Ian Irvine - Geomancer

‘I won’t stay here. This place disgusts me.’

‘A runaway on the road has no place, no rights. Anyone can enslave you or strike you down without penalty.’

‘I don’t care!’ she raged. ‘I will give myself to no man save of my own choosing.’

‘Times change. The war …’

‘Curse the damned war! It’s just an excuse to take our rights away. Joeyn, you said you would help me if ever I needed it. I’ve never needed it more.’

He looked anxious. For her, she knew, not himself. ‘Of course I’ll help you, if you have truly made up your mind. What do you want me to do?’

‘Go to my room in the manufactory and, if it has not been cleared, bring away my clothes, journal and tool bag, and my wire globe and helm. And there’s a book!’ She explained where she had hidden the copy of Nunar’s treatise. ‘Keep it hidden. I’m not supposed to have it.’

‘Tiaan, the crystal was the source of your madness. If you ever touch one again …’

‘I’m not mad!’ she said vehemently.

The door opened, the matron again. ‘Time for visitors to go. Now! ’

‘Please, Joeyn,’ Tiaan said.

He nodded and went out.

‘Disgusting old man!’ said Matron. ‘We’d certainly not use him here. Out of bed!’ She hauled Tiaan out by the arm. ‘Stand there. Let me look at you.’

Matron inspected Tiaan like a carcass in a butcher’s shop, prodding and poking her mercilessly.

‘Hmn! Beautiful hair, though a terrible cut. Looks like it was done with an axe. Nice eyes – unusual colour. Good skin, apart from a few minor blemishes, though we’ll soon fix them. Nose, not as broad as they like, but it’ll do. Ears …’

She brushed back Tiaan’s hair. ‘Oh yes, very neat.’

‘Such dark lips – they’ll go for that. Open your mouth. Teeth’s where they mostly fall down. Hmn, not too bad, at least they’re all there. Those two could be a bit straighter but nobody’s perfect.’ She checked Tiaan’s gums, her tongue, her throat, muttering to herself all the while.

‘Good, good! No disease, no sores.’ She moved Tiaan’s head from side to side and made some marks on a slate. ‘Head, eight out of ten. Or should that be seven and a half? Smile for me, please?’

Tiaan felt like biting Matron’s hand off, but at the same time, inexplicably, she wanted to do well on the test. She smiled.

‘Oh, very good. Dimples, too. Definitely an eight!’

Matron continued. ‘Shoulders a bit narrow. Still, many like them that way. No accounting for folk!’ Her own shoulders were almost an axe-handle across and heavily larded. ‘Hmn! You’re scrawny, girl. Not much demand for that look around here. We’ll soon fatten you up, though.’ She rattled a knuckle down Tiaan’s ribs, weighed her breasts in big, damp hands. ‘Not bad; not bad at all. Could be bigger, especially the left one, but I can’t see too many complaints.’ She flicked a nipple with her fingertip until it stood up, then moved on.

Her belly was not full enough, her pubic hair too coarse and curly, her thighs too slender, her feet definitely too big. And last was the worst. ‘Oh dear, just look at these hands! What have you been doing, girl? Your hands are as rough as a navvy’s, and there’s a festering splinter in your finger.’

Her figure only rated six and a half, though Matron supposed she could bring that up a point with some proper feeding and grooming. ‘Overall, better than I expected. Especially after – well, let’s not go into that. I think we’ve made a good buy after all. Come along now, there’s a lot of work to do.’

‘Work?’ said Tiaan, feeling dazed.

‘Bath, manicure, haircut, skin-polishing – we’ll be lucky to be finished by dinnertime.’

Two attendants bathed Tiaan in a tub so large that a horse could have comfortably stood in the middle, and it was full of hot water. Tiaan was staggered at the extravagance. At the manufactory, being too shy to use the communal bathhouse, she washed with cold water in a dish and yellow, caustic soap that stung her eyes. Tiaan could not remember ever having a hot bath.

They kept her in until she felt dizzy and her fingers and toes were wrinkled. The attendants fed her in the bath – spicy pastries, sweetmeats soaked in honey and cream, bowls of preserved fruit covered in sweet yoghurt – and kept urging more on her long after she was full. To lie in the hot water was one of the strangest feelings she’d ever had. It felt sinfully lazy and wicked. The attendants got in too, scrubbing her until her skin throbbed.

After that she was helped to a low table covered with a cloth, where they rubbed perfumed creams into her skin, massaging her until her muscles felt as loose as jelly. They plucked out every body-hair, sanded her hands with pumice, trimmed her nails, brushed her teeth and gently shaped her hair. At the end they made up her face with the lightest of touches.

One attendant held a mirror out. Tiaan was stunned. She looked transformed; almost beautiful. She wondered if, just possibly, she could endure the breeding factory after all.

Matron reappeared. ‘Not bad!’ she said, head cocked to one side. ‘Better than I expected. We’ll do well out of you, my girl. Show me your hands.’

Tiaan held them out. Matron frowned. ‘Better, but still a long way to go. We’ll have dim lights for your first time, and a bold tapestry at the head of the bed. And a low-cut gown. How long ago was she fed?’

‘Two hours,’ said the little, sandy-haired attendant.

‘Feed her again.’ Matron turned to go. ‘No, first we must see to the formalities. Come with me.’

‘Where are we going?’ Tiaan asked anxiously.

‘To my office. There’s nothing to worry about.’

Tiaan was worried. Matron’s grip on her wrist was unshakeable. They went along the corridor, up a flight of stairs, around a corner and through a heavy door. The small room contained a desk piled with papers, documents, a large tray of biscuits and several mugs, partly full of some dark, oily brew.

‘Sit down!’ Matron slumped into a chair on the other side of the table. Taking a biscuit, she pushed the tray towards Tiaan. ‘Have a handful. They’ll do you good.’ She turned to a cupboard which she unlocked with a small key. There were a number of books and ledgers inside, though evidently not the one she was looking for. ‘Where is the damn thing?’ she muttered, sorting distractedly through the piles on the table.

Her excavations uncovered another ledger which she picked up, frowned at, then put down as someone rapped on the door. An aged attendant put his head around. ‘Yes?’ she snapped.

‘It’s … one of the clients is making rather a fuss, matron. Too much to drink. And little Zizza is quite hysterical. You’d better come quickly.’

Matron looked furious, but heaved her bulk out of the chair, glancing at Tiaan. ‘I’ll just take her back …’

A scream came echoing down the corridor, followed by drunken roars and the sound of breaking glass being smashed. Matron was through the door in an instant. ‘Wait here, Tiaan. Don’t touch anything.’ She disappeared.

Tiaan sat for a while, then bored, began to flip through the papers on the table. They were all tedious administrative or financial documents. She put them back as she had found them, uncovering the ledger. On the front it said Bloodline Register 4102, Tiksi .

Inside she found a list of women’s names with numbers after them. Page numbers, presumably. Tiaan turned the first page. The name at the top was Numini Tisde, a woman she had met here once. The page was ruled into columns, with dates, notes on her monthly cycle, health, male names with descriptions as well as lists of abilities, talents and ancestral details, baldly intimate details about sexual congress, and a variety of symbols and abbreviations that meant nothing to Tiaan. Occasional rows contained details related to pregnancy – weight changes, complications, miscarriages and births: six in eleven years, though only four were still living.