The River of Night's Dreaming by Karl Edward Wagner Read Free Book Online

clothing than did Camilla, and she switched her riding crop anticipatorily. Looking from mistress to maid, Cassilda saw that both pairs of eyes glowed alike with the lusts of unholy pleasure.
    *****
    For a long interval Cassilda resisted awakening, hovering in a languor of unformed dreaming despite the rising awareness that she still slept. When she opened her eyes at last, she stared at the candlestick on her nightstand, observing without comprehension that the candle had burned down to a misshapen nub of cold wax. Confused memories came to her, slipping away again as her mind sought to grasp them. She had dreamed . . .
    Her mouth seemed bruised and sour with a chemical taste that was not the usual anisette aftertaste of the tonic, and her limbs ached as if sore from too strenuous exercise the day before. Cassilda hoped she was not going to have a relapse of the fever that had stricken her after she had fled the convent that stormy night so many weeks ago.
    She struggled for a moment with that memory. The sisters in black robes and white aprons had intended to wall her up alive in her cell because she had yielded to the temptation of certain unspeakable desires . . . The memory clouded and eluded her, like a fragment of some incompletely remembered book.
    There were too many elusive memories, memories that died unheard . . . Had she not read that? The King in Yellow lay open upon her nightstand. Had she been reading, then fallen asleep to such dreams of depravity? But dreams, like memories, faded mirage-like whenever she touched them, leaving only tempting images to beguile her.
    Forcing her cramped muscles to obey her, Cassilda climbed from her bed. Camilla was late with her tray this morning, and she might as well get dressed to make herself forget the dreams. As she slipped out of her nightdress, she looked at her reflection in the full-length dressing mirror.
    The marks were beginning to fade now, but the still painful welts made red streaks across the white flesh of her shoulders, back, and thighs. Fragments of repressed nightmare returned as she stared in growing fear. She reached out her hands, touching the reflection in wonder. There were bruises on her wrists, and unbidden came a memory of her weight straining against the cords that bound her wrists to a hook from an attic rafter.
    Behind her, in the mirror, Mrs Castaigne ran the tip of her tongue along her smiling lips.
    "Up and about already, Cassilda? I hope you've made up your mind to be a better young lady today. You were most unruly last night."
    Her brain reeling under the onrush of memories, Cassilda stared mutely. Camilla, obsequious in her maid's costume, her smile a cynical sneer, entered carrying a complex leather harness of many straps and buckles.
    "I think we must do something more to improve your posture, Cassilda," Mrs Castaigne purred. "You may think me a bit old-fashioned, but I insist that a young lady's figure must be properly trained if she is to look her best."
    "What are you doing to me?" Cassilda wondered, feeling panic.
    "Only giving you the instruction a young lady must have if she is to serve as my companion. And you do want to be a proper young lady, don't you, Cassilda."
    "I'm leaving this house. Right now."
    "We both know why you can't. Besides, you don't really want to go. You quite enjoy our cozy little menage a trois."
    "You're deranged."
    "And you're one to talk, dear Cassilda." Mrs Castaigne's smile was far more menacing than any threatened blow. "I think, Camilla, the scold's bridle will teach this silly girl to mind that wicked tongue."
    *****
    A crash of thunder broke her out of her stupor. Out of reflex, she tried to dislodge the hard rubber ball that filled her mouth, choked on saliva when she failed. Half-strangled by the gag strapped over her face, she strained in panic to sit up. Her wrists and ankles were held fast, and, as her eyes dilated in unreasoning fear, a flash of lightning beyond the window rippled down upon her