The Funeral Director
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In the palace of Kushnati Koresh, Victoria and Lauren were taking the opportunity to provide their captives with a little further "encouragement", as Victoria called it, in preparation for their new homes. Both Victoria and Lauren appeared in the cellar where the girls were being held. The two of them were fully robed in white silk versions of the traditional Kushtian chanoosh, appearing like malicious ghosts in the gloom of the cellar.
The overseer of the household of Kushnati Koresh, was unimpressed. These two women were causing trouble in the house with their schemes. Koresh seemed unwilling or unable to do anything about them but the last that had been said to Husna Hannish was that he should indulge Lauren and, as overseer, he would see that his masters bidding was done. That didn't mean that he liked it though. Russians in the Palace of a member of the Council! He thought he'd seen the last of that when the Russian troops had left. He watched as the helpless girls struggled against their chains. Two or three of them looked sullenly at the ghostly figures of Victoria and Lauren. The others seemed to ignore them completely. Hannish understood, they were still trying to deny their circumstances.
"So, are our little friends ready?" Lauren turned towards Husna Hannish
"They make some progress, Ma'am," he responded, with as much respect as he could pretend, "but they still have to accept their fate. These Russians do not make good wives. Doenyes, perhaps even concubines but not wives."
"Absurd," responded Lauren. "They are all good looking girls, they will become well accustomed to the ways of Kushtian men. Or have they not been raped enough yet?" Lauren's taunt prodded both at Husna's abilities and at the reputation that all Kushtian men had for aggressive sex. Husna glowered at the woman. What did these western incomers understand of Kushtian men? It was all very well for her, he thought. There was only him and Hakshim. And eight girls! He had no doubts about his virility and Hakshim had all the energy of an eighteen year old but there was only so much that two men could do.
"They are little better than whores, madam. For them there is no shame in rape." The dismayed looks from the girls seemed to give the lie to what Husna was saying but gagged as they were they could give no voice to their protests.
"Then perhaps they need more beatings," Victoria contributed. "Or is your arm weak as well, Hannish?"
Hannish scowled at the woman. He reached forward and grasped one of the girls by the wooden yoke that was locked around her neck. Twisting it, he span her around showing how her naked back was crossed with the wheals of the beating that he had given her less than an hour before. The deep scores left by his whip showed that he had lacked no enthusiasm for administering punishment to the girl. Husna Hannish took satisfaction from the sharp intake of breath from behind Victoria's veil as she saw the girl's bloody scars.
The others knelt quietly, terrified of either the rape or beating that Victoria and Lauren's taunting of the Overseer would lead to. Natalya, who had been forced to fellate Hannish that morning, cowered behind one of the others, trying to avoid being noticed.
Suddenly two of the household doenyes, burst into the room. Agitated and obviously upset they were calling out in Kushtian, distressed and concerned. "What are they saying?" demanded Lauren. "What's the matter?"
Hannish looked seriously at Lauren. "It's your husband," he said. "You must go with them." The two doenyes led Lauren out from the cellar. Hannish and Victoria watched them go. As they left the cellar, Hannish said, "Her husband is dying. He may be dead before she reaches him."
Victoria said nothing, thinking that, with Lauren in control of Koresh's estate, they would no longer have to worry about keeping the bank happy in order to fund their enterprise.
"Things will change," said Hannish.
"You bet," thought Victoria smiling behind her veil.
Two days later, after the funeral, Lauren was at her husband's solicitors. The scene in the offices of Kushansis, Kushansis and Kosneighy was a sombre one. As became a widow, Lauren sat quietly, clad from head to foot in the heavy black chanoosh that left not an inch of her exposed, her gloved hands folded together in her lap. Behind the veil that covered her face was an expectant look of anticipated triumph as she contemplated the new freedom that access to her husband's fortune would bring. Everything seemed to be going well. The letter from Mr Kosneighy had made it clear that there was no reason for her to be concerned following the death of her husband; that she had been well provided for and need have now worries about the future. That suited Lauren just fine she thought as Mr Kosneighy came in, extended a hand and offered his condolences. "It must have come as a great shock" he said.
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She stood outside the funeral home and told herself this was a mistake. She had been having this dialogue with herself since the day she saw the obituary in the paper. It's not like she read those on a regular basis, in fact, she avoided this section of the paper like the plague because she found it morbid and creepy, but she was reading an article that had "continued on page" with her morning coffee and she turned to the wrong page by accident. That was when she saw it, the picture of the...