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.
