Chapter 16. Red Vessels
Aster sat in an alcove in the hallway for hours, leaning against a statue. Her mind was numbed by pain and guilt. She didn't know what to do about her arm. Doctor Llewellyn was dead. He had a nurse, who might have known what to do, but Aster couldn't bring herself to go find her. The palace had been in chaos since the previous night. Aster her screams, and whispers, and running footsteps. A few times, people scurried past her, but didn't notice her in the shadows. She was afraid to move, and afraid to stay where she was. She was covered with blood. She didn't notice.
The thought of her arm finally got her moving. If she didn't find someone to do something about it, it would either heal wrong, or worse yet, she'd die of infection. She had paid a great deal for her life, and didn't want to throw it away for fear. Not that she had much choice, really. Doing other than what she had would not have saved the life of Betty 31 or her child for more than another hour. Their deaths had been inevitable since Doctor Llewellyn had performed the procedure that made Betty 31 pregnant with a gamma child that no simply human woman could possibly carry to term.
The thought of Doctor Llewellyn started making her angry, and the anger drove out some of the fear. Irrational though the thought was, Aster couldn't help but think that he had hung himself simply to cause trouble for her. Really, if he wanted to off himself, why couldn't he have waited a few more days, rather than doing it when he did, so that the Maestro forced her to do a job that she wasn't remotely qualified to do. Well, maybe she was barely qualified to do it, had the baby been a normal human infant, and far closer to full term, but not under the sort of circumstances that the Maestro had forced on her, demanding that she 'do something' immediately, in the middle of an unsterilized area, with no anesthetic.
Bastards. She thought. Men are all bastards and pigs. When they aren't raping me they're blaming me for the mess they made, and making me clean it up and do their dirty work for them.
Still, it occurred to her that there was one man in the Maestro's palace who was, perhaps, slightly less of a pig than the rest of them. Daniel Wolfkiller. Mind you, he was still pretty much of a pig, given as he was to drinking and whoring. Aster had thought so when she was 12, and she still thought so. Still, there was a great difference between being 12, and being nearly 17, and Aster had been through a lot in that time. Enough that she distinguished, to some extent, different degrees of piggishness. The stable master was a pig, and a drunk, and frequented whores, but compared to what most of the other residents of the Maestro's palace were into, such as rape, beatings, and orgies, whatever Daniel Wolfkiller was doing with his spare time almost seemed puritanical in comparison.
Still, she had to be sure. He had killed the tiger in the cage, and she still didn't know why he had done it. Was it mercy, or revenge? She had to know. A man who killed helpless dumb animals out of some twisted desire for revenge for injuries done years ago could not be trusted.
There was no way for her to get down to the stables, where she was most likely to find the man. The Maestro's female slaves were not let out of the palace without permission, and unescorted. Still, maybe she could get him to come in to her. There were windows overlooking the stables. Barred windows, but just because she couldn't fit through the bars didn't mean that nothing could.
Aster pulled herself to her feet with her one good hand. She hated her left arm. This was the second time the Maestro had broken it. Then again, she was right handed, so if it had been her right arm that had been broken either time, things would have been worse. She made her way over to the women's quarters. The guard was gone. Probably cowering somewhere like most of the rest of the residents of the Maestro's palace. Somewhere in the distance, she heard bellowing. The Maestro either mourning, or enraged, over the death of his son. She and everyone else would be lucky if he didn't tear the palace apart and send it all crashing down of their heads. It was not good, it was like being in a building that you knew was burning down. The smart thing to do would be to get out.
Getting out was not allowed. Not for her.
If you can't get out of a burning building, what makes you think Wolfkiller would be stupid enough to come into one? Came a mocking thought. She had no answer. But she needed help, and he was the only possible, unlikely hope that she had.
The supply closet in the women's quarters had a lot of everything the women needed for their day-to-day lives, ranging from bed linens, to different sizes of their dresses, to bath supplies and cosmetics. After taking a pillowcase from one shelf, it was to the shelves containing the cosmetics that Aster turned her attention. She needed something small, but hard. Several somethings, actually. She threw a few dozen tiny bottles of perfume into the pillowcase. Hopefully they would be enough.
Aster left the women's quarters and made her way through the palace, keeping well away from any people, and especially from the Maestro's combined screams and sobs. In one hallway, she found the body of a woman that had been strangled with her own dress. She stepped carefully over it, and kept moving as silently as she could. Finally, she found a barred window on the fourth floor that overlooked the stables. She looked down. There weren't any horses in the corral like there usually were. The place looked dead. Except… there was some movement of horses she could see dimly through the windows of the stable. So the horses were still there.
Was their keeper, Daniel Wolfkiller, still there? Aster didn't know, but thought it possible. In her view of the world, it would be a severe dereliction of duty for anyone who kept animals to simply abandon them. Not that she would put such a thing past the piggish, drunken stable master. But there was also the fact that even if the Maestro, in his madness and rage, was not angry with Wolfkiller now, he most definitely would be angry later, if the stable master left the horses uncared for. Possibly fear would keep the man at his job, if duty wouldn't.
Aster took a small bottle of perfume out of the pillowcase, stretched her arm out the window, and tossed it downwards, towards the stables.
The bottle landed in a mud puddle.
No good. Aster took another bottle, and tossed it again, throwing it harder and higher. The effort jarred her broken left arm, and she whimpered in pain.
This time the bottle landed on the roof of the stables, before rolling down the shingles, and landing in the corral.
Better. From her height, Aster could not hear whatever sound the bottle might have made, but she was sure it had made some sort of sound. If Wolfkiller was in the stables, he must have heard it. But maybe he thought it was simply part of the random chaos that had been going on in the palace since the previous night.
She tossed another bottle, and it landed in the mud again. Aster cursed. Throwing the bottles far enough meant twisting her body, and hurting her broken left arm. She took another bottle, and threw it harder. And another.
After about ten bottles had landed on the roof of the stables, and rolled off, Aster's pain-filled efforts finally had results. A large door in the side of the stables opened, and someone's head peered cautiously out.
Wolfkiller, Aster was sure. She recognized his dark hair and swarthy skin. Twisting despite the pain, she tossed another bottle at the roof of the stables. The stable master's head jerked slightly at the sound, and he looked around, but still didn't see her, or even look in her direction.
Aster threw another bottle, and this time, at the sound, Wolfkiller looked upwards, but still couldn't see her.
Too dark in here. Aster thought. He can't see me inside the window.
She needed something to attract his attention. Acting quickly, she dumped the remaining perfume bottles out of the pillowcase, took it in her good right hand, stretched her arm as far as it could go through the bars, and began waving it around.
Wolfkiller saw the motion of the fabric. He held up one hand in a halting motion, signaling her to stop, before someone else saw it. Aster brought the pillowcase back in, and put the perfume bottles back inside. When she looked out again, Wolfkiller was standing under a tree, fairly near the palace. He was, perhaps, 50 feet below her window, and 30 feet from the walls of the palace. Within earshot, but if she shouted, someone might hear. As if he guessed her thoughts, she saw Wolfkiller bring one finger to his lips, then make a writing motion with his hands.
A note. Right. But she had nothing to write in, or on. Stupid. She should have thought of that, before throwing her bottles to get his attention, and brought a paper and pen. She didn't want to wander around in the palace, the way things were, to go get some. The more she wandered, the more likely she would run into danger.
Then again, come to think of it, she did have writing supplies with her. Aster took all the perfume bottles except one out of the pillowcase, then swung the pillowcase - hard - against the tile floor. The bottle inside shattered with a noise that sounded ear-splitting to her, but actually couldn't be heard more than 20 feet or so away. Nevertheless, Aster held her breath for several moments, until she was sure that the noise was not bringing anyone running to do something horrible to her.
When nearly a minute had passed, and all remained still (at least near her, she could still hear noise in other parts of the palace), Aster reached into the pillowcase and took out the shards of glass. She selected the longest, thinnest one, and quickly jabbed it into her own leg.
Blood welled up. Aster spread out the pillowcase on the floor, dipped her right pinky finger into her own blood, and began writing as neatly as she could (which was not very neatly at all) on the green fabric:
Aster. Broken arm.
Need help.
Bring boards and cloth.
Aster waited a few minutes for the writing to dry, put several of the perfume bottles back into the pillowcase for weight, then tossed it out the window towards the tree where the stable master was hiding in the shadows. It landed about 10 feet away from him, and he prudently waited until he was sure that nobody else had seen it land, before crawling, nearly on his belly, out to it, and snagging it with one hand. He snaked back to the shade of the tree, and read what Aster had written.
Wolfkiller rolled up the fabric and stuck it into his belt. He pointed towards Aster, then put his hands together, pointing his fingers like the hands of a clock, and turned them slightly. Aster couldn't see how far he turned them, but obviously he meant to come up to her, but not immediately. Understandable. Aster had no idea what was going on in most of the palace, but most likely there was some danger that Wolfkiller couldn't get past safely at the present moment. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to die within the next few hours just from a broken arm, and it wasn't like she had any important appointments to keep.
Aster wedged herself behind one of the larger statues in the hallway, hoping that if anyone came to this part of the palace, they wouldn't see her. A pity she had had to throw the pillowcase out to Wolfkiller. With the perfume bottles inside, it would have made a good blackjack. If only she still had it. If only she could swing it, with her broken arm causing her pain with every violent movement. And if only she had flower, sugar, and eggs, she could make cake.
She laughed slightly at the thought, then coughed as her lungs began itching again. Had her ribs rebroken? They didn't hurt, but who knew. She needed to be quiet, so she stopped laughing and took only shallow breaths. Time seemed to go funny, first fast, then slow, almost as if she were first being given codeine, then some sort of stimulant. A few times she thought she dozed off, only to be awoken by more screams or panicked footsteps, or other alarmed noises in different parts of the palace.
From the position of the sun outside her window, it seemed like early evening before Daniel Wolfkiller finally found her. The weather had gotten cold, or so it seemed, and she was shivering uncontrollably when she heard a loud whisper.
"Aster?" Silence for a few seconds, then another whisper. "Aster?"
She tried to answer, but her teeth chattered, and her mouth was dry. There were a few perfume bottles next to her, and she took one of them and threw it down the hall.
"Thank God." Daniel Wolfkiller came down the hallway. "You're still alive. One of the lucky ones. Let me see your arm."
Aster tried to raise her arm and couldn't. The stable master took her arm, then released it. "My god, you're burning up."
How could she be burning up when she felt so cold. "Have to get out of here." Her teeth chattered.
Wolfkiller shook his head. "There is no getting out. The Maestro's gone mad. It's worse this time, than before. You're lucky I could get in."
"Before?" She couldn't think straight. "What before? I have to get out of here."
"There's no getting out." Wolfkiller insisted. "Listen to me. Try to concentrate. You're sick. You've been sitting here for two days. You have a fever. I don't know what to do. You have to tell me. Do you know what to do?"
"Cold…" Aster tried to think. She had been worried about infection, earlier. "Hot. Infection. Have to find Doctor Llewellyn."
"Doctor Llewellyn is dead. I told you that. Do you remember?"
"No." Then she did remember, but couldn't figure out how to say so. "Last night."
"Yes. He's gone." Wolfkiller shook his head. It had been three nights ago. She had completely lost track of time. Not a good sign. "Aster, listen to me. What would Doctor Llewellyn do? About your arm and the infection. Can you tell me that?"
"My arm, my arm. Always my arm."Her voice was a singsong, then went back to talking. "Have to splint it. Pull on the bone. Make it like the good arm."
"Okay." Using her good arm as a mirror model made sense to Wolfkiller. "What about the infection?"
"Need Doctor Llewellyn's pills. Amoxycillin. Penicillin. Something. Don't know how much."
"Bloody hell." Daniel Wolfkiller swore. There must have been hundreds of different bottles of drugs in the dead doctor's hospital. He didn't even know if they had any dosages on them.
"Listen, I'm going to get you to the hospital, you hear? It's going to hurt, but try to stay awake."
"Want to sleep." Aster disagreed.
"No sleeping." He swore again. "Aster, listen to me. I need you awake."
"I am awake." She contradicted her own statement of a few minutes ago.
"You've been watching the Maestro. I've seen you. I know a hunter when I see one." Wolfkiller held her chin in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
"I used to hunt rabbits." Aster said proudly.
"That's good." said Wolfkiller. "You learned good. I saw you hunting the Maestro, but he never saw you. Listen to me, I need to know. Did you learn anything? Did you find a way to kill him?"
"Kill him? The Maestro." Aster began laughing. "Why ask me. You should have asked that woman. Betty 31. I killed her, you know."
"Never mind the dead woman." The stable master began to get irritated with her feverish, non-lucid state. "The Maestro killed her, not you. Either way, she's dead. So I'm asking you. Does the Maestro have any weaknesses. Any way to kill him?"
"Theres a way to kill him. Maybe." Aster looked sly. "Betty told me."
"Jesus bloody Christ." The man forced himself to patience. "Ok. Betty told you. What did Betty tell you?"
"She came from Milwaukee."
"I knew she wasn't from here." Wolfkiller agreed. "It doesn't matter where she came from. What did she tell you, about how to kill the Maestro?"
"Milwaukee…" Aster couldn't think how to explain. "It's the marching song Thumb and I used to sing. Back in the Zoo."
Much to Wolfkiller's horror, Aster began singing at the top of her lungs:
"I knew a man from old Milwaukee!
He just loved to walkie-talkie!
Sound off! One! Two!
Sound off! Three! Four!
Sing it all down now!
Four! Three! Two! One!"
"Aster! Shut up!" Wolfkiller hissed and clapped his hand over her mouth. "You have to be quiet!"
"I have to go to Milwaukee!" She insisted, mumbling through the hand that covered her mouth.
"That's a song. There is no Milwaukee here. It's in another state. Now be quiet. I'm going to get you to the hospital."
He lifted up Aster and got her right arm under his shoulder. "Can you walk?"
"I can walk to Milwaukee. It's in the book. Fundamentals of Biochemistry. Never understood it though."
"Yeah, well welcome to the club." Wolfkiller grumbled. "I can't understand you, either. And you don't need to walk to Milwaukee. Just the hospital."
"Okay. Is the book there?"
"Yes, whatever. There's lots of books there. You can read them all, if you just keep quiet and come with me." He had to say something to get her to cooperate.
"Okay. Sounds good." Aster nodded, and staggered along the hallway as Wolfkiller guided her to the hospital. It was dark, and the glass on the door broken. Wolfkiller reached through the shattered glass and unlocked the door on the inside, so that they could enter. He didn't bother asking her any more questions. The girl was delirious with fever, and he didn't understand the sort of references she was coming up with. Her brain worked in some sort of code different from that of most people. He'd get nothing out of her until she was better.
Wolfkiller didn't dare to make too much light, that might be seen from the outside, so lit a single candle, and put it inside a lantern. He set Aster on one of the beds, and began looking for the pills she had said Doctor Llewellyn would have recommended. Fortunately, other than the damage to the door, the hospital was fairly intact, all the bottles of pills and liquids still on the shelf. The stable master didn't understand the manner in which they were organized. Probably they were organized by their purpose, but he didn't know enough about medicine to make sense of that, so he had to read the labels on every single one, before finding one of them that she had mentioned. Penicillin. The bottle said to give two pills to an adult (or children over 12) every 6-8 hours.
6 hours sounded better to the stable master. If even that long, but he was worried about second guessing whatever medical expert had come up with the dosage on the label. He took two of the pills, got a large glass and filled it up with water from the sink, and brought it to Aster.
He sat Aster up, opened her mouth, put the pills in, and handed her the glass of water. "Swallow those and drink this. You haven't had anything to drink for nearly three days."
Aster swallowed the pills dry, instead, then drank the water afterwards, choking and sputtering. Her skin was still hot. Too hot, Wolfkiller thought. He looked around and found a thermometer, and put it in Aster's mouth. Which she promptly spat out and the stable master barely caught it before it hit the floor.
Bloody hell. He thought. He didn't know what to do. She was too hot. He had to cool her off. He took the blanket off another bed and soaked it in cool water in the sink, then wrapped it around Aster.
"No! Cold!" Her teeth began chattering, and the blood crusted on her body and clothing began coming off and smearing onto Daniel.
"I know it's cold. You have to keep it on!"
"Cold!" She kept thrashing. By pure force, Wolfkiller kept the soaked blanket on her. She stopped struggling, and he took the opportunity to fill a large basin with cold water and pour it on her, rewetting the blankets. He did it three times, and tt seemed after a while, she didn't feel quite so hot, so he finally relented and let her wrap herself up in several dry blankets. That didn't turn out well, either, as after a few minutes, she kicked them off, making the opposite complaint, that she was 'hot'. But no sooner had she kicked them onto the floor than she began complaining of being 'cold' again.
A few times Aster lay quietly, and Wolfkiller tried to ask her what she had learned about how to kill the Maestro, with poor results. Half the time she began talking again about her childhood marching song about Milwaukee (and jet planes, and other things), the other half the time she said it was too dangerous to ever tell.
During one of her less lucid periods, Wolfkiller took the opportunity to stuff a towel in Aster's mouth, and set her arm as best he could. He actually felt the bone 'click' into place when he pulled on it, and it seemed to match her other arm in the way it looked and felt (other than being swollen) and he hoped he had done a proper job. There was no-one else. He used several cloth strips to tie the boards he had brought to her arm, and it seemed like perhaps he had done something right because a while after he did it, she started to feel less hot. Or maybe that was just hopeful thinking on his part, because when he took the towel out of her mouth, she didn't mention her arm having been set, either to thank him or to complain about the pain, and began talking nonsense about her marching song again.
By this time he had learned to tune her out whenever she started singing, though once when she got too loud, he had to stuff the towel back in her mouth. Possibly the song about Milwaukee meant something. Probably it did, the stable master decided. Aster had mentioned that Betty 31 had come from there, and that she had learned some possible way to kill the Maestro from the woman. But what it was, he had no way of knowing. He paid no attention to her ravings as he cleaned her up and dressed her in one of the hospital gowns.
Six hours exactly passed, according to the clock on the hospital walls, during which he kept giving Aster water as often as she would drink it. With something of relief, as soon as the recommended minimum dosage interval went past, he gave Aster another two pills. He glanced at the clock. He had left large amounts of food and water for all the horses before sneaking into the palace. They could probably go a few days before they began neighing in hunger. Eventually, he'd have to go back, though.
Two more days passed that way. The noises in the palace first became very quiet, then seemed to return to *something* like normality. Though Wolfkiller sensed an ominousness in the noises he heard. He shook his head. He needed to get back to the stables. By this time the horses had probably gone through the food and water he had left them, and would begin neighing pretty soon, and attracting attention. If that didn't attract attention, the smell from their uncleaned stalls probably would. Perhaps it was safe to leave Aster, even though he wasn't sure if he would be able to get back. Her fever had broken, and she was having lucid moments where she reached for the glass of water that he kept filled, and drank it voluntarily, though she still wouldn't answer his questions about the Maestro. During her most lucid moment, when he asked her about it, he was fairly sure that she understood the question at that moment, but rather than answer, glared at him suspiciously and asked him:
"Why did you kill the tiger?"
Wolfkiller didn't see what the dead animal had to do with anything, and didn't answer. The next time he looked at Aster, she was asleep. He looked at the clock. He really needed to get back to the stables. The risk was less, now. She had stopped her loud singing and other ravings. She was having lucid moments. Especially if he set things up so most of what she needed was within her reach. In case he couldn't get back.
He shoved a long bench next to Aster's bed and set the penicillin on it. Then he took a few minutes to fill several large bottles of water that he placed on the bench as well, along with several cans of fruit and a can opener that he got from a cabinet in the hospital's small cooking area. Then he wrote a note, and pinned it to the front of her gown. Then he left, locking the door behind him.
He meant to return, but was never able to. Aster did not learn why for over a year.
Aster awoke to a dry mouth, a sweat covered body, and full bladder several hours later. She kicked off the blankets, cooling herself. She remembered drinking water earlier, from a glass, and fumbled around for it. There was no glass, but several bottles. She sat up and felt something stiff in front of her. There was a note, attached to her gown by a safety pin. She sat up, fumbling around with the paper. Her left arm was done up with some boards and cloth strips. So… apparently Wolfkiller had gotten her note. She remembered seeing him. But where had he gone? She tried to open the pin with her right hand, but gave up. Her fingers were too clumsy, so she just tore the note off and read it.
Aster. If you are reading this, it means that I have not yet returned from the stables. If more than a few hours goes by, I probably am not coming back. I apologize for leaving you, but things have gotten very bad since the death of the Maestro's son. He's gone completely mad. You have been in a fever the past few days. I've done what I could, and think you are better, but the horses only have a certain amount of food and water, and if they start attracting attention it would endanger both of us. So I have to leave to attend to them. If I don't return, it either means I am dead, or it is too dangerous for me to return.
On the table next to you is some water. You need to drink as much as you can. There are also cans of fruit, if you get hungry. Most importantly are some pills. You told me to get them, and I think they are working. Take two of them every six hours. I don't know how many you should take, if one bottle will be enough or not.
Be very careful, before you leave the hospital. This is not the first time the Maestro has tried to produce a son. The last time was ten years ago. It killed my wife. I didn't have the courage to do for her what you did for Betty. I wish I had. He is worse this time, than last time. He threatened to burn Doctor Llewellyn to death if he couldn't make it work this time. So, now you know why he killed himself.
Do what you have to, to stay alive. Find a way out, if you can. If I'm still alive, I'll find you.
There was some more writing, but it was scribbled out, and the note was signed:
Daniel Wolfkiller.
Aster regarded the note, and didn't know what to think. How long ago had it been written? She felt terribly thirsty, but perhaps that was just the fever. The note mentioned pills. She didn't think it would be too bad to take just two pills, a little bit early. Using her right hand and her mouth, she opened the jar, shook two pills onto her sheets, and swallowed them dry. She closed the jar of pills, and drank some water.
After a few hours, she got hungry. But the canned fruit presented a problem. It was hard to open them, with just one hand. She didn't want to use her left hand more than she had to. It looked like the stable master had set her arm correctly, but she didn't trust the boards and cloth as much as she trusted a real plaster cast. She finally managed by using her right hand to squeeze the can opener into the top of a can, punching a small hole in it. Then she moved the can opener slightly, and squeezed again, lengthening the hole. It took about 50 or so squeezes, but she finally got the lid off. She held the can up to her lips and drank the peaches down.
Hours went by, and she concluded that either Wolfkiller wasn't coming back at all, or was having some sort of difficulty doing so. Hadn't he had some trouble finding her in the first place? She couldn't remember. She took two more pills, and had some more cans of peaches.
Morning came, and she felt stronger, but also more hungry. Aster swung her legs out of bed and tested them gingerly on the floor for several seconds, before deciding that she was strong enough to walk. She certainly didn't want to fall down on her broken arm. Especially not if Wolfkiller wasn't coming back. Staying near the wall to brace herself, she made her way to the hospital's small kitchen area, and looked through the cabinets in the dim light from the narrow windows near the ceiling. There were cans of tuna and stew. Meat sounded good to her famished stomach. She didn't know any way to cook it safely. Not with a bad arm, and the distinct possibility that the smell of cooking food might attract attention. She ate a can of tuna cold. Later on, she had some stew the same way.
Aster wasn't sure how much time went by, eating cold food and taking pills by herself in the abandoned hospital. Finally, the pills ran out, and the food was running low. She had to leave. She didn't know if it was safe.
She found her sheer green dress that she had been wearing, that terrible night. It was covered in blood. She could hardly wear it safely. Assuming that the Maestro had gotten slightly over his grief and rage, she didn't want to remind him of it by having him see her wearing that. Aster wadded it up and threw it into the trash. But what could she wear? The doctor's clothes? She didn't want to remind the Maestro of Doctor Llewellyn, either. He might just decide to burn her to death, the way he had threatened to do with the hapless physician.
The hell with it. She finally decided. She had nothing she could wear safely, so nothing is what she decided to wear. Possibly she would get raped. It would hurt. Not as bad as being burned to death. If she cooperated, maybe the rapists wouldn't re-break her arm.
As it turned out, she wasn't raped. She went past several guards. There seemed to be more of them than there had been, before. They also seemed afraid of something, standing abnormally stiffly, and barely daring to glance at her nude body as she went past.
Are they all eunuchs? She wondered. In the past, the Maestro mainly used eunuchs for guarding his female slaves. Though sometimes he punished men by making eunuchs of them. Possibly in his insanity, he had castrated all of the guards in the palace. She wasn't about to ask them.
As she made her way back to the women's quarters, she noticed a bad smell. Was there a dead animal somewhere about? She heard the buzzing of flies, and rounding a corner, she found the source of the smell and nearly gagged.
There was a woman's body in the middle of the hallway. In fact, she recalled seeing it before. It was the dead, strangled woman she had seen a few weeks earlier, when she had been dragging Betty 31's body to the charnel pits. Except rotted. The skin was shriveled in some places, slimy in others, and maggots… she had to look away.
Why is that still here? Aster wondered. Of course, she knew the answer, even as she asked herself the question. The body was still there for the same reason anything bad in the Maestro's palace was there. Fear. Fear of the Maestro. If that body were still lying where it was, rotting, the only reason could be because the Maestro had forbidden anyone to move it.
That can't be good. Aster didn't know much about psychology, but she was pretty sure that demanding that dead bodies be left in the middle of a hallway could not be very normal. But then, maybe it wasn't all that different from putting people's heads on spikes in front of the palace. Except in degree. Whatever madness the Maestro had, it was getting worse.
She tiptoed around the edge of the body, and with relief, turned a corner in the hallway, where the smell was diminished. From there, it was only a few minutes to the women's quarters, and Aster nodded to the new guard, as if her walking around entirely nude were a commonplace occurrence.
"Betty 23." She gave the name she had been assigned. The guard looked puzzled at her nudity, then even more puzzled as he consulted his clipboard.
"23...? There's no 23 here." He flipped through a few pages. "Wait a minute… Aster… Aster Aversa? You're still alive? The Maestro didn't kill you?"
"I'm here, aren't I." Aster pointed out.
"Well… I guess… Betty." The guard looked unplussed. "I guess if you're still alive, then the Maestro must not want you dead. Or maybe he has something special planned for you."
The guard waved her past, and Aster stepped into the women's quarters. She didn't want to think what 'having something special planned' for her might mean. Best to keep out of everyone's way, and try not to be noticed. She tried to move as quietly as she could towards her bed, so as not to be noticed by the other women.
No such luck. There were far fewer women in the room than there had been, and the ones left were wary with fear. Aster's attempted silent entrance was noticed almost immediately. One of the women gasped, and held back a shriek, and the rest of them looked at her with bulging eyes so shocked, that it was almost as if she was not merely naked, but covered with blood as she had been after her murder of Betty 31.
"Oh my God." The woman who spoke looked almost green. "It's the murderer. She's still alive!"
"She killed Betty 31!" Another woman cried.
"Keep the hell away from us, murderer!"
"What did we do now, that the Maestro is punishing us with HER!" The woman who said that actually looked like she was on the verge of tears.
Aster gaped at the unfairness of it. It had been their precious Maestro who had killed Betty 31. Not her. If she hadn't done what she had, Betty 31wouldn't have lived for more than an hour longer, and Aster would have been killed by the Maestro as well. What the hell good would that have done?
She was about to try to explain, when one of the taller women pointed severely at Aster. "If you have to stay here, then you sleep in the bed at the back, over by the drafty window. Well away from the rest of us, murderer, and we certainly don't want you between us and the door! Trapping us in here and slitting all our throats in our sleep, I shouldn't wonder. What were you, jealous that she was getting to be Queen, and you couldn't even get to be a Zookeeper? That why you did it?"
Aster said nothing. She went over to the indicated bed. Maybe a window was better. She'd rather listen to the noises of the wind and insects, than whatever was going on in the palace. And if she was to be alone… well she'd been that way for a long time, anyways. Ever since she came here. Even when the other women would still talk with her, she was alone. They were simply far too different in intelligence and psychology.
She lay down on the bed, not even bothering to get one of the barely there negligees from the supply closet. She'd just have to go past the other women again to do that, and she didn't want to listen to any more of their unfair accusations. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.
She closed her eyes.
It was exactly a week before her seventeenth birthday.