II.
I will leave it to you, my Dear Reader, to imagine the welter of emotions I endured in the aftermath of Satta's sale to the goblins -- an agony of love outraged and of vengeance sickeningly fulfilled; of a humiliation endured and a destiny -- my noble destiny -- attained.
Through the long weeks of summer I visited Graydon Zamp's establishment on several occasions, determined to forget Satta and her counterfeit allure; but I found to my chagrin that none of Zamp's trulls could satisfy me as Satta had. I felt her absence from the familiar routines of my daily life as an oppression, an unfillable void. Without her there to nourish my spirit I withered within, my soul perishing by slow degrees.
For three months I struggled with this disquieting unease, telling myself it was no more than a lingering aftereffect of my ensorcellment; I even went so far as to visit an herbwoman in Edgewater when it became clear that no amount of coitus with Zamp's girls would suffice to cure me of my enthrallment. But the doddering crone's pricey philters had no curative effect whatsoever, though they induced many disorienting and erotic visions.
Ultimately, my only hope was that with the passage of enough time my noble spirit would one day be cleansed of that magical taint. Then would I be free to embrace that grand destiny which the Countess envisioned for me.
The Countess for her part had no sympathy for my emotional turmoil. Her natural intolerance for torpor and sentimentality was exacerbated by her deepening relationship with Berjamin Rucker, who now visited our home two or three nights a week. I avoided the Countess as much as I could because I found her company vexing, but she insisted that we always eat our evening meal together. Invariably, she would devote much time and enthusiasm to remonstrations of my extravagant emotionalism and lack of perspective.
"You are well rid of that crafty meretrix, Dominus," she assured me one evening in late summer, while I picked listlessly at an overspiced meat pie on my dinner plate. "I shudder to think what her ultimate intentions may have been."
I glanced sullenly at Ruck, who watched me with his usual inscrutable intensity. "I do not care to have my situation discussed in front of a stranger," I murmured.
"You are ill-mannered, Dominus," said the Countess, her tone uncustomarily blithe; Ruck's visits always imparted a jocularity to the Countess's moods which were neither familiar nor comforting to me. "Berjamin is no stranger in this house."
I sighed heavily, letting my silence speak for me.
"Such a
sensitive
boy," continued the Countess, taking a large gulp of her wine. She had drunk two glasses already, another consequence of Ruck's presence. When she smiled, her pointed teeth were stained red with wine. "Have you ever considered taking up poesy, Dominus? Limning your mawkish miseries for all the world to witness? Your temperament seems unsuited for anything more constructive or practical than balladry."
I replied with all the dignity I could muster: "Satta's passionate nature may have caused her to make misguided choices, but I do not see why you persist in your delusion that she was sent here by the hand of the Wizard-King himself."
"You take altogether too lighthearted a view of his powers, Dominus," said the Countess, a little sharply. "And of his animosity towards this family. He would stop at nothing to destroy both you and me."
"What reason could he possibly have to despise
us
? We have nothing. We
are
nothing."
"Because you are his heir, Dominus, and he knows it."
"Then why has he not come for us? If he has so much to fear, and wields so much power, surely he would have found us by now." I looked to Ruck for an expression of support.
"What say you to that, Berjamin?" asked the Countess. "Dominus doubts the complicity of the Wizard-King."
Ruck was gazing at the wine in his goblet, which he had scarcely touched. "His Majesty's motivations are often hard to fathom. I know only that he is capable of the most inhuman atrocities, which he inflicts with no more compunction than you or I in swatting a gnat. It is said that he has been deeply corrupted by the demonic powers he has tapped."
The Countess shuddered, leveling a significant gaze at me. "Berjamin is entirely correct, Dominus. By the grace of Lud, we are yet alive and well. But we must remain ever vigilant."
I noted, silently, that Ruck had made no attempt to answer my challenge. "I do not believe that Satta deserved her fate, My Lady," I said.
"It is much too late for your regrets, Dominus," snapped the Countess. "What is done is done."
I ignored her. "What do you suppose the goblins did with her, Ruck?"
Ruck swirled his goblet of wine, frowning in contemplation. He took a very large swallow from his goblet and said, "I expect they sold her to the orcs, My Lord. Or kept her to themselves. They seem to be keeping more of their captives these days."
"Oh, indeed?" interjected the Countess. The wine appeared to have sharpened her interest in the unsavory topic. "I noticed that the goblins had a number of fascinating customs in regard to their goblingirls. The hetman's girl had been mutilated in a most distinctive way, her bosoms cleaved. What might have been the significance of that, Berjamin?"
"It was indeed peculiar, My Lady, and I can only hazard a guess as to the meaning of it. I know that the goblins worship some manner of god or demon which is often depicted with four prominent teats. Perhaps Grikka altered his girl as a token of gratitude to this deity."
The Countess would not normally have found such a repulsive subject suitable for dinner table conversation, but now it seemed to have riveted her attention -- doubtless another consequence of her overindulgence in wine. "Is it normal for them to disfigure their girls?"
"They generally mutilate the ones they don't sell to the orcs. It is well to remember that there is no blood taint in regard to the goblingirls, as there is among the orcpets. A girl might be owned by goblins for months, even years I suppose, and yet never undergo that degradation of the soul which prevents an orcpet from returning to humankind. The goblins must resort to extensive disfigurement to ensure that their girls will not be accepted back among us."
"Do they commonly ride about on their captives in that way? I had never heard of such a thing."
"It is a recent development, My Lady. But one which has spread rapidly among all the tribes."
"Why, do you suppose?"
"The goblins seem to have more human females at their disposal these days. I assume that they are either capturing more of them, or the orcs are buying fewer."
I spoke up then, bitterly: "Perhaps humans have glutted the market by selling too many of their own kind."
Ruck was unruffled. "Not likely, My Lord," he said equitably. "There is too much danger in that, and not enough money to be made. When we sold Satta, my men and I made only two
rorrim
