Punishment Day Festival Pt. 03

A continuation of the Punishment Festival world introducing some new characters (but the other ones aren't forgotten)

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SATTVAS DAY

Yais moved as quickly as she could without drawing attention. She had a schedule to keep if she was going to meet the mysterious 'someone' who had paid for her appearance. She wore a dirty brown cloak that had once been purple with the hood up, and tights and a tunic under it. The only clothing she had that wasn't decayed looking or soiled were her good boots that she made a concession to. She hated being dirty but, on the streets of DunnisUorm, there wasn't much option. Her bottom itched from where she'd been forced to relieve herself in one of the sewer-toilets without any element to clean herself. Such was the lot of the lowest class.

If she wanted actual good facilities she'd have to pledge herself to a workhouse or join one of the feminine guilds or present herself at the order. All these were worse options, she thought, than running around with an itchy backside--so long as the gendarmes didn't grab her for squirming or scratching--both of which were punishable displays of "vulgarity."

She wound through the crowd, suppressing her inclination to cut a purse or pocket here or there--or filch a fat wallet. Her fingers were skilled enough but the risk--were she caught--was too severe to be countenanced. These streets were a good deal higher class than the ones she usually haunted and Watchers bearing the crest of the order of Sattva stood everywhere, surveying the crowd. It had to be a terribly boring job, she thought, but if she gave them any excuse to set upon her and punish her it would certainly liven things up for them

When she reached the plaza she sought, she pulled up short: before the massive and mysterious Indexium Lirbis was a gilded carriage drawn by a cadre of almost naked young men--hairless below the neck, their members locked in chastity cages and their feet encased in locking boots. They were yolked to the carriage and now stood, idly staring ahead, their hands shackled to the wooden rails they pulled to move it.

The group of six of them looked lean and muscled. Their skin gleamed with some sort of oil. They shifted--slightly--probably all in some form of added discomfort. Being a great houses' steed was a punishment and they had likely been purchased from the courts with the agreement that their term of service would be unpleasant above and beyond being yolked like an animal and forced to present oneself in the streets to draw a carriage. Below the penis cages, their scrotums were uniformly hairless, pink, and extremely swollen.

As entertaining as the view was, though, the fact of the carriage itself was far, far more concerning for Yais. She was here to meet with a contact from the upper houses. That, in itself had dangers--but she had not--not at all--expected to see a discipline carriage outside the great library.

This level of scrutiny was dangerous for her. If the watchers or gendarmes stopped her and questioned her, it would become evident she was unmanaged--and if that happened there was a chance she would be scooped up and sent to an auditor to see if she would be assigned some station--judicially--so as to have her watched over.

Her entire reason for being on the streets, for having run away from home at her first menarche, for a life of hardship and uncertainty. She did not want to be "watched over"--to crawl and scrape until she was at the age of motherhood when she would be gently guided into some family relationship to bear or care for children (or both). No--she wanted freedom and she might be grimey and smudged and unbathed but she was better than those girls in the guild halls or the domestic duties and domestication training schools.

No, if she was caught and brought before an auditor judge,her life of freedom would end and, fearing that, she shifted back towards a wide alcove in the surrounding buildings--a small stone floored porch outside some official looking structure where she would be marginally out of sight from the countless watching eyes around the rich person's carriage.

When she was near a brick corner and out of the plaza's exposed center, she dropped down in a squat to wait to see if she saw her contact. They would wear a scarlet bow, she'd been told---in their hair, she guessed. She looked for a woman who, for some reason, needed a contact in the street-world of urchins and prostitutes and thieves.

"You're a bit smelly for a stealthy little kitty-cat," said a male voice from the side. She jumped slightly and came smoothly to her feet. Her hand rested against the cloak's interior pocket that held a slim baton.

It was a boy--no older, she thought, than his mid 20's, dressed in a fine silk shirt, trousers and... across his back, a brilliant red wooden bow. No quiver. He grinned at her, insolently, she thought.

"You--" she startled. "You are?"

"Casil," he introduced himself. "Son of the great house of Verah. I suppose you are the little thief girl I was told about."

She drew herself up, feeling a fury boil in her. "I am no thief," she lied. "What is your reason for accosting me, young master?"

Despite her intense annoyance, the risk of not using his title--and having him call for the Watchers was too high to risk.

He chuckled.

"A very pretty girl with straw colored hair, a purple cloak--that was once purple, wasn't it?--and fine boots, I was informed. I think that's rare enough to narrow things down quite nicely. Especially to be found in this plaza at Deca." She heard the bells toll and cursed DeVola, her "handler" who had arranged this meeting.

The boy--or, far more likely, some servant of his, had been paid to use their connections in the lower quarters to find a... thief? A pick-pocket--some description that had brought her description to DeVola's lips and the description of this boy to her ears. She had been paid a Bronze Crown simply to take the meeting and she was due another one now that she had met.

Unfortunately she would have to identify herself and he would have to vouch for her appearance in order to claim it.

"Yais," she said after a pause. She ducked her head and sketched a curtsey in greeting.

He nodded--satisfied. I'd planned to discuss this in the Libris," he said--but I think they'll raise an issue if I just walk you in, smelling like that. He said this cheerfully--finding it amusing.

"We don't all have access to your scented baths," she muttered. And was suddenly struck by a realization. "That carriage is yours!!?"

"My older sister's," he chuckled. "She is in the Libris even now." He considered. "Follow me then, I've an idea."

He turned and set out across the plaza and she, grimacing and thinking that perhaps a Bronze Crown for this was simply not worth it, nonetheless hurried to follow him. If he wasn't lying about being the Scion of a great house he could, with only his word, have her collected and doubtless punished by the courts for any number of possible offenses, including societal infraction of being an un-looked after girl out on her own..

He approached the carriage and she felt the eyes of Watchers follow the both of them. The young men shackled to its pulling-rods did risk sideways glances at them--the boy--and her. They didn't look dull eyed at all--nor intensely miserable. They stood at an easy attention, legs slightly bent. They were quite covered with blush--but there was no covering themselves. She could see two of them with equine blinders on to prevent him from looking around--and those two and a couple others with light marks along their buttocks and flanks.

Cais moved around the back of the carriage,and hunted inside a small trunk..

"Young master," she breathed near him. A dirty street girl like her standing near this finely dressed young man would attract attention at the worst of times.

"Kneel down," he said, not looking at her--and conversationally.

Reluctantly she dropped down. The cloak was thick enough to provide a comfortable cushion but she bristled at being made to kneel and bow her head while this pampered slip of a boy hunted around in his carriage for... what?

She blanched when she saw it: a leash and collar. The leash, long and thin--expensive leather. The collar was of a pink leather with an inner lining of thick black fur.

"Chin back, Yais," he said, bending down.

No! She glared up at him. Could she run now? It would mean a chase. Might he catch her? The Watchers were doubtless looking at this right now and while she could spring to her feet in an instance and doubtless lose all of them in the alleys, she would have to clear the plaza and if they moved smartly to cut her off? The boy was lean and looked quick on his feet.

Ugh!! No! No! NO!

But she tilted her head and felt him efficiently fasten the collar around it.

The collar was, it turned out, quite comfortable. The thick fur on her skin not feeling hot--but simply warm and soft--caressing her throat and neck. Without meaning to, she raised a hand to touch it.

"Don't!" he said. "The leather is Anodile--if you touch it, it'll sting your fingers. Just leave it be."

He fastened the leash.

Anger impotently boiled in her. He had... collared and LEASHED her. In public--right HERE.

He gave the leash the faintests of tugs. "Up--and follow me. They'll admit you now."

Her eyes bulged. Admit me?? Admit me where??

He started to walk and she, red with fury, had no choice but to lower her head and follow him. She felt the chained boys watch her with interest as she fell in behind one of their masters who strolled through the doors of the great edifice.

Now, collared and leashed, she felt the various itches about her double--treble in intensity--as though they knew she could no longer simply dart off into an alley to scratch them.

She was too angry to cry, thankfully, but she felt heat blaze in her face as he led her inside.

The Library functionaries guarding the doors glared at her, clearly judging her far, far too dirty and low class to enter the great hall of books--but they got out of Cais' way and held their tongues as he breezed by them through the second set of doors that led inside.

"See?" He grinned as he led her into the antechamber. "Easy, right?"

She glowered--and then... stared.

The great Libris rose around her--green stone arches and columns rose up: two--no, three stories here. The bookshelves were full and massive--scores of these shelves rising up into the air on multiple platforms linked by staircases. Spiral stairs curved up to landings that were mostly ringed with stone shelves while other shelves loomed above those--even larger. Beams of light came from an ornate skylight overhead and it was clear that this chamber was only the start: the Libris went further back--and became larger.

What she stared at, feeling dwarfed by it, was impossible. She would have wagered anything she owned that there were not half this many books in all the world.

He looked at her--apparently pleased with her stunned demeanor.

"H-how?" she asked in a whisper.

He hesitated a second and then nodded. "The Indexium is the greatest center of learning outside of the Throne's Central University and, perhaps, the Kahari Desert's rumored underground caverns of endless scrolls and tablets. It has been taking the works of smaller libraries and absorbing them for centuries. Its architects appealed to Sattva himself to create the building that would stand until the last child was birthed.

"It's quite impressive. But also very, very private. That's why I wished us to meet here--so come--and hold your tongue. We need to get where we're going without any extra attention."

She closed her mouth and followed him--the soft collar still managing to chafe badly at her emotions, if not her skin.

He led her up a staircase while the dour librarians' eyes followed her.

"Cais! You got yourself a pet!" the woman's voice was thrilled. She saw him blush--lightly--and roll his eyes. But she also caught the look of alarm behind his air of exasperation.

"Just for moments, Virona," he said.

The elegant young woman--maybe a year or two his senior sat in a comfortable chair surrounded by books. She saw that one of the almost naked carriage boys had been brought in with her and he knelt on hands and knees by her with a glass of wine set on the small of his back. Yais could see his buttocks were flushed red--not merely from blush--but also, she thought, the recent application of a hand.

On the books before the woman she could see illustrations that were difficult to fully grasp from here but she could see curves and crevices that strongly suggested she was looking at texts that would get a girl not from a great house disciplined even for asking for.

Her hand stroked the back of the carriage-boy as she examined Yais closely.

"Bring her over here, Cais. I want a look at this stray!"

He looked entirely uncomfortable at this--but, she saw to her dismay, he lacked the raw stature to deny her. In great houses, age was a firm hierarchy--and under the order's law, hierarchy was all important.

"Come," he told her, "do as bidden."

She groaned inside, and, following the faint tug, walked with him towards this obvious bitch of a girl.

The young woman looked at Yais with a hunger and an interest.

"She's cute," Virona declared. "Take her cloak off."

Cais moved slowly. "Sister, please--I had planned to look over--"

She waved him off. "You've got a dirty little street girl on my good collar and leash! I'm not letting you off without an explanation!"

She felt his hands undo the collar of the cloak and bring it back from her head, exposing it. Despite herself she blushed angrily. This was bad--and she knew it could get far, far worse.

She was certain the boy on all fours serving as a wine table didn't like being naked any more than she would--but there he was, nevertheless, and his mistress had clearly amused herself by slapping him on his buttocks. She imagined he was all but overcome with the indignity of it all--and yet he knew better than to object to any of this treatment, lest his mistress simply send him to a punishment house or whatever they had back at the great house to correct his attitude.

The woman theatrically wrinkled her nose.

"Ugh--those sewer toilets," she said, her tone somewhat mocking--but, at least, understanding. "You girls are allowed to squat but then have to dress and go immediately so you aren't tempted to disobedience by touching yourself!"

She pretended to pout at the unfairness of it all.

Her fingers' brushed Yais' cheek.

"What happened that my brother collared you?"

She heard Cias open his mouth and start to speak but she shushed him. "I want to hear your pet say it!" she enthused. "Her tongue works, I've no doubt."

Yais felt a chill of danger at being tested by this bitch--it was clear if she did not perform for the girl she would regret it. She already regretted all of this.

"I approached him, begging for coin, mistress," she said softly, coloring her speech with the accent of the lower classes to a higher degree than she might normally.

"He paid me no mind--but when I knelt he said that if I was willing to be leashed like an animal he would see fit to gift me a bronze crown."

She hoped this story would work--and to her relief, the woman before her gave a sparkling, brilliant smile.

"Cais! You're learning!" she enthused. "I like this one. Have fun with her!"

She reached up and patted Yais' cheek

"Thank you, mistress," Yais whispered, still looking down.

"You may go--" she dismissed her younger brother. "I do want a report on her response to a spanking!"

"Come--" he said, ignoring his sister.

"Cais! You'll find you enjoy it," the girl called after them. "Truly--I so enjoy my boys!"

Yais heard the soft report of a slap from behind them.

Her cheeks blazed and she grimaced as Cais led her up another stair and then across a walk-way overlooking space into the seemingly random pile of shelves and landings and stairs.

She could see he was blushing as well, and angrily.

Good, she thought sourly. However much he didn't like his older sister toying with him, she assuredly hated it more. He held her cloak in his hands and finally came to a round balcony that looked over a veritable chasm of ornate shelves and books.

He sat on one of the couches and then--after a moment, glanced at her.

"Kneel on the rug--if a functionary comes by I don't want a row over the furniture."

Glowering, she knelt again. At least the rug was thick and soft.

"My sister may be a problem here," he said. "I would have come without her--but it was the only way to leave the enclave without a chaperone who would be harder to shake than my own shadow."

"I thought she would be taken up in playing with her toys and restricted books--but she clearly had time to spend needling me--and, I suppose, you."

He looked at her--he hadn't apologized for her but his eyes suggested he felt at least a tiny bit bad about what she'd endured.

Hunnh--she'd have to take it. She supposed for a boy born to a great house of DunnisUorm apologizing to a street girl would be unthinkable.

At last she nodded.

"Perhaps, young master Cais," she said, making his title as sarcastic as she dared, "what was it you wanted a street-rat for?"

He nodded at that, sat forwards, and ran his hands through his hair.

"How good are you at sleight of hand--at taking things off a person without permission?"

She looked at him, her eyes hard. She didn't answer.

"DeVola offered you as the best he knew of," he finally tried.

"If I told you how good I was," she asked, "would you even know how to understand the measure?" Her words contained enough bite that she was sure she was over the line with him--well into the zone where he could have her placed in irons for irreverence of a lowly girl to a member of a great house.

"Try me?" he grinned.

"I am good enough to work alone," she said simply.

She enjoyed watching him consider this.

"Okay, you're right. Explain it to me."

"To take something off a person, there are usually teams--a group that will offer a mundane distraction so that the person doing the Take doesn't garner the attention of the mark. Teams of two are a minimum. Three to five is most preferable. A shouting match--a fight--someone dropping a large parcel--those things must be engineered not only so that they are noticed but not much remarked on--but so that the people uninvolved in the Take also see nothing amiss from many directions.

"I am able to work alone. Each required member of the team is a rank. Zero is the greatest. It is rare."

He nodded, impressed.

"There is an event at the estate in three days. There will be a guest coming with an item that I wish possession of. They are rarely without it and prize it greatly. I could work to have it acquired by the Arts but that would be risky. I suspect it is warded. I am given to understand from reading--he gestured around--and careful, very careful enquiry--that to have it taken off my mark's person would work but it will require great skill."

She watched him, quietly now.

He shifted and looked at her. "What do you think?"

"What will happen when this person realizes the item is missing?" she asked, coolly.

"A-hehhh," he laughed and it became a bit of a cough. "Hopefully they will be far gone when that happens."

"But if not?"

"Well," he mused on this. "It is small--a key in a leather folder. I suppose we could place it in some location where he would find it?"

She nodded.

"How am I to appear at a function? How would that even be possible?"

"Before I had caught the eye of my sister, my thought was to have you appear as staff. A maid, perhaps. Now... " he trailed off.