“In the loft. It’s more comfortable up there. You can snuggledown in the hay. Come on.”
“The air’s warmer in here than outside.”
“All right.” She came in and closed the door behind her, leaving them in pitch darkness.
“Haven’t you a lamp or candle?”
She laughed, and he felt her hands exploring him. “Can’t you see in the dark? I can.”
“No. Please. How can you?”
Her hands withdrew. “How can I what?”
“See in the dark.”
“I’m a genny, you know. Some of us can do that. It’s not really seeing, though. I just know where I am. But I can see the halo around you. You’re one of us.”
“Us who?”
“You’re a genny with a halo.”
“I’m not—” He broke off, hearing her rustling skirt in the darkness, then the scratch of flint on steel and a spark. After several sparks, she managed to kindle a bit of tinder and used it to light a tallow taper. Nimmy relaxed slightly. She took down two clay cups from a shelf and turned the spigot on one of the barrels.
“Let’s drink a glass of berry wine.”
“I’m not really thirsty.”
“It’s not for thirst, silly. It’s for getting drunk.”
“I’m not supposed to do that.”
She handed him the cup and sat down in the straw.
My g’tara—
“Oh, all right. Wait here. I’ll get it.”
He nervously gulped the wine while she was gone. It was strong, sweet, tasted of resin, and was immediately relaxing. She came back in with his g’tara, but held it away when he reached for it.
“You have to play it for me.”
He sighed. “All right. Just once. What shall I play?”
“‘Pour Me Another Before We Do It Brother.’”
Nimmy poured another cup of wine and handed it to her.
“That’s the name of the song, silly.”
“I don’t know it.”
“Well, play anything.” She flopped down in the straw. Her skirt came up. By candlelight he could see under it. She wasn’t wearing anything there. But something was unusual. He hadn’t seen a girl that way since he was a child, but it wasn’t the way he remembered. He looked at her, the g’tara, the cup of wine in his hand, and the candle. he gulped the wine, and poured another.
“Play a love song.”
He gulped again, set the cup aside, and began plucking the strings. He didn’t know any love songs, so he began singing the opening lines of Vergil’s fourth eclogue to music he had composed himself.
When he got to the words jam redit et Virgo, she made a little puff of wind with her lips and blew out the candle from six feet away. He stopped in fright.
“Pour another cup of wine and come here.”
Nimmy heard the liquid splashing into the cup, then realized he was doing it himself.
“You drink it,” she said.
“How do I get out of here?”
“Well, you have to find the keyhole. It’s not very big.”
He fumbled in the area of the door.
“It’s over here.”
He felt her tugging at his sleeve, gulped the wine before he spilled it, and sprawled beside her in the darkness. “Where’s the key?”
“Right here.” She grabbed what she had grabbed when first they met. He didn’t feel like resisting. They came together, but after a lot of fumbling, he said, “It won’t fit!”
“I know. The surgeon fixed me so it won’t, but it’s fun anyway, isn’t it?”
“Not much.”
She sobbed. “You don’t like me!”
“Yes I do, but it won’t fit.”
“That’s all right,” she sniffled, sliding lower in the straw. “Just come here.”
He had not been so surprised since Torrildo’s advances in the basement. Drunkenly, he feared at any moment Cardinal Brownpony would burst out of the broom closet and yell, “Aha! Caught you!” But nothing like that happened.
When he stumbled out of the barn with his virginity diminished, a smiling Ædrea (semper virgo) sat twirling his rosary, watched him from the hayloft until he crawled into the carriage and pulled down the tarp behind him. The term “against nature“ insinuated itself into his tipsy consciousness. He had never been so drunk.
“Damn that witch!” he whispered when he awoke, but recoiled from the words at once. I am my own witch! quickly replaced them. Help me, Saint Isaac Edward Leibowitz. My Patron, I looked forward to entering that barn—pray for me. I was glad she stole my things. It gave me the excuse I needed to pursue her in pretended anger. The things she stole, I should have given her. I know this now. Why couldn’t I have known it then? I wonder if I knew what I was doing with Torrildo too. I, or the devil in me. O Saint Leibowitz, intercede for me.
Blacktooth had fallen angrily in love. His sexuality had always been a mystery to him. He had wondered about his once deep affection for Torrildo, among others who once had been his friends at the abbey. His erotic dreams had more often involved enormous buttocks than enormous breasts, but now he was suddenly smitten by a girl there was no doubt at all in his mind that it was the most powerful love he had ever felt except his love for the heart of the Virgin, a blasphemous comparison, but true. Or was that lust too?
In spite of their tryst in the root cellar, during the days that followed Ædrea responded to his enamored gaze with a self-satisfied smirk and a shake of her pretty head. He knew what she meant. She, as a bearer of the curse, was forbidden to fornicate with anyone outside the Valley. The penalty was mutilation or death. She had taken an awful chance in seducing him. But what they had done in the barn was only passionate play, not against the basic folklaw. Against his fractured vows, surely. She knew that. At the end, she teased him about how easily she overcame his vows. He knew he was still bound by the vows, and straying once was no excuse for straying again. But without more surgery, Ædrea was physically incapable of normal coitus. Her father had it done to her when she was a child, probably afraid that someone like Cortus or Barlo would rape her. O Holy Mother, pity us.
No one had seen them in the barn, but the pulsation of sexuality that happened whenever the girl and the monk came together did not escape the cardinal’s attention. The Red Deacon caught him alone while Blacktooth was behind the coach lashing bundles in preparation for departure.
“It’s time we talk, Nimmy. Excuse me, Blacktooth. I hear Høngan calling you Nimmy, and it seems to fit. How do you want to be called?”
Blacktooth shrugged. “I’m leaving an old life behind. I might as well leave my name behind. I don’t mind.”
“All right, Brother Nimmy. Just don’t leave behind your promise of obedience. I remind you that Ædrea is a genny. Watch your step very closely here. I’ll tell you, Shard’s was not the first exodus here from the Valley. It’s been happening for years. This place is more than it seems, and Ædrea is more than she seems.”
“I had begun to suspect, m’Lord.”
“You are not to intentionally see her again. If you ever see her again in Valana, avoid her.” He commanded Blacktooth with his eyes.
“This has nothing to do with your vow of chastity, but let this help you keep it. They are hiding a large genny colony back there in the higher hills, but don’t let them know that you know. They’re frightened enough of us to be dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“And there’s something else, Nimmy. Chür Ösle Høngan is an important man among his people, as you found out from those outlaws, but you were not supposed to know, and it is not known in Valana. Now I have to ask for your silence. There is a need for secrecy. He is an envoy to me from the Plains, but you must not tell that to anyone. He is just a driver I hired.”