Chapter 9. The Green Jungle
The next day, around ten in the morning. Doctor Llewellyn came back to see Aster in the small hospital he ran inside the Maestro's palace the following day. Aster had eaten a breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, and orange juice the nurse had brought her a few hours earlier, and since then had been thinking about the palace while she lay on the bed. It was almost like a small city, inside the larger city of Dystopia. Which in turn, was surrounded by the Outside, and past that, toxic wastelands where supposedly nothing (or very little) survived. The palace had the most wealth, and the most remnants of the best technology from before the war, and as you moved farther from it, the wealth and level of technology declined. It reminded her of something. From a math book, maybe? It was hard to think with the pain all over her body.
Aster saw that the grey haired doctor had a sour face when he entered her room, and thought perhaps he was still mad at her about her rudeness of the previous day. Most things other people thought of as rude tended to go over her head, and even when they didn't, she generally didn't dwell on them for more than a few minutes. But during the past few years she had gradually become aware of the fact - though she didn't really understand it - that other people sometimes tended to nurse grudges for a long time over things she thought of as minor, and contrawise, often cared little or nothing about things that offended her greatly.
But whatever was bothering Doctor Llewellyn didn't seem to be related to her. A few seconds after he entered, the sour expression left his face, and he began reading from his clipboard. He nodded after a few moments.
"Apparently you did fairly well last night." He commented. "No fever, no vomiting. Used the bathroom twice. Good. Are you in any pain?"
"Some." Aster admitted.
"Well, that's to be expected. Is there any itching in your broken arm or ribs?"
"No."
"Well, there probably will be within several days, as the bones start healing. I won't tell you not to scratch, but try not to press too hard when you do, or break the skin. How bad is the pain?"
Aster thought. The worst injuries she had had previously in her life had been scraped elbows and knees. And of course the time she got bit by Stubs, when she had trained the lynx to jump through a hoop. That seemed a lifetime ago. A different life, almost. Was the bite worse? It had definitely hurt MUCH worse than the bite last night, when the Maestro was raping her and seemed to be ripping her very body apart in the process, but she couldn't recall the pain of the bite well enough to really compare it to what she was feeling now. Her insides, between her legs, actually hurt worse than her broken bones did.
"I don't know." she finally said. "It hurts bad enough that it's kind of hard to think."
"For you, that's probably fairly bad." Doctor Llewellyn said dryly. "I'm going to start you on taking some codeine for the pain."
"Codeine… that's one of the parts of opium, isn't it?" Aster remembered her father talking about the components of opium. He didn't have any way to separate the raw drug into the separate components at the zoo. But apparently they did, in the Maestro's palace.
"Yes." Doctor Llewellyn had never met a patient who knew that before, but he was rapidly ceasing to be surprised at anything Aster knew. It seemed like the girl must have read her way through at least half of the books in Dystopia's library before ending up here. "It's safer than raw opium, it probably won't make you vomit. If you do experience any vomiting or other side effects, let me know immediately."
He went out and came back with a large brown bottle with a funny shaped cap, like an oversized cut. "For someone your size, one capful should be enough. Fill it up three times a day, at six to eight hour intervals. It should help with the pain, while you're healing. I'll give you more, when this bottle is empty."
"What about when I leave here?" Aster asked. "The nurse last night said that I would probably have to leave as soon as I could walk, but you said that would be in a few weeks, and my broken bones will take longer than that to heal, won't they?"
"I'll give you a bottle to take with you when you leave, and you can come back when you need more." Doctor Llewellyn explained. Medication of any sort in the post-War world might be scarce, and many were not available at all, but there was no longer any bureaucratic nonsense of prescriptions. The doctor was, of course, well aware that codeine, like all opium derivatives, was highly addictive, but he wasn't going to leave a fourteen year old victim of the worst possible rape he could imagine in the sort of pain her injuries would cause her for the next few months. No matter how rude she was. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he agreed with Daniel Wolfkiller's proposal to somehow get the girl to use her position close to the Maestro to try and find any possible weaknesses, even small ones, in the brute. Wolfkiller had a point, that unless the Maestro were stopped, somehow, more girls like this one would keep suffering just as bad, or worse, in the future. But it still didn't seem fair. Giving Aster the option of living out whatever undoubtedly short amount was left of her life in a drug induced fog, if that's what she wanted, seemed almost a mercy.
Really? What was the stable master going to tell her? Sorry, Aster. Sorry you didn't get to live out your dream of running the zoo. Sorry that you're going to spend the next few years being used as a sex toy by a half-ton monster, and probably some of his favorite guards as well. And we won't risk ourselves to help you, but we'd really like you to do us a favor, anyways. Can you put yourself in worse danger by spying on the Maestro for us? See if he has any weak points and let us know? See, you might be only fourteen, but you're about the only fuck toy the Maestro has with more than half a brain. Not to mention anywhere near enough education to let you know the sorts of things to look for, Mind you, he'll probably notice your spying sooner or later, and publicly rape you to death for it, as an object lesson, but we'd like you to do it anyways. In order to save people who you don't know, or who haven't been born yet, and who won't ever know what you did or be grateful. How about it? Sound good to you?
It certainly didn't sound good to Doctor Llewellyn. He certainly wouldn't have done such a thing, even for someone he liked. And Wolfkiller said that Aster most emphatically disliked him intensely. So how the hell was he planning to get her to go along with such a thing?
An unpleasant thought occurred to the doctor. Hell, that jerk Wolfkiller had better not be planning to threaten the girl's family to get her cooperation. It sounded like just the ruthless sort of thing the man would do, but it was not only immoral, it was an abysmally stupid idea. Aster's first thought if Wolfkiller tried something like that would probably be to go straight to the Maestro. She was a fourteen year old girl, for heaven's sake, and a socially awkward one at that, despite her brilliance. Doctor Llewellyn had read various pre-War adventure books when he was a boy, which featured adults (generally portrayed in an artificially stupid fashion) bringing young children into their confidence regarding all their secret plans to defeat some villian or the other. The books were meant for children, and were entertaining, but completely unrealistic. The world did not work that way. Wars were fought, and won by adults, for the sake of future children, but any child unfortunate enough to live during a war, even if they were somehow necessary to victory, were pawns, at best. Something to be used and sacrificed, without ever knowing why. Even brilliant children, like Aster. And pawns in war seldom became queens. Not like in chess.
It took about three weeks of bed rest for Aster's sprained ankle and hips to heal to the point that Doctor Llewellyn felt it was safe for her to walk on them. Every few days, the Maestro would ask him (though thankfully, not in the hospital where his presence would no doubt further terrify Aster) when Aster was going to be able to 'grace him with her presence again'. Doctor Llewellyn wasn't sure what to think of that. According to Daniel Wolfkiller, the Maestro had actually suffered from a remarkably human problem, impotence, with Aster, and had to get drunk before he was physically able to rape her. It seemed rather unlikely that the Maestro would want to repeat what was surely as humiliating an experience for him as it was for any man, but who knew what the brute was thinking. He obviously had been completely insane for a very long time. Hopefully he just wanted to make Aster miserable by forcing the girl to be around him and dress immodestly in public, though it was always possible he simply meant to kill her.
For Aster, the three weeks went by rather quickly. The codeine seemed to have much the same effect on her as the opium had. Time went by quickly, almost seeming to jump, or even leap, at times. Some days, she'd eat breakfast, and the next thing she knew, it was dark outside, and either Doctor Llewellyn or his nurse were helping her to the toilet prior to her going to bed. Sometimes the nurse would put her in a sort of a chair with two giant wheels and two small ones, and bring her into the front room of the hospital, so Aster could talk with her, but she never seemed to remember their conversations afterwards. Sometimes she closed her eyes, and she didn't think she was asleep, but there were pictures like dreams inside her eyelids, so maybe she was. Once, another patient, a man, was brought in. Aster remembered that half his arm was missing, and that she had asked Doctor Llewellyn what had happened to the man, but the next thing she knew, it was a day (or maybe more than a day, she wasn't sure) later, and the man was gone, and she couldn't remember what Doctor Llewellyn had said had happened to the man.
There was a big shelf all full of pre-War medical books in the hospital, which Aster sometimes saw Doctor Llewellyn reading. Once she asked him if she could read a book, and he let her, but the words, which other times always would get filed away into a thousand different places in her brain, just seemed to slip through like water though a sieve. Her eyes read the words, and she flipped the pages, but couldn't remember what she had read a few minutes ago. She tried reading some of the books a few more times, but then gave up.
Being on the codeine made the three weeks go by quickly, and towards the end, Doctor Llewellyn had Aster doing some exercises in bed and stand and walk for short periods of time. Finally he told her that she didn't need to be in the hospital any more, so he was going to have her brought to the large room where all the Maestro's women stayed. He gave Aster a sheet of instructions for exercises to do, and told her to try not to walk or be on her feet any more than she had to. Then he handed her the large bottle of codeine that she was taking. The nurse brought in Aster's stuffed tiger, which she'd gotten from somewhere, and in a daze, Aster put it under one arm. Such toys seemed like they belonged to a different person now, and she wasn't really sure what she would do with it. Then, though she was wearing nothing but her hospital gown that was nearly impossible to close in back, Doctor Llewellyn brought her into the front room of the hospital, where a woman wearing a nearly transparent green, silk dress was waiting.
"I'm Betty 5" The woman smiled in an artificial way, as if she practiced it in front of the mirror frequently. "Perhaps you remember me, Betty. I gave you a bath."
Something was wrong in what the woman had said. Being on codeine as she was, it took Aster several moments to figure out what it was. Finally it occurred to her. "My name is Aster. Not Betty."
"No, we're all Betty here." Said Betty 5. "You're Betty, too. Well, Betty 23, actually. There used to be another Betty 23, but she died some time ago, so that's who you are, now."
Betty 5's eyes seemed frightened. Aster shook her head muzzily. Her name was Aster, wasn't it? Why was it Betty, now? "Betty… I don't know." Her mind used to be like a clock with a million perfectly meshed and oiled gears. Now it seemed like oatmeal full of disconnected lumps.
"You'll see." Said Betty 5. "I'm to take you to the room where we all stay. There's plenty of room, you can pick out any place in it you like to be your own corner."
Betty 5 led Aster out of the hospital and down several hallways. Or was she Betty 23 now? It seemed like the Maestro liked to take away the names of all the women he had, and made them all be called 'Betty'. Arguing the point probably wouldn't be safe. Arguing with the Maestro about anything, probably wouldn't be safe.
Eventually, the pair went through a large arched doorway with green, faceted rectangles made of glass set around the outside of it. A guard with a rifle, much more modern looking than the one Daniel Wolfkiller owned, stood on one side of it. He recognized Betty 5 and waved her in, but blocked Aster with one hand.
"Name?" the guard demanded.
Aster squinted. Did she have a different name? She couldn't remember a few minutes ago, back in the hospital. Finally she answered. "Aster."
Betty 5 turned. "Betty!" she reminded Aster.
"Yes… Betty." Aster glanced nervously at the rifle. A bullet would kill her just as dead as the Maestro could. "Betty… I forget my number."
"A new one, huh?" The guard looked Aster over. "Awfully young, isn't she? Has he already…?"
"Three weeks ago." Said Betty 5, a little sadly. "She's fourteen, though."
"Hmm." The guard grunted. There had been a few other girls that young, taken from their parents by the Maestro. This one looked younger though. Well, he wasn't going to argue. There was a clipboard, similar to the one that Doctor Llewellyn used, sitting on the floor near a chair where the guard sometimes sad, and he picked it up.
"Your number is 23." He told Aster. "That's your name, now. Betty 23. Try to remember it, or you'll get into trouble. And I don't like trouble, and HE doesn't like trouble. Which means you'd best not cause any."
"I… I won't" Aster meant the promise at the time.
"Good." The guard waved his hand at her. "Go on in, then."
Aster stepped through the doorway and looked around. The room inside was incredible, even more ornate than the bathing room with the giant bathtub had been. It was a huge room, with curtained alcoves set every ten feet or so along the two side walls. The back wall of the room had several mirrors and small tables full of cosmetics and perfumes. There was also a small bookshelf full of worn, paperback novels. Mostly with black, pink, or red spines.
"You have books here?" She asked Betty 5. She thought that the Maestro did not approve of women reading books.
"Oh, yes." Betty 5 giggled. "Old romance books. They used to print a lot of them before the War, you know. Most of us can't read, but a few of us can, so they read to the rest of us. I heard you can read, so maybe you can do that. There's a lot of interesting ideas in there, about how to please the Maestro. That's important, to please him. You don't want him angry with you, do you?"
Aster said nothing. She most certainly did not want the Maestro angry with her, but she would be damned if she was going to go out of her way to read what sounded like books about a brothel (which to the pre-pubescent Aster was not a particularly interesting subject) in order to 'please the Maestro'. Hell, she didn't even want to be here. If she were going to read a book, Doctor Llewellyn's medical texts seemed a lot more interesting. She had read a few of them back up in his hospital. At least, she thought she had. If only she could remember what she had read.
The center of the room was well lit by a skylight overhear, had several large couches, dozens of lush potted plants, and a pool of clear water with a fountain in the center of it. Despite the haziness in her head, Aster gazed at it in amazement, her eyes wide in spite of her misery. It was like pictures of tropical islands and jungles she had seen in old pre-War books. The room was like her idea of heaven.
She looked down at the cast on her arm.
No, not heaven.
She looked over at one of the other women in the room, who was walking with the mincing gait she remembered from a few years back, when she and her family had been forced to visit the Hall of Fallen Heroes after the Maestro's defeat of the Hulk.
Bait.
Aster really couldn't imagine who would be stupid enough to fall for such bait. Animals fell for bait all the time, but animals had small brains.
She went over to one side of the room, between two of the curtained alcoves where the beds were, and drew aside a curtain that covered one of the windows. As she suspected, the outside of the window was barred. She could see straight down, nearly 100 feet to the ground. She went to another window, on a different wall, and saw the same sheer drop. Apparently this entire room, where the women stayed, was in one of the many large towers that she had sometimes seen when looking at the Maestro's palace from the outside. The only ways out were either past the armed guard, or through thick bars and then 100 feet straight down.
She looked again at the luxurious furnishings and sparkling fountain. Perhaps the other women didn't understand them as she did, because they didn't hunt. A lot of women thought the process of killing and gutting animals to be intolerably gruesome, but growing up in a zoo as she had, Aster had not been given the luxury of much squeamishness. Except, of course, nothing in the zoo had remotely prepared her for being raped by such a brute as the Maestro.
Bait. She thought again. This is not a tower, it is a trap.
Bad. Very bad. Animals in traps might or might not be released alive, depending on the intentions of the trapper. And Aster did not trust the intentions of the Maestro one bit. He had no reason that she could see, to let her ever leave this place alive.
Betty 5 had caught up to her. "You're dressed all wrong. Let me show you where you can stay, and I'll get you some proper clothing." She pulled at Aster's hospital gown, then led her over to one of the alcoves. It was obviously unused, the bed made in an overly neat fashion, and the small dresser and shelf near it both empty.
"How tall are you?" Betty 5 looked Aster over. "About 5 feet? I'll get the smallest sized clothing for you."
Betty 5 dashed off to a small door on one side of the room that Aster hadn't noticed before, and she caught a glimpse of stacks of sheets, blankets, clothing, bottles, and other sundries. Then Betty 5 dashed back and threw a pile of sheer, green silk dresses on Aster's bed. Some of them were like belted tunics, others were like a long narrow poncho with no sides, that either tied or belted at the waist. All of them were so transparent that they would conceal absolutely nothing.
I'd rather go naked, like one of the zoo animals. Aster thought. If I'm going to be putting my body on display in front of the Maestro and everyone else here, at least that would be honest. And maybe it would be more modest. Animals aren't ashamed of their own bodies. God, I hate it here.
But going naked, while the rest of the women wore these green silk dresses (or occasionally other colors if the Maestro was in the mood) would be drawing attention to herself. And that was how she had gotten herself into this place in the first place. Aster set her stuffed tiger, bottle of codeine, and exercise instructions down on the bed, picked through the dresses and finally chose one of them that was like a short tunic. At least the fabric of it wouldn't get in the way, like that of the longer dresses.
"I think I kind of like this style." She forced herself to smile at Betty 5. "Are there more, like it?"
"Oh, there's always plenty of dresses!" the older woman clasped her hands in a pleased manner. "You can go to the supply closet yourself any time you like, and pick out anything you need."
Aster looked at the shoes. There were three pairs, a sort of green sandal with spiked heels so high it seemed almost impossible to walk on, another pair of green sandals with a wide heel only about half an inch high, and some thin green slippers. It was becoming obvious that the green skinned Maestro had some sort of obsession with that color. None of the shoes, though, looked to be the sort to be running very fast in. She'd probably get farther, faster, in her bare feet. Unless she somehow managed to steal a pair of boots that the guards wore. Except that they probably didn't make them small enough to fit her.
The sandals with the short heels looked more durable than the slippers and more comfortable than the ones with the spiked heels.
"I guess I'll change into these." She said to Betty 5. "Do you mind stepping outside the curtain for a moment?"
"Certainly." Said the older woman in a bright voice.
Certainly. Aster thought after her in a sarcastic tone, making a face as soon as the curtain closed. She hated this room and the sparkling fountain. She wished she were back home, looking for snails or minnows in the muddy brown pond at the zoo.
It took only a minute for Aster to get out of her hospital gown and change into the green clothing that the Maestro required all his women to wear. She was about to hand the hospital gown to Betty 5, then thought better of it. It could be that the garment, or the fabric in it, might be useful in some way, in the future. She didn't know how, but she had always had a pack-rat mentality, and liked to collect odds and ends, some of which had proven useful in surprising ways, long after she originally acquired them. And she didn't like to waste things, such as matches, if she didn't have to. She remembered when she first started lighting the lantern in her and Thumb's room with a coal from the kitchen stove, rather than matches. That had been a long time ago.
She kicked the hospital gown under her bed, far enough that it couldn't be seen, and pulled the curtain back. "Well, what do you think?" She said to Betty 5.
"Well, you aren't wearing a bra, but you don't need one yet. Perhaps in a year or two." There had been bras in the pile of garments she had been given, green and transparent like the rest of the clothing, but the cups were ridiculously large for Aster.
"What should I do now?" Aster asked.
"Oh, not much." Betty 5 waved her hand vaguely. "Most of the time, the Maestro wants us to serve meals, and entertain him after dinner. But we already had lunch today, and dinner isn't for another few hours. You can look around here, or sit by the fountain, or read any of the books. Or go anywhere in the palace you like. There's all sorts of wonderful things to see here. Just make sure that you don't try to run away, and are always around for meals, especially dinner, or the Maestro will get angry, and you don't want that."
Aster frowned. It seemed like there had been something important in what Betty 5 had just said. If she hadn't been on codeine, she would have known immediately what it was. But she couldn't fix her mind on it. It was like trying to stab a raisin with a damp piece of paper, when you were accustomed to being able to use a fine, steel needle.
Is this the way other people think all the time? She wondered. The muzzy way the codeine makes me think? God, how can they stand it?
The thought was one of several Aster had had in the past few years. When she had been younger, she had assumed that everyone thought exactly the same way she did, and when they sometimes failed, after being shown dozens times, to grasp things that she understood easily within a few minutes, she assumed that they were being deliberately obtuse, in order to annoy her and waste her time. It was part of what often made her rude to people. Eventually, she had come to understand that the obtuseness was not purposeful. That other people really WERE functioning that far below her. But it still annoyed her, and before having her own mental capacity drastically reduced by the codeine, she had never really understood what it must be like.
Aster wandered around the room for a while, and eventually sat on the couch, near the potted plants. She didn't like them, they looked artificial, standing there by themselves, with no real dirt on the ground, just in the pots, and no birds or insects. Probably not even any worms in the dirt. This place was too squeaky-clean for something like worms. It was a chosen slice cut out of a large ecological pie, and put here, and artificially maintained. But then, maybe that's what all the large animals at the zoo had been, too.
After a while she got bored with the plants. She pulled a leaf off one, tossed it in the fountain, and watched it float for a while. Then that got boring, too. Having nothing else to do, she took one of the romance books and began reading it. She supposed it was alright, though the situation of the characters in it, who led fantastically easy lives in the time before the War didn't seem to have that much to do with the way things were today. Betty 5 had mentioned that the books had a lot of ideas on how to please the Maestro, and the one Aster was reading did seem pretty explicit regarding how the two main characters ended up having sex. Several times. Though to her, it was basically a set of instructions, pretty much the equivalent of how to collect sperm from a male animal in fifteen different ways, each taking about fifteen times longer than it really needed to, and generally making a complicated fuss both before and afterwards, and a hell of a mess in the process. And neither of the main characters was a ten foot tall monstrously strong brute.
"Pfft!" Aster snorted and tossed the book to one side of the couch. She wished she had her old fairy tale books, those were more interesting.
She dozed off for a bit, and the next thing she knew, one of the Bettys, not Betty 5, though, was shaking her. "Come. Get up. We have to serve dinner."
Aster was awake instantly. She wasn't quite sure how she would serve dinner with a broken arm, but she didn't want to get into trouble by refusing. One of her flat heeled sandals had come partly off while she slept, and she pulled it back on and rebuckled it. Then she followed the other women down the hallway. They went into a door that led to a large kitchen, and each of them took a pot, or a bowl, or a platter containing some sort of food. Aster was about to ask how she would carry and serve food, with a cast on her arm, when one of the chefs in the kitchen gave her a large silver pitcher set with green gems.
"There's wine, in there." Said the chef brusquely. "You should be able to carry and pour that with just one hand, if you're careful about it. Fill each goblet halfway… the Maestro has a larger goblet, be sure and ask him how full he wants it."
Aster nodded. If the Maestro wanted the entire pitcher, and a whole barrel besides, she would give him whatever the hell he wanted. "Do I serve people in a certain order?"
The chef nodded. At least this one had a brain. He had actually run into one of the Maestro's women about a year ago who had stupidly tried to serve wine to the Wardogs. The Maestro had entertained himself that evening by watching three of the dogs mount the woman, before taking her himself.
"You serve the Maestro first. Then go to his right and go clockwise around each table, proceeding to the right, until you get around the entire room. If the Maestro wants you to alter the order, he'll let you know."
Aster nodded. The codeine was wearing off, making her mind clearer, but her bones ached. Never mind, hopefully she would be able to sit down after the dinner was over. Hopefully the Maestro wouldn't want to rape her again. Not so soon, when her bones were still broken from the last time.
Hopefully.
Partially resting the pitcher on her cast, Aster went back out into the dining room. She kept her eyes on the ground, not wanting to see the people there. The people who had been there the night she had been raped. Probably they were all there to laugh at her and hope she got raped again.
The pitcher was heavy, especially lifting it with only her right arm and having to rest it on the plaster cast that was on her left arm. She went up to the Maestro and curtsied slightly, hoping that was the proper thing to do. Having to hold the wine pitcher with only one good arm made bowing or kneeling impossible.
"How much wine do you want, your… my Lord?" she asked in a tremulous voice.
The Maestro turned towards her and looked her up and down. "Ah… the little zookeeper. All better, I see." He said, as if she didn't have a cast on her arm and bruises on her body.
Aster said nothing and waited. Finally the Maestro spoke again. "Fill the goblet completely full."
"Yes, my Lord." Aster carefully balanced the pitcher against her cast as she poured, struggling not to spill any. Finally the goblet was full, and she was about to turn to leave, when the Maestro seized her head between two fingers and turned her head to look directly at him.
"Little zookeeper." He growled. "What's your name?"
Aster inhaled, her eyes wide with panic. She felt a warm trickle down her legs. Her name was Aster Aversa. But she couldn't say that.
"Betty." She said. "Betty 23."
"Good.' To Aster's relief, the two huge fingers released her. "Make sure you remember that."
Aster nodded violently. The Maestro regarded her for a moment, then noticed the wetness on Aster's legs and dress and smirked. "Go serve the rest of your wine."
Her lips trembled and tears formed in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. She knew everyone could see where she had wetted herself, on the skirt of her dress, and wanted to run and hide, or at least change into clean clothing, but couldn't. She had to do her job. Just like at the zoo. But the jobs there, though often unpleasant and embarrassing, had never been as embarrassing as this. And at least there had been a point to them, beyond simply humiliating her.
But she had no choice. Not if she didn't want to attract attention to herself.
Trying not to think about the wet stain on her dress, she went to each table, proceeding clockwise as she had been told to by the chef. Probably the seating arrangement was related to whatever status each person had in the Maestro's court. She tried not to look at any of the people, most of them she didn't even know, anyways. And she didn't like the way most of them leered at her. If she didn't look at them, then she didn't have to see that. There were other women ahead of her, and behind her, serving different entrees to the diners, and she kept her eye on them, making sure that she didn't fall too far behind the woman in front of her. However, she couldn't help but recognize the filthy braid and scarred face of Daniel Wolfkiller, sitting at one of the last tables she served. He was occupied with trying to cut what looked like an overcooked piece of steak when she came to his table.
Aster went to one side of him and poured wine into his goblet. The man didn't pay any attention for a few seconds, then noticed the cast on her arm, and looked up. There was recognition in his eyes for a moment. Then he turned back to his steak, sawing at it furiously.
He's probably laughing inside. Aster thought, feeling sorry for herself. He's probably glad about whats happened to me and thinks it serves me right for sneaking into his shed and poking around and stealing his crummy old bottle. He's a big pig, just like the Maestro, with all those prostitutes he kept bringing to the Zoo.
But she didn't want to think about the zoo, either. That made her even sadder.
Some of the diners eventually finished their wine, and one of the other women, whose name was Betty 11, whispered to Aster that she was to make sure that whenever she saw an empty wine goblet, she was to go and ask the diner if they wanted it refilled. Her ankle and hips began to ache a little after several trips around the room, but she didn't dare to stop. Stopping would get her punished, she was sure. As some of the diners got drunk, they began to pinch Aster's breasts, what there was of them, and her buttocks. She bit her lip and ignored it. She went by Wolfkiller once, when his goblet was empty, but when he saw her, he turned the goblet upside-down.
"No more wine." He said. Then he turned away, and began arguing with the man sitting next to him about someone he suspected of cheating at cards. Aster didn't know much about card games, so didn't really understand the matter, and continued on to the next man who wanted wine.
Eventually, most of the diners left, and Aster was able to slow down, and occasionally take the weight off her painful ankle and hips by leaning against the wall. She kept glancing at the Maestro out of the side of her eyes, afraid to look directly at him, worried that he would want to rape her again, but to her immense relief, the monster eventually got up, farted, then lumbered off somewhere by himself. The rest of the people in the dining hall seemed to be done as well. Aster wasn't sure what to do, then saw the other women clearing up the plates and other dinnerware, and putting them on metal carts. Aster didn't have a metal cart, so she walked next to a woman (Betty something or the other, Aster was sure) who did, and helped clear off the table as best as she could with only one arm.
Eventually, the room was cleared, and the tables wiped. The other women (all Bettys) either gathered in small groups to talk, or wandered off. Maybe back to the room where they all stayed, Aster wasn't sure. The conversations the other women were having sounded rather stupid and boring to her, all about makeup and perfume and hair, or which guards were the best looking, so eventually Aster decided to go back to the room where her bed was. She was tired and wanted to rest her eyes and her aching joints that were still recovering from being sprained. Doctor Llewellyn's bottle of codeine came to mind. Maybe she'd have some of that, it would help her to sleep.
Her mind on escaping from her troubles by drug induced unconsciousness, Aster failed to notice a group of four guards standing in the middle of the hallway, and nearly bumped into them.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" One of them snapped, giving her an abrupt push. That brought her to the attention of the other three.
"Hey, I know her!" said the guard who, judging by the fact that he had more stars and ribbons on his uniform, was probably in charge. He had a face like a weasel, and his balding, light brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail tied at the nape of his neck."That's the little zookeeper, isn't it?"
"Really?" said the first guard.
"Yeah." The ranking guard, whose name tag said 'Paul Rasse' licked his lips. "The Maestro was talking about her to me at dinner, after she poured his wine. Said he had gotten all the good out of her, so anytime I wanted to have fun with her, I could."
"Is that so!" Another guard chimed in, appearing amazed by such luck, as if a chest full of gold coins had suddenly dropped in front of him. "He doesn't share very often!"
Before Aster could collect her wits enough to run away, though a girl as small as her wearing flimsy sandals could hardly outrun four grown men wearing boots, Paul Rasse seized her by her cast, twisting her broken arm painfully.
"You come with us!" He told Aster. "And you better not bite or kick or scream."
She suddenly realized what was happening. "No!" Aster cried, against the instructions she had been given not to scream.
Rasse hit her in the face, splitting her lip open. The taste of her own blood poured into her mouth.
"Shut up!" He told her again. He pulled Aster by her broken arm into a small room, full of unmarked boxes of something or the other. Judging by the dust and spiderwebs, the room wasn't used very other guards followed behind and slammed the door shut behind them. Emboldened by their leader, Rasse, one of them seized Aster's flimsy dress and ripped it off her.
"Nice." Said the guard who held the remnants of her dress in his hand. He noticed the remains of wetness on it and held it up. "Look at this. The Maestro said she was so scared that she peed herself like a baby."
The other guards found that hilarious, and laughed in snorting voices.
"Keep it for a souvenir." One of them suggested.
The guard wadded it up and put it on top of one of the stacks of boxes, obviously intending to do just that.
The head guard, Paul Rasse looked Aster up and down. Nice. Not a hair on her body, just like the Maestro had said.
"Get on your hands and knees." He ordered her. Aster didn't understand the purpose of that, and stood there in confusion. Furious at being defied, Rasse took her roughly by the shoulders, spun her around, and threw her violently to the ground, causing her to land on her broken arm. She screamed with agony, and Rasse kicked her in the stomach, silencing her by knocking the air out of her.
"Hold her down!" Rasse told one of the other guards. "Stuff something in her mouth so she can't scream."
'Something' turned out, for lack of anything else convenient, to be the remains of the dress that had been torn off Aster. The guard who had put it on top of a crate, intending it for a souvenir, wadded up one section of it and forcibly stuffed it inside her mouth. It turned out to be the lower part, that she had peed on, earlier, and the smell of stale ammonia nearly made her throw up.
Rasse unbuttoned the fly of his pants and covered Aster with his body. She strained away from him and felt horrible pain. There was something strange about it… what the hell was he doing? He was raping her.. not where the Maestro had, though. Up her butt.
She nearly vomited again. Then the abnormal pressure of Rasse forcing himself up there made her lose control of her bladder and sphincter at the same time, and the smell of waste filled the room. This infuriated the head guard, who slammed her on the back of the head with one fist, making her bite her own lips. Blood, again, filled her mouth.
It didn't take Rasse long to finish. With disdain, he picked up one of the lumps of feces, and smeared it into her hair.
"Filth for the filthy zookeeper." He sneered.
Then the other guards had her. Not anally, but it still hurt. Not as badly as when it had been the Maestro, but still badly enough that she cried, and tried to scream despite the gag. Dimly, Aster remembered Doctor Llewellyn telling her that the Maestro had ripped her up inside, and that she was going to find sex painful from now on. And the damage the Maestro had done hadn't even healed yet, Aster had still felt scabs up inside herself only a few days ago, when she had reached a cautious finger up there to see how bad it still was.
After what seemed like nearly an hour of pain and humiliation, including Paul Rasse taking her again, the usual way this time, it was finally over. Rasse gave her a final kick in one of her legs, and with a jerk, yanked the dress she was gagged with out of her mouth. He sniffed it, then through it on top of her, despite the earlier talk of keeping it as a souvenir.
The guards left, laughing and slapping eachother's hands, and the door slammed behind them. But Aster didn't get up immediately. She lay there crying for about 15 minutes, not having the physical or mental resources to even move. Then she was afraid to move. What if they came back? What if they were playing a trick on her, and hiding right outside the door, and were going to start up again, as soon as she opened the door?
Eventually, she crawled over to the door, getting her own wastes smeared on her hands and knees in the process, but not really caring. She tilted her head and put her ear to the door, listening. She didn't hear anything. She reached up with her right arm and used the doorknob to pull herself to tottering feet. The filthy, torn dress was still draped over her. Aster tried to put it back on, but couldn't get the ripped garment to cover herself properly. Finally she gave up and just wrapped it around her waist like a towel.
Still worried that the guards might be hiding in silence, right outside the door, Aster lay down on the filthy floor and tried peering through the tiny crack between the bottom of the door, and the floor. She couldn't make out much, just some green tiles. Would there be shadows if anyone was standing there? She couldn't remember where any of the lights were.
Standing up again, Aster turned the doorknob as slowly and quietly as she could manage. She pulled it open a bare crack, not sure exactly what she would do if the guards were still there. At only 5' of height and barely over 100 lbs, she was hardly strong enough to hold the door closed against just one of the grown men trying to force it open, let alone all four.
She brought one eye to the crack and squinted out. She saw nothing.
Opening the door slightly wider, Aster tried to see as far in both directions as she could. Still nothing.
Finally, she dared open the door wide enough to poke her face out.
The hallway was empty, save for the lights along the ceiling.
Aster slipped out the door and into the hallway, listening as hard as she could for any sound of the guards who had raped her, or other guards who might do the same, coming towards her. The dress she had wound around her waist slipped slightly, and she struggled to refasten it with one good hand, while pinning part of it to her waist with her awkward plaster cast. Finally she managed to tuck it around herself fairly tightly, and covered her breasts with her cast. Crouching down slightly, she stayed barely a few inches away from the wall as she moved, like a frightened animal in a strange house. She wasn't sure anymore if she even remembered the way back to the room where all the women stayed and her bed was, but she sure as hell wasn't going to ask anybody.
Once, she heard footsteps at an intersection between two hallways, and pressed herself behind a pillar. Fortunately, whoever it was continued on their way, and didn't turn into the hallway she was in. Aster kept moving, low to the ground, and although she made a few wrong turns, eventually found her way back to the women's chambers. The guard with the rifle was there, and seemed surprised by Aster's appearance.
"What happened to you?" He said.
"What happened to you, what happened to you?" Aster imitated his voice in a sarcastic falsetto, not caring if it annoyed the guard into further abusing her. "Fuck you, and leave me alone."
The guard seemed about to say something, then shrugged. The women who lived inside the chamber often came back in various states of nudity or injury, or both. Rape and beatings were both often the entertainment of the day in the Maestro's castle, and if the women were lucky, they would suffer either or both at the hands of ordinary men, rather than the Maestro. By the look of this one, she'd been 'lucky' that way. At least this time.
Still… was that shit in her hair? Rasse's work, the guard guessed. It was well known that the tastes of the man ran towards buggery, and not always of women, either.
It wasn't his place to comment on the state of such women, or do anything about it, unless they were so obviously badly injured that they required the attentions of Doctor Llewellyn. Since this girl was still able to walk, and wasn't bleeding any longer from the cut on her lip, she didn't fall into the latter category. He shrugged, and stood back at attention, outside the door. He didn't need a beating himself, for being negligent at duty.
As Aster stumbled into the women's room, one of the Bettys ran up to her.
"What happened to you? I was wondering where you were, you didn't come back after the feast. Are you alright?"
Aster didn't want the attention of simpering women who suggested that she learn how to 'please the Maestro' any more than she wanted any sort of attention from the guard outside the door.
"Get the hell away from me!" She snarled, baring her teeth in her tiger-face.
The Betty hesitated. The girl was very small, true, but seemed rather crazed. And that big plaster cast on her arm would probably make a handy club. It wouldn't do to get bashed with it. Obviously the girl had been raped by some guards. An old story. But if they had done it, they had had permission from the Maestro to do it. None of the guards were stupid enough to take a woman without the Maestro's say-so. At least, not twice. So if the girl had somehow displeased the Maestro tonight, perhaps by accidentally spilling wine from the pitcher, and this was the result, it wasn't her place to question it.
For her part, Aster pushed past the woman and looked around the room. There had to be bathtubs here, somewhere. The other women were too clean for there not to be. She began opening the doors that were along the front wall of the room. Sure enough, one of them was a bathroom, with several toilets, and a shower stall with several faucets along one wall, and small alcoves containing bars of soap, assorted bottles of substances that Aster didn't recognize, towels and rags, sponges and brushes.
Aster unwound the remains of the green dress from her waist and threw it into a corner. Let someone else pick it up, if they didn't like the mess. She turned on the faucet, as hot as she could stand, and stood in the stream, her left arm out to one side to keep the plaster cast from getting wet. She bent her head down, letting the water run through her hair for several minutes to wash out the feces that the horrible guard, Paul Rasse, had smeared into it. She took a bottle of shampoo with her right hand, unscrewed the cap with her teeth, and squeezed a large blob into her hair. Setting the bottle back down for the moment, she lathered it up one-handed, and let the water run through again. It took three repetitions before she felt that her hair was even slightly less dirty.
It was hard to shower with one hand, back in Doctor Llewellyn's office, the nurse had helped her, but she would be damned if she would ask any of the stupid Bettys for help. Aster managed. She soaped up one part of her body at a time, then scrubbed it with the brush. Then soaped it again, and scrubbed again. She wished she could scrub inside her vagina and anus as well, but putting a soapy finger up either channel hurt, and when she pulled it out again, her finger was covered with blood. She would have to let the inside parts of herself be, no matter how filthy they felt. If she hadn't been hobbled by injuries and her plaster cast, she would have tried turning herself onto her back, and letting the water from the shower clean her crotch while she was upside-down, but as it was, there was no way she could manage that at the moment.
Eventually, she felt clean. Or at least no more dirty than she had after a day of shoveling animal manure at the zoo. She took a large towel, white thankfully, rather than green, and wrapped it around her waist. She didn't bother to dry. Instead she just stumbled out of the bathroom and made her way over to her bed. Most of the other Bettys were already asleep (or at least in their beds) and the few who were awake didn't seem to want to talk to her. Or perhaps they didn't know what to say.
Aster went over to her bed, squeezed through the curtains, and threw herself down on the mattress. Finally, she was able to freely cry. She hated this place, and everyone in it. She wanted to kill all of them, from the Maestro and Paul Rasse, down to dirty-haired Daniel Wolfkiller, and probably even the stupid, simpering Bettys whose main ambition seemed to be finding a way to 'please the Maestro'. Nyah, nyah, nyah.
Reaching over, Aster took the bottle of codeine that Doctor Llewellyn had given her, and poured herself a brimming capful. She didn't want to be awake in this horrible place right now. The codeine would help her sleep, and maybe give her good dreams. That was a good idea. She poured another half a capful and swallowed it, as well. She lay back a few minutes, and pretty soon a pleasant, muzzy feeling came over her. The pain of her bruises and in her mind faded.
Aster got up to open the covers and saw that her stuffed tiger, Tony, was still on her bed, near the pillows. Aster sniffed. She got under the covers and held the toy in a tight embrace. She wished Tony were a real Tiger, like the ones she and her father had given to the Maestro, and she could train him to protect her. She bet a tiger could take on all of the Maestro's stupid old machine brained WarDogs. Tigers were fast and smart, and had real brains.
Thinking about the tigers that she and her father had trained for the Maestro brought back the fact that the Maestro had killed one of them, and the other one was rotting alive in a miserable cage.
Just like me. She thought through the muzziness. I hate this place. I wish I were a tiger instead of a person. If I were, I'd be big and strong, not little and weak, and have sharp teeth, and rip out their throats for them. Especially those creepy guards and Paul Rasse. Rip out his throat and watch him bleed. And kill everyone here who is stupid and mean to me.
Kill Kill Kill
Thinking pleasant, bloody thoughts, Aster went to sleep still holding a battered, ancient toy tiger in her arms.