One
I awoke face down in the gutter, a knife in my back.
I always have Sight, but it took me a few moments to regain Touch and Hearing – given the rank debris under me I decided to forgo the pleasures of Taste and Smell. It was near morning but the previous day’s heat still radiated from the flagstones, the air hung heavy and fetid, rich with the smells of decay. It felt like there was a long-overdue thunderstorm building high above the City.
I stood up gingerly, feeling the blade grate against my spine, and turned slowly, leaning against the nearest wall for support. My attacker lay dead, on his back, his right arm a blackened stump, his sleeve still smouldering. The immediate past was still hazy but I recognised the darkened alley as par of the Warren, between High Market and Stator Square, not an area for the feint-hearted after dark but one that usually posed me no problem. So, it was probable I had been acting as Gallant to yet another bored and jaded Lady, squiring her about town while her husband whored with someone less matronly. Officially I was a corporeal eunuch and the perfect chaperone for those suspected of having inflamed passions, being incapable of ‘manly arousal’; unofficially I was a male prostitute in great demand.
With difficulty I was able to reach round and withdraw the dagger without causing further damage to my unresponsive flesh. The bloodless blade had a sickly hue to it, and was warm to the touch; a weirding weapon then, one that would blister skin and poison the blood should the blow fail to kill. Unlikely to be in the possession of a common street thief, and definitely not the weapon of choice against my kind. The Flux which covers me like a second skin had obviously reacted violently to the enhanced blade, the unnatural mix of Powers earthing through my attacker and rendering me unconscious.
I knelt beside the body and, as an Acolyte of Sight was able to look upon him closely. His outer garments were commonplace and no doubt of local manufacture, but his waistcoat was of far finer material with gilt buttons. No signs of wear and tear that would suggest a cast-off from some great house and no evidence of alteration should it have been stolen or otherwise acquired from the petty nobility. His boots were of soft leather, soft as butter, designed to make no footfall on virtually any surface. A hired killer then, but with no Guild tattoo on his surviving forearm; a professional from outside the City – expensive, and against all Kanly agreements to boot.
Someone with enough knowledge to exploit my worst sense – Hearing – but ignorant of how to bring me down.
Dawn was approaching so I thrust the blade into his seared stump and waited only to confirm the remaining flesh had started to shrivel and char. With luck the locals would strip the body long before a constable was summoned and the weirding blade would provide an obvious, if uncommon, cause of death. I doubted any serious effort would be expended on yet another ‘random killing’ and my involvement would go officially unnoticed. The low-life who inhabit the Warren know enough to give me a wide berth, and would appreciate me leaving the body ripe for despoilment.
I made my way back to the Temple of Senses without further incident and entered through the first gate, as was my custom. After pausing to offer thanks in front of Niall the Farsighted, lying prostrate in the shadow of his statue, two Novices ushered me before a Priestess. She obviously one who took her position seriously;
“As one who seeks to see beyond the Veil, I bid you welcome. Rest now, and be replenished in the Source of All Life”.
I know the formalities must be observed, but I brindle at the mindless ritual; I appreciate all the Powers have given me, and in return I offer respect and loyalty, but not empty devotion. Nevertheless I bowed in return and was escorted to a plunge pool where I stripped and stepped into the warm waters. My body sank to the bottom as I filled my lungs and I lay there a long, long time, feeling the tiny charges sparking over my flesh.
In the three years since my change this is the only place that has brought me any peace.
Eventually I emerged and performed a clumsy handstand to let my lungs drain of fluid; it’s a necessary ritual and always makes the towel attendants laugh. After treatment for my latest injury I expected a period of quiet contemplation in the Chapter House but instead I was informed the Lady Messalina required my presence.
This was new, uncommon, unexpected in an environment based on order and ritual. She was from the House of Touch and my primary schooling was still Sight, yet the summons went unquestioned by my superiors and I passed through the central pentangle into the ‘realm of skin’ as others called it.
The Lady lay on a richly furnished couch, watching the sun rising above the Pinnacle. The soft glow of table mounted lamps cast long, diffuse shadows, and the air was heady with the reek of devotional ungents. As an Adept of Touch she could wear only the most gossamer of robes, which served merely to accentuate her voluptuous sexuality; any normal man would have been aroused in an instant, and I cursed the memory of such spontaneous carnality.
She rose like some languid predator uncoiling from its night-time perch and swept her great mane of auburn hair back from an oval face to reveal heavy-lidded eyes, small nose and full lips. She smiled;
“Captain Stone. A new name for an old face, and I find it strange that having lost so much you would cast aside the last link to a life you so evidently wish to reclaim.”
“I will never be that person again, Lady, my mentors have made that plain. If I seek to regain anything it is my dignity, my place in the society of men.”
“Yet you have kept your rank, Captain, defining yourself by function rather than form. Such a conceit, such a typically male failing. But it is an honorific title these days, no?”
“I hold a commission in the Temple Guard, Lady.”
“A Captain without men in an army without cause. “ Her smile broadened into a lascivious grin “We both know your true value to the Temple; servicing the wives of wealthy men in return for donations. Now, disrobe.”
She stepped closer, exaggerating the sway of her hips, delighting in an overt display of sensuality she knew would leave me unmoved. I let the simple kaftan fall to my feet and stood immobile as her fingertips ran over my tracery of scars.
“Fine needlework” she pronounced, “excellent quality. You would be hard pressed to notice that they were sutures and not scar tissue. The shimmer of Flux makes your skin feel exquisite, almost lubricated without being oily, and I can quite understand how your reputation as a masseur has spread so readily.”
“I am classed as a eunuch, Lady”.
“Yet you have a tongue, and probably the hireling of husbands who are disinclined to pleasure their wives in that manner themselves. The role of eunuchs and chamber maidens in the City has long been an open secret and considered unthreatening to the egos of real men. However, should your true abilities come to light, even though you are incapable of fathering children, I doubt that they would be so understanding.”
She stepped back and stood, hands on tilted hips, regarding me.
“A brute, but a hansom brute, and well suited to our purposes.” She paused, the tip of her tongue running over her lips, “Just how long can you maintain your manhood?”
“My blood has been replaced with plasm in which reside Swimming Servants. They are responsive to my will and through them my flesh is made obedient. I can maintain an imitation of arousal indefinitely, three hours has been the maximum to date.”
“That was Lady Margo Scales, was it not? Don’t answer, for she is a dear, dear friend and absolute slut and I understand your discretion is also valued, and valuable. Your activities enrich the Temple, and in return we will maintain your re-animated flesh.”
“Animated flesh, Lady, I never died.”
“Splitting hairs” she laughed “of which I see you have none.”
She sank back amidst her cushions.
“The Temple of Senses has received a request, not a command, but under the personal seal of the Chancellor, that you accompany the Firstborn as one of his intimates.”
I gave her my long-practiced look of disgust, which I am quite proud of.
“Lady, none of the carnal acts I have participated in have involved men, even as voyeurs. I am aware that Firstborn Stephen and his favourites have an evil, unhealthy reputation, but that? Not since the days of the Sacred Band have such practices been acceptable at Court.”
Lady Messalina broke into a fit of childish giggles.
“OH, your face! Such a picture of outrage that would make, even if perfectly contrived. No matter, you misunderstand me, Captain. You are to serve as the Chancellor’s agent and informant whilst in the guise of an amusement for the Firstborn, an exotic oddity, a performing...” her gaze flickered over my body ”…donkey, shall we say. Now get dressed and peel me some grapes while I finalise the arrangements.”
The sun came up and bathed the room in light. It was a fine, fresh morning with the promise of rain to clear the air and wash away all the sins of the world.
I had a bad feeling about this.
I awoke face down in the gutter, a knife in my back.
I always have Sight, but it took me a few moments to regain Touch and Hearing – given the rank debris under me I decided to forgo the pleasures of Taste and Smell. It was near morning but the previous day’s heat still radiated from the flagstones, the air hung heavy and fetid, rich with the smells of decay. It felt like there was a long-overdue thunderstorm building high above the City.
I stood up gingerly, feeling the blade grate against my spine, and turned slowly, leaning against the nearest wall for support. My attacker lay dead, on his back, his right arm a blackened stump, his sleeve still smouldering. The immediate past was still hazy but I recognised the darkened alley as par of the Warren, between High Market and Stator Square, not an area for the feint-hearted after dark but one that usually posed me no problem. So, it was probable I had been acting as Gallant to yet another bored and jaded Lady, squiring her about town while her husband whored with someone less matronly. Officially I was a corporeal eunuch and the perfect chaperone for those suspected of having inflamed passions, being incapable of ‘manly arousal’; unofficially I was a male prostitute in great demand.
With difficulty I was able to reach round and withdraw the dagger without causing further damage to my unresponsive flesh. The bloodless blade had a sickly hue to it, and was warm to the touch; a weirding weapon then, one that would blister skin and poison the blood should the blow fail to kill. Unlikely to be in the possession of a common street thief, and definitely not the weapon of choice against my kind. The Flux which covers me like a second skin had obviously reacted violently to the enhanced blade, the unnatural mix of Powers earthing through my attacker and rendering me unconscious.
I knelt beside the body and, as an Acolyte of Sight was able to look upon him closely. His outer garments were commonplace and no doubt of local manufacture, but his waistcoat was of far finer material with gilt buttons. No signs of wear and tear that would suggest a cast-off from some great house and no evidence of alteration should it have been stolen or otherwise acquired from the petty nobility. His boots were of soft leather, soft as butter, designed to make no footfall on virtually any surface. A hired killer then, but with no Guild tattoo on his surviving forearm; a professional from outside the City – expensive, and against all Kanly agreements to boot.
Someone with enough knowledge to exploit my worst sense – Hearing – but ignorant of how to bring me down.
Dawn was approaching so I thrust the blade into his seared stump and waited only to confirm the remaining flesh had started to shrivel and char. With luck the locals would strip the body long before a constable was summoned and the weirding blade would provide an obvious, if uncommon, cause of death. I doubted any serious effort would be expended on yet another ‘random killing’ and my involvement would go officially unnoticed. The low-life who inhabit the Warren know enough to give me a wide berth, and would appreciate me leaving the body ripe for despoilment.
I made my way back to the Temple of Senses without further incident and entered through the first gate, as was my custom. After pausing to offer thanks in front of Niall the Farsighted, lying prostrate in the shadow of his statue, two Novices ushered me before a Priestess. She obviously one who took her position seriously;
“As one who seeks to see beyond the Veil, I bid you welcome. Rest now, and be replenished in the Source of All Life”.
I know the formalities must be observed, but I brindle at the mindless ritual; I appreciate all the Powers have given me, and in return I offer respect and loyalty, but not empty devotion. Nevertheless I bowed in return and was escorted to a plunge pool where I stripped and stepped into the warm waters. My body sank to the bottom as I filled my lungs and I lay there a long, long time, feeling the tiny charges sparking over my flesh.
In the three years since my change this is the only place that has brought me any peace.
Eventually I emerged and performed a clumsy handstand to let my lungs drain of fluid; it’s a necessary ritual and always makes the towel attendants laugh. After treatment for my latest injury I expected a period of quiet contemplation in the Chapter House but instead I was informed the Lady Messalina required my presence.
This was new, uncommon, unexpected in an environment based on order and ritual. She was from the House of Touch and my primary schooling was still Sight, yet the summons went unquestioned by my superiors and I passed through the central pentangle into the ‘realm of skin’ as others called it.
The Lady lay on a richly furnished couch, watching the sun rising above the Pinnacle. The soft glow of table mounted lamps cast long, diffuse shadows, and the air was heady with the reek of devotional ungents. As an Adept of Touch she could wear only the most gossamer of robes, which served merely to accentuate her voluptuous sexuality; any normal man would have been aroused in an instant, and I cursed the memory of such spontaneous carnality.
She rose like some languid predator uncoiling from its night-time perch and swept her great mane of auburn hair back from an oval face to reveal heavy-lidded eyes, small nose and full lips. She smiled;
“Captain Stone. A new name for an old face, and I find it strange that having lost so much you would cast aside the last link to a life you so evidently wish to reclaim.”
“I will never be that person again, Lady, my mentors have made that plain. If I seek to regain anything it is my dignity, my place in the society of men.”
“Yet you have kept your rank, Captain, defining yourself by function rather than form. Such a conceit, such a typically male failing. But it is an honorific title these days, no?”
“I hold a commission in the Temple Guard, Lady.”
“A Captain without men in an army without cause. “ Her smile broadened into a lascivious grin “We both know your true value to the Temple; servicing the wives of wealthy men in return for donations. Now, disrobe.”
She stepped closer, exaggerating the sway of her hips, delighting in an overt display of sensuality she knew would leave me unmoved. I let the simple kaftan fall to my feet and stood immobile as her fingertips ran over my tracery of scars.
“Fine needlework” she pronounced, “excellent quality. You would be hard pressed to notice that they were sutures and not scar tissue. The shimmer of Flux makes your skin feel exquisite, almost lubricated without being oily, and I can quite understand how your reputation as a masseur has spread so readily.”
“I am classed as a eunuch, Lady”.
“Yet you have a tongue, and probably the hireling of husbands who are disinclined to pleasure their wives in that manner themselves. The role of eunuchs and chamber maidens in the City has long been an open secret and considered unthreatening to the egos of real men. However, should your true abilities come to light, even though you are incapable of fathering children, I doubt that they would be so understanding.”
She stepped back and stood, hands on tilted hips, regarding me.
“A brute, but a hansom brute, and well suited to our purposes.” She paused, the tip of her tongue running over her lips, “Just how long can you maintain your manhood?”
“My blood has been replaced with plasm in which reside Swimming Servants. They are responsive to my will and through them my flesh is made obedient. I can maintain an imitation of arousal indefinitely, three hours has been the maximum to date.”
“That was Lady Margo Scales, was it not? Don’t answer, for she is a dear, dear friend and absolute slut and I understand your discretion is also valued, and valuable. Your activities enrich the Temple, and in return we will maintain your re-animated flesh.”
“Animated flesh, Lady, I never died.”
“Splitting hairs” she laughed “of which I see you have none.”
She sank back amidst her cushions.
“The Temple of Senses has received a request, not a command, but under the personal seal of the Chancellor, that you accompany the Firstborn as one of his intimates.”
I gave her my long-practiced look of disgust, which I am quite proud of.
“Lady, none of the carnal acts I have participated in have involved men, even as voyeurs. I am aware that Firstborn Stephen and his favourites have an evil, unhealthy reputation, but that? Not since the days of the Sacred Band have such practices been acceptable at Court.”
Lady Messalina broke into a fit of childish giggles.
“OH, your face! Such a picture of outrage that would make, even if perfectly contrived. No matter, you misunderstand me, Captain. You are to serve as the Chancellor’s agent and informant whilst in the guise of an amusement for the Firstborn, an exotic oddity, a performing...” her gaze flickered over my body ”…donkey, shall we say. Now get dressed and peel me some grapes while I finalise the arrangements.”
The sun came up and bathed the room in light. It was a fine, fresh morning with the promise of rain to clear the air and wash away all the sins of the world.
I had a bad feeling about this.
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