indicating I should join them at the desk. Her voice grew soft.
“What was your vision, Keiri?”
My knees ached slightly, but I did my best to rise graceful. I sat before Lithia and told her everything I’d seen: Orin slicing open a human-kin girl, the strange sigils, and the way he licked at the blood.
I shuddered.
By the time I finished, Lithia’s face had paled. Her hand trembled just the slightest bit as she set down her tea.
“It seems as if you were correct, Mattias.”
He bowed his head to her. “It is not for my glory, but the Lady’s, Headmaiden. Wherever such debauchery exists, the Lady is shamed.”
A long moment passed where we all sat in silence.
Lithia’s eyes remained cool. “I trust you will leave further action to me?”
“I will, Headmaiden.” He smiled. “I hoped yo
u would see that this matter deserves our notice.”
The Headmaiden looked back to me and changed the subject. “I believe you have a Devoted to settle, dear?”
I nodded. “Yes, Headmaiden. I was attacked on the way back to the temple. I had no choice but to claim a man.”
Lithia gave me a level stare. “You should take care. You’ve not had a Devoted yet, have you?”
I shook my head. “No, Headmaiden.”
“You are young yet in the service, I wouldn’t expect you to collect more than one or two in the next few years. They require quite a bit of training and attention.” She gave my Sire a glance. “I worry that Mattias is working you too hard as it is.”
“He takes good care of me, Headmaiden.”
“I’m certain.” She smiled thinly. “Go see to your Devoted. I would have a further word with Sire Mattias on this matter.”
I bowed my head, thanked her, and took my leave of them both without speculating on what she said to Mattias in my absence.
8
I stepped purposefully down the maze of corridors, headed for the quarters of Rydia’s newest Devoted. The unusually large temple grounds sprawled through the heart of the young city. The worship of Rydia had inspired those who first settled Stormhaven. The temple immediately laid claim to as much land as possible, unable to resist the visions of becoming the dominant religion in the area. The founding priestesses’ ambition paid off. The main temple sat prominently in the town center, available for worship whenever the faithful required.
Rydia’s servants didn’t live in the actual sanctuary, as some of the city gossips so often claimed. Our living quarters spread behind and around the main grounds in the interest of privacy. Not all who serve Rydia were viewed with acceptance, and those, like Rand, who had been taken into service forcibly needed some time away from the public view.
The Devoted were a small population that served in the temple proper. Typically they served the Handmaiden that first touched them with Rydia’s power, at least initially.
Like the Sires and the Handmaidens, as the Devoted grew in their training, they expanded their service. They soon professed that they viewed everyone they meet through Rydia’s eyes of love. They claimed that they were in love with Rydia Herself, and they were taught how to see Her beauty and passion in every single person.
Rydia’s Devotion was a sacred calling. Some prepared for it since youth. Then they came to the temple when they felt the call to serve. Most took new names and gave up any family or fortunes for the glory of Rydia. They cooked and cleaned for us. They attended to the mundane tasks of record keeping and balancing the treasury. They watched over us and saw to our every need. The elder Devoted proclaimed that their dedication brought peace and love in such service. Those elder Devoted also helped to teach the newest Devoted.
I required years to understand fully how their every motion was love expressed in physical form.
It was not a glamorous service, but it was truly necessary. At times, Rydia’s service could be a heavy burden to bear alone. Many a Handmaiden had whiled away a night in the company of one of the Devoted, accepting their loyalty. The freedom they provide us could never be offered by others, and as such, it was precious to us.
Our living quarters were built, as any castle keep, to withstand attack. The elder Devoted, stationed in the outmost rooms, provided our first level of defense. Inside their ring, other Devoted provided the second, while the Handmaidens and Sires lived in the center. In all of our temples, the bottommost level remained empty for the newest Devoted’s initial training, while the Headmaiden and her coterie occupied the uppermost levels.
The newest Devoted who had not received Rydia’s calling were often former thieves, rapists, and murderers who attempted to attack a Handmaiden or the temple itself and found that we were not the helpless whores and gigolos they expected. For these, Devotion made for a jarring change. As swift as death, that person was gone. Rand might still have memories of his former life and still speak with his familiar patterns, but the man he was would never be again.
Rand would have begun with the most menial of chores and started learning about Rydia from the elder Devoted through formal training. In his first devotions with me, I would introduce Rand to such basic concepts as the truth of Rydia’s origins, the Cataclysm, and the tenets of Rydia’s following: love, passion, flame.
We would work to rebuild the foundation of Rand’s faith upon the Canticle of Ages as discussed in Caertiin’s History of the Known World and debate the heresies found therein.
Sire Mattias had yet to prepare me for this responsibility as I remained young in my service.
When I arrived at the lowest level of the temple, the woman at the desk was unfamiliar. She had long, dark hair and midnight-blue eyes. She might have been pretty save for the burn scar running down the edge of her face. The woman made no attempt to hide nor emphasize the scar. I approved. Normal standards of beauty tended to lose their meaning past Rydia’s temple doors, a lesson this woman seemed to have learned. She was lovely.
She spoke with someone outside my view as I came around the corner. “I assure you, I am quite correct. Your mistress will sign you in to our service. She will want you to clean her quarters, including the chamber pot. It does not matter if you think this is beneath you or woman’s work nor that you don’t even have a basic understanding of Rydia’s tenets—”
“I just want to hear it from herself! I deserve that much, don’ I? I’ve done what Brys told me, didn’ I? And just on his word. I don’ know you from any other doxie, how’m I to know what I’m to do?” he exploded.
I rounded the corner to find Rand running his hands through his wild hair, his back to me.
“Rand.” I spoke calmly.
He whirled.
“Mistress!” His relief was palpable. He dropped to his knees in front of me and stared, glassy-eyed. “You… You are radiant!”
I realized this was the first time Rand had seen me in a decent state. Last night I’d slipped away from Orin’s manse a tangled mess straight from his bed, and the night’s activities had taken further toll on my appearance. This morning I had prepared myself to see the head of my order. My hair formed a loose garnet pile on my head. The strap on my moss green gown slipped down one shoulder slightly while the color made my eyes appear like emeralds dusted by flakes of gold. The dress molded to my upper body, plunging down in front, and even lower in back. The ends of the silk tie that bound it around my waist fluttered around my ankles.
“Rand. Are you not doing as you were told? What is this confusion I hear?” I asked.
He blinked, dazed. “Wh—what? Confusion?”
I tilted my head to the woman at the desk. “The Devoted here—”
“Teren,” she provided.
“—Teren was trying to get you sorted out to begin your training here, wasn’t she?” I used my stern teaching voice.
“She said you wanted… somethin’ about cleaning, I don’t remember. I—I just needed to see you, Mistress.” One hand stretched out and stopped hesitantly, pawing the air near my thigh.
Teren sighed. “The newest ones are all like this,” she muttered. She cleared her throat and turned to address me. “Handmaiden, I have quite a lot of paperwork and instruction for you. Since you were not here, I was trying to move on to instruct Rand in what might be expected of him when he became belligerent. I don’t think he’s had much experience in the proper treatment of women nor does he have any idea of the effort required to maintain a place of this size in the condition you deserve.”
If that were meant as a barb toward Rand, it completely missed the target. He remained on his knees before me, mouth agape and starry eyed as he gazed at my face. I wasn’t sure he even realized Teren had spoken.
I moved to her desk, ignoring Rand. I had seen this type of behavior before; if he was going to keep it up, I had to know how much forethought he had available. Would he continue to gaze at me from his knees, or would he follo
w to stay at my side and cater to even my unvoiced desires?
I sat, sinking into one of the plush chairs in front of Teren’s desk. She took her seat across from me, and Rand rose to stand at my left hand. I sighed and snuggled in as if after a long day’s hard labor and licked my lips. I did it quickly instead of sensuously, wanting to see if he would pick up on my cues.
He looked around the room a bit and noticed the pitcher of water on Teren’s desk. Swiftly he moved to pour a cup and placed in my hand before I could speak.
I granted him a small swift smile. I had a servant instead of a puppy. Excellent. Now I must turn him back into a human being.
“Teren, you said you had paperwork and instruction for me?”
“Oh, yes, Handmaiden. Rand will be assigned an elder Devoted mentor right away so that he might begin learning to control his behavior around you. He will be prone to fall into a submissive state of mind as long as he is near you, and without special training, he will continue to exhibit the worshipping behavior he was just demonstrating. High stress situations, particularly perceived danger to you, will force him to be more active, of course, but unless he receives the training, immediately, he won’t be of use. If you have a preference of which elder Devoted you would like to issue the training, I will see if that person is available. Most Handmaidens try to keep the same trainer for all their Devoted.” She paused, quill in hand hovering over a stack of parchment expectantly.
I waved her off. “I have no preference, Teren. Rand is my first Devoted.”
She nodded and shuffled her papers. “Very well. I will handle Rand. I see he has been temporarily assigned a room near yours. I’ll clear that and move us down to the bottom floor. Rand will be available to help move your things this afternoon. There. Sign here please. Now, I understand he attacked you, is that correct?”
I blinked at her across the papers she pushed across to me. “Move my things?”
“Yes, of course. Rand won’t be able to tolerate being far away from you for long periods of time. Plus you will be integral in his training, which happens down here on floor one.”