Chapter 31 #2
I was ushered in, two sisters nipping at my heels, the rest waiting outside, who promptly locked the door.
Ropes draped over one of the two chairs, the one meant for me.
Leather straps hung from its arms and legs, unbuckled, ready to wrap around my wrists and ankles.
Something settled in the pit of my stomach, churning ever since the inquisitions had ended.
On the small table to my right—usually stocked with linen strips, cleansing solution, and scorchers—rested a jar. Its contents writhed.
“Leeches?” I found myself asking, though knowing no one would reply. The tall one surpassed me and nodded, her stern eyes softening.
“Fuck me.” I settled myself into the chair, readying to be bound, my head falling back against its highest plank. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
But before any of them could get on with it, the door creaked open again, and so did one of my eyes.
An acolyte, hands cupped, joined the sisters in front of me.
“Blood Demands Blood,” he intoned, glassy eyes alight with delight.
“Yes. Blood Demands fucking Blood. Have we not learned that lesson by now?”
The acolyte smiled at my insolence, gums bleeding at the edges. “And yet, the student has yet to master its content.”
He struck my face with an angular hand, sending my neck careening to the left. I smiled, spitting blood onto the floor, my gums now probably as red as his.
“The High Druid, His Holiest Eminence, requires samples of your blood, laurel. Something you will give freely, as is demanded.”
“Of course,” I acquiesced, tasting iron on my tongue.
“Whatever the render, please do take and take and take. What need have I of it, anyhow?”“What need indeed,” repeated the Acolyte, his brow assessing, his face somehow familiar.
Though all Acolytes looked the same. A cunt is a cunt is a cunt.
“Bind him, sister. Ensure he cannot move to disturb the blood’s flow.
Attach the leeches here,” a stained finger jabbed at my navel, slightly to the right.
“Here,” he lifted it to my chest, slightly to the left, over my heart, which had long since given up being either hopeful or scared, resigning itself to a monotonous thud.
“And here.” He pointed to the inside of my thigh, far, far too close to my groin, and my balls shrivelled.
“And lastly, here.” He lowered his hand to the soles of my feet. “Fill as many as you can and deposit them in the correct bowls. For Blood Demands Blood.”The sisters cupped their hands and bowed.
“If he should protest the demands, keep a tally of his dues, and mark them on his wrist with this.” He produced an iron spike from his belt, handing it to the shorter of the two. “We shall see him penanced for the trouble.”
With that, he left as swiftly as he came, the brush of his robes against my shin eliciting a shudder.
The sisters hesitated, fiddling with their hands and shooting each other panicked glares long after the door was sealed, as if they didn’t quite know where to start.
“I won’t bite,” I assured them. “Do what you must.” A leech or two was still better than the Hand of the Blood God, and I could use the time to think, and scheme and plot.
I eyed the tall one, toying with the idea of asking her about Adelaide, if the other sister deigned to leave us.
“Though I’m a marvel with my hands, sisters, even I cannot tighten my own binds. I’m afraid you’re going to have to—”
The door swung open again.
“For fuck’s sake—”
A hand clipped me over my ear. A small, chubby hand.
Still unbound, I shot to my feet, already turning.
Though the chair remained between us, I looped my arms around her neck, pinning her close.
Her face pressed to my shoulder, wet and soaking the fabric, her grip around my waist like a vice.
We stayed there, clinging to each other, the two sisters in front of us a silent audience.
She didn’t smell like Adelaide, like warm milk, lavender, and talc.
She smelled of starch, of fire, of iron.
Of the templum. Just as she had the last time I’d embraced her, two weeks ago, when we had only minutes before the monks returned.
“Adelaide.” I pulled myself from her. Her hand remained tight on my wrist, eyes pinned on the sisters to our backs.
I turned.
“Can you leave us?” I whispered, knowing all manner of Dendralis beasts could lurk behind the door.
They shook their heads.
“Then what–”
Adelaide stepped into my line of sight, rounding the chair.
Her finger tapped my chest, then moved to the shell of her ear: Listen.
I nodded sharply, aware she might have to leave at any moment.
She bit her lip, then extended a palm towards the largest sister, whose eyes were fixed on her.
With some effort, the sister reluctantly tore her gaze away and settled it on me, giving a knowing nod as she swept a hand up and down the length of her body, then motioned towards her breasts.
What in the fucking pits was happening?
“Adelaide—” I tried, fidgety beneath the swinging axe above our heads. “I know you pledged a vow of silence, but for the love of the beyond, can we not speak?”
She ignored me, frantically motioning between me and the other sister, then mimed the act of removing one’s shirt, unless it was some strange, impromptu signal to cheer, while mouthing something indecipherable.
“This is ridiculous.” I knelt before her, taking her wildly gesticulating hands in mine.
“Some small sins are needed to temper the largeness of others. Blood God willing or no, we need clarity when so much is at stake. If we are to leave, to escape here and swim to Ricily, wherever we’re headed, I don’t give a fuck, but we must go and seek out Ashara.
Speak, Adelaide. Fuck your vow, and speak! ”
I rose, clasping her shoulders.
“I can’t,” she mouthed, without voice, letting me rattle her.
“Speak, damn you.” I almost cried, eyes flicking to the knot at her throat. I had respected her vow the last time, knowing that taking it had likely spared her the fate of bloodstone. But now the time for piety was over.
“I can’t!” A ragged gust of air left her lungs, the words absent. She stepped out of my grasp, aligning hip to hip with the other sisters. After a brief nod and a glance, they brought their fingers to their necks and began untying their knots, letting the scarves drift to the floor.
A splinter of wood. A shard of flint. My own godsdamned hands. Someone would die for this.
Three gnarled—the result of clumsy bladework—scars sliced their way across each of their throats, their edges a light pink, though most of it bleached white by the ticking of time.Adelaide sobbed, the sound all breath, no bite. The others lifted their chins, staring down at me over their noses.
Knees threatening to buckle, I extended a finger to Adelaide’s throat, tracing the line. They’d severed her vocal cords, or removed them entirely.
“They cut it from you?” I asked her, imbuing strength into my words for her sake. Strength I didn’t feel.
Cunts. Cunts. Cunts. She nodded once.
“You take no vow of silence?” I let my eyes drift to the others. “They cut it from you?” I repeated, breath coming in short, shallow gusts. They nodded.
“Why? Why?” My voice broke on the question. There would never be a good enough excuse.
Her pocked cheeks paled in the sconce light, warm eyes darting to the walls, before lifting to the beams and then the door. She rotated her head, eyes fixed on a vent to our right. She waited, listening for something.
I grabbed her hand. “Blood Demands Blood, Adelaide.” Her eyes met mine, and under the fear, the shame, though it was not hers to bear, burned something I felt in my own, though hotter.
After a curt nod, she slipped her hand from mine, pointing to her throat and mimicking the way they sliced it.
I tried not to grimace. “Do you have a letter?”
She shook her head.
“Have we a plan?”
A deep breath, her eyes boring holes into mine with greater precision than Falstaff’s rods, and she nodded.
Then, the other sister started to strip. “I, hold on…” I waved my hands, imploring her to stop. “That’s not what I—”
Her boxy headdress was torn off first, revealing a crop of shorn hair. A shade or two lighter than mine, but curly, masculine. The drachma dropped.
Then came the bell and the belt before she started to fiddle with the fastenings of her dress.
A glimpse of undergarments, and I averted my eyes, finding Adelaide, who was rooting through her skirts?
A bundle of something hit me squarely in the chest, thrown by the larger sister, and I looked up to find her in nothing more than a slip.
Clicking her large fingers, she pointed to the ball of clothes at my feet. Adelaide mimicked dressing, her fingers coming hither in a silent bid to hurry me along.
“You…you want me to put on her clothes?”They nodded, eyes intent on the door.
“I… Well, fuck me, alright then.” I got dressed quickly and as best as I could, but I must’ve done something wrong, for all three of them swarmed me, fussing to adjust the headdress and bodice. The gown fell to my arms, to my feet, thankfully covering the dusting of hair.
The tall one hoisted my skirts, and I squealed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She stood back and opened each hand. From some unknown place she’d acquired two apples and a swathe of linen.
“And just where do you think you’re putting those?” Her devilish grin was answer enough, and a small light in the dark.
“Adelaide, I—” That earned me a sharp knock to the arm before she helped bind the fruit to my chest, effectively breastifying me. After a moment, the sisters stepped back, eyes gleaming as they admired their handiwork.
Good enough, they seemed to say, though their contorted brows instilled little confidence.
Adelaide approached me with a small razor-like blade and a bar of soap from the basin next to the slugs, readying to shear me like a sheep.
“You may want to leave just a smidge.” I gestured to my upper lip and nudged towards the naked sister, whose nose wrinkled as she shucked on my shirt.
“Just here…you know, for the sake of authenticity.”
Whilst she shaved me with careful hands, despite our rush, the sister in my shirt seated herself in the chair of ropes, the other sister binding her.
A seedling of guilt sprouted as I realised she was to act in my stead, as I was to hers.
As soon as an acolyte faced her, the deception would be clear, but for anyone peeking through the door, the back of her might be enough.
Cautiously, I fondled the apples, checking if they were even. Adelaide smacked me away, face stern. I beamed at her.
With a steadying breath, she stepped back, surveying me one last time.
Satisfied, she shuffled to the chair, palm resting lightly on the tall sister’s cheek.
Her other fingers moved with agile speed, signing something I could neither understand nor had any business knowing, for it was not mine to know.
Their foreheads pressed together for a heartbeat, and then Adelaide detached herself, giving the other sister a small peck on the cheek.Returned to my side, I faced them, vision obscured somewhat by the flap of the headdress.
“You have my thanks, sisters. I shall not forget this.” They nodded, the worry in their eyes most likely for Adelaide rather than me.We turned, my sister’s hand woven with mine.
With my other, I stroked her face, thumbing the pit where the biggest of her buttons had been.
“Fuck the Dendralis,” I vowed.
She opened the door.