This month we conclude Anikka's tale with the second installment of Fetish. Missed the first chapter, or any of our earlier stories? See our complete list of serials here.

Fetish
By Sonja Littell-Trotter
Chapter 2

"Don't call me Danika," her sister growled.

"What should I c-call you then?" Anikka asked. She lifted her chin and tried to remember that the cassock gave her some measure of protection.  Besides, she couldn't believe her sister would actually stab her. Not in the open.

"I fancy Dirk... Dirk Ravenscar.  Whaddya think, then?"  The girl laughed again, but the menace in it sounded fake.

Anikka shrugged.  "Sounds like a b-boy, but..."

"Cagey, yeah," Danika agreed.

"Y-yes, but it w-won't work when your breasts show," Anikka finished.  She studied her younger sister sideways, Danika was lean at hip and breast yet, but it couldn't last.  Anikka jerked her chin to her sister's flat chest. "T-that won't last long," she said smugly, self-consciously straightening her own posture and, with it, her woman's figure.

"Long 'nough," Danika said, her mouth pursing sourly.  She shrugged and jabbed a thumb into Anikka's thigh.  "What're ye fondling in there?  I know ye're flush for the priest, but to act such afore the gods and people... for shame, Anikka."  Danika laughed again, the mad bravado of a street tough.  "Or are ye thinkin' of going after our own good mother?  I'd be thinkin' one whore was enough for this family."

Anikka stumbled, turning to glare at Danika.  "She's not a whore," she hissed.

"Do ye think it chance we look nothin' alike?"  Danika shrugged.  "No matter, a temple takes bastards and whoresons the same.  Don't usually stand in vestments though... not that you do neither, my gem-eyed girl.  What do you do up'n the holy places, eh?"

"G-get away from me, Danika!"  

The punch bent her double, and Anikka gasped, her stumbling footsteps weaving her away from her unsmiling sister.  

"Don't you call me that," she said, and Anikka could see Danika's fist clenching for another blow.  "She was a whore. You've always been too stupid to know it."

Anikka could see her sister's eyes, now roving to watch for anyone who might speak for a novitiate being sucker-punched on the street.  No one came to Anikka's aid.

Danika backed away.  "You're just another dumb temple-runner: you don't sing vespers, you don't have a whit of healin' in your hands.  They don't care about you, and he don't care. No one does."  She flexed her hand meaningfully, and turning, ran away.

Anikka straightened slowly, her fingers finding the little brooch in her pocket.  She held it grimly and took a deep breath.  "Wrong, Dani," she said.  "You're wrong, and you won't last."  Not like her. Anikka would thrive.  Her luck would change, like snakeskin.  She straightened her robe, flicking the hem unnecessarily, spending time to find her calm.  Finally, she stopped when she realized her fidgeting was failing Master Gideon with every moment. That thought was like a hard hand shoving her forward, and she sprinted the last few blocks to the temple.

Still, the feeling of being watched trailed her like the sound of her footsteps.  It was Danika, that was all.  Danika and the coin she'd not given her.  It was not the other thing, the thing of warm parchment skin that would sink obsidian-boned fingers into her flesh like a horse's hoof sinking into mud.  She smiled nervously, feeling the breeze cold on her teeth as she sucked in air and blew it out gustily.

The temple was a tidy complex of buildings.  Those who lived within practicing self-sufficiency even in the face of the ease that a city-based temple might possess.  Anikka spent a great deal of time in the meditation of labor, hoeing the herb garden and scrubbing the flagstones of the inner and outer courtyards.

Brother Jyen was standing near a leaf-clogged fountain as Anikka made her way past the gate to the inner courtyard.  Brother Jyen was tall and dark, like Gideon, but without her master's composure and grace.  The priest didn't look up as she approached, though she shuffled her feet noisily to announce her presence.

Anikka stopped out of arm's reach of the man and genuflected.  "G-good Brother Jyen, my Master has sent me t-to seek you."

He said nothing, only tilted his head slightly and watched her from the corner of his narrow eyes.  He stood still and silent so long that Anikka began to doubt she'd spoken at all, wondering if he was maybe waiting to hear what it was she wanted with him.  She pinched the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth, seriously considering that she had only imagined she'd spoken, when he finally answered.

"And what are the words of Brother Gideon?" he said as he turned to her, mouth set in its small perpetual frown.

Anikka immediately dropped her gaze.  "Brother Gideon has asked me t-to fetch you--"

"Fetch me?"
 
"N-no," Anikka said, fighting her instinct to back away from the sudden twitch of his lips that was not a smile.  "He t-told me to go and b-bring you--" she winced and leaned back.  "I mean, he asked me t-to find you.  There is a b-boy that is dying, and my master w-wishes your counsel."  

She kept her head down, trying to show humility and wished that he would just come as Master Gideon had requested.  It wasn't her fault that the man unfairly outranked her master.  She supposed Brother Jyen knew the wrongness of it, and his ever-present bad humor was the result.  She was glad anew that she was prenticed to Master Gideon and not this ill-tempered creature.

"W-would you like t-to go now, sir?"  Anikka asked, risking a quick glance upward.  He fixed her with a dour look that answered her question well enough, but she waited blank-faced until he shook his head.

"I shall," he said, waving his hand at her dismissively, "I know well enough where he has gone."  Brother Jyen fell silent once more.  Anikka dared not raise her eyes to his face again.

Finally he stepped past her, drawing his robes aside so that they would not touch her even in passing.  "Clean out the fountain, girl," he said. Then he paused and half-turned to her, his voice more harsh and cruel than ever.  "And take those off; you have no more right to wear them than an ape."

Stung, she nodded and reluctantly removed the bands, unwinding them slowly and observing with no surprise the dark stain on her wrists and palms.  No wonder she'd been avoided on the streets.  As a child, she, too, had looked away from any about Oron's work, afraid to catch their gaze, as if avoiding an eye could avoid death.  Anikka shook her head minutely at the thought and folded the damp strips of cloth neatly. She stood contemplating them, not wanting to put them in her pocket right away.

She went to the fountain Brother Jyen had indicated and studied the bright yellow leaves that lay thick and moldering on the water.  With a resigned sigh, she walked over to have a closer look, wondering if it was simply overwhelmed by the seasonal fall.  

As she watched, a breeze touched the leaves, pushing them into a slight swaying curve on the cloudy water, bringing with it the spongy smell of rot.  Anikka frowned, stuffed the damp linen strips into her empty pocket, and then went to the small garden shed to fetch a spade and hand rake.

In the still air of the shed, the oppressive sensation of an alien gaze fell upon her again, as near and heavy as the heat all around her.  Before her imagination could wander, telling her of teeth as sharp as fish bones that would sink into her hide and leave her skin wedged perfectly in a grey back molar, she slipped the brooch out of her pocket for the comfort and distraction of its beauty.  She tilted it this way and that, letting it catch the dim light.  Its was a shape that seemed ever more alive, as if it had been plucked from some tall, silvered tree and a pin simply affixed to its shining back.

"It's a sin to steal a pin," she thought suddenly and pressed her lips together as she stroked the tiny piece of metal.  Gideon would not forgive this, she knew.  She had to get rid of it, but the idea tightened her throat and clenched her stomach into a quick, sick ball.  The thought of losing the brooch was as hurtful as the idea of leaving her apprenticeship to Master Gideon.  Either was unthinkable, and so she put the brooch away, resolving to stop thinking such thoughts in the future.

Anikka took the tools she had come for and left the shed, trying to smile away the fear that quickened her blood.  She was a silly girl, that was all. Clearly, the poor boy had bothered her more than she had realized.  She returned to the fountain and knelt beside it, rolling up her sleeves and scooping aside the leaves with long, sweeping motions.

The leaves stuck to the small rake, and she wet her hands again, picking them off the tines.  When she finally thought to use the spade to scrape off the leaves, her fingers were slick, and the tool slipped through her fingers and splashed into the water.  Anikka sighed.  The fountain was shallow, but might as well have been sea-deep for all she could see through the murky water.

She pushed up her right sleeve and held it with her left as she leaned forward and stuck her arm up to the elbow into the water.  Her fingers sank in the layer of silt that lined the bottom of the catch basin. Groping in the muck, she eventually felt the round curve of the spade handle.  She grabbed it and began to pull it up, even as she realized it undulated in her hand.

The brown snake's scales were by turns rough and smooth on her palm as it writhed, hissing in her grip. For a moment, she simply gaped at it, too astounded to let go.  Then, it twisted its blunt head back, opened its narrow mouth wide and clamped down on the outside of her hand at the joint where the thumb joined her hand.  The pain was instant as the snake's jaw worked back and forth to get a better grip.  Anikka shook her hand, wailing wordlessly, too afraid of the flailing creature to grab it or attempt to make it release her.  Blood began to well out from around the snake's mouth until ran down her hand in steady streams.  Gideon, she knew, admired the potential of snake venom and how it could sometimes keep a wound bleeding.  This brown snake, however its broad head marking it clearly non-venomous, didn't seem to need help beyond its little curving teeth to keep her blood running.

The thought of Master Gideon calmed her somewhat, and her frenzied shaking was clearly not helping either her bloody hand or the snake's mood.  Cringing, she grabbed and held its body with her free hand, then realized she still had no way to get it off her.  Its round eye stared at her, at the huge monster it had caught in its clever jaws, and she could feel its long lung expanding as it breathed.

It breathed.  It breathed, so she carefully extended her arm and lowered it back down into the water.  It would have to let go, it would have to let go to keep breathing.  She knelt, feeling the pain throb up her arm as she waited.  Whimpering, she moved her arm back and forth in the water gently. Threads of blood reached the surface, and she bit her lip, wanting desperately to be free of the thing.  

Under the water, she could finally feel the serpent letting go. Anikka braced one hand on the edge of the fountain, ready to spring away when it did.  The release, when it happened, was so great that she cried aloud at the simple pleasure of the cool water against her skin as her pain ended.  The leaves bobbed as the snake, now a whiplash shadow in the murk, hurried away from her as quickly as she rose to retreat.  Anikka watched it go, and ran for the infirmary, trying not to cry.

The lesser healing wards were not crowded today, so Anikka hurried to the Sister who sat keeping watch over the ill, most of whom were sleeping away the day's heat.  Anikka presented herself wordlessly and the Sister, after studying Anikka's bloodied hand, nodded over it, then turned to gather salves and clean, boiled bandages.  The Sister clearly thought that the small half-moon wounds were not worth Anikka's tears, and she dressed the cut quickly, if not gently.

 "Be more careful, child," the Sister admonished as she rose to return to her duties.

"I w-was, Sister, but th-the handle was a snake b-before I realized it and…  And Brother Jyen t-told me to clean off the leaves.  And the w-water was cold, and the s-snake-…" Her voice faltered, and Anikka swallowed against the tears that clogged her throat.

"Nonsense.  You scratched your hand, child.  I don't know what mischief you found in your chores, but there are none but the green snakes in the garden. They do not wander this time of year," the Sister said, fixing her with an impatient look.

Anikka could feel her lip trembling.  "It's t-true, Sister.  Please, you must t-tell someone."

The woman looked dubious, but amused.  "I must do nothing, child.  I don't know how Brother Gideon stands your theatrics." The Sister shook her head and glanced toward the door.  "Best you're off now, finish the tasks set you."

"P-please, Sister…"  Anikka stood, lifting her bandaged hand to the woman in entreaty.

"Honestly, Anikka, just go on now!" The woman smiled tightly and gripped Anikka's wrist, pulling her to the door.  "Ah, it's Brother Jyen, isn't it?  You never obey him like you should…"

"I saw it!"  Anikka said, and the Sister stopped, turning to look at her, eyes wide and disapproving.  "Th-there is a snake in the fountain," Anikka whispered plaintively, knowing even as she spoke that the woman simply would not believe her.

"Novice Anikka," the Sister said firmly, "you will return to the duty set you by your seniors. Furthermore, you will never raise your voice in the sickroom again."

Anikka opened her mouth to object, but when the woman's eyes narrowed, she looked away and nodded meekly.  She left the room as tearfully as she had entered it and found that the day had darkened while she was inside.  Anikka made her slow way back to the inner courtyard to stand doubtfully by the fountain.  

A low growl of thunder caused her to look up, where she saw low-slung clouds sliding past overhead faster than a horse could trot.  Hesitantly, as if an afterthought, it began to rain, the sky spitting down raindrops that hit the courtyard and sent up tiny puffs of fine dust into the weary air.  She lifted her face to the sky, her bandaged hand sliding into her pocket once more to remove the walnut-sized lump of metal and hold it lightly in her hand.  The rain on her face was warm, and she wished that Master Gideon would return and vouch for her so that someone--not her--could remove the brown snake from its watery refuge.

"Anikka?"

She couldn't stop her smile.  The gods had heard her prayer: the voice was Master Gideon's.  When she opened her eyes and turned to look, she saw him striding toward her, Brother Jyen at his side.  He stopped a few paces from her and stood waiting.  The two men stood looking at her a moment, then Jyen glanced past her to frown at her work left undone.

Jyen smirked.  "This reflects upon you as well, Gideon." He gestured to the mess of sodden leaves that Anikka had left on the stones around the fountain.

Gideon's posture tensed, but he smiled.  "I thank you for your opinion, brother," he said, nodding his head formally.  Jyen's smile broadened, and he nodded back, his head barely moving.  Anikka bristled at the implication of insult, but could think of nothing appropriate to say that would not disgrace Master Gideon.  Jyen walked past her, close enough that she had to step out of the way quickly lest they collide.

Gideon said nothing; he simply stood in the drizzling rain and looked at her, at the fountain, and then the receding figure of Brother Jyen.  When he returned his gaze to Anikka, she saw he had fixed his eyes on the bandage on her hand.  Her grip tightened reflexively, causing the pin on the back of the brooch to prick her palm.

"What happened?" Gideon asked, walking closer.

Anikka took a slow step back.  "I… I was c-clumsy, Master," she said lamely.  She pulled her hands behind her back and tried to shift the trinket to her other hand.  It had snagged on the bandage.  She could feel it tugging, so she pulled on it lightly, trying not to be too obvious.

"Let me see," Gideon said, holding out his broad healer's hand.  The bands were gone from his wrists. Unlike Anikka's crudely dyed apprentice bands, his left no commemorative stains on the skin.
 
"It is n-nothing, Master.  I was c-cleaning off the leaves," she said, then added, "in obedience t-to Brother Jyen and…" The pin was stuck tight on the thin cloth wrap on her hand and would not come loose, so she pulled at it a bit more strongly.  Anikka didn't like to disobey Gideon, but he must not see what she had.

"I'll be the judge of that, Anikka," Gideon said. He sighed, a small, annoyed sound. "Now, let me see what you've done."

Anikka rolled her lips against each other, feeling them begin to shake.  "I only m-mean that I was very foolish and hurt myself.  The Sister c-cared for it, and… and I saw my sister t-today, sir.  We s-spoke harshly, and a m-man shouted at me in the Row, and then a s-snake bit me, and I am s-so sorry, sir.  I have d-disgraced you and…"  Anikka wept in earnest then, as heartbroken as she had ever been as a child.

"A trying day, indeed," Gideon said, after a long moment when Anikka's tears had finally hiccupped to a stop.  "There is a snake in the fountain?"
 
"Yes, sir," Anikka pointed--then watched in horror as the brooch finally broke loose from her bandage, arcing through the air to plunk into the fountain with a silly, dismal sound.  In the silence of its sinking Anikka thought she could hear the small thump it made in the mud when it hit bottom.  She watched the ripples disappear under the floating leaves, unable to make herself look at Gideon, unwilling to see the expression on his face.

He walked to the water's edge, looked down, and pulled back the long sleeve of his cassock, much as she had done not long ago. Bending, he reached into the water and plucked the bit of metal out, holding it between thumb and forefinger. He held the brooch up, studied it, then turned to regard her.

"Family heirloom?"
 
"N-no, Master…"  Anikka could feel her throat locking up. What could she say?  That she didn't mean to take it?  She had.  That it had been a mistake?  It hadn't.  

She held out her hands. "P-please, give it b-back…"

"I wondered where this had gone," Gideon said.  "I remember seeing this when we first arrived."  He rolled the pin between his fingers, then turned his hand and dropped it into his palm, his hand closing around it.

"N-no, please… give it t-to me.  I will… I…"  Anikka couldn't speak, her tongue tripping over words that she could barely form.  She needed the brooch back. That was all that mattered.  She lunged for his hand, but he stopped her easily.  His free hand caught her wounded one, and he squeezed, the tips of his fingers seeking the small bloody patch on the cloth and pressing.

Anikka gasped and tried to jerk her hand away from the pain.  She wailed as his fingers dug in, but he only watched her intently and did not speak.  "Please…" she repeated, asking for more than the brooch back now.  She wanted him to stop, and struggled to free her throbbing hand.

"Come, Anikka. Let us see about this snake," Gideon said, finally.

"Then you s-saw it, sir?"  Anikka asked, forgetting some of the throbbing pain in the sudden thrill of his acknowledgement.  He believed her.  "And the other?  D-do you feel it in the brooch, too?  I noticed it almost at once, but I d-didn't know what it could be.  It must b-be a part of… of it too?  Do you think?"

"What?"  Gideon was brusque, dragging her along behind him.

"The serpents," Anikka insisted, "they brought the b-boy no luck, b-but perhaps he was…"

"The boy is fine," Gideon said, and he laughed with a bitter, caustic bark.  "I looked a fool lifting the prayers for the dying over the lad.  Jyen was amused."  

He glanced back and grimaced, his expression lacking the true compassion of a smile.  "The trinket is a pretty bauble, Anikka," he shrugged, "that is all."

"No," Anikka protested.  "That c-can't be right.  I c-could feel it, sir.  And th-then the serpent…"

Gideon stopped and turned to look at her fully, his eyes the color of wet granite and just as kind.  "This is quite serious, Anikka," he said, calmly.  "If there is a creature here liable to cause harm we must remove it.  It is one thing to have a helpful animal about, but quite another to harbor something that bites.  Something that turns on us."  

They stood in the doorway hand in hand. His grip on her bandaged hand loosened at last. Slowly, gently, he pulled her closer and spoke directly into her soul.  "Do you understand, Anikka?"

Anikka looked at him, at brilliant Gideon, of whom she was barely worthy.  She nodded slowly.  It was dangerous then, the brooch.  It must be.  And like the serpent, it could not stay.  She studied Gideon's face that was, as ever, unreadable to her.  He was waiting--waiting for her acquiescence or her acknowledgment. She believed she knew what he wanted her to say.

"I understand," she said. When he released her hand and walked toward the inner environs of the temple proper, Anikka followed.