The Surrogate (5 page)

I turned and put my hands on my hips. “Let’s get a few things clear, Jaime. You’ve bought the right to fuck me, not abuse me. I’ve treated you politely and I expect the same in return. If I have to spend months in close contact with you, a little civility will make it easier for everyone.”

He stalked over to me. “Then let me make a few things clear to you. You’re a servant. All I care about is that your body is healthy and ready for use when the god demands it. The rest of the time, your happiness or your feelings are of no importance to me, and this is my place, I’ll speak to whoever I like, however I like. You’re a necessary evil, no more. Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice or....”

“
What, priest boy? You’ll hit me? Mark up the goods? I don’t think so. Anyway, you’re a damn liar. If you didn’t care how I felt, you wouldn’t have lent me that book.”

“
A mistake easily remedied,” he said, and turned to go to the bedroom, no doubt to take away my precious prize.

I grabbed his arm, and the reaction was immediate—he swung at me and I had to duck, freeing him in the process. “Do
not
touch me. Ever.” His lips had thinned almost to invisibility and he had gone pale except for two spots of colour in his cheeks. “You’re a whore. I will not let you lay a hand on me.”

“
Oh, fine, I’m a whore and you’re the brothel keeper. You’ll be laying more than a hand on me in two days’ time, so why the scruples?”

He slapped me, so fast I couldn’t dodge, and so hard that it made my ears ring. “You little sh....” I stopped, because there, quite shockingly, was a knife in his hand—small, sharp and looking quite deadly. He had it levelled at my gut.

“
Touch me and you’ll die.”

“
You hit
me
!”

“
You provoked me. Get out of my sight.”

“
I was looking for something to eat,” I said sullenly, rubbing my sore face, and keeping a wary eye on the knife. This fellow was several hay bales short of a stack, that was for sure. “Or am I supposed to starve because you’re in a mood?”

“
Supper will be an hour. You can hold on that long. Get out.”

“
Did your family pass you off on the temple because you’re a lunatic? Why choose me if you hate me and my type? You’re the one doing the corrupting, I’m just desperate.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “It is not I who corrupts anyone,” he said cryptically. “Get out and let me recover my composure or you will suffer.”

At least there was a tacit admission that he had gone too far, and in truth, I
had
been provocative. I went back to the bedroom, and returned to the bed, book in hand, but I wasn’t really seeing it, even though I stared at the ornate lettering on the leather cover for several minutes. My face still hurt—bad-tempered little bastard. Jaime was, I was now sure, close to being mad, but there was still some control in him—something, even if it was only fear of his masters, that had stopped him stabbing me just then. But to pull a knife because someone put a hand on his arm or argued with him? And I was supposed to have sex with this fellow?

I lay down and covered my eyes. How long had Jaime being doing this? Maybe it had sent him insane, living here, being nothing better than a toy for some perverted priests. His situation was pitiable, but why did he stay? And did he have to be such a snot all the time?

Think, Nikolas. I knew I didn’t have any other options or wouldn’t be here. I could leave and be as badly off as this morning. I needed the money and the shelter and food meant everything I earned, I could save. Maybe it would rain in those two months and I could go home then. The task wasn’t pleasant but it wouldn’t kill me. The only question was—would Jaime? And could I prevent it happening?

Being polite wasn’t enough. I would have to make him care enough that my welfare became actively important to him. That would mean trying to make him my friend—and becoming his, at least in appearance. It looked like my silver tongue would have to earn its keep, as much as my silver arse would.

Finally I actually took in the title of the book, and nearly laughed.
On moral and correct ways of living, for young men of good breeding.
It might have been the first book that came to Jaime’s hand—somehow, I suspected it was his idea of a joke. If he had a sense of humour, at least I had that to work with.

The book was very dry and written in a very old-fashioned style. It was fascinating, in a slightly horrifying way, to think that there might actually be people who behaved in this highly elaborate fashion. I read ahead slightly, and saw that manners were just the beginning—the rest of the book covered court politics, business, banking and the correct way to hold a sword. Jaime must have skipped the first few chapters.

The door opened as it was starting to get dark. “Supper is ready,” he said and left again.

At least he really was going to feed me. I carefully bookmarked my place and left the book tidily on the table. I hoped he would take note that I did know the proper care of books—what savages had he been bedding, I wondered. I was determined to spoil him for that kind of person in the future, which perhaps wasn’t very kind of me, but all I wanted to do was get out of this alive and with some money in my purse. How he got through his strange existence wasn’t any of my concern after that.

The soup I’d had earlier was meatless, and the supper was more roasted vegetables, a piece of cheese and bread. There was a jug of ale too, which was very welcome—it wasn’t particularly strong beer, but it was drinkable. I took care over my manners, to show him I was no yokel, not that he seemed to notice me at all. “You’re not allowed meat?”

“
It is a meatless day. This and tomorrow.”

“
Ah. The food’s very good. You cook for yourself?”

He looked at me with some irritation. “Do you see anyone else here? Don’t ask such stupid questions.”

“
I just thought....” He glared again, so I stopped. “Well, you’re very skilled.”

He grunted and looked down at his plate. He seemed to have very little appetite, although his portion was similar to mine, pushing the food around his plate with his fork, apparently fascinated by its appearance. “The book’s interesting, but I don’t know that it would apply to me. My breeding’s nothing exceptional.”

“
No doubt.”

“
Have you read it?” He disdained to answer. “All that stuff about the correct depth of a bow—you think they still do that at the court?” Still no answer. “You know....”

He looked up. “If you don’t eat that food, I’ll toss it away. I’m not wasting my time cooking for an idle chatterer.”

Fine, be like that, you cranky sod.
I ate the rest of the meal in silence, and when I was done, he asked, “Do you want more?” I shook my head and he removed my empty plate and his mostly full one and took it into the kitchen. Everything seemed self-contained here—water was plumbed directly to the rooms, and it had its own heating and cooking. Things must go in and out—my dirty clothes were gone and there was certainly nowhere to wash them, presumably waste food and our night soil had to be taken too—but we seemed remarkably disconnected from the temple.

“
How long had you lived here?” I asked when he returned.

He ignored the question. “You talk too much. Clean your hands and mouth and return to the bedroom. I have to go out. Do not touch anything of mine, do not admit anyone, whoever they say they are. Anyone who needs admittance has a key. I won’t return until after you’re asleep.”

“
Hey, wait a minute—where are you going? I don’t know anyone here, what if there’s a fire?”

He gave me a cool look. “Then you burn to death.”

Charming little shit. I glared at him as he put on his cloak and the scarf to hide his face and hair, and then picked up a lamp. “I will know if you touch my papers. I’ll kill you if I find you have.”

“
Good night to you, too, Jaime,” I said with a deeply perfect bow. “You know, you could just ask. I’m not a pig.”

“
No, you’re a whore. Do as I say and go to the bedroom.”

He didn’t wait for me to obey but swept out of the room, locking the door behind him. Like that would stop me leaving if I really wanted to.

I sighed. He was a tough nut, in all senses of the word. I really did want to look at his stuff, so I glanced at the table, but he had everything covered up. Knowing him, he probably had hairs and stuff all over it to see if I’d moved it—wouldn’t put it past him to poison the pages of the books so if I licked my finger, I’d die. The titles of the books I could see all seemed to be about history and natural production. It seemed my gaoler was something of a scholar, but how much of it was real and how much of it was imagination, I had no idea.

It wasn’t yet completely dark in the sky above the ceiling windows, but I still had a headache. The one thing I could do was shave, as I’d been ordered, and while it irked me to groom myself to his command, being scruffy irked me even more. I found razor and soap and towels all neatly laid out in the bathroom—he obviously wasn’t worried about me using the razor as a weapon on him, but the way he could move with that knife, he hardly needed to.

I lit candles which made the room bright enough for me to shave cleanly—my hands weren’t shaking any more, and apart from the ache in my head and on my skull from the actual lump, I was feeling a lot better than I had done when I’d woken that morning. I’d eaten twice that day, good hearty meals—that was the first time in three weeks that had happened. I wondered about Jaime’s poor appetite—and where he had gone. Was he leaving the temple? He was dressed for it.

Pah, I shouldn’t waste my own time thinking of the idiot. It was good to be clean shaven again. Weeks of little food had made me rather gaunt—I wondered why Jaime had chosen me off the street when there were a hundred fellows about he could have chosen. Perhaps I just sent out ‘will fuck for food’ signals to perverts. Could be a useful talent when I left here, if I couldn’t get other work.

I could have just gone to sleep, but with the long nap, I wasn’t so tired any more, so I read more of the book, being extremely careful not to get lamp oil on the pages. I couldn’t help wondering how long Jaime would be and whether it was better to be asleep when he returned or not. Probably asleep, I thought. He clearly wanted as little to do with me as possible. I wasn’t giving up on him yet, but he was so irritable, I could see this would be a long campaign. Irritable was fine—murderous fury was not. I was making a list of things that would get me killed. So far, touching him, insulting him and moving his stuff. That wasn’t too bad a list, I supposed.

~~~~~~~~

I jerked awake and my hands tightened instinctively on what was in them. “Let’s go, you’re damaging it.”

Jaime. I opened my eyes and turned, releasing my grip on the book. He took it and placed it reverently on the table, well away from my reach. “Sorry, I just fell asleep.”

“
You had no business holding it if you were drowsy.”

“
I
wasn’t
—what time is it?”

“
After midnight. Go to sleep.”

He sat on the other side of the bed, his shoulders slumped, and made no attempt himself to get undressed or move at all. “Are you all right?”

He turned and gave me a fierce look, even though it was clear he was exhausted. “I just told you to go to sleep. Continue chattering and you’ll sleep on the bathroom floor.” I knew he was serious. I got up so I could move under the covers. “Wait—you can’t sleep in your clothes. There’s a nightshirt in the closet.”

“
Huh?”

“
I said, change your clothes. They’re expensive, not to be slept in.”

“
Oh.” Crazy
and
miserly, what a combination. I fumbled in the closet and found a long dark shirt made of something soft. It also felt on the expensive side. “This?”

He nodded, and then got up and fetched a similar garment from the closet, disappearing before I’d finished changing. He returned shortly afterwards already wearing the shirt—so he was bashful? Odd, considering what he’d hired me for, but the one thing I was learning about Jaime was that he wasn’t at all bothered about being completely inconsistent. He wanted his bed mate to be dressed, but he’d be fucking that bed mate for an audience in a day or two.

I crawled back under the blankets, and Jaime blew out the lamp before doing the same. Unfortunately, now I was awake, I wasn’t sleepy at all—the result of all the napping during the day. I feigned sleep though, to avoid upsetting my cranky partner. Jaime clung to the edge of the bed, his breathing too fast for someone who was on the verge of sleep.

I kept my own breathing as carefully deep and slow as I could—years of sharing with brothers had taught me how to do that, since it meant the difference between being able to successfully slip out for a midnight tryst or two, or not. I knew I’d fooled Jaime when I finally heard him give a deep sigh. The sound surprised me. It was weary, but it also spoke of deep pain.