Tales of Dunnis Urom

The ladies had come and taken him up and coaxed the horrible thing off him into a jar which they'd sealed. He'd needed to wear an absorbent--a real cloth diaper--for two weeks after that.

He felt for the girl. True, he didn't really know her and from what he gathered, she was the daughter of a high-class merchant--but he didn't like the muck cell and he hoped she didn't take advantage of the "solitude" and touch or scratch.

Mother Kane came down the stairs when the bells were tolling ONES and, seemingly disappointed that her cries were not filling the chamber even through the heavy door, told him to fetch her. They weren't going to leave her in there all day! She had an important guest to meet!

ONES: ARTISAN TANARIS CRAY

Artisan Tanaris Cray rode comfortably in a carriage that made the trip through the crowded low-streets of DunnisUrom almost pleasant. In addition to the ever-present stench and the extremely unwashed bodies of the beggars and vagrants and urchins, walking outside would subject him to the incredibly dizzying storm of snaking lines of potential that each person was. The high streets were better: less crowded and the people who were there were generally better ordered.

However, he had little choice. His presence was requested by the DunnisUrom Mother's Council (and Matrons--but it was always the Mother's Council in common speech) and while he was not required to attend their summons, they were powerful benefactors of the order and he would go.

Before that, though, Tanaris needed to look in on someone--and that someone was in a splinter enclave of the order in the heart of the low district. So he reclined, annoyed by the stopping and starting of the carriage and he heard the noise of the crowds outside. He could feel the chaos of the Low District.

The citizens here were undisciplined and there was masturbation, unapproved coupling, and a variety of other misbehaviors. Young men of low dominance from the upper quarters would enter the Low Districts to avail themselves of unlicensed prostitutes whom they could fuck however they wanted since the girls were under the stable of a madame or master who governed them. All of this--the theft, the gambling, the sex, and the chemical ingestion all made the hammering governance that rained down under Sattvic skies less potent. All of these created small rips and tears in the fabric of balance and design that allowed anomalies and the unclean to spawn.

Normally it was a situation that was dealt with by other chapters of the order and the town's governance--but now, overhead--and rising up from the ground in waves--there was what Artisans described as a "convergence"--a tower of invisible "storm clouds" gathering over the city--an indication that some event was approaching that was a powerful inflection point. It could pass without anyone noticing, of course. This happened all the time--but in this case, the reach of the convergence was strong enough that he had felt it gathering for days and he had been assigned to unravel it.

That was fine--except now, it evaded him--he had tried to untangle it and to study its threads and, as though it was hiding from him, it had vanished into noise and chaos. From a distance, he could still perceive it--the looping knots of potential wrapping tighter and tighter--but when he got closer--when he turned his carefully trained perception on the event, it dissolved.

He was confounded: his peers were no help--there was sufficient rivalry in the Artisan groups that cooperation was unfettered only when there were orders to work together. But he had someone he could reach out to.

The carriage came to a halt and the driver rapped politely on the wood, indicating they had arrived. Tanaris unfolded and unlatched the door. He stepped out, straightening the white coat he wore that bore the order's seal.

Several urchins and beggars that had clustered near the carriage hoping to beg whoever exited it scattered. He was still concerned about getting any slime on his clothes. The fragment enclave was a building of dark stone with a wall around it and iron spikes along the top to discourage climbers. Out front by the gates were two stocks, one on either side.

Penitents sat, their legs locked into the holes, bare feet sticking out front. Two boys on one side--a girl on the other He knew their bowels had been filled with water and then sealed with rubber plugs. They thus sat, in wretched discomfort on well spanked bottoms. They reeked of urine which wasn't surprising as the water was absorbed and the result was a constant need to pee,

He swept past them, hearing a plea from the girl, begging him to ask mercy on her behalf. And he stepped to the door. It was open for supplicants off to the side, a dirty, skinny boy of about 20 knelt with his hands behind him, head bowed. He would wait until the girl at the table before him decided he had waited long enough--but she was in no hurry. She did, however, come to attention, clearly shocked to see his long white coat and the emblem over the chest.

"Master Artisan!" she hissed out--and off in the waiting alcove, the boy scrambled back, closer to the wall, looking up and staring at him wide eyed.

"I am here to see Ms. Vivian Cray," he said. "She is in residence."

"Yes, Master Artisan. I shall send for her--" the girl said quickly.

"No," he said. "I am in something of a hurry. I will go to her myself."

This was a breach of protocol for her but she wisely stood down, settings for pulling a lever that rang a bell back in her superior's chambers, and unnecessarily sliding away from him as he strode around the table.

"Oh," he said as he passed her, "the unfortunate girl outside begged me for mercy. Please freshen up her suffering."

"Yes, Master Artisan!" The girl stood at attention as he passed and then took a can and a brush to apply a layer of powder to the girl's bare feet that would give her something to think about next time she asked a master of the order for mercy in her appointed punishment.

He sensed Vivian's presence and discomfort as soon as reached for her thread. She and he were deeply entangled. He felt a sense of satisfaction at his twin sister's predicament. They had joined the order's apprentice for Artisans at age eight and always been subjected to the same strict discipline--but Vivian had, from the first been far more likely to earn punishments than he had been--indeed, her predilection to being punished had extended to challenging the head student of the senior class and losing to the girl badly.

This had led to her removal from the school and having to accept a term of punishment enslavement under the young woman she'd sought to unseat. At the time, Tanaris had been horrified and vowed vengeance for his sibling--but three unpleasant years for his sister later, the two women had joined in a union.Vivian was very much the submissive and Karistine, her harsh mistress--but he saw now his twin was both well cared for and while she was constantly under some form of discipline, it was clear her dominant adored her. He wondered if Karistine had known her challenger had a terrible crush on her at the time they had dueled. Probably, he thought. Girls were smarter that way.

He effortlessly caught her thread out of the air and followed it back to her. Before he even saw her, he could sense the paste that seemed to be made of stinging nettles that had been liberally applied to her panties and a punishment corset.

The panties covered with the punishment paste had been tugged hard up into her clefts and a small force daemon had been constructed to keep them tightly and uncomfortably pulled so she couldn't even pick them out! She was whimpering and feeling sorry for herself in the big kitchens where the order cooked tubs of beggars gruel for daily free feedings of the public.

The kitchen was now empty save for an unhappy Vivian who seemed to be working to prepare a bird for cooking as she pranced about.

"Tan." she said, without looking. She could sense him too.

"Vivian." He walked in and looked her over. She wore a dark robe of some expensive fuzzy material and was barefoot on the cold floor. She had little smudges of dirt or charcoal or something on her cheeks and nose. She blushed when she saw him, though and gave a rueful smile. He crossed the floor and gave her a hug, lifting her. He was pleased that she smelled clean, at least. Working in the Low Quarter beggars-district fragment enclave often found its order personnel in some of the same straits of the people they served.

He went to wipe at the smudge on her nose.

"Don't," she said. "I've gotta wear it."

"You do?" He found this amusing.

"Karistine thinks it's cute," she told him.

"Mistress Karistine," he reminded her.

"Mistress Karistine," she said, "to whom I am of course incredibly beholden to for taking my wretched self in and giving a silly, stupid girl a lovingly disciplined home!" Her words had a tone of wry irony--but he could see that saying them was a little mortification for her. She paused. "You won't tell on me for not using her proper address?"

"Not decided yet," he smirked, deciding he'd probably tell the dominant Artisan since Vivian would probably feel guilty if he didn't. Plus he was a bit curious to see what her punishment would be.

"Why have you come here today," she asked, sniffling and turning back to the bird in an obvious waddle. The panties were vexing her pretty badly and her nipples swelled in the cups of the corset, sinking into the punishment paste.

"I do need something from you, sister--and you're not stupid. Silly, yes--but not stupid."

She looked at him. Her eyes were still red from where she'd been crying a little.and he decided her mistress was right: the smudges did look cute.

"I've lost track of an event," he told her.

"The tangle storm," she nodded.

He nodded more grimly. "You've been tracking it too?" She wasn't officially an Artisan because she had been remanded to judicial slavery before she graduated but she was trained--and she was good.

"Myself and mistress Karistine," she said, with no irony in her voice when she used the name of her wife. "It's... close to me, warily," she told him. In this context that meant "possibly involved." He grimaced.

"I thought so to--myself, I mean--but it's not local to the enclaves--neither mine nor this one--and I'm unaware of anything that could ensnare both of us"

"Neither is Mistress Karistine," Vivian said, wincing as some delicate part of her sex was stung. "But we both feel it stacking up. Something important to a number of people--and risky--on edge." she shook her head, then looked up.

"You said you lost track of it?"

"Yes. I... yesterday I was able to chart it with my star maps and pendulums-then: nothing. It's still there--but I can't track it or bring out a map of it or anything. Can it be concealed for me? Can a natural vortex of coincidence be hiding??"

"You can still see it from afar, brother--but up close it is impossible to disentangle?" She saw something that amused her and this annoyed him. He was definitely telling her mistress on her.

"Yes, Viv. what?"

"That means you're IN it, Tan. Deep in it." She said.

"Foo!" he swore loudly using the allowed words.