The Maiden, chapter ten

[maculategiraffe]

Kyle had gone quiet, but he wasn't anywhere near falling asleep; every inch of him was agitated and uncertain, as if he couldn't make up his mind about something. After awhile, Rita eased him onto his back and sat up, looking down at him.

"Dear," she said softly, "is there anything else you'd like to tell me? About Drew?"

He looked up at her, wide-eyed, almost scintillating with indecision and worry, and she stroked his hair back from his forehead as she added, carefully, "I think-- if you both know that you-- desire each other-- well, then. There must have been a moment, when you realized it. Has anything happened between you? Already?"

His silence was answer enough, and he must have realized it; his whole body braced itself for a few taut moments, and when Rita kept stroking him, her gently expectant expression still in place, his tension shivered into wiggly fragments of relief as he blurted, "A kiss."

"That's not so bad," said Rita, keeping the sudden surge of her power out of her stroking fingers. "When was this?"

Kyle was shaky with the easing of his fear, his breath still coming too quickly.

"When you went to pick-- my replacement," he answered, pushing his head slightly into her hand as she caressed him. "I was all upset, and he was-- really nice to me, and I-- it was me-- he didn't-- I kissed him."

Guilt-- it had been her trip to the center that put him in that state-- intensified the dormant crackle of power, but there was still no hint of it her hand as she touched him, or in her voice as she prompted, "And?"

"And nothing," said Kyle, surprised. "He said, we both said, I should ask you before-- before anything. Else."

"That was more than two weeks ago," Rita said slowly. "Why haven't you said anything until now?"

"Well--" Kyle hesitated again. "Everything-- it's been so-- uncertain, you know, with Sean coming, and-- are you angry?"

Glad he couldn't read her body the way she could his, Rita constructed a smile and put it on her face. "No."

Kyle drew in a breath, and let out a long sigh, and then reached out for her stroking hand and brought it, reverently, to his lips.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quavering a little. "I-- I didn't know if-- but you're so kind, you've always been so kind to me, I-- I could never want any other protectrix, I'm so grateful to you, magistra--"

"It's all right," said Rita, gently removing her hand from his grip. "I'll always protect you, Kyle. Try to relax, dear. You've done nothing to deserve my anger."

That much was true, and as Kyle's breathing deepened and evened out, it occurred to Rita-- not for the first time-- to wonder why her power didn't seem to know it. If the power was Gaia's gift, if it had really been granted to women in the service of righting their wrongs at the hands of men, then why should what seemed like the unworthiest emotions-- jealousy, resentment, wounded vanity-- rouse it just as surely as righteous anger, or the need for self-defense? It certainly would have been more convenient for Rita, as the humble servant of a just and merciful goddess, if she hadn't had to exercise such iron control to keep herself from meting out agony to an innocent man.

But Gaia, of course, expected her daughters to use her gifts responsibly. Well, all right. Rita wasn't doing so badly, was she?

"After all," she said aloud, as much to herself as to Kyle, "as long as I have another man, why shouldn't you?"

Kyle smiled, a little warily, not sure if she was serious, and she smiled back at him.

"I'll talk to Drew in the morning," she told him, and his nerves, already jangled by the conversation they'd just had, went a little tense again. Rita laid her hand on his forehead, and he closed his eyes so promptly that it seemed downright eager.

"Are you ready?" she asked him, and when he nodded, "Sleep."

Sleep washed over his body, relaxing his muscles, his troubled expression smoothing itself out into an almost-smile. She enhanced the sleep just a touch to make sure that he wouldn't wake easily-- she didn't want him lying awake and worrying-- and then lay back, wondering whether she should go to sleep herself.

Instead she rose, made her way to the bathroom, washed herself thoroughly, put her dress and sandals back on, and went downstairs. She checked the men's dormitory first, but it was empty, so she went out back, where the basketball court was.

They were there, all four of them, but not playing; they were sitting on the ground in the falling dusk, in a little knot that looked almost furtive, hunkered down, as if the enemy might well be on the way. When one of them-- Nick-- spotted her, and said something quickly to the others, the wave of fear that leaped off their collective bodies was almost visible, or tangible. Rita was actually shocked by it, and bewildered; what on earth...? It was true she didn't often pursue the men outside to the basketball court, but that was no reason for a mass panic at the sight of her. Unless-- the fear was so intense-- was it guilt? What on earth were they doing?

She stepped forward briskly until she stood over the four of them; they all stared up at her, their eyes huge, practically humming with terror. She would have thought maybe it had something to do with what Kyle had just told her, but of the four, Drew, the big blond, seemed the least afraid; it was Nick and Jonas who were practically tachycardic, while Sean was just the usual amount of panic-stricken.

"It's all right," she told them all, trying not to look at Drew in particular. "I just wanted a little time with Sean before bed. Isn't it about time you all came in?"

She reached a hand to Sean, who stared at it for a moment before he clasped it and let her help him up. They all got up then, slowly, still eyeing her with enormous trepidation, and when she led Sean by the hand back into the house they all followed her, clustered at her back, being afraid. It was nerve-racking.

"You three go on to bed," she ordered, and they quickly, silently, obeyed, vanishing in the direction of the men's dorm.

She led Sean to the nearest unused ground-floor room, which happened to be the nice little living-room she'd put in for banishing the men to on the rare occasions when she didn't want them just wandering around everywhere-- when she called a council at her house, for example, or when Emily came over on the anniversary of Viviane's death shooting sparks in every direction. It was comfortable, and there were books and a television and some board games, and it seemed less abrupt than packing them off to the dormitory. They could come here any time, of course, but she didn't know how much they did-- Sean seemed surprised to see it, so apparently they hadn't shown it to him.

She pulled Sean down next to her on a couch and put an arm around him, and he did the same thing he'd done before the botched ritual, turning swiftly and instinctively as if his body were on hinges to press himself to her side and bury his eyes against her shoulder, calming a little at the same time. Rita wondered what woman had taught him that trick. Probably his mother, if he'd never had a protectrix before; his mother must have been fairly affectionate, then. Rita made a mental note to find out who she was, if possible, and contact her to see if she had any interest in seeing her son again. Maybe it would soothe Sean, too, if his mother was a comforting type.

The gesture had encouraged her a bit with its apparent trustfulness; she must have done some good this afternoon, even if she hadn't talked to him much, just fed him and let him sit at her feet. Maybe she could make up for the ground she'd lost in rushing the ritual, after all.

"I won't keep you long," she said gently. "I just wanted to talk to you a little before we go to sleep. Make sure you were all right."

He lifted his head and looked at her with a surprised gratitude that made her smile.

"Well, after all, I'm your protectrix," she said. "How was your evening? Have the men been treating you all right?"

He nodded.

"No one's tried to-- bully you? Or, well, take advantage? Touch you-- inappropriately?"

He shook his head.

"If anyone ever does," Rita said, "you must tell me immediately, so that I can put a stop to it."

Sean nodded again.

"Men did take advantage of you at the center, didn't they?"

Sean nodded, his brow furrowing in puzzlement at the tack her questions were taking.

"Sexual advantage?"

Nod.

"Did they rape you?"

Nod.

"More than once?"

He looked at her as if she were an idiot, and didn't answer.

"How many times?"

He looked away, and it was a while before he answered, "Most nights."

The power leaped up again-- not unjustifiably, although Sean wasn't exactly the appropriate target-- as Rita gasped.

"Wasn't there anyone you could-- appeal to?" she protested. "To make it stop? Surely the guards would have-- done something."

"They didn't care," said Sean bleakly. "Nobody cared."

Rita turned towards him and took his face between her two palms.

"Sean," she said softly, "it shouldn't be like that. It isn't, not at all the centers. And if it helps at all-- I won't send you back there. If you don't work out here, I'll make sure you go somewhere else, somewhere better. I promise you that."

Sean closed his eyes, as if to take that in, and Rita leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"And if it frightens you to sleep in the men's dormitory," she said, "I can make other arrangements."

He opened his eyes.

"It wouldn't be any trouble," she told him. "Actually it's quite unusual for a stud to sleep in the general male dormitory, but Kyle said that if he wasn't sharing my bed, he'd rather have--" She broke off before the word company, which had suddenly taken on a new and profoundly ominous meaning; Drew's blond hair and broad shoulders flickered through her head. "Rather not be alone. But if you'd be more comfortable with a room of your own, that's very easily arranged."

He blinked at her, which she was guessing meant that he'd like very much to have a room of his own but wasn't sure he ought to say so.

"Why don't I put you in one of the guest rooms, for tonight," she said. "Near my bedroom, so we can find each other easily-- and if you like it, we can make it your room. How does that sound?"

"Thank you," he answered, fervently enough that she was sure it had been the right thing to say, and was also struck by guilt that she hadn't made the offer the night before. Tanya was right-- she had been confusing Sean and Kyle, assuming Sean would want the same things Kyle did, without asking him.

She took him upstairs and into one of the guest rooms-- Emily would pitch a fit-- made sure it had all the basic guest necessities, and told him to take off his clothes. He obeyed promptly, but with clumsy, trembling fingers; she noted with some amusement that Kyle had already managed to train him to fold his clothes and place them neatly on the bed instead of dropping them on the floor. She put them away in a drawer for him, and then guided him gently to the bed, pulling back the covers for him and tucking him in once he was between them.

She put a hand on his forehead, just as she'd done with Kyle, to help him get to sleep; when he was breathing peacefully, she went out and straight to her office, where she sat down to write a letter.

Dear Mis. Susansdottir,

I recently had the opportunity to visit your facility in search of a new stud male, and greatly regret that I did not have the opportunity of meeting you at the same time. I was told you were away on important business.

Ending the paragraph there would allow the faint hint of "more important than meeting a magistra?" to linger on the page.

I did, nevertheless, select a stud from among your males, but now I find I must write to you out of concern. Over the past two days, Sean has shown himself to be rather badly trained. I am applying the necessary discipline and am confident he will soon prove tractable enough, but when questioned about his experiences at the center, he assured me that "the guards didn't care" and that frequent instances of intra-center rape, beatings, and molestation occurred without interference from the guards. You will readily understand why I am concerned with such an influence in my household.

She'd probably get further taking this tone-- as if poor terrorized Sean were really a discipline problem, as if she were afraid he'd be going after her other men-- than one of indignation over the wrongs done to him. She didn't want the other woman thinking she was just a soft touch, or that Sean was lying to exaggerate his woes. Rita herself was perfectly certain he wasn't, but it was a certainty that was hard to convey, or to share with others.

I certainly appreciate the difficulties of running a center, given the public's general lack of interest in maintaining an appropriate and humane environment for unprotected males, and I gather from the scarcity of your female employees that you may be suffering from underfunding. I may add that as Sean appears to me to be in a state of mild malnutrition, I deduce that your budget must be stretched thin indeed.

Was that too pointed? Rita decided it wasn't; not all the men had looked as ill-fed as Sean, but still.

As the magistra for this region, I feel some responsibility for alleviating these difficulties and would be pleased to allocate some funds towards your center, subject of course to some supervision as to their use. Please name a time when it would be possible for you to meet and discuss the matter. I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.

Regards,
Rita Ruthsdottir
Magistra


She blew on the ink, then straightened her back, closed her eyes, and spent a little time in silent prayer and meditation, settling and realigning her energies. When she felt calmer, she went back to her bedroom, undressed, and lay down next to Kyle's peacefully sleeping form. She watched him for a little while before she sent herself to sleep.

Comments

<3 Rita!

[eileenlufkin]

Hooray for Rita!