Lace and Blade 2

by Deborah J. Ross

  In his room, Orossy stripped off the sodden garments and threw them in the corner. Thanks to his own carelessness, he didn’t have anything to wear. If only that could be a reasonable excuse to not go to dinner.

  The door slid open behind him. Lady’s grace, why couldn’t Feisal leave him alone? “I don’t care what you say. I’m not hungry, and you’ll have to drag me down naked because I don’t have—” He turned mid-sentence to see not Feisal, but Jussi standing in the doorway.

  “Perhaps you might wear this?” Orossy’s favorite red dress, a gift from Feisal, was draped over Jussi’s arm.

  Orossy took a step back. “I told you to get rid of that.”

  “I thought you meant the tear on the side. I mended it. Good as new.” Jussi laid the dress over Orossy’s arms as if it were a blessing. “He wants you to be as you are, as he’s been telling you all along. Him and Lord Maddren both.”

  “I’m not good enough for either of them.”

  “Only because you feel you aren’t good enough for yourself.” The steward smiled. “Yet.” He deposited the rest of Orossy’s accessories on the bed and left.

  Orossy stood there a long time, dress in his arms, torn between throwing it away and putting it on. The soft fabric taunted him, called out to him. He’d always enjoyed the way he looked in a dress, part of his craving for the female body he’d never had. Rossa had been a mask, but one he’d worn more easily than some of the others at the tavern. To him, playing female had never felt wrong; the wrongness came from being exploited by Niklis and his customers.

  Feisal loved men. Orossy didn’t always want to be one, and therein lay the crux of his difficulties. He wanted, more than anything, to make Feisal happy, but giving in to his lover’s desires only made him more miserable. And if he was upset, so was Feisal, more often than not.

  “I can’t pretend anymore,” he said, thinking of Feisal. “I can’t be what you want, love. I’m sorry.”

  Feisal’s disappointment was a risk he’d have to take. In a short amount of time, Orossy had donned the dress along with his other accoutrements, the cincher for his waist and the specially-made undershorts to disguise his masculine contours. His cosmetics were still in the top drawer, and in moments he’d applied the basics for his face. Dark lines curved around his eyes, bringing out the wildness within.

  And there she was in the mirror. Rossa. His altered self, his better, more powerful half. She felt right. The old habits of movement and voice returned naturally, as if he’d never tried to discard them. She smiled, sly and pitiless. It was as if she were there, an entity separate from Orossy, waiting to accompany him on his task.

  She couldn’t come. Not this time. “Thank you,” Orossy told her, “for being there when I needed you. For helping me to survive. But I need you as part of me now.” He put his palm to hers on the mirror. Brown eyes met his, curious. “Be with me. Give me your strength, and—and your anger.”

  Anger frightened him, but Rossa had kept it for a reason. Better to embrace it than to keep fighting it. “I won’t let you control me any more. I’m in charge. I am.”

  She nodded, impatient as if she’d been waiting a long time for Orossy to ask. Her overwhelming presence faded, and there...there was the real Orossy, without masks or pretense. The gods had made him a man, yes, but taking a woman’s form brought him inner peace and calmness.

  He’d told Eamon the truth. Rossa was dead, and with her, the fear and guilt over his past. In their place was a simmering, justified anger. This new Orossy wouldn’t let innocents suffer his fate if he could help it. He left the house with the surety that he wouldn’t need to find Eamon. Eamon would find him.

  ~o0o~

  Orossy kept his arm threaded through Eamon’s as they approached the tavern, feeling more confident than he would have thought. The guard had exchanged his uniform for the clothes of a respectable, if not wealthy, merchant. They paused at the tavern’s entrance. Light shone from nearly every window of the two-story building. Incense and loud conversation drifted into the street.

  “Are you sure?” Eamon asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  Even so, it was far too easy to remember how he’d been one of those girls, wandering from table to table with trays of food, chatting softly with potential customers, pretending to enjoy the inevitable fondling. Orossy shook that thought away and took a step forward. He didn’t belong here anymore.

  They left their shoes with a girl at the door. Since he’d last been here, Orossy had learned to control his dennar. The onslaught of thoughts and emotions didn’t bother him as much as it used to. They threaded their way between the customers lounging on cushions around low tables. A few of the serving girls recognized him, staring in disbelief for a moment before returning to their work.

  His eyes fixed on the tavernkeeper pouring drinks from behind the bar. Seeing him there, knowing what he’d done, was like a fist to Orossy’s gut. Orossy’s nails dug into Eamon’s arm.

  “Easy,” the guard leaned over to murmur. “We can’t make a scene here. Too many people.”

  Orossy knew that, but it was the hardest thing he’d ever done to walk to the bar and act pleasant. He would have happily used his dennar to castrate the bastard. Niklis said nothing as Orossy and Eamon sat on a pair of tall stools, concessions to outlanders who didn’t like to sit on the floor. “Hello, Nik.”

  “Rossa.” Eyes flicked to Eamon. “Back to work, I see.”

  Niklis knew Orossy too well. He’d closed his mind off so Orossy couldn’t sense his intentions. Orossy had already done likewise lest he give anything away. “My friend here wanted something special, and I knew just the place.” Orossy leaned conspiratorially over the counter.

  Niklis snorted. “Special? And just what does my lowly tavern have to offer?” He jerked his head toward a bored-looking Eamon. “I thought you were with the Lord Governor’s son.”

  “And what’s wrong with having more than one? You never seemed to have a problem with it.” His laugh was just shy of Rossa’s mocking one. “Feisal knows I go out. He doesn’t mind. My friend here is looking for something...fresh. Something new. And I know you do whatever you can to make your customers happy.”

  Niklis began wiping down the worn wood of the bar, a gesture he always used when bargaining. “I’m listening.”

  Eamon dropped a pouch of coins on the bar with a thunk. “That enough to get me a look?”

  The tavernkeeper laughed. He gestured to the girls in the room. “These aren’t enough to look at?”

  “They’re pretty enough, but I want something new. Unsullied.” Eamon brought out another pouch but did not set it down.

  Greed seemingly won Niklis over, but Orossy knew better than to trust him. Getting to the girls couldn’t be this easy. He would have taken Eamon himself, but new arrivals were sequestered in a hidden, locked room. Niklis possessed the only key.

  The tavernkeeper looked from Orossy to Eamon, his gaze lingering a little too long on the guard. “All right,” he said to Orossy. “But you come with me to choose. Your friend stays here.”

  Orossy barely managed to keep his face emotionless. Fear curdled in his belly. Eamon’s hand clenched his shoulder, a gesture of support. “It’s all right, love,” Orossy said, putting his hand over Eamon’s. “Niklis and I are old friends.”

  Eamon didn’t let go. For Orossy to be alone with the man hadn’t been part of their plan, but Orossy couldn’t see another way to deal with him.

  “Don’t take too long,” Eamon said. “I’m a very impatient man.” Meaning he would come after Orossy if need be.

  Orossy nodded. Niklis snatched the second pouch from Eamon’s hand. “Come on, then.” He led Orossy to the back of the main room and down a hallway. The rooms here were less extravagant than those upstairs, used by customers with little money to spare. Orossy shuddered at the muffled sounds behind some of the closed doors. He’d rarely had to use these, and he was grateful.

  The rooms all looked alike. Orossy couldn�
��t remember which one the girls were supposed to be in. Halfway down, Niklis slid open the door on the right. “After you.”

  As soon as Orossy peeked inside, he knew it wasn’t the right room. It looked like any of the others here, bare except for a mattress on the floor, a low table and cabinet nearby and a washroom at the opposite end. This one appeared too well-used. The furniture was scuffed and there were stains on the matted floor. Niklis didn’t rent out the one he kept the girls in. Orossy shook his head. “Sorry, Nik, but this isn’t—”

  Before Orossy could finish, Niklis wrapped one strong hand around Orossy’s throat and thrust him inside. A brutal shove landed Orossy on the floor, gasping for air. Niklis jammed an angled chunk of wood beneath the door so it couldn’t slide open.

  Fear paralyzed Orossy. Just like before. He recognized the twisted, leering face remembered the beatings and what came after. Eamon wouldn’t reach him in time.

  The tavernkeeper smiled. “What are you playing at, my dear Rossa? Don’t you think I know that man with you is a guard?” He held Orossy’s chin in a bruising grip. With his other hand, he caressed Orossy’s cheek and neck. Orossy shivered in revulsion. “Did you think you were going to fool me into showing him my secrets? You ought to know better.” He laughed softly. “I missed you. And you must feel the same, since you came back to visit me.” Cocking his head, he leaned in for a kiss.

  No. No!

  Rossa, the memory of her, surged forward. Orossy was no longer helpless. He could fight back. He had to fight back. Palms squarely on Niklis’s chest, he said, “I’m not one of your girls. Not anymore.”

  He raised one foot to aim it at Niklis’s unprotected groin, but the tavernkeeper was too quick. Grunting, Niklis used his weight to slam Orossy to the ground. Orossy’s vision sparkled. And then Niklis was there, on top of him, hands around his neck.

  Flailing, Orossy found Niklis’s arm and gripped it hard. Dennar rushed from him. Not enough to kill, but enough to make the tavernkeeper shriek in pain and let go. Orossy rolled over and tried to use the cabinet to stand, but Niklis leapt after him. Orossy slammed into the cabinet as he fell. Pain blossomed in his shoulder.

  “Little bitch!” Niklis snarled. “I’ll teach you to fight back.” One hand tangled in Orossy’s hair to wrench his head back while the other pressed a deadly sharpness to his neck. “Your choice, Rossa. Come back to work for me, or I’ll cut you so badly even a Healer won’t be able to save you.”

  Orossy closed his eyes, reaching within himself to touch newfound strength. His neck ached from the awkward angle, and he still hadn’t quite caught his breath, but he refused to give in to fear. If Niklis truly wanted Orossy back at the tavern, he wouldn’t do anything to ruin one of his girls—or so Orossy hoped. “Give me the keys, Nik. It’s over. The girls don’t belong here.”

  Niklis gave a vicious jerk. Orossy’s throat burned where the knife dug in. “They were abandoned! I took them in, gave them a place to live and a job—” The tavernkeeper broke off, panting. “Like you, you little freak! Who else would have given you work? This is the thanks I get? Gutter brat!” He ground one knee into Orossy’s lower back.

  “Rossa!” Eamon’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. Orossy didn’t answer, not trusting Niklis. Eamon’s fist pounded on the door, followed by a short, sharp kick. The door bent, but didn’t give.

  The tavernkeeper bent close to whisper, his rancid, beer-laden breath suffocating. “Once a rent girl, always a rent girl, Rossa. You’ll never get free of it, and the city will never forgive you.”

  Four months ago, Orossy would have been cowed. Not now. “I don’t need the city’s forgiveness. Only my own. And I have it.” Out of spite, he laughed. One arm groped behind him until he found Niklis’s leg. Orossy sent another thread of dennar to wrap Niklis’s gut in agony. The tavernkeeper howled.

  Niklis jerked backwards, careless with the blade. The sleeve of the dress split open as a blaze of pain traveled down Orossy’s neck and shoulder. Orossy ignored it, scrabbling on the bed until he could lurch to his feet away from the writhing tavernkeeper. He couldn’t go far in the tiny room, and Niklis and his blade were between him and the door.

  “Bitch,” Niklis said again, followed by a string of other epithets.

  Another round of kicks failed to damage the door. Niklis ignored it, intent on his prey. Orossy barely had time to move before Niklis’s knife screamed through the air and embedded itself into the wall where Orossy’s shoulder had been. As Niklis pulled it out, Orossy clasped his hands together and struck the tavernkeeper hard in the small of his exposed back. Niklis collapsed, groaning, but he held fast to the knife.

  Orossy grabbed one of the pillows and used all of his weight to hold it over Niklis’s face. The tavernkeeper wriggled, striking aimlessly with the knife. Orossy straddled Niklis’s chest, his knees pinning the tavernkeeper’s arms to the ground. He caught Niklis’s wrist and dug in his nails so that the tavernkeeper had no choice but to let go of the knife. It thudded to the ground. Orossy shoved it under the table, safely out of reach.

  The cushion slid aside. Niklis spat. The warm globule hit Orossy’s cheek. “You’ll pay for this,” Niklis said.

  “How does it feel to be the one on the bottom, Nik?” Orossy laughed. For the first time, Niklis was at his mercy, not the other way around. Pinned beneath him, Niklis was only a man, small and angry and helpless, hardly worthy of Orossy’s attention, let alone his fear.

  Orossy’s dennar screamed, Kill him.

  It would be easy, so easy to stop his heart or lungs, or to pick him apart from the inside out. The little bursts of pain he’d given the tavernkeeper were nothing compared to what he could do.

  “Do it,” Niklis said. “I took you in. I taught you. Do you think I don’t know what you’re capable of?”

  Kill him.

  Rossa would, without hesitation. Orossy wanted to. Some dark part of him craved to treat the tavernkeeper exactly the way he’d been treated.

  Niklis grinned. “I taught you well. Like a dog. Every time you tried to bite, I beat it out of you. You can’t do it, even now. You’re too weak.”

  The pounding at the door came sharper and harder. Eamon must have found something heavy to use.

  “Am I?” Orossy asked. “I could take you apart, piece by piece. One little thought, and I could leave you in agony for the rest of your life. You know I can. Just as you know your words can’t hurt me now.”

  He wanted more than anything to send his dennar cascading into Niklis, loosing all the hatred and rage he’d long kept buried. To pound Niklis’s mind as the tavernkeeper had thrashed him in body.

  But he didn’t. That wasn’t Orossy, to beat his victims into submission. Much as he wanted to make Niklis suffer, he knew that torturing someone deliberately would be the one thing Feisal would never forgive him for. Now that his rage had lessened, he found the idea despicable.

  Strength came from knowing when to use his dennar— and when not to. Ironically, he now had a subject for the essay Deverrin had assigned him, although he doubted he’d ever get a chance to write it.

  “You lose, Nik. I’m not like you. And I’m not one of your girls anymore. You can’t control me, and I...I will be merciful enough to let you live unscathed.”

  A twist of dennar and Niklis went limp beneath him. Orossy stayed where he was for a moment, panting with exertion. Then, taut with the thrill of victory, he eased away to sit with his back against the wall.

  Another sharp crack, and the door splintered inward. Eamon, holding an erotic stone statue swiped from the common room, looked down at the unconscious tavernkeeper. He let the statue fall to the ground with a heavy thud. “I see you didn’t need me after all. Is he—?”

  “I knocked him out. Feisal showed me the trick.” Now that he wasn’t afraid for his life, he felt giddy.

  Niklis was gone. Forever.

  Eamon crouched beside him. “You’re bleeding.”

  The cuts on Orossy’s neck and s
houlder burned anew. “I’m fine.” Orossy stared past him at the unmoving form. “I almost killed him.”

  “Almost.” Eamon rifled through Niklis’s pockets and drew out a set of keys. At Orossy’s nod, he tossed them over. “Go on. Get the girls out. I’ll see that he doesn’t go anywhere.”

  Happy to be away, Orossy went into the room across the hall, identical to the one he’d just been in, except for the cleanliness and the nearly invisible outline of a door embedded into the stones at the rear of the washroom. Using his fingers more than his eyes, Orossy found the keyhole. A little fumbling for the right key and he finally got the door open. The windowless room was lit by a single oil lamp and fitted with four mattresses and two worn cabinets. In the corner, huddled in wide-eyed fear atop one of the mattresses, were two half-breed girls and a dark, exotic-looking boy.

  Orossy stared at the latter, stunned. No doubt the slight, feminine-looking young man had been picked to be his replacement. The boy’s gaze darted over Orossy, taking in his bloody, disheveled appearance, the ripped dress that exposed his chest enough to prove he wasn’t a girl. Shocked, tear-stained eyes met Orossy’s.

  In that moment, the boy saw what he might have become; Orossy, what he might have been, had someone helped him in time.

  Orossy held out his hand to the nearest girl. Shivering with fear and relief, she let herself be enveloped in his arms. Dennari, he sensed, with a bit of empathy so she knew who to trust. Poor thing.

  “It’s all right,” he told them all. “It’s over.”

  ~o0o~

  “...and Eamon took Niklis off to the prison. The girls are orphans. The boy was sold by his uncle. One of the female guards is looking after them until they decide what to do.” Orossy sipped the cup of tea Jussi had handed him after they’d gathered in the kitchen. Feisal sat on a stool behind Orossy, using bits of dennar to heal every cut and bruise, however minor. The Lord Governor sat next to him, relaxed, leaning on the table with one arm.