I feel free as I sit on my step watching the people in the whore’s courtyard. People shy away from me because they know of my skill, not because I wear a mask. Fear of my mother doesn’t keep them away. It’s fear of what I can do. A respect I’ve earned. My whole life I’ve known who I was going to be, what the plan was. I would suffer my mother’s abuse until she died and then I would rule. But now I’m a nameless Bruma and there are so many choices I can make. There is no pressure to act a certain way or be diplomatic. Beyond training to the best of my ability and continuing to track down the Seedyr wood, I have no worries. It’s addictive. Going back to my responsibilities as Tatuma becomes less appealing with every passing moment. Anyway, my people want the brown-eyed Olina, not the blue-eyed one.
I could be happy here with my new friends. And do I really need to know who my father is?
“Not having any luck with those questions, are ya?”
I swing around and see a beautiful woman in front of me, the one all the men stop to gawk at. Why is she talking to me?
I shrug, regaining control over my shock.
“You’ve been trying so hard, it’s caught my interest,” she says in a throaty voice, swaying her hips as she moves closer. Every time I come out to this spot, she’s dressed in something different - though equally revealing. I should really ask her about material for a veil, I suppose. It might be good to keep my options open, regardless of what I desire.
“Your clothes are nice,” I say, hinting at a question. It’s the first time I’ve used the Solati questioning-style in months and I don’t quite know why I’m doing it now.
She doesn’t respond straightaway. She circles me, tracing a finger over my back. I shiver and step aside, earning an amused sound from her. But it’s not a snide laugh. It doesn’t fill me with misgivings like Hale’s does. “Yes, they are. I spend most of my coin on new clothing.”
“You get coin then? For what you do?”
“For having glorious sex?” she asks.
I nod, keeping the grimace from my face.
“Of course. If you bring in enough customers, the mistress gives you a cut. Just like your own profession, I imagine.” She arches an eyebrow and I understand her second meaning.
“We both perform for a price,” I say. She laughs.
“I like you.” She decides. “Tell you what. I’m always after some coin. You give me eight goldies and I’ll get you the answer to your question.”
“Don’t you want to know what my question is first?”
She waves a hand in the air. “I already know.”
I contemplate her offer. I have twenty-five gold coins and they need to last. “I only have six gold pieces, but I’m willing to part with them. You will receive three now and three when I get my information. To be clear, I want to know the places where I can find Seedyr wood arrows,” I say and see her eyes light up before she masks the expression. Damn, I should’ve offered her four.
She nods and I slip three pieces into her hand. It disappears into her fist. “Come back same time next week. I’ll have your answer.”
When she said a week, it didn’t long compared to how long I’ve already waited, but time drags. I’m one step closer to finding which of the delegates is guilty. But what if it’s Rhone? And what about Sanjay or Malir or Adnan?
But if it were Blaine…
I found his presence and his contacts in the Outer Rings very condemning. I’d always dismissed Blaine as being the murderer because he was the obvious choice. The exiled man was slippery, cunning. If he were going to kill someone, it would be done in a way which removed him from all suspicion. It was one of the few occasions where I wanted to be wrong.
I need to know who did it. The arrow has been my sole objective for too long now. I can’t stop. I’ll deal with the consequences once I have closure. When I feel I can finally move on with life, at last.
“Pig-shit-for-brains,” Alzona yells. I flatten against the side as she storms past me.
I sit next to Flurry. “What’s wrong with Zona?” I ask. He smiles to himself.
“She does it every revolution,” he says. “Tournament’s coming up.” I wonder if she is still reeling after Blaine’s appearance.
“I’m saving the kick you taught me for the big comp,” I say, stealing some of his food.
“I bet you’ll use it against Slay in the final,” Flurry predicts.
“I doubt it. I don’t even know the first thing about the tournament.”
Ice joins our discussion as he scoops eggs onto his plate. “Not much to know. Each barrack can enter how many people they want. Most put all of their guys in. And there are three prizes. Top Solo, Top Group Fight, and Overall Barrack.”
Shard appears with several bottles as I question the others in more depth. He drags one out and fills up a wooden mug for each of us. Crystal hesitates before accepting hers. I share a sympathetic look with her, while feeling sorry for myself at the same time. She grins, mouthing “uh-oh” at me.
“A toast!” Blizzard says. Whenever I hear those words it makes me miss my delegate friends.
Not for the first time, I long to see them. Did Malir get in trouble for letting me escape? How are Rhone and his team of dogs? Are Fiona and Jacquiline worried about what to wear to the next ball? Do Roman and Sanjay still swap disgusting jokes? And are Adnan, Sadra and Greta all okay? What about little Cameron? And, Kaura, my puppy. She won’t be a puppy anymore. I never intended to leave her, or any of my other friends, for so long. One taste of freedom and I’m willing to give them up entirely. What kind of person does this make me? What if I was born into a normal life, one without a tortured childhood and without the weight of so many responsibilities and burdens?
I hold up my cup alongside everyone else’s. I’ve gone through the motion many times now. Too many times. I’ve learned my lesson, too. I either water it down or stop at a few. Malir, one of the delegates and the head Watchman, gave me this tip. Sometimes I wake with a slight headache, but it is rare. It’s actually quite enjoyable when I control how much I have.
“To the best record we’ve ever had!” The men take healthy gulps of the drink. I take a small sip. I don’t splutter and cough anymore. I’m quite proud of the fact, though it makes me worry about how my insides are faring. Crystal does the spluttering instead. I get up and pat her on the back as Sanjay’s wife, Fiona, once did for me as the men laugh.
Everyone takes a turn going around and making toasts. Soon it’s my turn.
“A toast!” I yell over loud laughter and the strumming of Blizzard’s patched guitar. I found out who created the haunting music, the drunken night after my first pit fight. I thought he was nearly as good as the man who played at the castle ball.
Avalanche steadies me as I lean to the side.
“Don’t you laugh at me!” I stab a finger at Shard’s shaking form. He shakes harder and is joined by Ice.
I ignore their silly man moment. “To the barracks, for…” I search my mind for the rest of the sentence.
“For what?” We all spin to see Alzona in the doorway. Ice starts and catches himself on Flurry’s arm. I point and giggle.
“For throwing us in a fighting pit each week!” Blizzard yells.
“For putting us with fighters we ain’t going to beat,” Ice adds, pounding the table.
“For not training us hard enough!” I yell and laugh with the others. Ice covers my mouth with one hand. I roll my eyes at the added proof of his laziness.
“For shitty mattresses!” Flurry howls to the roof. We stop and look at him. He shrugs. I glance over at Alzona as the others rib Flurry about his comment. Crystal is talking to her, holding her hand. Alzona rips her hand away and storms off. Crystal sighs and runs a hand through her long, straight hair. I run over what we’ve all just said and realize it wasn’t particularly nice.
I swirl the remaining contents of my cup, remembering why I choose not to drink large amounts. The others hit their glasses together as Shard stands on the bench and sings a loud bawdy song to Blizzard’s strumming. I give the expected smile, but the mood is ruined for me.
I think about the way Alzona left and I get up from the table, taking my cup with me. I find her on the roof. This is how she moves around at night. It’s how she was able to reach me in time to warn and recruit me.
I sit next to her and we stay there in silence for a long moment. I pass her the cup and she takes a sip.
“Uh, I hate alcohol,” she says, but then tips back the rest in a single gulp.
“So, I guess I know what you all think of me,” she continues, not meeting my gaze.
I keep my eyes forward, trying to gather my jumbled thoughts. “I’m grateful you took me in. Of all the people I could’ve run into out here, I thank my luck it was you.” I look at her. “Think of what you heard downstairs as suggestions. Nothing personal. You have a pool of experienced fighters who all want to return your favor.”
She sniffs hard. “I’m not a weak woman who needs help. And I only helped you all to help myself.”
If she wants to hold on to that illusion, I’ll let her. It’s probably true, in part. But I’ve been here long enough to know there are easier places to get fighters than wandering the roofs at night. There’s more behind her words than what just happened downstairs. Her hurt goes deeper. I wonder if Blaine helped to instill these doubts in the most determined, albeit overly ambitious, woman I’ve ever met.
I lean back onto my hands. “You’re the only female to own a barracks. You have six fighters who fight for you. Not just to save their skin or fill their pockets with coin.”
“Really?” she asks.
I nod, swaying slightly. “It can’t have been easy.” And I truly believe it. I wouldn’t have had the slightest idea where to start building a barrack.
“You drunk bitch, look at you.” She snorts and stands, holding a hand down to me. I take it and she pulls me to my feet.
We jump down to the trap door in the roof. I stop her with a hand as she lowers herself. “Between you and I, I think it would be considered failing if you didn’t take the advice given to you by your friends.”
From that day forward, the relationship between Alzona and I becomes more respectful. We both know the other is running from some kind of trouble and we’ve both helped each other evade it. To the ecstasy of the other fighters, Alzona heeds my advice and announces some changes at breakfast a couple of days before our next fight.
She has just announced Shard is to help her with matching fights. Though she will have the final say. Blizzard will be in charge of sourcing new equipment and maintaining it.
Crystal clears her throat, grabbing everyone’s attention and earning an arched eyebrow from Alzona. It was against the rules to interrupt. Anyone else would’ve gotten her verbal smack down.
“I wouldn’t mind some help. With Frost’s arrival, I’ve been swamped. And with the tournament coming up…” she trails off, face reddening. Her eyes flicker between Alzona and me. She avoids the gaze of the others.
“I’ll cook.” Avalanche grunts, arms across his huge chest. His scarred face moves grotesquely when he talks.
Silence.
“What?” Shard asks.
“I’ll cook,” he repeats.
“Since when do you cook?” Ice asks, not even trying to hide the grin on his face. I tuck mine away. With great difficulty.
Avalanche shrugs. He makes Rhone seem downright chatty.
“Will you…cook the food?” Blizzard asks into the dumbfounded, but thoughtful silence. “Or just eat it?” I choke on a laugh at his genuine question. Flurry elbows him in the side.
“What? It’s fair enough. We’ve all seen him inhale his food. Once I swear he ate the plate, too,” Blizzard continues. I can’t help it. I burst into gales of mirth.
“We could give him a trial,” Shard says. His suggestion meets general agreement.
“It’s decided then. Avalanche will temp as the new cook,” Alzona announces.
“Ugliest cook I ever saw,” Ice whispers loudly. Avalanche throws a mug at his head. Alzona glares at us until we quiet again.
“Don’t think you all get a say in the decisions around here, just because I’ve asked for input this once. The rules still stand.” She clears her throat and looks at me while the others groan about the rules. I smile at her and nod my head.
“I have one more point for discussion.” Her voice is nervous. “I want Frost to be trainer.” I freeze mid-nod.
“Frost is a consistently hard worker and Shard says she’s the best fighter. I think this will benefit us all,” Alzona finishes quickly.
I look around at the others, hoping this won’t make things uncomfortable. It could be an insult to those who have been here longer. To my surprise though, most of the men are nodding. Ice doesn’t look too pleased. But I imagine it’s because he foresees hard work in his immediate future.
Shard leans forwards, resting his elbows on the table while he analyses her announcement. “It’s a good idea,” he agrees slowly, then adds with more energy, “It will provide structure and give me a chance to learn a few of her tricks.”
“She knows stuff we need to do. She watches us train,” Flurry adds.
“And you watch her,” Blizzard mutters. Flurry hits him over the head and goes pink. I blink several times, struck speechless. Do they realize I have no idea how to run a training session?
The men nod and murmur their agreement. Before I can fully process what’s going on, Alzona has ended the discussion and everyone is leaving for their rooms. I haven’t even agreed to this, but my gut tells me a refusal would fall on deaf ears anyway.
It looks like I’m the new trainer.
I escort Alzona and Shard to Tricks’ the next morning for Alzona’s routine “before the pit chat” and then leave to meet up with the whore. I don’t even know her name. It seems wrong to call her the whore.
Four goldies sit in the top of my boot. Three was the deal, but if she gives me decent information, I’ll give her four. She must get a lot of intel from those who…hire her. She may be of use in the future.
I stand opposite the whorehouse and wait. It doesn’t take long until I see her swaying form approaching.
“Greetings, Frost,” she chimes. Her voice tinkles like a wind charm. I wonder how long she practiced that for.
“Greetings…sorry, I don’t know your name,” I say.
She plays with the folds of her dress. “Not many people do,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate.
I scan the rooftops and the people around us for eavesdroppers. It’s no point really. Alzona clued me into the fact there are hundreds of hiding places on the streets here. I wonder how many people are listening to our conversation right now. “The information?” I ask. She folds her arms.
“Yes. That was harder than I thought,” she says. Inspecting her nails. It strikes me she might be drawing this out. For entertainment?
“I paid you for information, not a show,” I say. I expect her to be insulted, but she laughs. It’s a breathy sound. Men whip their heads around when they hear it. Their eyes drink her in.
“You never react how I expect. I enjoy it,” she claps her hands, moving closer until our bodies are against each other. “I couldn’t find out anything about Seedyr arrows.” I can tell by her tone she’s annoyed by this. She doesn’t hear the word “no” often. “I found out about Seedyr spears, darts, but not arrows.”
“Ven-, Uh, fuck,” I pull my head back so I can watch her face.
“I love a good one,” she says with a laugh. She sighs at my confused look.
“I have the name of the weaponry joint which sells the other Seedyr weapons. I believe this is your best bet. It’s called Jazyrs. It’s located where the First Sector meets the Sixth.” It isn’t exactly what I hoped for, but it isn’t another dead end like I’ve grown used to.
“Thank you,” I say and extract the four coins.
“You’re most welcome. I’ll even tell you if I pick anything else up,” she says. The coins disappear into her fist. She doesn’t walk away as I expect, but stays by my side. I let my eyes wander over the building in front of me. “What does a whorehouse look like inside?” I ask.
She laughs again. “You mean a brothel?” She looks at me for a long moment. “Y’know what? Come with me. I’ll show you, if only to see your virgin expression.”
“Uh…is it safe?” I ask.
“Pretty much. Though I don’t know why you’re worried.”
Curiosity wins over caution. I follow her through the crowd who part for her. Or rather, she stops men in their tracks, making it easier to walk around them. It’s faster to walk when I stay next to her. Lust ranks higher than fear out here.
We walk through the entrance to the building and I feel my eyes trying to leave their sockets. There are naked women everywhere. Five of them stand in a line as a man walks back and forth in front of them. I avert my eyes and focus on the stairs, but there are some there, too.
“Your cheeks are bright red,” she whispers in my ear with a giggle. “I’ll show you my room.”
Anything to get away from all the nakedness. She pulls me up several flights of stairs to the top room where I’ve seen her dancing.
“Are you the top, uh, whore?” I ask. She dips her head and moves to her wardrobe.
“I enjoy what I do. You’ve probably seen the ones who don’t?” She turns to make sure I understand before turning back. “They’re normally down the bottom.” My shock from downstairs has worn off enough that I realize what I’m looking at.
I stand up and approach her wardrobe.
“You have so many clothes,” I say. I reach to touch the fabric, but then remember what she’s been doing in them and snatch my hand back.
She looks at me. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? And some are extraordinarily expensive.” She draws the last word out and giggles. “Just like me.”
“Have you decided what you’ll be spending the seven goldies on?”
She laughs. “Four goldies now. I already spent the others.” She doesn’t thank me for the extra coin.
“With all the money you’ve spent on these clothes, you could’ve left the brothel.” I say, hinting once more.
She shrugs. “I told you. I love it. The others though,” she grows serious. “I don’t agree people should be forced into this life. Or into any life. There are girls down there who would kill to have what you have. Your fighting ability.”
Her words interrupt my examination of her clothing. “Why don’t they learn?” I ask. I survey the rest of her wardrobe. There’s no black cloth, the rest is either too thick or too thin. I deny the lightness which fills me with the discovery. Surely, it’s not relief.
She snorts. “Where would they learn to do that? And how would they pay for it? Those girls don’t earn coin because they don’t like what they do. And only those who want to bed someone against that person’s wish will hire them. It’s a short life span for many.”
I look at her in horror. “That’s…terrible.” She blinks a few times to clear her misty eyes, turning to swing the wardrobe doors shut.
“You don’t have anything black in there,” I say. I hold my breath waiting for her answer. She shakes her head.
“No. I don’t suit black. You though, would look great in black. It would bring out the blue tinge of your hair a bit more.”
Damn my guilty conscience. I can’t get away from it. “I was thinking of getting a dress.” I walk to her wardrobe and open it again. “I want a material about half as thick as this. And, if you say black would suit me, then I suppose it would have to be black,” I say. There’s no doubt about it. I definitely feel relief and even happiness when she shakes her head.
“I don’t know where you expect to find that. If it existed, I would have it. I’d recommend going for the thinner material instead. Men like it because it is flimsy and rips easily,” she confides with a wolfish smile. I clear my throat.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for showing me your…home.” I say, backing to the door.
“Oh, I should probably thank you, Frost. You’ve just done wonders for my reputation.” She smirks at me. I puzzle at her words, but cannot make sense of them.
“And it’s Willow by the way,” she says just before I close the door.
I escape the stream of naked woman and leering men, and make it outside. The top of Alzona’s black head is in sight and I shove my way towards her.
“What happened to you? You’re pale,” Shard asks. I shake my head. No one is going to hear about my visit to the brothel.