The clan boss’ hands were extended as a gesture of trust, the ivory skin high pink in the fire’s glow. The girl dropped her fists, nodded then, settling back into place, accepted the strong brewed tea offered her. The boss’ demeanor was placid, helping, with body movements that flowed for one of such superior build. A gentle smile was issued, then a tired chuckle and the boss began to speak in calm, even tones that did nothing to hide the subtlety of idle amusement. There was no sympathy for the girl, only an understanding of similar experiences that fed their single-sided conversation.
"Well, well, so the dead has arisen. No, don’t speak, your throat is very bruised. Simple nods will suffice. How do you feel? Groggy, I’d expect. Prock does that when you come down. The change in day length will disorient you as well, throws your biorhythms off for the longest time. My purchasing agent brought you in a few hours ago. My people aren’t responsible for what happened to you. You were roughed up before they got to you. They pulled four off you, killed two of them." The snowy palms were held up again,revealing a hand that was incomplete. The ring finger of that hand was long removed, torn from the bottom joint in battle. "Not that four is impressive. I was jumped by seven the day I came to auction... Are you sore?" The boss‘ brawny shoulders shrugged. An answer wasn’t necessary, nor did it matter. Everyone on Trimar paid a price - some in mind, some in body, most with both. "That’s the penance for being sent here. What’d you do, kill your guardian?"
The girl glared over her mug, blue eyes reflecting the firelight orange.
"Mmmhm, thought so. And it’s the very reason you weren’t purchased. Bet there was more than one itching to add you to their pleasure stock until they discovered your crime." And the missing fingered hand was held out again, demanding the incensed girl remain seated. "Hey now, don’t get defensive, that was intended as a compliment. We don’t keep harem here. It’s too troublesome." The boss’ expression was now insipid, coating a profiteer’s interest. "You, young woman, do not have the look of the female convicts that normally cross my threshold." The boss’ head tilted a bit as the curiosity became genuine. "Ah, but do any of us appear murderous the first time we sink our blades? Did infidelity motivate your crime? Was it, perhaps, a crime of passion?"
"SIT DOWN!" Heavy force collided the girl’s backside into the floor, bouncing her twice, stinging the rawest regions of her body. "Don’t try that again. There’s no escape from here. Naked as you are you’d freeze within minutes. Besides, Trimar’s twisting caves are deadly to those who don’t know them. Relax and enjoy your tea. It’ll douse the burn in your throat. I’ve called for someone assist you in cleaning up." And the boss became aware of the girl’s bewildered expression. "Why the look? Come now, you can’t expect me to believe you have no idea of where you are." The boss peered sharply at the girl. This one was certainly young, but no child. Had she actually lead such a sheltered life?
"You really don’t know Trimar at all, do you? No rumors or nightmarish yarns? None of the forbidden Trimar tales were ever reenacted under your blankets at night?" The boss growled exasperation. "Then what a boring life you have led up to this point. Good thing we found you, the four who bought you were clanless, garbage of garbage, likely stole what they paid for you. They would have used you up, tossed you away, and no one would have noticed - or cared. You’d be dead, another victim of prison corruption. Oh, that look! So innocent. So pained. Shouldn’t I speak to you this way, dearling? Does it hurt your tender ears?" The understanding face became lost in the contortions of laughter. "If anyone should tell you the truth, it’s me. I’m your savior, woman, the only one you can trust! GOD!" The superior purse of the boss’ mouth curled into an unconvinced smirk. The girl appeared guileless, close to tears, but the clan boss doubted their sincerity. Stupidity and rage, not chastity and prudence brought one to Trimar. "Truth hurts, doesn’t it? You’re alive because of my whims. You caught my eye, pretty one. Be proud of that. Most of what they pick up I return for resale. Life here is hard. I need stout backs more than wiggling harlots. Frailty just doesn’t last in my caves. But you are different. You have that look to you, the one that says I regret what I did but I’d do it again if the situation presented itself. It’s the same look I had when I came to Trimar - anger with a survivor’s instinct." Callused hands pulled a steaming tuber from the coals and broke it into edible chunks on the pallet edge. "Here, eat some roast root while I tell you about myself."
"I did it. That’s all I was allowed to say at my hearing. Three one syllable words that tore my world to shreds. Knocked the wind from my sails or so the saying goes. Short and sweet they said it all." The boss laughed as an overly warm bit of tuber was spat out. The girl spread the remaining pieces to cool and looked up, bidding the story proceed. "The truth?" And the boss was overjoyed to have an attentive audience, albeit an audience one. "Hell yeah, I did it! I killed another of my kind, killed a guardian Taelach in cold blood. You ever wonder why they call it cold blood? Blood isn’t cold when it flows over your hands. It’s warmth is soothing, the blanket of life - or death as the case may be. Anyway, it was a fair fight, not as if I attacked from behind. That’s what happened to me!" A heavy fist pounded into their shared pallet, rattling cooling root pieces, leaving marks in the padded surface that were slow to fade. "I didn’t start it but I sure as hell finished it. I sliced that guardian neck to crotch." There was a sniffing response to the girl’s intrigued expression. "Why? For foolishness. For thinking with the wrong part of my anatomy. For one of you. I murdered over a glass-eyed tease not worth the time I took tempting the skirts off her."
Her dinner cooled, the girl ate, mashing the root between her fingers to prevent it from snagging in her raw throat. The boss waited until she had finished, fully expecting the call to expel a choking bite. The final pain-filled bite was washed down by tea and the girl smiled shyly up, then flushed, unaware she had been under such intense scrutiny. She was offered more to eat, but refused, motioning that her throat was far too tender then signaling for the story to begin again.
"My sentence was the same as yours, the usual for single murder, life in the Trimar Prison Colony. Actually, I had a choice they no longer offer. Death by my own hand if I so chose. Big decision, wasn’t it? I may have worn shackles but I still had my pride. Tough I was, invincible, guardian supreme. Twenty-four passes old and I knew it all. Yeah, right. I was no more than you are now, fresh meat for the pickin’."
A regretting sigh escaped the clan boss’ broad mouth, creasing an already aged face. Build wise the boss seemed young, taut muscled and energetic, but the face said differently. It was a face to be revered, hard worked, recipient of several light scars, lined with experience - a handsome face but one that could easily lie to suit a purpose. The girl wondered if it were doing so now.
"They say hindsight is the clearest. They’re right, you know. My hindsight is pure and screams foul that I didn’t end it then and there." A wary glance was mistook for admonishment of the speaker. "What’s this? A rebuttal? You beg to differ? Think it can’t be all bad? HA! Woman, if hell were to ice and the Gray Demon to don a winter cloak you’d have a place preferable to, not to mention warmer than, Trimar. But that’s beside the point now, isn’t it? You’re here. I’m here. The demon must run in us both."
There was a brief silence while both stared into the fire, the girl drawing her knees to her chest for warmth. She rocked back and forth, in need of relieving herself though reluctant to leave the fireside warmth. The rambling boss, now with an audience of several other sleepless clan members, might reveal important, escape granting tidbits at any moment and, perish the thought, she might miss one. "Your trip bad? Really? I found mine rather pleasant under the circumstances: standard rations, private cell, warm pallet to sleep on, lots of time to think. Easy livin’ if you ask me - easy until you reach the processing station. All those vaccines at once sicken you? They did me. You know what they’re for, don’t you?" Much to the clan boss’ dismay, the girl shook her head. The seeming naiveté was becoming tiresome. "Wouldn’t they tell you or were you too frightened to ask? Doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you now. All those pokes were to keep you from catching the rot. Close your mouth. I’ve no wish to see the root that’s still lodged between your teeth. Venereal disease runs rampant in the colony, worse yet here in the Junglelands. You stay with my clan and you’ll get every preventative booster there is. I run a tight and clean operation. We don’t pass what won’t wash off."
Sensing the present company’s increasing discomfort with the subject, the clan boss changed course, recanting memories of indoctrination. "They still show the holotapes on colony life, your work assignments and the like? You listen and learn? Well, forget it! Forget it all. Worthless information, all of it. The colony officials are as corrupt as the prisoners. They’ll do anything for a quick profit." After an informed raise of a thickened brow, the clan boss continued, somehow knowing the girl’s cause for being at auction. It was all too often the reason for an attractive woman to be sold from the colony proper. "Yes, including selling those who fend off their advances. They used you for an example, my dear. But you are one of the lucky few. You have a clan. And if you want to survive out here, you’ll stay with your clan. Pretty little girl like you doesn’t have a chance without strong backup. What you bristling for? Oh, I see. We still think we’re independent, above all this. Let me tell you something, you spoiled little slattern."
This was said in such an acid tone that the girl retreated, pulling her single blanket to her chin, her light meal flip-flopping in her stomach. The other listeners, responsive to their leader’s moods, retreated as well, perfectly content to retake their beds, thereby staying out of harm’s way. "My people drew you from the building shell closest to the auction square. Your purchasers didn’t bother transporting before they ravaged you. They merely found a corner out of the wind. They weren’t going to let you live because keeping you alive would have eaten up their supplies... What? You think you can run next time?" There was a disbelieving, somewhat addled stare from the clan boss. "On those legs? I didn’t escape the fleshtraders and I’m nothing but leg! You still think your tough, don’t you? Just look at yourself." The blanket was torn free and the girl lay helplessly bare in the firelight. "Look! Drugged, beaten half-senseless, naked. Feel like running now? No? My point clear? Thought so." Returning the blanket was debated, but when the girl gawked balefully, the boss relented.
"Cover yourself then tell me something. Do they still issue gear when you arrive on the colony? We haven’t taken in anybody in quite a while and your things were obviously divided among those who sold you out. I was issued three changes of clothes, a toiletry kit, dull-tipped eating knife, bed roll, and an ID card. Same as you, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll replace it all with more practical items. Though, I do wish you could of held on to that knife. It’s amazing the fine point that can be honed into that supposedly unsharpenable chunk of metal.
"See there? Here comes your escort to the thermopools. Scrub her good, Rayiala, and be sure her skirts fit correctly. Loose skirts are a pet peeve of mine. And bring her back to me when she’s through. We’ve things to discuss. No, I’m not hungry." Rayiala cocked her head and the two exchanged the tempted grins of occasional lovers. "No, I’m not in need of that service at the moment, but thanks for asking. Just clean her up. She stinks of clanless filth."
So, close on Rayiala’s heels, the girl departed, chilled by the stone underfoot, her only coverage draped loosely about her body. "My, my, what a rear view - muddied up though it is." Little was lost to the boss’ observant eyes. "That’s right, darling, let the blanket ride low as you walk away. You’re a smart one all right, a real talent. That innocence is a farce. You know what you’ve got and how to use it. Truth be known you probably murdered out of boredom, or greed. Best take tight rein on you or every guardian in the clan will be fighting over you. And that is the very thing a woman of your sort wants."
Then, in a officious tone to startle those sleeping, the boss called to a well-armed duo hovering in the nearby shadows. They were a matched pair size wise, fleet and sullen, ready for any challenge, differences in hair style being one of the few ways to tell them apart. "Glant! JoLaden! You both on sleep post? Good. I’m going down for a spell. Wake me when the new one returns. Now, don’t give me that sinless look, Jo. I saw your eyes pop from their sockets when she walked by. She’s a real guardian killer and I mean that literally. Keep your distance or she might chew you up. Now let me sleep. I’m between hits and need a few winks to keep from bottoming out." Eyes heavy, the boss settled back against the girl’s still warm pallet, the amusement now tempered by infatuation and ire. "Damn bitch of a woman. Save her from demise and she doesn’t have the decency to say thanks. I swear if I were a little younger I ...."
"WHAT? She’s back? That didn’t take long. No, don’t sit yet, Pinnla. I want to see how the skirts fit. They found your card mixed in your blanket while you bathed, that’s how I know your name. Why’d you hide it? Turn. Excellent fit. Tight in all the right places. Is Raliaya having more made up for you? Good. Now answer my question, Why’d you hide your card?" A wave dismissed the reason Pinnla hoarsely expressed. "Like we would care that you were military before coming here. Woman, a good two-thirds of us were. But I wouldn’t readily reveal the fact that I was an officer. You don’t want to be forced into fending off some wretch bent on teaching a former superior a lesson. Turn for me one more time. Nice, very nice. The red suits your coloring. Now have a seat beside me." There was a gruff jerk on the crimson hem line when Pinnla hesitated. "Beside me! I don’t usually bite and had my preventative boosters last cycle. That’s better. You cleaned up nicely, Pinnla. Seems there was more mud than bruising. Have some wine, my girl, and I’ll tell you a few more things about where you are and who you are.
Silence, you fool!" Pinnla immediately closed her mouth, obedient, but no longer intimidated by the wrathful voice. "Remember your throat. It’ll never heal if you use it. You actually think I care who you WERE? Any past identity is inconsequential. Your first name may remain, but all else is erased. From now on, you are Pinnla Tanowers. Who’s Tanower?" A lucid smile formed on the Boss’ weary face. "Why, that’s me, my dear. Why do you draw away? Do you think you’re still a free woman? Pinnla, sit down. Damnation! Come back here! Blast it! Glant! Catch her! JoLaden! She’s heading for the hydroponics caverns! Head her off!"
Smirking, the clan boss watched the short pursuit that ensued. "Ooh, hell of a tackle, Jo, a sufficient means of accomplishing a grope or two as well." A writhing Pinnla was replaced belly down on her pallet, Tanower sure to stay clear of her violent kicks. "You really can’t run, can you, little girl? Set her up and bind her legs. I’ll not have her bolting off again. Not that she had anywhere to go." The sleepwatch grudgingly obeyed, sneering at and insulting Pinnla until they were called to stop. To them she was nothing more than a insubordinate bother, not worth their time, much less their leader’s.
"Now, where were we? Oh yes, you’re mine. I own you." Tanower took rough hold of Pinnla’s slender ankle, squeezing to establish dominance. "Quit your squirming before I give you something to squirm about." When the resistance faded, the hold loosened and Tanower finished the explanation. "Ownership is nothing personal. The clan boss owns everyone and everything that makes up the clan. It’s like I told you earlier, I’m God here. I approve all new acquisitions oversee crop operations, plan raids, you name it I do it. That’s why your last name is Tanowers. Everyone here bears my name." Tanower easily interpreted the girl’s wide-eyed glance at the sleepwatch. "Yes, even the other guardians wear my symbol. Told you it was nothing personal, didn’t I? Back to business. For starters, I think you‘l1 work on one of the crop tender crews. Snarl that lip if you want, that’s where you’ll go. Everyone does a turn on the crews." Pinnla’s mouth formed a silent 0 of ignorance. "You mean you don’t know what we grow?" There was a roaring laugh from all within earshot. Tanower silenced them with a twist of the hand then, chuckling, turned back to Pinnla. "My oh my, but you are quite good at playing the Trimar virgin. How long have you been here? Two, three days - or is it moon cycles and you’ve heard everything I’m saying a thousand times? Poor orphan waif, go ahead and guess. Go ahead. Food? With the rations we trade for, why bother? The women here are experts at turning a tasteless provision pack into a feast for the senses. That’s one skill you’l1 be learning. But, back to our crops, or, should I say crop There’s only one major to speak of, a few minor plantings we grow to accentuate the rations, but only one of trade value. Know what it is, Pinnla?" There was no wait for an answer as Tanower was quite willing to play the girl’s game. "Prock? Smart girl. Perhaps you’re not as Trimar ignorant as you appear. We have four hydroponics caverns so we can grow it no matter the season. Forty days from seed to harvest. It sells as quickly as it grows. We refine it, but some buy it unprocessed and liquefy it themselves - insures them of purity. Not that we’d poison a cutting, it might come back to us in trade.
Here, Pinnla, let me remove the leg binders. I don’t think you’ll go anywhere. You’re settling in to it all, I can tell. The eyes speak volumes when the mouth is silent. Yours say you’re tired." And Tanower moved closer, extending a hand to a pressure point known to soothe a crash’s volumous effect. "Oh, you like when I rub your forehead? Still hurt, don’t you? That’s the Prock they laced you with Must of been wild cut. Rough stuff. It never processes fine enough for a smooth high. Come lay beside me? No?" Tanower withdrew the massage, leaving Pinnla’s head to throb all the harder. "I’m afraid I can’t rub your poor aching head if you don’t." Pinnla, dizzy, head swelling, stomach threatening upheaval, forced herself to lean back into Tanower again. Relief was worth any risk, any cost. "Thought you’d change your mind when the nausea returned." And Tanower drew her in, one hand rubbing the girl’s sweat beaded brow, whispering sympathy masking the want expressed in the other’s progression. "You’re a pretty one, Pinnla my pet. This crash is hard for you. I can ease it if you’l1 allow me." Tanower did nothing to hide intentions. Relief came in pairs, offering something to each of them. Nothing on Trimar was free. "How? You know how. Be still and I’ll demonstrate."
Pinnla did little to stop Tanower from pushing her against the pallet. A nasal inhaler was pressed to her face and she flailed, trying to block her face, aware the struggle would only delay the inevitable. "PINNLA! STOP! So help me, I’ll shove this thing into your damned brain if you don t stop thrashing! Don’t you bite at me, girl. You want me to clamp your mouth and nose until you pass out? Calm yourself. Let it work for you." The struggle effectively hiding her true dependency, Pinnla breathed deeply, gasping against the rush, her eyes rolling in response. Momentary pleasure replaced anger and she was swept up and away, now seeing and feeling only what Tanower wished - and Tanower wished seduction. "That a girl. Better? Was it worth fighting me over? Didn’t think so. Pleasant, isn’t it? Think I’ll join you, my dear." One arm still pressing Pinnla to the floor, Tanower inhaled a healthy dose.
The clan boss’s eyes closed as the high crested, then reopened slowly on Pinnla whose own intoxication had forced her into languidness. The common drug created a common link and Tanower forced a mental presence, showering Pinnla with internal caresses she could not and did not want to resist. Pinnla? I lied to you. Some of it is personal, at least with you it is. Stars, you are beautiful. But you know that, don’t you? Eh, it doesn’t matter. It just means you know what I’m offering. You’re getting the best there is Trimar. Untuck your tunic, darling, let good ol’ Tanower in. Merciful Mother, but you are built. And you know how to use it too, don’t you? You know how to manipulate the Prock, intensify the rhythms. What an actress you are, playing the innocent when Prock is what you wanted all the while. Why didn’t you just say so, Love, and save the rest of us prock fiends the trouble. Tanower’s clan has an endless supply and an entire moon of willing customers. Chuckle. But that was the reason you didn’t run too hard, wasn’t it? ... Ooh, Pinnla, you are a handful, shaking me up but good. Think I’ll give you a pallet beside mine. You’re the best Tanower has had in ages. You like that idea, huh? Well, Tanower likes you too - every sweet bit of you. No, don’t pull back. I could do this for hours. Ah, but not you, poor Pinnla. You’re tired to the point the high won’t boost you up. Very well, I’ll pull back and let you sleep. Relax against me. Tanower will keep you safe.
A satiated Tanower waved lazily at Raliaya who had been observing from a comfortable distance. They used others as often as they used each other. Sex was nothing personal on Trimar, only a means of temporary escape, of feeling something besides ice. "Look, Raliaya, little thing fell straight to sleep. Will you pass me the fur from my pallet? She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Yeah, you’re right, she looks a lot like Asrice. Same curls. Same wicked smile. Just as dangerous. Unpredictable. Everything I like. I miss Asrice, but not so much right now. Is that horrid of me? Thanks, Raliaya, you always know what to say. Would you tell Glant and JoLaden I’m going down for another nap? Can you believe it? Me! Freshly laced and relaxed enough for sleep! Beats all, doesn’t it? I think it’s her. See that we’re not disturbed."
The clan boss kissed the side of Pinnla’s sweet smelling head then pulled her closer, legs wrapping tightly about the girl’s. There was no worry over what had sent Pinnla there. It didn’t matter. They were together, demons running as one. Pinnla would bear witness to and accomplish far worse in the name of self-preservation. Tanower merely had to be observant enough to preserve a clan boss’ status. Asrice had gotten in the way once and it had cost her life blood, a scene easily repeatable if Pinnla stepped from place. Murder was nothing personal on Trimar, simply a part of the existence. "Sleep tight, lady Pinnla, you little thief. You’ve somehow managed to capture ol’ Tanower’s wandering eye. You’ll never work the tender crews as long as I’m boss. You’re much too fair for that, Love. Your place is on my arm and in my bed. Welcome to the Junglelands, Pinnla. You’re Tanower’s chosen, the boss’ moll."
And Pinnla’s tiny, sleeping smile was victorious.
Jeanne G'Fellers possesses many hats... most of which she usually ends up trying to wear at one time. Her primary hat, the three pointed one with the feather in it, would be motherhood. She has three active little time consumers between the ages of nine years and ten months. Her secondary hat, the baseball cap knocked slightly to the side from scratching her head, would be science fiction and freelance writing. Jeanne has several projects in the works, the least of which includes several novels based on the world introduced in "The Moll's Initiation." The first novel is currently under publisher's consideration and the second novel's first draft is near completion. Novel three is in the early planning stages. Jeanne’s third hat, the one that seems to cover the others at moments, would be a mortar board. She is a junior English major returning to school after many years of mindless jobs with little future. The written word thrills her beyond all else and she hopes, someday, to make her living at it in some form or the other, be it in the classroom or on the bookstore shelf.
E-mail:
slverjlw@mounet.com
URL:
http://home.talkcity.com/BookmarkBlvd/silverjlw
URL:
http://www.suite101.com/welcome.cfm/back_to_school
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