Free Night Magic by Susan Squires

was perhaps the most important of her preparations for the day when she possessed all four Talismans of the Tarot. She must have him ready. She had no time to start over again. It had taken years to find him. She’d taken him when he was nine, just to make sure. She wasn’t prepared to wait another fifteen years for a male to mature, well, nine or ten at the least. “But?”
    “He . . . he has a curious mind. It draws him into . . . inappropriate thoughts.”
    “Is he lustful?” She snapped her question. Had the monk failed in his duty?
    “No, no, not usually. He . . . questions, that’s all.” Brother Theodosius looked down at his clasped hands and sighed. “I must confess I have been forced to take a scourge to him on several occasions, though I know that would not be your wish for him. I try not to leave scars.”
    Morgan let out a laugh that apparently shocked the monk, for he flinched. “Oh, feel free to use the scourge liberally, Brother, and any other punishments you wish. A little scarring won’t hurt. The important thing is that he keep his innocence, however you may have to impose that discipline.” She turned her shadowed face toward him. She reveled in the fact that she would look almost like a specter in the light of the candles. “You said he wasn’t usually lustful.”
    “I had to scourge him only a few days ago. He . . . he had a nocturnal emission. Not unusual for a young man of twenty-four,” the monk hastened to add. “I’m surprised we haven’t had more of that.”
    “What?” She snorted. “Do you examine his bed every morning to ensure that he has not been pleasuring himself?”
    “He came to me and confessed. Wanted to know if his ‘accident’ had made him unfit for your service.”
    Now that was interesting. The boy did understand what was demanded of him.
    “If . . . if you would deign to see him,” the monk continued, “that always steadies him, and it has been several years.”
    “Yes,” she said, satisfaction blooming in her belly. “I will see him.”
    The monk bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Follow me. We keep him isolated in a small hut, to prevent contamination by the faith of the monks.”
    “And I hope you have ensured that it is not only his genitals that remain pure but his mouth and his anus as well?”
    “He will be untouched when you require him.” The monk gave her a reproving look before he led the way.
    Morgan followed Brother Theodosius as he wound down stairs of the tower and across the stone corridors of the monastery. The place had a chill that shot straight to one’s bones. When he finally opened a small wooden door at the base of the outer wall they were outside. A damp wind blew in off the sea. The sun was a step pyramid created by the atmosphere, sinking into the steel blue horizon. Brother Theodosius strode through mostly bare trees displaying the first spring leaves. The mountain loomed above. It would soon be dark. A narrow track led up the hill, ending right before the steep evergreen-covered wall of mountain at a small stone hut. A monk stood outside the open door, impassive.
    “Thank you, Brother Demetrios,” the monk said, dismissing him.
    She liked the fact that they posted a guard on the boy. It was a bit of extra insurance that his life was totally controlled. When the monk had left, she and Father Theodosius ducked to enter through the small, dark doorway, open to the elements.
    At first, though the light outside wasn’t bright, she couldn’t see anything. Then the flickering light of a single candle revealed a dirt floor with a straw pallet on it, covered with a single blanket she couldn’t imagine was adequate against the cold here in winter. A rough chair and the table that held the candle were the only other furnishings. The tiny room held no decorations, no pictures. A roughly hewn wooden food bowl sat on the table and a book with vellum pages was spread open under the candle.
    The young man seated at the