Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) (42 page)

He searched about himself desperately for
a chance to escape, to find some way to avoid this fate. He saw Galen, there, in the crowd. The man’s face was a mask of horror.

Me.

Arturus lay uneasily against the stone, his mind racing. He had been brought to this room and locked in with the other eleven slaves that had won Maab’s lottery. Arturus had no idea how he could have drawn her eye. None of those picked before or after him had been as young as he.

Maybe she was picking someone else nearby me?

These men were not nearly as gaunt as the other slaves. There was more meat on their bones, surely. Their wrists were thicker, and their shoulders filled out their robes more fully.

We’re all well fed.

Arturus shifted suddenly when he noticed that one of the men was staring at him. He met the man’s gaze. The man looked down, but not away. He smiled.

“Are you a sweetie?” the man asked.

“Huh?”

“Are you a sweetie, or are you fresh? You look a little young to be wrestling about at Heaven time. For a second I thought you were one of the Little Ladies.” The man laughed. “Bet some Kruk took you in under his wing. Kept his little birdie safe.”

Heaven time? Little Ladies? Kruk?

The man had an odd look to him, like he was hungry.

Lust.

The realization sent a shiver up Arturus’ spine.

The man had friends. Two of the other slaves sat very nearby him. Arturus didn’t think he was the group’s leader, though. If he had to guess, it would be the broadest of the three, who was watching on with a look of amusement.

“Bullies are the loneliest of creatures,” Galen had told him. “Fight one, and you will find you have made a friend.”

“Sure, I’m a sweetie,” Arturus said. “Whatever you want to think.”

The trio of men laughed.

“I thought I could tell that,” the man went on. “Everyone in the room is a pitcher, and you’re a catcher. Might make you a bit nervous?”

Pitcher? Catcher?

“Shaking in my boots,” Arturus responded.

The leader shifted and spoke. “Careful Samson, little tiger has teeth. Wouldn’t want to get bit before you see Queen Maa
b
. .
.
” His face cracked into a broad smile. “In the flesh.”

“You’re a lucky one, sweetie,” the lustful man said, and settled back against the stone.

He did not, Arturus noticed, stop staring.

The door opened.

Two soldiers stood there. One held a tray of food bowls.

“Heaven time,” said the one without the trays, leveling his shotgun, “and Maab says there’s to be no fighting. Equal shares. She doesn’t want any of you to spoil your good looks.”

The trio in the corner stood up, but stopped suddenly when the shotgun was pointed their way.

“No need to rise, buttercups,” the soldier said. “Just stay where you are. The tray will be by.”

Arturus felt his stomach growl.

They were given two bowls apiece, one of devilwheat, another of water. Arturus had never seen people eat so
quickly. To catch up, Arturus mixed the two bowls together and drank it all down. The meal only made him more hungry.

When had I eaten last?

The soldiers came by and took the bowls. The bowls were counted to verify that all been returned.

“Sleep well. Maab will see you shortly.”

The door closed.

The man was still staring at him.

Graham hadn’t liked the idea of following Molly for a handful of reasons. First was that this mission was sanctioned secretly by the Fore. If Molly caught him, she would go around town telling everyone that he was a creep. He wouldn’t be able to blame it on his orders because the mission was secret, so everyone would think he was some sort of sick stalker. Secondly, it wasn’t terribly easy to follow someone through the wilds of Hell. The chambers were arranged like a maze, and it was pretty damn difficult to track someone over solid stone. Lastly, the crazy bitch might shoot him. He would have to follow her closely to make sure he didn’t lose her. No easy task while she was on the lookout for demons. It was very possible Molly would sense that she was being followed and ambush him. He would like to think that the woman would keep her weapon safetied, and that she’d notice he was a hunter before she fired, but that was a lot of trust to put in someone. Molly wasn’t renowned for either her caution or her altruism, so Graham was left feeling rather vulnerable. He’d have felt safer chasing Duncan.

Still, it was difficult to say no to Michael. Graham might have declined anyway, except that if Aaron never returned they’d be looking for a new Lead Hunter. It was probably going to be between himself, Martin, or Crispen, and he didn’t want to hurt his chances by turning down missions. The other reason he had accepted, Graham was able to admit to himself, was that Molly had an ass like a golden caboose. He’d had more than one fantasy about sleeping with the woman, and when Michael had asked him if he’d follow the girl, he’d imagined that at some point she would find a pool of water, strip down, and bathe in it.

He was beginning to realize that this was never going to happen. If Molly was going to bathe, it was going to be in the river room with Alice or Kara standing guard to make sure that no one came in while she was doing it. She wasn’t going to leave herself weaponless and naked in the wilds where some dyitzu could come tear her to pieces.

He caught sight of Molly as he came around a bend in the corridor. He dropped back slowly and peered around the corner.

She was walking, her hand trailing against the right wall.

Graham realized that she’d been moving in this way for the last hour. She’d always been taking right turns.

If she kept that up, he was going to have a much easier time following her. Sure enough, her next three turns were all to the right.

Graham found it odd that they hadn’t yet traveled in a circle. Usually following a wall like that would lead one into a loop. He guessed they must be up against a barrier of some sort.

She’s looking for something.

He spotted her again, having paused in a room. She was inspecting the right wall very closely. Her fingers were running up and down it. She reached up along the rock to inspect the some of the higher stones. Graham watched as she stood on her toes. Her breasts were shoved into the stone and her butt stuck out as she reached higher.

Whatever she was looking for, she didn’t find it.

She collapsed to the floor in a heap and cried.

Graham had seen Molly cry before. There had always been an element of insincerity with her tears, and they always seemed to come with an agenda. She’d tried to turn the entire village on Aaron, for instance, after they’d broken up. Of course, after all the mean things she’d said about First Citizen Mike, nobody listened to her. These tears, however, were much different. They seemed very genuine. She seemed desperate, at the end of her means.

Graham’s heart went out to her in a way that surprised him. He’d always thought of her as a slut. As a bitch. As a dangerous woman who didn’t have feelings. He’d never thought that he’d want to protect her.

She stood suddenly, and Graham darted for the shadows.

Still crying, she turned around and stormed back the way she’d come.

If they saw her last time at Riverbend, then she’s probably picking up where she
leaves off each time. But why? What could she think is out here?

He was worried about her, certainly. In her current state a one legged corpse singing Dixie could sneak up on her. But he had been hunting in these halls
at least twice in these last few weeks. It wasn’t easy to find any devils here. He trusted that she would be safe.

He also turned about, his fingers trailing along the wall which Molly had been following.

What in Hell is she looking for?

He used the wall to backtrack where she had come from. He knew the area well, and he wasn’t interested in finding secret passages in the stone, so he was able to travel a good bit faster than Molly had been.

What does she know that we don’t? Did Julian somehow give us the slip? Was the boy’s wheat really in here? Or maybe his sinfruit?

Whatever it was, he decided it had to be important. The woman wouldn’t be looking so hard for something this deep into the wilds unless it was worth the risk. Most of the Harpsborough people wouldn’t travel this far out even if they were starving.

After a while, he passed the curve in the river which the Harpsborough people had named Riverbend.

He recognized the next few chambers and shook his head.

There’s nothing out this way.

Or maybe she wasn’t looking for anything at all. Maybe she was just following the wall because it helped her find her way back. Maybe she just wanted to get away from it all.

But then why was she looking so closely for passages or markers in the stone?

It just didn’t add up. He’d report to Mike, of course, and maybe the First Citizen would be able to put two and two together.

I can go just a little farther.

The next few rooms looked very familiar.

I’ve been here recently. But for what?

He jogged along the wall, his heart quickening.

He stopped when he came upon the Golden Door. Suddenly her motivations became clear.

She’s looking for the Infidel Friend.

Arturus had been able to catch a little bit of sleep, but he doubted it had been much more than an hour. The man was still staring at him. Arturus wondered if that was what had awakened him. He had a vague memory of a dream where he was being watched.

Many of the others were sleeping as well.

The door opened.

“Alright, serfs, on your feet,” the soldier ordered.

“I’ve got to shit,” said the staring man.

“That’s where we’re taking you,” the soldier assured him.

“And after that?” asked the trio’s leader.

“Maab.”

Queen Maab lay, reclined in her bathing pool, her breasts protruding through the surface of the water like mountains. Two soldiers stood silently along the back wall, almost disappearing against the dark purple stone. Two of her priestesses sat on a stone bench that was by the pool, the hoods of their satin cloaks thrown back to reveal their sharp and beautiful faces. Two young girls attended her in the pool. They looked to be ten or eleven, and already their eyes were devoid of innocence. A young man was also in the room, perhaps Arturus’ own age, or just slightly younger. He was nude.

The room was lit with a pair of torches and perhaps a hundred candles. Arturus couldn’t imagine even Michael Baker burning so many at one time. The waste of it all shocked him.

Her resources must be endless.

Maab raised one of her slender arms and waved.

The young man responded, coming to her.

“Toband, fetch me the sylvium tea.” Her voice sounded whimsical. “And some more hot water.”

The candles were made, at least in part, with fat, giving the room the odor of a man’s flesh burning. Arturus felt bile come up in the back of his throat.

Maab’s arm returned beneath the water. He fought not to stare at her nudity and averted his eyes. The rest of the slaves were doing no such thing. They looked at her with equal parts fear and lust. Fear, as if she were that Minotaur which she had broken. Lust, as if she were some goddess.

In a way she is.

Arturus shook his head to clear his thoughts. The smell of
the candles and the feelings that Maab’s naked flesh stirred within him made the effort useless.

The boy she had called Toband returned, a stone mug on a tray. Behind him were two more naked men, carrying between them a pot of steaming water. Slowly and carefully, they poured it into Maab’s bath. The steam filled the room, drowning out some small part of the candles’ aroma.

Arturus found himself watching Maab as she sat up to drink the tea. Her breasts met the water at her nipples, which were wide, pink, and relaxed. She sipped at her drink, delicately. Arturus looked away again.

The tea’s
odor was even more pungent than the candles’. It smelled of rotting mint.

Arturus stood with the other eleven silent and awestruck slaves as Maab continued to bathe. She stood up from the water. Arturus watched the liquid pour down the curves of her body. Watched it flow down from her hair and run across her chest. Watched as her nipples hardened in the cool Carrion air.

He swallowed.

The young girls stood beside her, each with a washcloth. Maab walked up the steps that led into her bathing pool and stood ankle deep in the water.

She’s barely taller than me.

The girls cleaned her gently, paying special attention to her breasts, buttocks and womanhood. Arturus could feel that the slave on his right was shaking. He was stuck shoulder to shoulder with the man, and there was not enough room for him to distance himself without stepping forward or back.

Arturus swallowed again.

The man’s shaking became more violent, and Arturus looked at him in alarm. The slave’s eyes were opened unnaturally wide. Froth was collecting at the corners of his mouth. Around him, the other slaves weren’t fairing much better.

What’s wrong with them?

Maab shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the young girls switched from the washclothes to drying towels. Her legs were long and slender. The hair between them was also blonde, but a slightly darker variety.

Arturus noticed that he was also shaking.

What’s wrong with me?

Maab had been fully dried. Arturus looked forward to the moment where she would put some clothes on, as her body disturbed him deeply. She stepped down from the lip of the bathing pool and walked towards the slaves. At first they flinched back, all except Arturus. Then, finding their courage, they moved back in line, some even being brave enough to step forward.

“So many,” Maab said. “Surely, after taking the bull, I could only want desert.”

They blanched in fear, and those that had been brave enough to move forward stepped back. Arturus tried again to look away from her, but that seemed to be impossible. It was as if she filled the room.

“Still, I’ll want him to last a
little
while, at least,” she mused, placing a finger on her chin. “Which one of you, do you suppose, is the strongest?”

All the slaves raised their hands. Arturus did too, trying to make sure that he didn’t stand out, but he was a little later than the rest.

“That’s nice.” She smiled. “All of you are. Well, Little Ladies, do you suppose you could take these big men back there and find the toughest of them?”

The young girls nodded.

“Follow the Little Ladies, serfs,” she ordered.

The young girls walked towards one of the exits and the men began to follow. Arturus fell in line.

“Except you.”

Arturus stopped.

“You can stay here.”

She knows. She knows I don’t belong.

The slaves laughed uncomfortably, perhaps unsure of whether they should be jealous, or if one of their competitors had been eliminated from the lottery. They filed out.

Maab’s deep blue eyes rested on Arturus.

He felt a catch in his throat and fought not to swallow. He failed as she stepped forward and looked him up and down. Maab turned back to her priestesses.

“See to the gathering. Make sure everyone is ready to leave when I’m done.”

They nodded as one, bowing a little as they did so, and left the room. Maab then turned to her soldiers.

“Get Kayla
and send her in. You may leave after that.”

They nodded as well, and followed after the priestesses. For the moment, at least, Arturus found himself alone with the Queen.

She walked back to the pool. She crouched down beside it, her knees together, and dipped one finger into the water. She leaned back, sitting along the lip of the stone and let her feet down into the water. “What’s your name?”

Arturus had to fight for his voice. “Turi.”

“Good. Come here, Turi, and wash my feet.”

Her feet?

He began to walk forward. He heard a scream of pain from one of the slaves in the room beyond and then a giggle from one of the young girls. He almost stumbled.

What’s happening to them? What’s happening to me?

“Turi, are you dense?”

Arturus stopped, unsure as to what he had done wrong.

“How are you going to wash my feet without a washcloth?”

He nodded, and walked over to pick up one of the ones that the Little Ladies had discarded.

“Not a dirty one, Turi. One of the fresh ones over there.”

Arturus spied the fresh cloths by a few of the burning candles. He walked over to them. It felt uncomfortable to walk with Maab’s gaze on his back. He looked back towards her, but she wasn’t
actually watching. She was holding her foot out of the water and appraising it.

Without looking away she spoke to him again.
“There’s a bowl over there too, Turi. Bring it.”

His legs were still shaking.

He picked up the bowl and the washcloth. He moved back towards her. His heart was beating fiercely in his chest. He didn’t know what she was going to do to him, or how, but he was terrified. He dipped the bowl into the water and removed it. He placed the washcloth into the water with both hands, and wrung it.

“Slowly, Turi. You’re going to wash your goddess’ feet. Not the dishes.”

Arturus nodded. He looked for a moment into her eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Beside her, Alice would seem plain. He looked down quickly. His heart was forming feelings that he knew he could not afford.

“Sit, Turi.”

He did so. Some of the water from the bath had spilled out onto the stone floor. He felt the warm liquid soaking through his robe and into his pants. She placed one of her feet on his leg.

“You may begin,” she said.

Arturus nodded. Her toes were well manicured. The nails seemed shiny. She didn’t even have cuticles. Her foot was smooth, devoid of any calluses. He started at the toes. He watched the water drip down between her big and middle toe in a small river that spilled off of her ankle and on to his pants. She stretched her arms, her pointed nipples rising and falling with her movement. He fought to keep his hands steady.

She noticed his shaking and smiled.

He continued washing as best he could, running the rag along the bottom of her foot. He felt the ball of her foot beneath the cloth, which seemed a little dry. He dipped it in the bowl again.

What if I’m doing this wrong?

Would she have him killed? What if she found out he was an outsider? What if she knew already?

“Who is your priestess, Turi?”

Arturus was stunned. He didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know any of their names. Surely he would be discovered. “I have no priestess. There is only you.”

She laughed. “Are you a virgin, Turi?”

Arturus looked down.

“I mean with women of course. I know you serfs sodomize each other. Oh, don’t worry. I’ll not stone you for it. It’s to be expected, I must guess. Men have such terrible appetites.”

Arturus didn’t answer. He began to run the cloth over her heel.

“You are, aren’t you? You’ve never been with a woman.”

Arturus felt shamed.

“I saw you at the ritual. At first I thought you were just fresh. Maybe you are. But then I saw you bull your way through the crowd. Jealousy, it must have been, that propelled you? You are young to be a Kruk, but that’s something to be proud of I suppose. Has your priestess ever recommended you for baptism?”

Arturus shook his head no. He moved the cloth over to the top of her foot and then ran it along her ankle. She lifted the foot away, over his head, and placed it to his left. He found himself staring at her from between her legs. Warmth spread through his groin. There were tears in his eyes.

I want to go home.

She placed her other foot in his lap. He bit his lip and dipped the rag back into the bowl.

I don’t care what happens to me. I just want to go home.

He began again at her toes.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to be sitting next to Alice. I’m supposed to love her. I’m supposed to be able to look into her eyes.

I could love Maab.

But there could be no loving a woman like this. There could be fear. There could be obeisance.

And hatred.

He looked at her again, meeting her eyes.

It struck him that hate was a thing very close to love. So close that he didn’t know if he would be able to tell the difference between the two when one came, or if there even was a difference at all.

“Compliment me,” Maab said.

He had no words. His feelings seemed to block them out. The weight of her expectation fell heavily on his shoulders. He searched desperately for something to say. For the greatest compliment that he had ever heard.

“Speak, Turi.”

He found his voice and looked into her eyes. “Yours is the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Illium. Sweet Maab, make me immortal with a kiss. Suck forth my soul, and see where it flies. Please, give me my soul. Here I will dwell, for heaven is in those lips. All is dross, that is not thee.”

Her slap sounded as a crack. He felt the warmth of it on his face, the sting where her hand had touched him.
He felt sad for having somehow insulted such a creature.

“Helen is half mortal, Turi. You may not compare me to her.”
Her voice was cool and loving, and she leaned forward, kissing him on his cheek. The warmth there multiplied. His whole face felt warm. “But those are sweet words, Turi. Uttered as they were from the mouth of a damned man, they are quite touching. The first kiss was for the attempt, Turi. Stand, and I will redeem you.”