The darkness was complete. My eyes could not adjust to it enough to discern even the vaguest outline of any object in my bedroom. The black had a gravity to it, as if it pressed upon me and made it difficult to stand up straight. I was lost—as lost as a child abandoned in the forest to the predation of wild beasts; as lost as a prophet forsaken by his God to the cruel justice of a wicked empire; as lost as a man from whom Death has stolen all hope of meaning and joy. In my disorientation and sudden fear it was as if I had been disemboweled. The infinite blackness of my interior self had spilled outward and now engulfed me. I was drowning in it. "Esme!" I shouted into the void to my own astonishment. Of course there was no reply.
"Sir?" A voice in the darkness. "Are you quite alright?"
"Who is there?" I cried out, trying to control my breathing.
"Just a moment, sir," the voice responded. A match was struck and put to a paraffin lamp, and a man's face emerged from the shadows. His visage was unknown to me. The years had worn lines and sunk hollows into his countenance, but his age was indeterminate. His hair had retreated, but not fled entirely. It was only somewhat grey, as were his eyes. His skin had loosened and he had acquired slight jowls, but his chin was square and firm. His clothing was decidedly unfashionable, having passed out of style many years ago.
"There," he said, "That's better. Now, sir, this way if you please." He turned to walk away.
"But where are we going?"
"You pressed the switch, did you not, sir?"
I admitted that I had.
"Very well, then. This way, please."
I followed, more from fear of being left alone again in lightlessness than from any wish to accompany this strange individual to any particular place. We walked. Impossibly, my bedroom seemed to have vanished. Where solid walls had been, there was now a vast emptiness. The weak light of the lamp illuminated little and obscured the depth of the surrounding dark. I was too astonished to protest, or even to ask what had become of my abode. In truth, I was in no small measure afraid.
We walked on. Presently, a flickering light appeared from off to one side, its source hidden from view. It became apparent upon our approach that the light emanated from a chamber on our left. I was not prepared for what awaited us there. Above us a wooden pole the size of a caber hung horizontally, suspended from the ceiling by lengths of chain. Metal eyebolts were attached to the underside of the pole, through which shorter lengths of chain had been threaded. On the ends of those chains were . . . women. Five women were bound with their hands manacled above their heads. They had been strung up so that they were forced to stand on tiptoe. By appearance, the women ranged in age from about twenty well into middle age. All were stark naked. They had been groomed to remove all body hair save the hair on their heads and brows. Their eyes pleaded with me for . . . I could not say what for. They could not speak; their mouths were choked with metal and rubber horse bits. Clamps connected by fine trace chains squeezed their nipples. Angry red welts covered their thighs and abdomens, betraying harsh punishment for offenses real or imagined. Their ankles were fettered by heavy metal cuffs joined by a stout chain that looked just long enough to permit a hobbled gait. Their feet, like the stone floor, were filthy.
It was an appalling sight. What could these poor wretches have done to deserve such torture? But there was worse to come. The wall torches that lit the chamber generated an insufferable heat. The prisoners were damp with sweat. Their hair was matted to their faces, necks and shoulders. Their glistening bodies aroused me; for that, I was surprised and ashamed. And speechless.
A woman clad in shiny leather approached us. Her dress was tight and short. She wore leather boots that extended to her thighs, and fingerless leather gloves up to her elbows. Her hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail gathered into a silver coil at the back of her head, increasing the severity of her appearance. She was clearly in charge of these pitiable captives.
"We need a girl," said the man with the lamp. The woman cocked one eyebrow and smirked lewdly, as if she shared with us a degenerate secret. Then she walked to one of her younger charges and released her from the caber. The mistress led this debased creature to us. "This is Merry. Use her as you will."
"We need her services only as a guide," said the man with the lamp.
