Chapter 61
I know.
I am.The BoyMart by Lynn Townsend
Qi’beth lounged on the divan, looking every bit the goddess that she was. Her first knelt on the floor, a respectful distance away, his eyes only for his Mistress. She didn’t even glance in his direction, looking instead with an intent gaze upon her temple Sister, Iyani. “It’s nothing to fret about, Ni-love. Look, if you want—bring him over here once you’ve got him, and we’ll share. I’ll take the first edge off him and help you relax. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”
Iyani shook her head, the gold stalwur slowly warming to the heat of her hand. “It will be well, my heart,” she said. “The temple has given me the grace of a first, and to bear a daughter-child if the goddess deems me worthy of it.”
“Yes, well, men can be clumsy and inept. Do the deed, then come over here. I’ll bring you bliss and we can plan your new home.” Qi’beth had never borne a girl-child, even though she had a first, a second, and even a third. Her house was tiny, although well lived in and comfortable. Even Iyani’s Maiden’s home was larger. But that was temple politics, nothing more. Iyani’s mother had given the temple three daughters, and so there were great hopes for Iyani’s own fecundity.
“Certainly.” Iyani nodded, but she wasn’t certain she’d meant it. Qi’beth had been a lovely mentor and bed partner, but maybe, just maybe, it was time to look at her attitudes. Qi did not respect, or care about, her men at all. They were tools to her, ones that had failed her miserably. Her second hadn’t been seen in public in years because she’d scarred his face after her third male-child was born. “We’ll talk, later.”
Iyani got to her feet, nodded to her mentor and to her mentor’s first. He didn’t look at her. He never had. In the three years that she had been Maiden-under for Qi’beth, she’d never heard him speak, nor learned his name. Funny how the thought of owning her own man made her wonder if that was important. Did they even have names?
* * * *
The railcar was full of Sisters, Sisters bound for the market, Sisters bound for the temple, Sisters bound for their jobs, their relations, their pleasures. Outside the railcar, the failed-men worked the fields. The BoyMart was past all that, beyond the City, beyond the fields, through the Wild, on the far side of the River Tess. She stared into the deep gulch; at the bottom glittered the river. It seemed the other side of the world.
It wasn’t, not quite. And off the mainland, across the great Sea Divide, there were other lands, perhaps even with other customs. Iyani didn’t know. She’d never thought to ask. She fondled the gold coin in her hand and wondered what else she hadn’t asked about.
There were only two Sisters when the rail stopped at the BoyMart. Temple Sisters were there with their folded pamphlets. How to Select a Proper First.
Iyani skimmed over the printed words, blocky and ugly, not at all like the illuminated Temple documents. Make sure your potential candidate does not meet your gaze, or look aggressive in any fashion. A well-trained male will direct his eyes to the floor, or respectfully at your shoulders. Be wary of “accidental” contact. A disobedient male will allow his hand to brush your leg, or hip, as you walk
She sighed and stuffed the tract, well-meaning as it was, into the interior pocket on her vest.
Iyani looked up, seeking inspiration from the clouds, the sky, perhaps the goddess. There was none forthcoming.
The Mart-matron took her coin, gave her a smile of more form than substance. “Fresher boys are to the front, Sister. May the goddess help you find what you seek.”
They were not in cages, not quite. Each male sat in a small room, no windows to let in the light, and no door to give them privacy. By the Law, they could not leave; males were not allowed ownerless anywhere, and certainly an unaccompanied male would give rise to chase and recovery. Next to each doorway was a small plaque that gave each male’s health and age, their house-sign, and little notes on personality or quirks. There was a colored bar at the bottom of each plaque indicating how long they had been living at the Mart.
She passed the green males, those who’d been brought in from the Training halls in the last moon, glancing at each in turn. They wore loincloths and oil on their muscles. Most knelt in their rooms, on a floor mat, eyes firmly away from their potential purchasers. A few had books, and one was so involved in writing flickering numbers with his math-stick in the other hand that he appeared not to notice at all that there were Sisters in the hall. Another had painted the interior of his room brilliant colors and abstract designs.