Authors: Denise Hall
Judgment (16 page)
Judgment
by Denise Hall
in a fortress of captives, I chalked it up to lax security measures. For all I knew, I could have been the only Lesser to make it this far out of the Pit. I really didn't know, but not one to question good fortune, I hobbled outside.
Again, to make such an attempt out of desperation was my undoing. I had no food, no clothes or shoes, and each step was a limp of pain-filled misery. But I am nothing if not stubborn and slow to give up.
In the dark, cobble-stoned courtyard, I staggered past the empty display racks toward the portcullis, jumping at the slightest of sounds, half-expecting Tane to melt from the depths of every shadow. Though I never encountered a soul, I was a nervous mess by the time I reached the small door off to one side.
Again I had to fumble to turn the latch, glancing repeatedly back over my shoulder at the dark mountain fortress, expecting any minute for masters to swarm the courtyard behind me. The click of the release was deafening in the night's silence, and my heart pounded in my throat. I was certain the sound would lead every master in Judgment to me like a beacon.
But no one came, and the whisper of a calming breeze accompanied me as I dragged myself out the door to freedom.
A sliver of moonlight outlined a cover of clouds above me.
It was cold and I shivered, unable even to move my arms to hug myself for warmth. I limped a few, hesitant steps down the unpaved mountain road. The whole world seemed to spread out in front of me and for a moment I felt nearly 142
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overwhelmed by it. This was freedom. I could now do whatever I wanted without fear of punishment. I would never have to posture myself at anyone's feet ever again. I could go anywhere I wanted.
I could go home.
I did not smile, or acknowledge any of these realizations with any semblance of happiness. Try though I did, I couldn't remember where home was. Every image I conjured was an image of Judgment, Tane, or the masters. And of all the places that I could go, I wanted to go back to bed most of all.
The wind picked up. As it billowed around me, caressing my skin and pulling at my hair, my teeth began to chatter. My feet were cold and sore from walking on bumpy cobblestones and sharp, tiny pebbles. I looked back over my shoulder at the door beside the portcullis, yawning open in silent invitation.
Yes, I was punished.
But only when I disobeyed.
I was being trained for sale to a man who would be master over me, body and soul.
But I would be valued and desired by him.
I was fed and kept warm and clothed.
Because I was cherished.
Because I was loved.
I left the open Outside without so much as a backwards glance, and I limped back through that door. No longer my prison, Judgment had become my home.
As I made my way back to Tane's quarters and crawled back into bed beside him, I found myself hoping that he 143
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would not hurt me too much tomorrow. When I lay my head upon his pillow, his arm came around my waist. He pulled me back into the cradle of his body and kissed me just behind my ear.
"Um," he said, low and throaty. "You're cold."
He felt a little cool to me too, and it made me nervous. I fidgeted with my fingers, unsure what—if anything—I should say in response.
"Good night," he said, an ominously amused taint to his tone. He knew.
I shivered. "Yes, Master."
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They left me in the room all alone, still kneeling on the
floor where I'd stayed throughout the length of their
interview. Via the mirror, I tried to watch their reflections
through the slightly open door. The detectives were speaking
with someone they'd called Captain.
I quickly snapped my head back around to face the table
ahead of me as Captain glanced at me past the Detective's
shoulder. A slight trickle of apprehension shivered my spine
as the four of them came back into the room.
Captain pulled out a chair and pushed it in front of me. He
set his coffee mug down on the table and, with a long-drawn
out sigh, eased himself onto the seat. He scratched his
forehead. "All right. Let's start over from the beginning. Who
is she again?"
"Cal lie McGuire, disappeared without a trace on a trip to
Italy some ten years ago." I heard a familiar jingle as the
Detective lay a package on the table. My ears perks as he
unfolded the top and my jesses slid out by Captain's coffee
cup. "This and an overcoat is what she was wearing when she
was picked up."
Captain lifted a section of chain in one hand and the
leather straps that was meant to wrap around my torso and
cris-cross up between my breasts with his other. "What is
this, some sort of harness?" he asked me, turning it over. He
scratched at the chain links with a thumbnail. "I think this is
real gold."
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"They are my jesses." I bit my lower lip as he pulled the
halter onto his lap to get a better look at it. The Matron had
linked the wrist and ankle cuffs together to create a wound
up, disgraceful clump of golden chains and bejeweled rings,
lonely and dejected for our having been parted. "M-may I
wear them now?"
He pretended not to have heard me. "I could probably
retire on the cost of just one of these chains. What do we
have on this Daymon Tane?"
"Nothing in the system," the Detective told him.
With another sigh, Captain held my jesses out to me.
"Okay, Miss McGuire. Here you go. Put them on."
I missed the weight of my harness so much, I wanted to
snatch it from his hands. Even knowing I couldn't put it on
myself, when Captain dangled the mass of chains and cuffs
before me, it was all I could do not to reach for them.
"Well?" Captain drawled impatiently. "You wanted to wear
them, so I'm giving them to you. Go ahead."
My bottom lip quivered. "Personals aren't permitted."
A tiny flare of panic burst inside me. Should I call him 'sir'
or not? Would it make him mad like it did the Detective?
Indecision put me in a quandary that was made even worse
when they all leaned in close around me.
"Why not?" the Detective said. "You know how it works.
Which part goes on your ankle?"
I pointed without hesitation and he unfastened the gold
cuff and lay it in my open hands. I held the familiar
instrument, the chains streaming between my fingers, the
bells that had been soldered to ruby and diamond studded
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rings along the sides singing pleasantly, a happy noise in my
ears. My hand began to shake. I dared not close my fingers
around it.
"Put it on your ankle," Captain told me firmly.
I began to breathe a little faster, looking at my own foot
with moistening eyes. It blurred as my tears welled.
"Put it on," Captain ordered, his voice rising sharply. "I am
giving you an order! You're a slave, aren't you? What's a
matter? Your master didn't teach you obedience? Put them on
now!"
I dropped the jesses when he began to shout at me.
Panting, I tried to crawl backwards away from him, but a
restraining hand clamped down on the back of my neck.
"Wait a minute here," the Detective held up his hands.
"Don't do that! I told you, she's not faking this! She can't be!
Come on—"
Captain stood up, towering over me as though enraged. I
gasped, shying away when he shoved the jesses in my face.
"Pick them up! Put them on!"
I clasped my hands behind my back and bowed to press
my forehead to the floor between his black shoes. With eyes
squeezed tightly shut, at any moment expecting punishment
to lash into me, I panicked. Where was my Master?
Screaming, I pleaded into the floor for him to save me.
* * * *
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thought I'd gone to the bathroom. I should have known better. Though I rarely saw the cameras, there were always watchful eyes in Judgment. Nothing ever happened here that Tane was not aware of.
But he said nothing to me right away. He only fed me bites of breakfast from his plate while I sat upon his lap, my back against his chest, my hips so sore that I could not kneel down or sit cross-legged on the floor. Not even on a pillow. He showed me the greatest kindness by not forcing me to try more than just the once.
After breakfast, he washed my face and brushed my teeth.
He even showered with me, his body propping mine upright as my knees wobbled in and out and my legs ached and throbbed. I hurt more now than I had last night, and for a while I panicked that I might be permanently crippled.
"I left you hoisted too long for your first time," Tane said.
"We will not have a repeat session tonight. I can be patient.
I'll wait until you've had time to heal before we try again."
He brushed my hair, too. I liked it when he did that. He was so gentle, so careful not to pull and the rhythmic motions of the hairbrush were so relaxing, it almost put me to sleep right there on his lap.
"Sit up, Mischief." He had to tell me twice, but the third time, he only chuckled and did not punish me. There seemed no end to his kindness today.
Summoning a guard, I had to be carried to Deaton's skill room. I don't know if I was expected to actually work on my sculpture. I would have liked to but every time I raised my arms higher than my waist piercing shocks of agony raced 148
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through my shoulders. I had the will to finish my female in Posture One, but the body simply couldn't comply. I could barely move. It even hurt to breathe.
Despite this, I was the envy of every Lesser in that room.
Tane had provided cushions for my chair, both on the seat as well as the back. There was also a beautiful mother of pearl hair piece with matching earrings laying beside my sculpture, waiting for me. I was the only Primary in Judgment with jewelry of such Elite quality. The covetous looks cast at these gifts made no sense to me. Had my peers but known the agony it took to win them, I doubt if they'd have been so discontented.
But they didn't know, and they responded to what they perceived to be my favored treatment in the only way they could. They ignored me. I was never spoken to. No one sat next to me in the dining hall, not even Honey after that first time. No one even looked in my direction, or at least not if they thought I might see them. This is what Tane's extra attention won me: the complete and utter banishment of my peers.
Not that I minded not having anyone to talk to. Well, not really anyway. The daily torture inflicted on me was hard enough to suffer through without my having to reminisce about it as well. So I listened to the others busily writing their poems or their stories, and I stared at my malleable clay lump, wishing I could move just enough to continue to mold her a little closer to life.
I'm not sure exactly when I first became aware of an odd prickling at the back of my neck. But by some newly found 149
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sixth sense, I cocked an ear expectantly toward the door.
Tane was in the Pit. It was as if I felt him striding down the hall. The knowledge of him shivered down my spine even before he opened the door and that long-legged stride, that was by now so familiar to me, carried him into Deaton's skill room. In attendance to him was Sub-Master Gansel and Masters Hutch, carrying a long seven-switch birch, and Boyden, who had a ledger clasped in one hand. From the insignia on Hutch's black uniform, I recognized him for this week's Black Master.
For a moment I was afraid he'd come to summon me to another of his special training sessions, despite this morning's assurances that I would be allowed the time to heal. I was so disheartened, that I barely heard the rattling desks as fourteen Lessers immediately dropped to the floor to posture.
I did my best to join them, but my uncooperative limbs ensured that I more fell out of my chair than got gracefully down. I stifled a groan as I rolled onto my hands and knees.
Panting with the pain and effort, I did not so much as rest my forehead to the floor as I pressed it there in the hopes that it would prop me upright as I tried to drag my arms behind my back. My shoulders protested their abuse and I could not get either side fully behind me. I couldn't even clasp my hands together as was proper, so I left them lying uselessly at my sides. A fine sheen of sweat had broke out on my skin from this exertion, and mine was still the sloppiest Posture One in the room.
Tane's shoes appeared before me. He squatted down and his warm hand touched my back. "You do not need to posture 150
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for me today, Mischief. Sub-Master Gansel, kindly rub some of this into her and help her back onto the pillows."
I sighed as Gansel took the jar Tane handed him and knelt down behind me. He lifted me onto my knees, automatically pulling me to sit up on his thighs to take the pressure off my hips, and I flopped back against his chest like a limp doll.
"Just relax, Mischief," he said, low against my ear as he opened the jar. "This will make you feel so much better."
