FIC: Stride
Aug. 25th, 2005 08:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalYoung Maria discovers just how far she can go, with a little help.
Tags: Tez, Maria, Garvin.
Note: PG-13 to R for descriptions of non-erotic nudity, and implied child abuse.
Maria awoke as the pre-dawn light began to flow through the studio window. She was lying on floor, resting on the pile of cushions that Tez had left there the evening before. Tez in turn was lying draped across her lap, face down in a cushion and snoring lightly. Gradually she became aware of the sensation, or lack thereof rather, coming from her toes.
My legs are asleep, she realized. She wondered if there was any conceivable way she could drag herself out from under her elf lover without waking him up. Probably not. Tez had an almost supernatural ability to waken when she needed him in the morning.
“Tez,” she called softly. “Tez, wake up.” The snoring continued unabated. Then again, Maria reflected, she had tortured him unmercifully for quite some time until she’d granted him release, in more ways than one. He still wore the leather cuffs she had bound him in at his wrists and ankles, though she’d removed all of the chains, save for one still dangling from his collar, about a body-length long. She took hold of it and gave a gentle tug. “Tez?”
“Mmph?” Tez raised his head up, blinking sleepily at her. “Oh, good morning, Maria.” He raised himself up off her lap, and crawled with a very un-Tez like lack of dignity until he was curled up parallel to her own naked body. He snuggled up to her and rested his head on her shoulder.
I wonder if elves are part cat?
With Tez’s weight removed, sensation was coming back Maria’s legs, and it wasn’t particularly pleasurable. She whimpered as pins and needles made their prodding way down her thighs, legs, and toes.
“What’s the matter?” Tez asked.
“You were laying across my lap, all night,” Maria gasped.
Tez raised himself up, saying, “Oh, dear. Roll over then.” She did as she was bid, and in a few moments the pain subsided as Tez worked her cramped leg muscles with his fingers. “Better?”
“Much.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, and started rooting through the ocean of cushions on the floor, looking for her clothes. Tez must have taken every pillow and sofa cushion in the house into her studio for last night’s little surprise.
“I can take of that, Maria,” Tez said.
“No, no. You went to all the trouble to out this surprise together by yourself. It’d be churlish of me not to help you clean it up at least.” She pulled her top out from where it had been buried under a paisley throw rug, and skinned it over her head.
“How about after breakfast?” Tez asked.
“If you let me cook,” she countered. She located her skirt, and her slippers. “Now are you going to get dressed?”
Tez picked aside a couple of cushions without much enthusiasm, and finally located his pants. “This is enough for me.”
“Agh, let me at least get those blasted cuffs off of you.” She threw aside several cushions in frustration. “I knew where the keys were last night, I swear I did.”
“The cuffs are fine,” Tez said, pulling his pants on. “Wearing them didn’t bother my sleep any, and I seriously doubt I’ll have any problems with them while I’m awake.”
She waved a finger at him. “That isn’t the point. You are not my slave.”
“Didn’t we have this conversation last night?”
“This is totally different,” she insisted. “Anyway, it’s ridiculous that you’re even wearing that collar. Why can’t you take it off inside the house?”
“Because it would provoke some uncomfortable conversations if you received unexpected visitors suddenly, especially those of the town council variety,” Tez noted. “I am not a free elf yet, at least according to the laws of the capitol.”
Maria fought the urge to throw a pillow at him, and settled for bouncing one off the window frame. “It’s insane. Why I have to send a couriered message to the ruling council, and then have them sit on it for who knows how long, until they see fit to read it and authorize your Document of Manumission is beyond me.”
“’To allow the freeing of slaves by their owners, without the oversight and approval of the state, would invite anarchy, and possible disruption of the natural social order between classes,’” Tez quoted.
“Is that how the law goes?” she asked.
“No, I wrote that, though I suspect whatever is on paper at the capitol is worded similarly,” he said.
“When did you write that?” Maria didn’t try to hide disbelief.
“At a time when I was in a position of power, and was a true horse’s ass,” Tez admitted. “At any rate, I would greatly prefer to wait, rather than be freed by the alternative method.”
“I have no intention of dying just to let you go free,” Maria said. She kept her voice light, denying the whispering truth of, I chose to die for other reasons, in the back of her head.
“Yes, that and you’d have to change your will, if I’m to be freed anyway,” Tez said jokingly. His smile dropped as she remained silent. “Ah?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quickly.
“Maria, if we’re to have a proper, friendly, enjoyable breakfast this morning, I think keeping whatever is bothering you to yourself is not going to help.”
“Don’t start getting pedantic on me again,” Maria said crossly.
Tez lowered his eyes. “As you wish, Mis--“
“Don’t… oh, Death take you! All right, all right. I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale.”
* * *
She raised her head up from her sleeping pad at the foot of Master’s bed, as she heard the old man stir uncomfortably. His breathing quickened from sleep’s gentle rhythms, and she stood up quickly, to be ready should he awaken completely. She stepped carefully, not wishing her shackles to waken Master with their rattling. The longer he slept, the better the chance he might just continue sleeping, and not wake up at all.
Master’s head lolled, and she risked touching him long enough to slip a fresh linen underneath his head, to replace the one now covered in spittle. His breathing had improved in the past twelve hours, to the point where he no longer choked in his sleep, but the stroke he had suffered last week had paralyzed the right half of his body, and he had difficulty keeping food or fluids within his mouth.
She padded on bare feet to the window, and drew back the curtain to look outside. Something was wrong with the sun, it was far too bright for this hour. It isn’t dawn, it’s nearly noon! she realized, trying to quell her rising panic. I’m not ready yet! She had to change, she had to find fresh clothes. She couldn’t appear in her current disheveled state when the priest arrived to…
There was a thunderous knock at the front portico, and she heard a voice call out, “Hullo!” Master stirred again, and she desperately shushed him, before she fled his chamber. She walked as quickly down the stairs as she dared, her shackles rattling. At one point she misjudged her step and brought one leg too far forward, nearly sending herself tumbling before she grabbed the railing to steady herself.
“Hello, is anyone there?” the voice called again, just as she reached the door. She flung it open, just as the figure in front of her was about to slam the door knocker again.
In front of her stood a tall, older man, though not as aged and unhealthy as Master. He was bald, and had liquid grey eyes that matched the robes he wore. A large pewter death’s head hung from a chain around his neck, the mark of a priest of Thanatos, god of Death, and all related matters.
“Oh, hello there,” he greeted, smiling uncertainly at her. “I was just wondering if I had gotten the date wrong, and everyone had gone on holiday or something.”
“Um, no, I was with Master in his chambers. There are no other servants, except for Sinod and his family down the road,” she replied, gasping for breath as she did a quick curtsey.
“Oh, I see.” The priest held out his hand. “The Most Merciful Garvin, at your service. Death’s mercy upon you when it is your time, young lady.”
“Er, thank you,” Maria said. She waved him forward. “Please, come in. If you’ll wait a moment in the sitting room, I will get some refreshments ready.” Guests required refreshments, she reminded herself. Master hadn’t had many guests in the past few years, especially as his various illnesses had overtaken him, and she was rusty on the proper protocol.
“Thank you,” Garvin said, still smiling. There was something odd about the priest’s manner. His gaze was steady, penetrating, but his voice was quite soft, very different from Master’s.
“I won’t be long.” She rattled off, almost tripping over her chains again, to gather a couple of apples from the recent harvest, and a mug of cold cider from the icebox, which she laid on a tray and brought out for Garvin, walking carefully because she must not trip and drop things like the stupid beast she was. Not today of all days.
She managed to make it to where Garvin waited, sitting at a couch in the sitting room, and set the tray down on the table beside him. The priest was looked up her, his expression more troubled now. Maria quickly tried to think of anything she could have done to anger him. He’d just gotten here, she hadn’t had time to make any stupid mistakes. Had she not greeted him with sufficient deference at the door? Perhaps she should have kneeled…
“Young lady…” Garvin began, then cleared his throat uncomfortably and began again. “Young lady, are you aware that you, er, jangle rather loudly?”
“I’m sorry, Most Merciful,” Maria said, her face draining white. She dropped to one knee and bent her head, her eyes beginning to water in instinctive shame and terror. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m sorry I’m such a loud, stupid, clumsy…”
“Young lady!” Garvin interrupted. “I never said you were stupid. Merciful Thanatos, don’t cry.” He touched her underneath the chin, and Maria raised her head to see… she didn’t understand what she was seeing. He looked as upset as she felt, but surely he had no reason to be, for he was human and she was just a stupid, stupid… “Oh, dear,” Garvin mutter, and handed her a linen from the sleeve of his grey robes. She daubed her eyes gratefully.
“Young lady, what is your name?” he asked.
“Maria,” she answered softly.
“Maria, I am not angry with you, nor do I think you are stupid. Why would you think I was?”
“I don’t… I just assumed… I’m sorry…”
Garvin reached down and placed two fingers across her lips. “No more apologies, Maria. Please, could you just answer my original question?”
She swallowed, and wiped her eyes once again before she stood up. “Oh, um, I jangle because, well…” She raised up the hem of her skirt to expose her ankles to him. A metal cuff three inches wide, padded with lambswool and leather so as not to chafe, encircled each of her ankles. Between them, an eighteen-inch length of heavy chain of connected the two bonds.
“What by Death’s Mercy is that for?” Garvin demanded.
Oh, she had made him angry. But I need him, she thought desperately. “I’m sorry, Most Merciful. I walk too fast.”
“You… walk too fast?”
“Yes, yes, I walk too fast, so I run into things and break them, or I thump too much coming up and down the stairs and disturb Master.” She suddenly realized she was babbling again, and bit down hard on her tongue.
“Maria… Maria, even serfs have some rights in the eyes of the law. Your master has no right to bind you like that!”
He was confused about what she was. Well, maybe that wasn’t so bad. “But I’m not a serf, Master Garvin.” She reached up to touch the two small, spiraling horns that emerged from her mass of black, curly hair, and then to the thin silver collar at her neck. “I’m a Beast-Kin, a slave.” Less than a slave, really, for even a human bondsman was the product of the union between Man and Woman, not the mixing of Beasts.
“Oh,” Garvin said in surprise. “Er, I’m sorry. I just those were… some form of odd jewelry, I suppose. You mean they’re real?” He reached out to touch one, then shied back.
“Yes,” she said, blushing furiously. She forced herself to push away her hair, to show him where horn met scalp. His stare wasn’t as awful as the few times Master had taken her to town, for it wasn’t accompanied by whispers or pointing fingers, but it was bad enough.
“Ah, I see. I had heard of such hor--, such things, but I had never thought to see one like yourself in person.” Garvin rubbed his smooth scalp nervously, and glanced down at her shackled feet, covered again by her skirt. Wondering how dangerous and bestial she was, no doubt. She felt her heart, which had lifted briefly at his kinds words, fall once again.
“Maria!” a weak, reedy voice called from the top of the stairs.
“Oh, he’s awake! Please excuse me!” She rushed away from Garvin, climbing up the stairs in awkward half-lope that left her breathless by the time she’d reached the landing. She rushed into Master’s bedchamber to find him awake, and trying to push himself into a sitting position with his one good arm.
“Idiot girl, where were you?” he demanded, his voice slurred as it passed through palsied lips. He gave up on trying to rise and fell back against his pillows.
“I’m sorry Master, there is a caller in the sitting room.” She wrinkled her noise at the smell that greeted her. He’d had a bowel movement in the time she’d been speaking to the Most Merciful Garvin. It was no wonder he had awakened. “Let me help you, Master.”
“Don’t touch me!” There was no strength in the blow that cuffed her head, but she cringed anyway.
“Master, you will get an infection if I don’t change you,” she said, lifting away the sheets. Oh dear, she’d have to change them too, as Master’s emissions had seeped through the breechclout she’d wrapped around his loins. Maria dodged another blow, and lifted his legs, wincing again as he shoved his foot up against one of her horns. He hardly weighed anything, but his struggles made changing him a difficult task.
“May I help?” Garvin asked from the doorway.
“Why are you… you don’t have too… Oh, dear!” Maria stumbled, trying to turn in two directions at once as Master squirmed out of her grip, dropping heavily onto the bed.
“It isn’t any bother, and it looks like you could use an extra pair of hands,” Garvin said firmly, stepping into the room.
“Oh, please.” She took a firm hold of Master’s legs and lifted him up bodily, allowing Garvin to wisk away the soiled breechclout and dump it into the nearby bucket of water. From a second bucket he removed clean, wet linens, which he used to clean Master’s private areas, and then dumped them, and the dirty sheets into the offal bucket. From there it was a simply matter to slip clean sheets under Master’s body, and wrap a fresh breechclout around him. By the time they were, the effort of his struggles had left Master half-conscious on the bed, staring at Garvin in silent confusion. “Thank you,” Maria said.
“It was no real trouble. I’d often provided such help when I was a novice in the House of Final Succor,” Garvin said. “Has he been like this for very long?
“The palsy came but a week ago,” Maria said, washing her hands in the bowl on the dresser. “But he’s been bed bound since his lungs weakened some three months ago. The physician from town said it was a side effect from the alchemicals Master worked with, mercury and lead and such. Though honestly, he’s been… fading, I suppose you could say, for longer than that, perhaps as much as three years.”
“And you take care of this whole house by yourself?”
Maria shrugged. “It’s not that hard. Most every room is enchanted so there’s no dust and the floors clean themselves. The worst part is mucking out the stables.” She made a face. “There isn’t anything enchanted there.”
“I see.” Garvin made an awkward smile. “I hope he at least lets out of those chains for that at least.”
Her face flushed “Er, no.” At Garvin’s shocked look she added quickly. “I mean I don’t wear them constantly…”
“Oh good,” the priest said with relief.
“He lets me take them off once a month, to clean underneath, if I’m in my cell.”
“Oh.” Garvin blinked. “You mean you have to wear those horrible things all the time?”
She swallowed, feeling terribly self-conscious. “It’s not that bad. I mean, I would have to if I weren’t so clumsy and loud. I’ve been doing better, really, he doesn’t make me wear the hand irons anymore…”
“Hand irons?!” Garvin shouted. Maria cringed, and Master stirred in his bed, mumbling something as he stared at them both. The priest grabbed her arm and physically dragged her out of Master’s room.
It’s never going to work now. He’ll never believe me.
“How long has he been making you wear those horrid things, exactly?”
Horrid? “Er, for the past… eight…? No, only seven years, not quite eight.” She rubbed her wrists nervously, and then stopped when they drew Garvin’s attention to the old, fading scars that were putting up a final resistance to the healing salve she’d rubbed assiduously into them for the past several months. “I haven’t had to wear the hand irons or the belt for almost two years now.”
“Belt?”
“Um, sometimes Master would make me wear the belt and lock the irons to it for a few days, if I’d recently broken something. Or had spoken out of turn…” She was babbling again. “It wasn’t that bad. If I was wearing it, that meant I wouldn’t be expected to do all my chores.” She smiled in reassurance.
It wasn’t helping. Garvin had clenched his fists and was starting to shake, in an expression of barely contained rage that Maria was all too familiar with. She started to kneel down, and waited for the blow.
Garvin’s hands caught her shoulders, and dragged her back up to a standing position. He took a deep breath, and the anger visibly faded from his face. “Maria, how old are you?”
She blinked at the change in question. “It will be fifteen years since Master put the breath of life within me, in two months.”
“Not yet even fifteen. Most Merciful, that is nearly half your life.” He took another breath, and released her shoulders. He straightened his spine. “I am sorry, Maria, to have come here and wasted your Master’s time. Please give my apologies to him. I fear, what ever mercy he wants from the Most Merciful Thanatos, he will simply have to wait for it. Quite possibly for a very long time. Good day to you, young lady. I’ll show myself out.” He turned to go.
Oh no, this was all going wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He couldn’t just leave. “Most Merciful Garvin, please don’t go!” She tried to run forward, grabbing at him, and tripped over her leg irons, falling to the floor and landing on her arms. “Please!”
Garvin stopped, and came back to help her up. “I’m sorry, Maria. I know your master will be angry, possibly with you, but I have… other duties to attend to. Thanatos’ mercy upon you, child.” He touched her forehead briefly in blessing, and turned to go once again.
“Most Merciful Garvin, you can’t go! I… Master needs you to attend upon his will!”
Garvin stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Will?” he asked.
“Will, yes, Master’s will. That’s why he summoned you here. He’s made changes, and needs the seal of the Temple of Thanatos upon it to verify them.”
The priest looked her over, his expression unreadable. “Really?”
“Yes, yes, please let me show you.” She dared to take hold of his sleeve and led him back down the stairs (slowly, so she wouldn’t trip herself again) and into Master’s study. Garvin examined the framed charcoal drawings on the walls as she opened Master’s desk and bought out the thick portfolio.
“Odd, I hadn’t thought him to be the artistic sort,” Garvin said mildly. At least he wasn’t angry with her anymore. Indeed, his expression seemed very… well, Maria wasn’t sure what it was, but at least it wasn’t angry.
“Oh, those are mine,” Maria said, daring to smile a little.
“You drew them?”
“Yes. Master let me play with his writing materials before… when I was younger. He always told me how pretty they were. I’ve been getting a lot of practice more recently since my hands haven’t been so, um, cramped.” She opened the portfolio. “Here is the new will.”
Garvin looked it over, making little hm noises to himself. Maria clasped her hands behind her back, the better to keep them from shaking, and tried to will her breathing into something less than panicked gasps. Garvin’s next words would either be her salvation or her death.
“So, he’s giving… everything… to you,” the priest said slowly. “The house, the lands, all of it. Along with the usual deathbed manumission for slaves, allowed by the state.”
“Um, yes,” Maria said. Believe me, please. “It was surprising to me too. But I suppose he’s outlived whatever family he’s had, and I’ve been the only one near him for years and years.” She clamped her mouth shut before she started babbling again.
Garvin held up one of the sheets of parchment to the light streaming through the window. “Very neat handwriting he has, for someone who has been declining for… three years, was it?” he said mildly.
“He dictated it to me”
“I see,” Garvin said. He set the parchment down. “You do understand that the signature page is no good?”
“What?” Maria said. “But, but his signature is right there!”
Garvin nodded, his expression unreadable again. “Yes, but it’s not legal in the eyes of the law if it is not witnessed by a Priest of Thanatos. You can’t just expect me to place my temple’s seal on a will, not knowing whether it was truly written by the person or not. We’ll just have to create a new page.”
“But… but…” A new page. Which Master was going to have to sign. Himself.
I’m dead. I should just hand Garvin the rope now. Death priests officiate executions as well after all.
Garvin took out a fresh piece of paper, and quickly wrote up the proper form for the pre-deceased to sign. “Now then, you put your signature here, to indicate you were the one that actually wrote it.” He pointed to one line, and Maria placed her mark there. “Now, let’s see about your master. Could you bring the inkwell and quill, along with the wax jack, please?”
She followed him slowly upstairs, wondering if she should try to run. If she tripped fell back and broke her neck, it would ever so simplify things. She followed Garvin into Master’s bedchamber. Master was still asleep, breathing heavily.
He’s asleep, he’s asleep. Surely Garvin would not be so rude as to try and…
“Hello, good sir!” Garvin called out cheerfully. “Please wake up! Maria here has brought your new will to sign!”
Master stirred in his bed, and opened rheumy eyes to stare up at Garvin in confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but only gargled and choked on his spit.
“Oh, let me clean that up for you, sir,” Garvin said, sounding cheerful to the point of manic. He wiped Master’s face with the sleeve of his robe, and then held out the signature page to the enfeebled man to sign. Master, of course, did not move.
“Oh, of course, your palsy has crippled your right hand,” Garvin noted. “No matter, the left will do just as well.” Then the priest reached over, and took hold of Master’s hand.
“Maria, the quill please?” Garvin asked politely. She handed it over with fingers that were surely trembling as badly as Master’s were. The priest then set the quill in Master’s hand, clamping it tight with his own fingers, and guided it over to the signature page, drawing out a rough scrawl of Master’s name. “There, now to just add my own signature.” He did so, and then slipped the paper into the portfolio, sealing shut with the wax jack, and then impressing it with the Seal of Thanatos carved on the underside of his pewter death’s head. “Done! I’ll just place the new will in the Temple’s files, and when the Most Merciful comes for your master, it will be there to be opened.”
“But, but… the signature!” Maria cried out.
“Written in his left hand, I know,” Garvin said. “It happens more often than you might think, when the aged or sick wait until the last minute to create or alter their wills. Not to worry though. So long as a Priest of Thanatos is there when the signature is placed, it really doesn’t matter which hand the signer uses.” He smiled down on her, then leaned over to whisper in her ear, “And there are ever so fewer questions asked, when the will is read.”
* * *
Maria’s rambling narrative had gone on for an hour, to finish in the kitchen, where Tez had cooked a passable egg toast, smothered in syrup, for them both.
“So, that’s it really,” she finally finished. “I sit here before you, a freewoman, and a landowner, only because I corrupted a priest of Thanatos to my cause.”
“I’m not sure you could call it ‘corruption’, when it’s plainly obvious that Garvin plunged headlong into your little plan without a hint of invitation on your part.,” Tez noted, leaning up against the countertop and smiling broadly. He was still half naked, wearing only his pants, plus his collar and leather cuffs, having given up trying to find the keys and a shirt in favor getting food.
“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” she snapped. “Death is supposed to be a neutral force in the world, as are its priests. Garvin flat out lied on my behalf. If the lie is ever discovered, he’ll be stripped of his office and me of my lands and freedom.”
He shrugged. “Well, given that your conspiracy consists of two people, three now counting me, I don’t think it’s ever going to come to light. And forgive me for toppling your illusions, but I seriously doubt that this is the first time that a Death Priest has abused the powers of his office for a parishioner’s gain in the Temple’s history. Plus, divine wrath doesn’t appear to be much of a concern either, given that you were granted, and Garvin witnessed, a genuine death miracle later on.”
“True,” she admitted.
“It’s just as well you had Garvin backing you though. I assume the town burghers were predictably upset when they lost the opportunity to seize your late master’s lands for themselves?”
“Moderately, but I made sure that Master had left the town a few generous gifts for local improvements, of the town and the burghers’ pockets.”
Tez nodded. “Very wise of you. So how long were you forced to wait until your late and unlamented master finally shuffled off from his mortal coil?”
“Two more long months…” she said.
* * *
“…and so signed by his hand, and witnessed by the Most Merciful Garvin, of the Temple of Thanatos,” the solicitor concluded. Maria, Garvin, and a few of the town’s burghers were all gathered in the dining room of Master’s manor house-- of my manor house, Maria thought with wonder, to listen to will being read. The burghers were frowning uncomfortably, but none questioned the will’s veracity. None would dare, not with Garvin standing there tall as a scarecrow, smiling cheerfully down at them all.
“It’s done,” Maria breathed, as the burghers and the solicitor shuffled out. The solicitor with the will, and the burghers with the little piles of silvers they had come to collect.
“Almost done,” Garvin said. “I saved the best for last.” He led her outside, to the gardens in the back of the manor, the noonday sun warming everything around them.
“What’s left?” Maria asked.
“Your freedom, child,” Garvin said gently.
“Oh,” she said stupidly, touching the silver collar still locked to her throat, “of course.”
“I suspect you’ve born your burdens for so long, you hardly notice them,” Garvin said. “But I certainly did. And with your permission, I will remove them from you.” He took out a key ring from the folds of his robes, and Maria willingly bent her neck to allow him to remove her collar. Then he knelt at her feet, and she heard the quiet click as the locks to her shackles were opened and fell away. “How does it feel?” he asked.
She lifted her leg up, feeling as if it was going to float away. “I’m not sure.”
“Take a step forward,” Garvin said. She did, stumbling, and would have fallen if the priest had not been there to catch her.
“Something’s wrong! I can’t walk!” Maria cried out. Was it some enchantment of the leg irons? A final curse to prevent a slave from escaping?
“It’s all right, Maria! You remember walking with freedom, but your body has been denied it for so long it’s forgotten,” Garvin said. “Take hold of my arm and try again.”
She did, and stumbled again. Then again, and again. By the tenth step, however, she was managing a moderate shuffle without fear of falling.
“Now step forward a little more,” Garvin said.
“But I am!”
“Your stride is only going as far forward as your chains formerly allowed,” Garvin explained. “Try for longer.”
She did, and stumbled, but caught herself before Garvin could reach for her. She walked further, each step a little larger.
By the time she reached the garden gate, she was running…
The End
Tags: Tez, Maria, Garvin.
Note: PG-13 to R for descriptions of non-erotic nudity, and implied child abuse.
Maria awoke as the pre-dawn light began to flow through the studio window. She was lying on floor, resting on the pile of cushions that Tez had left there the evening before. Tez in turn was lying draped across her lap, face down in a cushion and snoring lightly. Gradually she became aware of the sensation, or lack thereof rather, coming from her toes.
My legs are asleep, she realized. She wondered if there was any conceivable way she could drag herself out from under her elf lover without waking him up. Probably not. Tez had an almost supernatural ability to waken when she needed him in the morning.
“Tez,” she called softly. “Tez, wake up.” The snoring continued unabated. Then again, Maria reflected, she had tortured him unmercifully for quite some time until she’d granted him release, in more ways than one. He still wore the leather cuffs she had bound him in at his wrists and ankles, though she’d removed all of the chains, save for one still dangling from his collar, about a body-length long. She took hold of it and gave a gentle tug. “Tez?”
“Mmph?” Tez raised his head up, blinking sleepily at her. “Oh, good morning, Maria.” He raised himself up off her lap, and crawled with a very un-Tez like lack of dignity until he was curled up parallel to her own naked body. He snuggled up to her and rested his head on her shoulder.
I wonder if elves are part cat?
With Tez’s weight removed, sensation was coming back Maria’s legs, and it wasn’t particularly pleasurable. She whimpered as pins and needles made their prodding way down her thighs, legs, and toes.
“What’s the matter?” Tez asked.
“You were laying across my lap, all night,” Maria gasped.
Tez raised himself up, saying, “Oh, dear. Roll over then.” She did as she was bid, and in a few moments the pain subsided as Tez worked her cramped leg muscles with his fingers. “Better?”
“Much.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, and started rooting through the ocean of cushions on the floor, looking for her clothes. Tez must have taken every pillow and sofa cushion in the house into her studio for last night’s little surprise.
“I can take of that, Maria,” Tez said.
“No, no. You went to all the trouble to out this surprise together by yourself. It’d be churlish of me not to help you clean it up at least.” She pulled her top out from where it had been buried under a paisley throw rug, and skinned it over her head.
“How about after breakfast?” Tez asked.
“If you let me cook,” she countered. She located her skirt, and her slippers. “Now are you going to get dressed?”
Tez picked aside a couple of cushions without much enthusiasm, and finally located his pants. “This is enough for me.”
“Agh, let me at least get those blasted cuffs off of you.” She threw aside several cushions in frustration. “I knew where the keys were last night, I swear I did.”
“The cuffs are fine,” Tez said, pulling his pants on. “Wearing them didn’t bother my sleep any, and I seriously doubt I’ll have any problems with them while I’m awake.”
She waved a finger at him. “That isn’t the point. You are not my slave.”
“Didn’t we have this conversation last night?”
“This is totally different,” she insisted. “Anyway, it’s ridiculous that you’re even wearing that collar. Why can’t you take it off inside the house?”
“Because it would provoke some uncomfortable conversations if you received unexpected visitors suddenly, especially those of the town council variety,” Tez noted. “I am not a free elf yet, at least according to the laws of the capitol.”
Maria fought the urge to throw a pillow at him, and settled for bouncing one off the window frame. “It’s insane. Why I have to send a couriered message to the ruling council, and then have them sit on it for who knows how long, until they see fit to read it and authorize your Document of Manumission is beyond me.”
“’To allow the freeing of slaves by their owners, without the oversight and approval of the state, would invite anarchy, and possible disruption of the natural social order between classes,’” Tez quoted.
“Is that how the law goes?” she asked.
“No, I wrote that, though I suspect whatever is on paper at the capitol is worded similarly,” he said.
“When did you write that?” Maria didn’t try to hide disbelief.
“At a time when I was in a position of power, and was a true horse’s ass,” Tez admitted. “At any rate, I would greatly prefer to wait, rather than be freed by the alternative method.”
“I have no intention of dying just to let you go free,” Maria said. She kept her voice light, denying the whispering truth of, I chose to die for other reasons, in the back of her head.
“Yes, that and you’d have to change your will, if I’m to be freed anyway,” Tez said jokingly. His smile dropped as she remained silent. “Ah?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quickly.
“Maria, if we’re to have a proper, friendly, enjoyable breakfast this morning, I think keeping whatever is bothering you to yourself is not going to help.”
“Don’t start getting pedantic on me again,” Maria said crossly.
Tez lowered his eyes. “As you wish, Mis--“
“Don’t… oh, Death take you! All right, all right. I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale.”
* * *
She raised her head up from her sleeping pad at the foot of Master’s bed, as she heard the old man stir uncomfortably. His breathing quickened from sleep’s gentle rhythms, and she stood up quickly, to be ready should he awaken completely. She stepped carefully, not wishing her shackles to waken Master with their rattling. The longer he slept, the better the chance he might just continue sleeping, and not wake up at all.
Master’s head lolled, and she risked touching him long enough to slip a fresh linen underneath his head, to replace the one now covered in spittle. His breathing had improved in the past twelve hours, to the point where he no longer choked in his sleep, but the stroke he had suffered last week had paralyzed the right half of his body, and he had difficulty keeping food or fluids within his mouth.
She padded on bare feet to the window, and drew back the curtain to look outside. Something was wrong with the sun, it was far too bright for this hour. It isn’t dawn, it’s nearly noon! she realized, trying to quell her rising panic. I’m not ready yet! She had to change, she had to find fresh clothes. She couldn’t appear in her current disheveled state when the priest arrived to…
There was a thunderous knock at the front portico, and she heard a voice call out, “Hullo!” Master stirred again, and she desperately shushed him, before she fled his chamber. She walked as quickly down the stairs as she dared, her shackles rattling. At one point she misjudged her step and brought one leg too far forward, nearly sending herself tumbling before she grabbed the railing to steady herself.
“Hello, is anyone there?” the voice called again, just as she reached the door. She flung it open, just as the figure in front of her was about to slam the door knocker again.
In front of her stood a tall, older man, though not as aged and unhealthy as Master. He was bald, and had liquid grey eyes that matched the robes he wore. A large pewter death’s head hung from a chain around his neck, the mark of a priest of Thanatos, god of Death, and all related matters.
“Oh, hello there,” he greeted, smiling uncertainly at her. “I was just wondering if I had gotten the date wrong, and everyone had gone on holiday or something.”
“Um, no, I was with Master in his chambers. There are no other servants, except for Sinod and his family down the road,” she replied, gasping for breath as she did a quick curtsey.
“Oh, I see.” The priest held out his hand. “The Most Merciful Garvin, at your service. Death’s mercy upon you when it is your time, young lady.”
“Er, thank you,” Maria said. She waved him forward. “Please, come in. If you’ll wait a moment in the sitting room, I will get some refreshments ready.” Guests required refreshments, she reminded herself. Master hadn’t had many guests in the past few years, especially as his various illnesses had overtaken him, and she was rusty on the proper protocol.
“Thank you,” Garvin said, still smiling. There was something odd about the priest’s manner. His gaze was steady, penetrating, but his voice was quite soft, very different from Master’s.
“I won’t be long.” She rattled off, almost tripping over her chains again, to gather a couple of apples from the recent harvest, and a mug of cold cider from the icebox, which she laid on a tray and brought out for Garvin, walking carefully because she must not trip and drop things like the stupid beast she was. Not today of all days.
She managed to make it to where Garvin waited, sitting at a couch in the sitting room, and set the tray down on the table beside him. The priest was looked up her, his expression more troubled now. Maria quickly tried to think of anything she could have done to anger him. He’d just gotten here, she hadn’t had time to make any stupid mistakes. Had she not greeted him with sufficient deference at the door? Perhaps she should have kneeled…
“Young lady…” Garvin began, then cleared his throat uncomfortably and began again. “Young lady, are you aware that you, er, jangle rather loudly?”
“I’m sorry, Most Merciful,” Maria said, her face draining white. She dropped to one knee and bent her head, her eyes beginning to water in instinctive shame and terror. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m sorry I’m such a loud, stupid, clumsy…”
“Young lady!” Garvin interrupted. “I never said you were stupid. Merciful Thanatos, don’t cry.” He touched her underneath the chin, and Maria raised her head to see… she didn’t understand what she was seeing. He looked as upset as she felt, but surely he had no reason to be, for he was human and she was just a stupid, stupid… “Oh, dear,” Garvin mutter, and handed her a linen from the sleeve of his grey robes. She daubed her eyes gratefully.
“Young lady, what is your name?” he asked.
“Maria,” she answered softly.
“Maria, I am not angry with you, nor do I think you are stupid. Why would you think I was?”
“I don’t… I just assumed… I’m sorry…”
Garvin reached down and placed two fingers across her lips. “No more apologies, Maria. Please, could you just answer my original question?”
She swallowed, and wiped her eyes once again before she stood up. “Oh, um, I jangle because, well…” She raised up the hem of her skirt to expose her ankles to him. A metal cuff three inches wide, padded with lambswool and leather so as not to chafe, encircled each of her ankles. Between them, an eighteen-inch length of heavy chain of connected the two bonds.
“What by Death’s Mercy is that for?” Garvin demanded.
Oh, she had made him angry. But I need him, she thought desperately. “I’m sorry, Most Merciful. I walk too fast.”
“You… walk too fast?”
“Yes, yes, I walk too fast, so I run into things and break them, or I thump too much coming up and down the stairs and disturb Master.” She suddenly realized she was babbling again, and bit down hard on her tongue.
“Maria… Maria, even serfs have some rights in the eyes of the law. Your master has no right to bind you like that!”
He was confused about what she was. Well, maybe that wasn’t so bad. “But I’m not a serf, Master Garvin.” She reached up to touch the two small, spiraling horns that emerged from her mass of black, curly hair, and then to the thin silver collar at her neck. “I’m a Beast-Kin, a slave.” Less than a slave, really, for even a human bondsman was the product of the union between Man and Woman, not the mixing of Beasts.
“Oh,” Garvin said in surprise. “Er, I’m sorry. I just those were… some form of odd jewelry, I suppose. You mean they’re real?” He reached out to touch one, then shied back.
“Yes,” she said, blushing furiously. She forced herself to push away her hair, to show him where horn met scalp. His stare wasn’t as awful as the few times Master had taken her to town, for it wasn’t accompanied by whispers or pointing fingers, but it was bad enough.
“Ah, I see. I had heard of such hor--, such things, but I had never thought to see one like yourself in person.” Garvin rubbed his smooth scalp nervously, and glanced down at her shackled feet, covered again by her skirt. Wondering how dangerous and bestial she was, no doubt. She felt her heart, which had lifted briefly at his kinds words, fall once again.
“Maria!” a weak, reedy voice called from the top of the stairs.
“Oh, he’s awake! Please excuse me!” She rushed away from Garvin, climbing up the stairs in awkward half-lope that left her breathless by the time she’d reached the landing. She rushed into Master’s bedchamber to find him awake, and trying to push himself into a sitting position with his one good arm.
“Idiot girl, where were you?” he demanded, his voice slurred as it passed through palsied lips. He gave up on trying to rise and fell back against his pillows.
“I’m sorry Master, there is a caller in the sitting room.” She wrinkled her noise at the smell that greeted her. He’d had a bowel movement in the time she’d been speaking to the Most Merciful Garvin. It was no wonder he had awakened. “Let me help you, Master.”
“Don’t touch me!” There was no strength in the blow that cuffed her head, but she cringed anyway.
“Master, you will get an infection if I don’t change you,” she said, lifting away the sheets. Oh dear, she’d have to change them too, as Master’s emissions had seeped through the breechclout she’d wrapped around his loins. Maria dodged another blow, and lifted his legs, wincing again as he shoved his foot up against one of her horns. He hardly weighed anything, but his struggles made changing him a difficult task.
“May I help?” Garvin asked from the doorway.
“Why are you… you don’t have too… Oh, dear!” Maria stumbled, trying to turn in two directions at once as Master squirmed out of her grip, dropping heavily onto the bed.
“It isn’t any bother, and it looks like you could use an extra pair of hands,” Garvin said firmly, stepping into the room.
“Oh, please.” She took a firm hold of Master’s legs and lifted him up bodily, allowing Garvin to wisk away the soiled breechclout and dump it into the nearby bucket of water. From a second bucket he removed clean, wet linens, which he used to clean Master’s private areas, and then dumped them, and the dirty sheets into the offal bucket. From there it was a simply matter to slip clean sheets under Master’s body, and wrap a fresh breechclout around him. By the time they were, the effort of his struggles had left Master half-conscious on the bed, staring at Garvin in silent confusion. “Thank you,” Maria said.
“It was no real trouble. I’d often provided such help when I was a novice in the House of Final Succor,” Garvin said. “Has he been like this for very long?
“The palsy came but a week ago,” Maria said, washing her hands in the bowl on the dresser. “But he’s been bed bound since his lungs weakened some three months ago. The physician from town said it was a side effect from the alchemicals Master worked with, mercury and lead and such. Though honestly, he’s been… fading, I suppose you could say, for longer than that, perhaps as much as three years.”
“And you take care of this whole house by yourself?”
Maria shrugged. “It’s not that hard. Most every room is enchanted so there’s no dust and the floors clean themselves. The worst part is mucking out the stables.” She made a face. “There isn’t anything enchanted there.”
“I see.” Garvin made an awkward smile. “I hope he at least lets out of those chains for that at least.”
Her face flushed “Er, no.” At Garvin’s shocked look she added quickly. “I mean I don’t wear them constantly…”
“Oh good,” the priest said with relief.
“He lets me take them off once a month, to clean underneath, if I’m in my cell.”
“Oh.” Garvin blinked. “You mean you have to wear those horrible things all the time?”
She swallowed, feeling terribly self-conscious. “It’s not that bad. I mean, I would have to if I weren’t so clumsy and loud. I’ve been doing better, really, he doesn’t make me wear the hand irons anymore…”
“Hand irons?!” Garvin shouted. Maria cringed, and Master stirred in his bed, mumbling something as he stared at them both. The priest grabbed her arm and physically dragged her out of Master’s room.
It’s never going to work now. He’ll never believe me.
“How long has he been making you wear those horrid things, exactly?”
Horrid? “Er, for the past… eight…? No, only seven years, not quite eight.” She rubbed her wrists nervously, and then stopped when they drew Garvin’s attention to the old, fading scars that were putting up a final resistance to the healing salve she’d rubbed assiduously into them for the past several months. “I haven’t had to wear the hand irons or the belt for almost two years now.”
“Belt?”
“Um, sometimes Master would make me wear the belt and lock the irons to it for a few days, if I’d recently broken something. Or had spoken out of turn…” She was babbling again. “It wasn’t that bad. If I was wearing it, that meant I wouldn’t be expected to do all my chores.” She smiled in reassurance.
It wasn’t helping. Garvin had clenched his fists and was starting to shake, in an expression of barely contained rage that Maria was all too familiar with. She started to kneel down, and waited for the blow.
Garvin’s hands caught her shoulders, and dragged her back up to a standing position. He took a deep breath, and the anger visibly faded from his face. “Maria, how old are you?”
She blinked at the change in question. “It will be fifteen years since Master put the breath of life within me, in two months.”
“Not yet even fifteen. Most Merciful, that is nearly half your life.” He took another breath, and released her shoulders. He straightened his spine. “I am sorry, Maria, to have come here and wasted your Master’s time. Please give my apologies to him. I fear, what ever mercy he wants from the Most Merciful Thanatos, he will simply have to wait for it. Quite possibly for a very long time. Good day to you, young lady. I’ll show myself out.” He turned to go.
Oh no, this was all going wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He couldn’t just leave. “Most Merciful Garvin, please don’t go!” She tried to run forward, grabbing at him, and tripped over her leg irons, falling to the floor and landing on her arms. “Please!”
Garvin stopped, and came back to help her up. “I’m sorry, Maria. I know your master will be angry, possibly with you, but I have… other duties to attend to. Thanatos’ mercy upon you, child.” He touched her forehead briefly in blessing, and turned to go once again.
“Most Merciful Garvin, you can’t go! I… Master needs you to attend upon his will!”
Garvin stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Will?” he asked.
“Will, yes, Master’s will. That’s why he summoned you here. He’s made changes, and needs the seal of the Temple of Thanatos upon it to verify them.”
The priest looked her over, his expression unreadable. “Really?”
“Yes, yes, please let me show you.” She dared to take hold of his sleeve and led him back down the stairs (slowly, so she wouldn’t trip herself again) and into Master’s study. Garvin examined the framed charcoal drawings on the walls as she opened Master’s desk and bought out the thick portfolio.
“Odd, I hadn’t thought him to be the artistic sort,” Garvin said mildly. At least he wasn’t angry with her anymore. Indeed, his expression seemed very… well, Maria wasn’t sure what it was, but at least it wasn’t angry.
“Oh, those are mine,” Maria said, daring to smile a little.
“You drew them?”
“Yes. Master let me play with his writing materials before… when I was younger. He always told me how pretty they were. I’ve been getting a lot of practice more recently since my hands haven’t been so, um, cramped.” She opened the portfolio. “Here is the new will.”
Garvin looked it over, making little hm noises to himself. Maria clasped her hands behind her back, the better to keep them from shaking, and tried to will her breathing into something less than panicked gasps. Garvin’s next words would either be her salvation or her death.
“So, he’s giving… everything… to you,” the priest said slowly. “The house, the lands, all of it. Along with the usual deathbed manumission for slaves, allowed by the state.”
“Um, yes,” Maria said. Believe me, please. “It was surprising to me too. But I suppose he’s outlived whatever family he’s had, and I’ve been the only one near him for years and years.” She clamped her mouth shut before she started babbling again.
Garvin held up one of the sheets of parchment to the light streaming through the window. “Very neat handwriting he has, for someone who has been declining for… three years, was it?” he said mildly.
“He dictated it to me”
“I see,” Garvin said. He set the parchment down. “You do understand that the signature page is no good?”
“What?” Maria said. “But, but his signature is right there!”
Garvin nodded, his expression unreadable again. “Yes, but it’s not legal in the eyes of the law if it is not witnessed by a Priest of Thanatos. You can’t just expect me to place my temple’s seal on a will, not knowing whether it was truly written by the person or not. We’ll just have to create a new page.”
“But… but…” A new page. Which Master was going to have to sign. Himself.
I’m dead. I should just hand Garvin the rope now. Death priests officiate executions as well after all.
Garvin took out a fresh piece of paper, and quickly wrote up the proper form for the pre-deceased to sign. “Now then, you put your signature here, to indicate you were the one that actually wrote it.” He pointed to one line, and Maria placed her mark there. “Now, let’s see about your master. Could you bring the inkwell and quill, along with the wax jack, please?”
She followed him slowly upstairs, wondering if she should try to run. If she tripped fell back and broke her neck, it would ever so simplify things. She followed Garvin into Master’s bedchamber. Master was still asleep, breathing heavily.
He’s asleep, he’s asleep. Surely Garvin would not be so rude as to try and…
“Hello, good sir!” Garvin called out cheerfully. “Please wake up! Maria here has brought your new will to sign!”
Master stirred in his bed, and opened rheumy eyes to stare up at Garvin in confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but only gargled and choked on his spit.
“Oh, let me clean that up for you, sir,” Garvin said, sounding cheerful to the point of manic. He wiped Master’s face with the sleeve of his robe, and then held out the signature page to the enfeebled man to sign. Master, of course, did not move.
“Oh, of course, your palsy has crippled your right hand,” Garvin noted. “No matter, the left will do just as well.” Then the priest reached over, and took hold of Master’s hand.
“Maria, the quill please?” Garvin asked politely. She handed it over with fingers that were surely trembling as badly as Master’s were. The priest then set the quill in Master’s hand, clamping it tight with his own fingers, and guided it over to the signature page, drawing out a rough scrawl of Master’s name. “There, now to just add my own signature.” He did so, and then slipped the paper into the portfolio, sealing shut with the wax jack, and then impressing it with the Seal of Thanatos carved on the underside of his pewter death’s head. “Done! I’ll just place the new will in the Temple’s files, and when the Most Merciful comes for your master, it will be there to be opened.”
“But, but… the signature!” Maria cried out.
“Written in his left hand, I know,” Garvin said. “It happens more often than you might think, when the aged or sick wait until the last minute to create or alter their wills. Not to worry though. So long as a Priest of Thanatos is there when the signature is placed, it really doesn’t matter which hand the signer uses.” He smiled down on her, then leaned over to whisper in her ear, “And there are ever so fewer questions asked, when the will is read.”
* * *
Maria’s rambling narrative had gone on for an hour, to finish in the kitchen, where Tez had cooked a passable egg toast, smothered in syrup, for them both.
“So, that’s it really,” she finally finished. “I sit here before you, a freewoman, and a landowner, only because I corrupted a priest of Thanatos to my cause.”
“I’m not sure you could call it ‘corruption’, when it’s plainly obvious that Garvin plunged headlong into your little plan without a hint of invitation on your part.,” Tez noted, leaning up against the countertop and smiling broadly. He was still half naked, wearing only his pants, plus his collar and leather cuffs, having given up trying to find the keys and a shirt in favor getting food.
“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” she snapped. “Death is supposed to be a neutral force in the world, as are its priests. Garvin flat out lied on my behalf. If the lie is ever discovered, he’ll be stripped of his office and me of my lands and freedom.”
He shrugged. “Well, given that your conspiracy consists of two people, three now counting me, I don’t think it’s ever going to come to light. And forgive me for toppling your illusions, but I seriously doubt that this is the first time that a Death Priest has abused the powers of his office for a parishioner’s gain in the Temple’s history. Plus, divine wrath doesn’t appear to be much of a concern either, given that you were granted, and Garvin witnessed, a genuine death miracle later on.”
“True,” she admitted.
“It’s just as well you had Garvin backing you though. I assume the town burghers were predictably upset when they lost the opportunity to seize your late master’s lands for themselves?”
“Moderately, but I made sure that Master had left the town a few generous gifts for local improvements, of the town and the burghers’ pockets.”
Tez nodded. “Very wise of you. So how long were you forced to wait until your late and unlamented master finally shuffled off from his mortal coil?”
“Two more long months…” she said.
* * *
“…and so signed by his hand, and witnessed by the Most Merciful Garvin, of the Temple of Thanatos,” the solicitor concluded. Maria, Garvin, and a few of the town’s burghers were all gathered in the dining room of Master’s manor house-- of my manor house, Maria thought with wonder, to listen to will being read. The burghers were frowning uncomfortably, but none questioned the will’s veracity. None would dare, not with Garvin standing there tall as a scarecrow, smiling cheerfully down at them all.
“It’s done,” Maria breathed, as the burghers and the solicitor shuffled out. The solicitor with the will, and the burghers with the little piles of silvers they had come to collect.
“Almost done,” Garvin said. “I saved the best for last.” He led her outside, to the gardens in the back of the manor, the noonday sun warming everything around them.
“What’s left?” Maria asked.
“Your freedom, child,” Garvin said gently.
“Oh,” she said stupidly, touching the silver collar still locked to her throat, “of course.”
“I suspect you’ve born your burdens for so long, you hardly notice them,” Garvin said. “But I certainly did. And with your permission, I will remove them from you.” He took out a key ring from the folds of his robes, and Maria willingly bent her neck to allow him to remove her collar. Then he knelt at her feet, and she heard the quiet click as the locks to her shackles were opened and fell away. “How does it feel?” he asked.
She lifted her leg up, feeling as if it was going to float away. “I’m not sure.”
“Take a step forward,” Garvin said. She did, stumbling, and would have fallen if the priest had not been there to catch her.
“Something’s wrong! I can’t walk!” Maria cried out. Was it some enchantment of the leg irons? A final curse to prevent a slave from escaping?
“It’s all right, Maria! You remember walking with freedom, but your body has been denied it for so long it’s forgotten,” Garvin said. “Take hold of my arm and try again.”
She did, and stumbled again. Then again, and again. By the tenth step, however, she was managing a moderate shuffle without fear of falling.
“Now step forward a little more,” Garvin said.
“But I am!”
“Your stride is only going as far forward as your chains formerly allowed,” Garvin explained. “Try for longer.”
She did, and stumbled, but caught herself before Garvin could reach for her. She walked further, each step a little larger.
By the time she reached the garden gate, she was running…
The End
