Mindgames Ch. 22

In the corridor he ignored both the greetings and the startled looks that were thrown his way. He hadn't changed his clothes since the day before, nor combed his hair. He assumed his face was greenish.

When he exited to the lawn the noon sun made his head pound harder than ever. He stopped halfway to the stables under an oak tree, but continued on when he saw a woman -- he couldn't remember her name, she had come to him once to complain about her thinning hair -- walking purposefully towards him.

He usually visited the stables early in the morning or late in the afternoon, not in the middle of the day. It was quieter now; most of the horses were pastured or out with their riders or grooms.

Gabriel stepped into the shade of the third entryway, and sat on a bale of hay against the wall to rest for a moment.

He heard Stefan's low drawl just before he came inside with Remarque, who was leading a gray colt. Gabriel pushed himself to his feet.

Stefan glanced at him, then did a double take. "You look like hell," he said. "What's the matter with you?"

Gabriel sat back down. "Drugged," he said. "At the revel last night."

Stefan frowned. "You too?" At Gabriel's surprised look, he said, "You weren't the only one. Everyone's talking about it. The Bearer is investigating. His deputy will want to speak with you." He tilted his head. "Were you harmed? Besides the obvious?"

"Danced like an idiot, then passed out," Gabriel said. What about Mariah? Had she been drugged as well? No, he remembered that Animal had told him she had not been.

Stefan took the colt's bridle from Remarque and ordered him to fetch some water, then squinted at Gabriel. "You're in no condition to hear this," he said, "but Pegasus has an abscess in her right forehoof. I had assumed you would want to drain it yourself, but we can have a vet do it. Either way, she'll need to rest for a few days. I've kept her in her stall today." Gabriel grunted noncommittally.

Remarque came back with a waterskin. Gabriel took it, but put it down rather than drinking from it. "I'd say she'd like to see you," Stefan continued, "but you'd probably scare her when you pass out. How about I find a rickshaw to help you back to your apartment?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I just need a minute," he said heavily. "Then I'll check on her."

A horse and rider came into the stable. Although it was too bright in the entryway to make out the details, Gabriel recognized the horse from her unusually wide chest; she was a roan mare named Vagabond. The rider had short, flyaway hair; it must be Jordyn.

She dismounted, standing up high in her saddle before she swung her leg over. Gabriel rubbed his eyes and looked again. There was something odd on the saddle. A thin rod sticking up a few inches from the seat. Gabriel stood and walked over to it. "What is this?" he said. He touched it. It was covered with some kind of gel, and when he pushed on it, it bent.

"It's my saddle, Master," Jordyn said.

"Why does it have a handle?" Gabriel asked.

"You don't want to touch that," Stefan said.

Gabriel looked from Stefan to Jordyn to Remarque. "What is it?"

No one answered him. He closed his eyes, and visualized Jordyn's silhouette as she rose from the saddle. The rod was not a handle; she had been sitting on it. But how? Why?

He backed away from the mare in horror. "Was this inside you?" he asked Jordyn, an edge of hysteria in his voice. "Was it?" He grabbed her shoulders. "Was it?"

Jordyn nodded. "Yes, Master. Slave saddles have butt plugs."

"No, they don't!" Gabriel said. "I've ridden with you!" He lifted his hands off her and took a step back.

"She's always ridden Midnight when she's with you," Stefan said calmly. "He was a mustang brought in by hunters. Jordyn tamed and trained him herself. A slave saddle would have been too . . . " He broke off for a minute. "I didn't want her using it on him."

Gabriel's mouth hung open. He backed up until he bumped into the bale of hay, and sat down on it. Then he jumped back up.

Was this another hallucination? He didn't think so. But he must be misunderstanding. "You use horses to rape slaves in the ass?" He had trouble forming the words.

Stefan frowned. "The stablehands, yes. Sometimes others."

"Why? How could you?" His voice shook.

Stefan gave a short, humorless laugh. "Why, Healer? The same reason we feed them gruel that keeps them undeveloped until they turn 18. The same reason that we force them to crave sex but don't let them choose when to have it, or who to have it with. The same reason that we keep them under the constant threat of the whip and worse torture."

"Why?" Gabriel asked faintly.

"To control them." Stefan glared at Jordyn and then at Remarque. "Look at them. Beautiful specimens, strong, brave, riders of the finest horses. Both of them have been as far as the wall, and then at a snap of my fingers have turned back." Remarque stared stolidly ahead. Jordyn blushed and looked down. "Because no matter how fast or how far they ride on their fine horses, they have a stick up their backside to remind them that they are slaves and nothing more."

Gabriel recalled that he had punched Animal for doing less to Rose than Stefan was declaring that he did every day to the grooms. He pulled back his elbow and made a fist. Stefan saw but made no move. Instead of striking out, Gabriel sat on the bale of hay and covered his face with his hands.

Comfortable in the apartments he shared with Animal, Rose, and Mariah, and in the routine he had established, he had allowed himself to forget that this land was built on torment; that every slave he passed in the corridor was traveling from one suffering to another with hope only of the occasional and brief respite; that most humans considered it both pleasure and art to cause excruciating pain in others.

Gabriel had known from his first visit to the stables that Stefan whipped his slaves. Scarcely a week went by without fresh marks appearing on Jordyn's back. And yet Gabriel had allowed himself to ignore them, to focus only the facts that the stablehands seemed to both respect and like Stefan, and that Stefan, despite his sardonic demeanor, had often revealed that he felt the same about them.

Had Gabriel seen the torture saddles but simply not allowed himself to notice? He tried to concentrate. Maybe out of the corner of his eye or a blur when he was focused on something else. Yes, if he could have been bothered to turn his head he would have known.

He had allowed himself to overlook the reality of the stables out of convenience to himself; he needed a place to keep Pegasus.

His stomach heaved. He barely managed to twist so that the vomit landed on the hay instead of on himself. When he was empty and spent, he sagged back.

A moment later Jordyn was holding the waterskin to his lips. He tried to turn his head but did not have the energy. He took a sip. "Master," Jordyn said softly. "If I had a choice I would choose this life."

Gabriel swatted her away, causing some of the water to spill. "You would choose to be tortured?" he rasped.

Jordyn looked to Stefan, who nodded. She spoke carefully. "Without the slave saddle I couldn't care for the horses, or work with the other stable hands. They are my friends. I would choose them, yes."

Gabriel shook his head weakly. "If a horse rears, or runs away, you could be torn, even killed. You would have neither horses nor friends."

"The phallus is safe, I assure you," Stefan said. "It's completely flexible, and it comes off at the hinge with any pressure."

Gabriel was struck by a horrible thought. He grasped Jordyn's hand. "When you've ridden Pegasus, when I couldn't come to the stables, did you . . . " He couldn't continue.

"No, Healer." Stefan answered for Jordyn. "Out of respect to you, at my order she uses a standard saddle when she rides Pegasus."

"Am I supposed to thank you for that?" Gabriel spat. And yet he did feel gratitude, and relief.

Stefan shrugged and turned away. "Remarque, clean this up," he said, gesturing towards Gabriel's spew. "Jordyn, go about your duties." Jordyn withdrew her hand from Gabriel's. She patted him on the shoulder before she turned to take Vagabond's reins and lead her away. Stefan was expressionless when he spoke to Gabriel. "I'll take you back to your apartment now. Unless you want a rickshaw."

Gabriel lurched to his feet. "I can get myself back."

"No, you can't," Stefan said. "The Bearer would hear of it if I sent you back unattended. And like Jordyn, I'm fond of my situation in life."

He moved towards Gabriel but Gabriel stepped back. "Don't touch me!" he hissed.

Stefan shrugged. "Suit yourself. As long as you can stay upright."

They made their way slowly out of the stables and towards the mansion. Gabriel swayed a few times but mustered all his willpower so he would not have to rely on Stefan's assistance.

As they entered the path that cut across the lawn, Stefan looked straight ahead as he said, "When I first became a stablemaster I didn't use slave saddles, and I didn't whip my grooms."

Gabriel did not reply. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of another.

"They let the work go. Disregarded my orders, almost to my face. Within weeks my stables were a shambles. They made a fool of me."

"So out of revenge you decided to make their life an endless misery?" Gabriel asked, as harshly as he could muster. He overreached himself, and stumbled.

Stefan grabbed Gabriel's arm to stop his fall. "Don't you understand, Healer?" he said angrily. "The horses suffered!"

Gabriel twisted out of Stefan's grip. "I don't believe you. Jordyn, Remarque, the others, they are dedicated to the animals."

Stefan expelled a breath. "It was a different group of slaves," he said. "All except Chafee; he had remained stalwart and obedient. But the others -- I had ruined them. I had to send them away." Stefan's voice was suddenly husky. "Chafee helped me rebuild. By then I had learned my lesson."

"You learned to torture," Gabriel retorted. "Congratulations on your achievement."

"I did what I had to do," Stefan said.

"No, you didn't!" Gabriel was yelling now. People walking on the lawn turned to watch. "You didn't have to! You chose to!" He pushed Stefan on the shoulders, so weakly that Stefan barely swayed. "You disgust me."

"Healer, do you require assistance?" It was one of the Bearer's retinue. Crawford was his name, Gabriel recalled.

Stefan answered for him. "Yes, the Healer is ill. He needs help back to his quarters." Without waiting for a response from Crawford or a reaction from Gabriel, he turned and walked back towards the stables.

Mariah remembers

At the cabin, Master Cassender attached the long chain to Mariah by a wrist cuff and went to put the horses in the stable. She shook her lower arm to feel the firmness of the cuff, and then touched the lock with her other hand. One key, and she would be free.

Present day

Gabriel's headache and nausea had disappeared by the next day, but he still felt sick. He dragged himself to the stables, and having no better option allowed Jordyn to distract Pegasus as he searched the horse's hoof for the source of the abscess. Pegasus shivered with relief when the grayish, foul-smelling stuff poured out.

Gabriel wrapped the hoof, petted and spoke softly to Pegasus for a few minutes, instructed Jordyn to keep her in the stall, and left the stables without a word to anyone else.

He gave an interview to the Bearer's deputy who was investigating the spiked punch at the revel. It didn't take long for the culprits to be found -- a couple of teenage boys who had sought to separate a housegirl from her doting mistress. Although they had intended a mere prank, apparently they cried when they realized that it was only through dumb luck that no one had been seriously harmed.

As one of the victims Gabriel was asked for input on what their punishment should be. He had nothing to say on the matter, except for a snarled no when the deputy asked if he would like recompense by having the boys mix his medicinals.

They were made to speak to each person affected. Gabriel accepted their apology solemnly, but in his heart he did not forgive them. It was their drug that had made him know what he could never unknow, and he hated them for it.

He followed his schedule, going to the clinic and on his rounds and to the dissection room. If it was harder for him to summon the energy and compassion needed for the ill, or the patience needed for those who wanted to learn, few seemed to notice.

Mariah met his depression with seeming apathy. She went where she was supposed to go and did what she was supposed to do, but initiated no interactions. That suited Gabriel just fine.

Animal gave him puzzled and concerned looks, but he kept a wary distance after Gabriel accused him venomously of keeping knowledge of the use of the slave saddles from him and then refused to believed his honest denials.

When Gabriel's mood had not lifted days later, though, Animal confronted him and refused to be put off. He went so far as to suggest that the effects of the drug had lingered, and the healer himself should seek healing. Gabriel met the first part of Animal's concern with a bitter smile, but responded to the second with a semblance of normalcy. "There's nothing wrong with me," he said mildly. "But maybe I could use a change of scene." And so he made plans to visit the western fields to investigate the slaves he had heard about who used needles to cure diseases.

It was easy to arrange. Although Gabriel felt a pang about leaving Pegasus in the stables, her hoof still needed aftercare and he could not ride her yet. He had to trust that Jordyn would tend to her properly. He found coverage for his clinic and told his students that the autopsy lessons would resume when he returned.

On the morning of his planned departure, he pushed back his chair from the breakfast table and grabbed the pack he had left leaning against the wall. "I'll be back in a few days," he said.

For a moment the only sound in the room was the scraping of the straps of Gabriel's pack as he adjusted them. But as he began to walk towards the door Animal asked, "You're not taking Mariah?"

Gabriel glanced at her and shrugged. "She can come or stay, as she pleases."

Mariah stiffened, and stared at her plate. Animal nudged her. "Go on," he said. Her face burning, Mariah followed Gabriel out the door.

Gabriel neither spoke to Mariah nor looked at her as they traversed the mansion towards the distant westernmost exit, but he could hear her panting as she kept up with his long strides. When they came at last to an entrance hall, grander than the one near Gabriel's apartment, Mariah put her hand out to Gabriel's arm. "Master," she began, and faltered.

Gabriel slowed. Mariah scowled as she said, "I didn't know about the slave saddles, I swear."

Gabriel nodded, but he made no other response. "You believe me?" Mariah asked. There was an angry challenge in her voice.

"Yes. You would gain nothing by lying about that," he said, emphasizing the last word.

"I haven't lied about anything," Mariah snapped. Gabriel raised his eyebrows, with a shadow of his usual humor. "Not to you," Mariah amended. "Not about anything important. And when I did lie, you always knew it."

Gabriel's lips twitched into an actual smile, his first in days. He took off his pack and sat down heavily on a bench across from the picture window of the entrance hall. Mariah hesitated, then sat next to him. "I'll never forget the first moment I saw you," Gabriel said, so softly that he could have been speaking to himself. "You were wild and regal and magnificent."

"I was a runaway slave, nothing more."

"I saw that in the next moment," Gabriel responded. Mariah scowled. "But by then it was too late. I thought I had already seen into your soul." His voice was without warmth. "All this time I thought that. All this time I didn't understand."

"Understand what, Master?" Mariah asked bitterly. "That I'm not wild or regal or magnificent?"

"I didn't understand that you were playing a mindgame with me." He laughed humorlessly. "At first I didn't know what a mindgame was, so you can't blame me."

His words hung in the air between them. At last Mariah said stiffly, "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, "I saw you the other morning, after the revel."

Mariah looked at him blankly. "Of course, Master. I helped Master Animal bring you home."

"Before then. I saw you giving that man oral sex."

Mariah nodded. "I gave a blow job to a master. That's right."

Gabriel's eyes bored holes into her. "You enjoyed it," he said, disgust pouring out of him.

"Of course." She froze suddenly, Understanding crept onto her face. "You're shaming me?" she asked incredulously.

Gabriel recoiled, and shook his head. "No, I . . ." Then he shrugged, but before he could continue, Mariah's expression changed. She looked closed, and angry, as closed and angry as Gabriel had felt until a moment ago.

"Are you going to tell me you didn't enjoy fucking Kishamie?" she demanded.

"Who?" Gabriel asked.

Mariah stared at him. "The slave girl you spent the night with." Gabriel continued to look at her uncomprehendingly. "The one who Mistress Esmerelda trained to be to your liking!"

"Her?" Gabriel asked, genuinely confused. "You think I had sex with her?"

Mariah bristled and didn't answer for a moment. When she did she furiously ticked off her reasons on her fingers. "She was trained to be to your liking. You spent the night together. You were exhausted the next day. You told Mistress Esmerelda she had given you one of the best nights of your life, that she was 'terrific.'"

Mariah's voice dripped with loathing, but Gabriel snorted. He held up four fingers to match Mariah's, and bent them down as he responded to each of her points in reverse order. "I lied to Esmerelda. I was exhausted because I spent hours convincing that dull girl that Esmerelda wanted her to please me and she could please me best by lying to Esmerelda, and then I had to teach her how to lie." Mariah looked confused, and then surprised, and then she started to laugh.

Gabriel wasn't finished. "And if Esmerelda had truly wanted to send me someone to my liking, she wouldn't have sent a simpering kitten."

Still laughing, Mariah asked, "What would she have sent, then?"

"Don't you know?" Gabriel asked softly. Mariah shook her head. "She would have sent a dark-haired green-eyed beauty who scowls more than she smiles. A woman who would never admit to listening to my lectures, but who could tell me without thinking the ingredients of a tea I would give to someone with a wrenched back."

"That's easy," Mariah said. "Ground turmeric root with honey." Gabriel nodded. He watched comprehension dawn on her face as she realized he was talking about her.

"A woman who laughs rarely but with commitment," he continued softly. "A woman so smart that if her circumstances and her temper allowed she could hope to sit among the wise, but so foolish that she doesn't know who her friends are. A woman brave to the point of foolhardiness, but too scared to recognize the truth of her circumstances."

Gabriel's forehead was almost touching Mariah's and he bored into her eyes with his look. She reached her hand up and touched his cheek.

Gabriel jolted away. "But not a slave," he said. "Not someone who takes pleasure in her own degradation."

Mariah froze. After a moment, she said, dully, "I do what I have been trained to do."

"I know," Gabriel spat. "Just as Jordyn has been trained to ride a horse with a rod up her ass. Just as she would choose that, you choose to enjoy being raped."