Peteru and Uretep stepped off the mat and blinked in astonishment at the glittering mountain of precious stones. Ishbel sparkled, twinkled and shimmered from the top of her wig to the tip of her perilously high-heeled sandals. In between, the billowing tent of shiny material that encased her massive bulk was studded with a myriad of diamonds, rubies and sapphires. Gold bracelets encircled chubby wrists, metres of gold chain encircled her neck, and gold thread and emeralds dragged down her earlobes.
‘Ishbel! You look beautiful!’ Peteru stated with commendable conviction. ‘Honestly, I never imagined anyone could look so...so magnificently noble and powerful.’
‘Yes. I know,’ she responded coolly. ‘Follow me.’
‘Will the others also be in their best clothes?’ Uretep asked politely.
‘Of course.’
‘Then aren’t we a little underdressed?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re naked.’
‘So?’
‘Shouldn’t we wear clothes?’
‘Of course not! You aren’t Mages yet! Come.’ She sailed out and along a wide hallway to the most extravagantly ornate room the two young men had seen. A giant crystal chandelier shed flattering amber light over a room bedecked with gold trimmings and intricately framed mirrors. Wall niches boasted detailed bronze sculptures of animals and humans in violent conflict, and ostentatious, gilt-framed paintings of lakes, forests and mountains decorated the walls. Standing on a deep blue carpet in the centre of the chamber was a heavily carved oval table, replete with candelabra, silver, crystal goblets and bowls of flowers, surrounded by thirteen padded chairs with elaborately carved backs, and two plain chairs devoid of either padding or decoration.
The other Mages, dressed in similar opulence to their Chief, were standing in small groups, drinking from crystal bowls. They looked up and stopped talking.
Fabien stepped forward, eyeing them up and down with a patronising sneer. ‘I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.’
Everyone laughed. Their two guests joined in as if it was a brilliant joke.
Fabien clicked his fingers and two young Vassals appeared with goblets of wine, which they handed to the guests, then stood silently as if waiting.
‘Peteru, you’re a connoisseur of young men, which of these two Vassals is the healthiest?’
Both were good looking, perfectly proportioned, lean yet well muscled with excellent posture, so as it seemed unimportant, Peteru shrugged and pointed to the slightly shorter Vassal, whose face registered the faintest smile as if of relief.
‘An excellent choice, don’t you think?’ Fabien turned to the Mages who nodded as if it was of little consequence.
‘As you’ve chosen the meat for the main course, your boyfriend can have the pleasure of killing it. Come!’ He marched off through a doorway, dragging the unprotesting young man by his ear.
Peteru and Uretep, expressions blank to conceal their horror, waited for the Mages to laugh at the joke, but they were staring coldly, obviously waiting to see if Fabien’s suspicions were correct.
Peteru grabbed Uretep by the elbow and, forcing a laugh, said cheerfully, ‘Come on, this sounds like fun.’
As they passed through the doorway he pretended to stumble, dragging Uretep down with him. There was just time to whisper, ‘The guy wants out of this, you’re doing him a favour.’
The adjacent room was a large clean kitchen, with several chefs and assistants apparently too busily employed in preparing the meal to take any notice of distractions. An archway on the far side opened into a medium sized room tiled in white with a solid wooden table in the centre. Every possible type of knife, plus several saws and cleavers, were hung on a rack directly opposite the door. Several meat hooks dangled from a track attached to the ceiling. The floor sloped towards a hole under the table.
Fabien forced the young man to his knees in front of the table, then wandered casually to the wall where he carefully selected a long, narrow, double-edged knife with a very sharp point.
‘Ever done this before?’ he laughed. ‘Of course not. The only meat you’ve eaten was with us the other day. Didn’t realise what it was, did you? But you loved it—asked for second helpings. Well, now you know where it came from.’ Grasping the front of the Vassal’s overall he pressed the point of the knife into the coarse material and ripped upwards, nicking the fellow’s chin and bottom lip, from which blood began to flow freely. The fabric fell away exposing the young man’s smooth dark brown throat and chest.
‘This is where the knife goes in,’ he said, dragging the head back to expose the indent at the base of the throat. ‘A good strong thrust straight down and you’ll miss the ribs but slice through his larynx and possibly the aorta and then his heart. There are quicker ways, but they’re less fun. I like to see plenty of blood. Understood?’
‘I understand.’ The blood was leaving Uretep’s head and he felt cold.
‘When he gives the death jerk, pull the knife out and immediately hold him upside down so the blood pours into the drain. That’s to make sure the meat’s nice and pale.’ He placed the knife in Uretep’s hand and stood back. ‘Peteru, you hold him firmly. I don’t want him jerking about and spraying blood over my clothes. It won’t matter for you, we’ll hose it off.’
Peteru stood behind and took a firm grip on the young man’s arms. When Uretep looked down, the Vassal’s head gave an almost imperceptible nod as if to say, please make it quick, I am happy to go.
Fury filled Uretep’s head, body, heart and being. Rage against the people and system that could make death preferable to life surged into his arm and he thrust deep into the soft tissue, watched the Vassal’s eyes glaze, then pulled the knife out and wiped the blood over his own chest before taking one leg and, together with Peteru, holding the surprisingly light young man firmly upside down while dying nerves caused him to flail around wildly. After an eternity, the gush of blood became a trickle.
They lowered the dead body onto the table and stared at each other, astonished that neither looked different from usual.
‘OK,’ Peteru said with convincing ease, ‘where’s that hose before the blood dries.’
Fabien’s frown was proof enough of the trap they’d avoided.
‘He isn’t that big, Fabien. Do you think one’s enough for fifteen hungry Mages?’ Uretep asked as if keen to do it again.
‘Quite enough,’ Fabien snapped.
‘I hope the water’s warm,’ Uretep said to his departing back.
The Vassal who had been spared uncoiled a hose from a cupboard and sluiced them down with delicious warm water, then provided them with soft towels. Checking to see they were alone, he said softly, ‘Thank you for doing it quickly. That one,’ he pointed to the door, ‘always makes it very long and painful. Yesterday my friend took all morning to die.’ Tears were streaming and he turned away to begin carving his mate into slabs of meat ready for roasting, while apologising for his weakness.
Resisting the urge to take the young man in his arms to comfort him, Uretep touched his shoulder and said softly, ‘Things will change when we go to the new city.’
‘I thought all the Mages’ Vassals had their tongues ripped out,’ Peteru said thoughtfully as they left the room.
‘Only those who know it’s OK to live outside, it seems. Peteru, I feel sick.’
‘And so you should. I do too, but we have a job to do so man up and come on.’
Dry, clean and apparently relaxed, they sauntered back into the dining room laughing at a joke.’
‘You’re in good spirits,’ Ishbel observed, ‘what’s the joke?’
‘We were just imagining what you’d say if we’d not bothered to shower and had arrived covered in blood. But then we thought of the beautiful carpet and furniture.’ He rubbed his belly. ‘That made me hungry, when do we eat?’
By the time they had consumed an entree, soup, and vegetables, the delicious odour of roast meat was wafting from the kitchen. Taking the opportunity provided by a raucous response to one of Angie’s more salacious jokes, Peteru whispered, ‘Look on it as an honour. I’d rather starve than eat one of these fat carcasses, but the thought of that Vassal becoming part of me makes me happy.’
‘Thanks,’ Uretep smiled.
The meat was indeed delicious and the young men tucked in with gusto, determined the death would not be totally in vain. The energy provided by the young man would assist them in ridding the world of sapiens—as they now thought of the Mages.
As if annoyed, several of their hosts appeared to lose their appetites, complaining the meat was tough and should have been bled longer. The party broke up immediately after the final course, everyone pleading an early rise the next morning.
Back in their room Peteru and Uretep showered again to rid themselves of the odour of vileness. Using the splashing water as cover in case Fabien had installed more surveillance, they congratulated themselves on still being alive before tumbling into bed for a disturbed night of unpleasant dreams.