The Drinnglennin Chronicles Omnibus
Page 66
She sank down on the bed and smiled at Yenega. “So, you’ve been here all your life? Is your mother one of the floritas?”
The girl looked aghast. “Floritas have no children! But if one of them fell pregnant, and that would take a miracle, she would be turned out immediately.”
Halla wondered if this was a condition she could feign. If she could get beyond the guards posted on the street, she could surely find her way to a safe haven.
She believed she knew the answer to her next question, but it needed to be asked. “Do any of the floritas ever leave of their own free will?”
“Leave? Why would any of them wish to leave? It’s a privilege to serve at the Casa Calida. No one ever leaves, not until they grow too old to… serve.” Yenega straightened. “Please forgive me, dona, but I must fetch your supper at once.”
Or risk a beating, Halla suspected. “Then of course, you must go.”
As soon as the child had departed, Halla hastened to the window, looking for escape. But the bars were narrowly fitted and set firmly in place. Perhaps she could attract someone’s attention on the street below? A horseman was clattering by, but as Halla made to call down to him, she realized the only words she knew in Albrenian were the three she had learned today, and these would do her no good. She turned from the window in frustration to discover Kainja leaning against her doorframe.
“Go ahead,” the young woman sneered. “Bellow for help. You might succeed.”
Halla crossed her arms over her chest. “In earning myself a thrashing, you mean. Is that what you hope? I didn’t ask to be brought here, you know, and I don’t want anything to do with your padron.”
Kainja laughed. “You’ll soon discover that what you want, or do not want, has no bearing on what will be.”
Halla swallowed the retort on her tongue; she knew that befriending this woman could work to her advantage. Instead she assumed a gentler tone. “Your Drinn marks you as my countrywoman. We should help one another. Why don’t you tell me how you come to this place?”
Kainja smiled, but her reply dripped with venom. “You and I have nothing in common. I’m certainly no countrywoman of yours, estrangiro. You disdain Seor Palan? It will give me great pleasure to tell him so. He shall make you regret it.”
Halla laughed. “He can try.”
Yenega appeared beside Kainja, bearing a tray. Seeing the florita’s furious expression, the girl’s face paled. “Forgive me, dona, for interrupting.” She slipped into the room to set down her burden.
“I didn’t give you leave to enter,” said Kainja. “Go to my room and await your punishment.”
Yenega bent her head and hurried out.
“You can’t punish that child for doing her chores!” Halla protested. “If anything, it’s for me to say if she can enter. It’s my room.”
Kainja swept toward Halla and slapped her, hard, across the face.
Halla recoiled, then gathered herself to retaliate.
“Go ahead,” breathed Kainja, “strike me. But for every blow, Yenega will receive ten.”
For a long moment, their eyes remained locked. Then Halla dropped her hand, despising the triumph that lit Kainja’s eyes.
“First lesson of the day,” Kainja purred. “Nothing here is yours. Not this room, not the robe you wear, not the food you eat. Nothing. You are a slave, not a florita, and you should do well to remember it. You will do my bidding without questioning it. Otherwise,” she smiled sweetly, as she turned to leave, “someone will get hurt.”
Chapter 32
In the following days, Halla had that first lesson drilled into her in various discomforting ways. Small mishaps—a nest of rats in her cupboard, overly spiced food that left her lips swollen and her mouth burning for hours, incessant rapping against the wall behind her bed throughout the night—served as constant reminders that she was under Kainja’s grinding thumb.
The lessons her tormentor was legitimately charged with teaching her were no less unpleasant. Halla indignantly submitted to excruciating plucking and waxing, followed by the application of heavily scented unguents. And when a stinging bleach failed to remove the freckles sprinkling her cheeks, Kainja insisted Halla cover them with a lotion that left her skin feeling stretched as tight as a drum.
The worst part of her regime, though, was instruction in the ridiculous arts she was expected to master for the future entertainment of Seor Palan. They began on the morning of the fifth day, when Kainja entered Halla’s room—uninvited as usual—and declared, “Today we’ll practice the art of disrobing.”
Halla had just finished donning the innumerable layers of clothes she’d found laid out for her. “Do you realize how long it took me to put all of this on?”
Ignoring her, Kainja ordered her to the chair. “I will demonstrate only once, so pay attention.”
Halla watched, with growing incredulity, as Kainja proceeded to remove her elaborate costume, very slowly and extremely provocatively.
When the florita got down to her last sheer undergarment, she demanded, “Now you.”
“You’re finished? What about… whatever that’s called?” said Halla, then earned a slap for her perceived impudence.
Glowering, she began to fumble with the buttons on her bodice.
“No, not like that!” Kainja protested. “Slowly—it’s not a race, you dalcop!”
Halla made an elaborate show of removing each garment, but Kainja’s complaints grew shriller with each article she cast away.
Once Halla was naked before her nemesis, she placed her hands on her hips. “Satisfied?”
She expected another blow, but instead tears sprang up in Kainja’s eyes. In angry silence, the florita gathered her clothes and left the room.
It wasn’t until Halla’s next bath that Yenega offered an explanation as to why.
“She’s terrified of losing her padron forever,” said the girl. “She’s afraid once he has you in his household, he’ll stop visiting her.”
Halla found it hard to believe that Kainja would confide such a thing to a serving girl, but it made sense. The thought of being a replacement for the florita was as upsetting to her as it was to Kainja.
Halla had been told that in four weeks, her training would be over, and she would leave the Casa Calida for Seor Palan’s home. She had to devise a means of escape before then. It wouldn’t be easy, because whenever she was not locked in her room, she was under Kainja’s unbending supervision. Yet by the grace of some mercurial god, the first element of an opportunity soon presented itself.
That very evening, Kainja was asked to take a message to one of the padrons mingling in Casa Calida’s drawing rooms, and while she went about her task, she instructed Halla to wait for her in the antechamber of the reception room. It was the first time Halla had spent even a moment outside of her room without supervision. And fortune graced her. For while she waited there, she spied a slender penknife that had fallen behind the cushion of a chair. One of the padrons must have dropped it, and as yet, it had not been discovered.
Back in her room, she hid the little knife between the slats under her mattress, and for the first time since she’d arrived at the Casa Calida, she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.
I own something now, Kainja, she thought with bitter satisfaction.
* * *
The following day’s lesson was yet another waste of time, this one dedicated to learning a silly dance involving a lot of waving and dipping.
“You can’t play an instrument, and you don’t sing; you’ll have to entertain your padron somehow,” Kainja insisted. “I thought you might at least master a simple bailado, but you move like a cow in muck!”
Halla bit back her retort; it would just earn her more work.
“Roll your hips just so,” Kainja commanded, “not like you’re juggling a pair of brats on them!” She demonstrated a graceful writhe. When Hal
la once more offered a poor imitation, Kainja threw up her hands and stormed from the room.
It was in Halla’s second week at the bordello that she made her first friend. By then, she’d been introduced to the other floritas, with whom she had nothing in common, including no shared means of communication. They all appeared rather insipid, devoting their waking hours, when not entertaining their padrons, to a languorous pursuit of physical perfection.
The one exception was Ula, a petite auburn-haired girl who spoke some Drinn and offered to help Halla learn Albrenian. Surprisingly, Kainja didn’t object—and Halla realized Ula’s assistance would free the florita of her company for several hours each day.
So Halla passed much of her afternoons strolling the casa’s enclosed grounds with Ula. She had always been quick to learn anything she deemed useful, and if she was to escape, Albrenian would be essential. And Ula proved to be a patient tutor. Halla found she was soon able to communicate her basic needs as well as make polite—if quite simple—conversation.
It was also during this time that Ula told Halla about the long history of the floritas of Casa Calida. Halla was amazed to learn that most of the girls came from noble homes, especially from families that had a plethora of daughters.
“You’re telling me it’s an honor for your family to sell you into prostitution?” Halla couldn’t imagine how this was possible.
Ula frowned. “We’re not putas! A florita is an artiste: we make music, sing, dance. In our company, our padrons can escape from the cares of the world. The acte intima is but a small part of our obligation.”
“But what about your obligation to yourself?” Halla demanded. “Your right to choose with whom you lie? What if you prefer to marry and have a family? Or not to marry at all?”
Ula looked puzzled. “If I had not come to Casa Calida, my duty would have been to submit to the will of my father, and after him, my other male relatives. As a florita, I dedicate myself to my padrons, who can be generous.”
“And your sons?” asked Halla sarcastically.
“I will have no sons,” Ula said softly. “That is why my father offered me to Dona Soriana. I fell off my horse when I was twelve, and our physiker said I would never bear children. None of us here ever will.
Halla stared. “You mean every florita is barren?”
Ula nodded. “But if I could have a son, of course I would honor his will.”
Halla shook her head in disbelief. “But a good mother educates her sons to honor women!”
Ula laughed. “I’m pleased that you’ve learned enough Albrenian to jest with me! Of course I wouldn’t presume to educate my sons!”
Ula’s gaze shifted, and her smile slipped.
Halla turned to see a stony-faced Dona Soriana behind her.
“I see Halla is making excellent progress in Albrenian. Now, if you will excuse us, Ula.”
Halla was on her guard. She’d already witnessed the dona’s harsh “justice” for those who had, in her view, transgressed Casa Calida’s code of behavior.
“It’s fortunate that your stay with us is to be short,” said the dona, ice in her voice. “In the meantime, I shouldn’t want you planting any nonsense in my floritas’ heads.” She scanned the courtyard. “Where is Kainja?”
Halla shrugged—then cried out as the heel of the dona’s boot came down hard on her foot.
“You will answer me respectfully,” said Dona Soriana.
“I don’t know,” said Halla, furiously blinking back tears. “Dona.”
“You will find her at once and bring her to me.” Dona Soriana folded her jewel-laden hands before her, the picture of patience.
Halla limped off in search of Kainja. After making a few halting inquiries, she found the florita playing cards.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Kainja sniggered as Halla hobbled toward her. “She looks as if she’s been dancing on her own feet, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least. She’s as clumsy as a maybug in a jar!”
Despite the insult, Halla was cheered that she could understand it. Her Albrenian was indeed improving. She took even more pleasure in observing the flicker of fear in Kainja’s eyes when she learned the dona wanted to see her immediately.
When the two of them returned to the courtyard, Halla was surprised to see Yenega there, for the child was usually at her chores throughout the day. Dona Soriana signaled for the girl to kneel before Kainja, whose fixed gaze gave Halla no clue as to what was about to transpire.
“You have neglected your duties, Kainja.” Dona Soriana’s voice was pitched to carry to the other floritas who had begun to gather around them. A slave came forward and, at a signal from the dona, held out a whip to Kainja.
For a moment, Halla thought Kainja was expected to flagellate herself.
“Remove your tunic, Yenega,” Dona Soriana commanded.
“What?” Halla stepped forward. “Why should Yenega be punished?”
“Stay out of what you don’t understand, Halla,” warned the dona.
Halla knew what she must do. “Dona Kainja isn’t to blame, dona. I—I lied to her. I told her I was unwell and begged to rest. She was kind enough to allow me to retire to my room, but instead I came here.”
Dona Soriana raised her delicate brows. “Why would you do this?”
Halla faltered. What could she say that the dona would believe? “I… I hoped to cause trouble for Dona Kainja because… because I resent that Seor Palan is her padron and I shall have to compete with her for the seor’s attention.”
“I see.” Dona Soriana’s expression lost some of its gravity. “In that case,” she said, turning to Kainja, “I owe you an apology, my dear. I’d give you leave to flog this ungrateful shrew, but Seor Palan would not be happy to receive damaged goods.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m sure you can think of a suitable redress for Halla’s deception. I give you leave to apply your own punishment, as long as it does not leave any lingering mark.” She then swept her gaze over the gathered women. “Let this be a lesson to you all: deceit bears bitter fruit.”
Kainja prodded Halla with the whip. “To your room,” she ordered. “And you come too, Yenega.”
With a sinking heart, Halla realized she hadn’t prevented anything. Yenega would still be beaten, and Halla’s false confession had given Kainja free rein over her fate. Moreover, Halla would be unable to retaliate, because anything she did to Kainja would come back to haunt the child.
She steeled herself for what was to come, determined not to give the bitch the pleasure of making her cry out.
Kainja slammed the door of Halla’s room behind her, then silently directed Yenega to the bed. She advanced with the whip held high and brought it down with a snap before Halla could move to prevent her. The child screamed, even though the lash missed its mark and landed on the mattress beside her.
Stunned, Halla watched Kainja’s arm rise and fall, striking the same place with four sharps strokes while Yenega’s high-pitched cries grew more and more heart-wrenching.
“Now it’s your turn!” Kainja declared loudly for anyone who might be listening. “This will teach you to lie to me, you faithless slut!” She clapped her hands loudly together.
Comprehension dawned on Halla, and she forced a strangled yelp from her throat.
Kainja nodded her approval. With the next feigned slap, Halla managed a more credible cry, but she couldn’t match the drama of Yenega’s sobs. She resorted to begging for mercy as Kainja kicked off her shoes and flung them against the wall.
The florita dropped on the bed beside Yenega. “That should satisfy the dona,” she murmured.
Halla sank down in bemusement on the other side of the child.
“You wish an explanation,” said Kainja quietly, “as to why I spared you this punishment. It is because I am in your debt.”
Halla frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Kainja slowly nodded. “I’m grateful for what you did for us today.”
“Us?” said Halla. “I did it for the girl.”
Kainja’s smile, for the first time since they’d met, appeared genuine. “Yes, I know. But you see, what you do for her, you do for me. Yenega is my daughter.”
Halla looked from one to the other, only then recognizing the similar shape of their eyes and the same tilt of their noses. “But… I thought—”
“That all floritas are barren,” said Kainja. “This is true. But when I came to Casa Calida I was only twelve years old, and I was already pregnant.”
Halla felt the blood drain from her face. “You were taken from Drinnglennin, as I was, and…?”
Kainja shook her head. “I was telling you the truth when I said I am not your countrywoman. I come from a noble Segavian house, and only speak Drinn so well because my family keeps slaves from the Isle. I was left much in the care of one of them.”
“But if you’re of high birth, how did you end up here?”
“My uncle is a highly respected man in Segavia, and close to our king.” Kainja made no attempt to conceal her bitterness. “He was a frequent visitor to our house, and I was his favorite niece. He began taking me on outings when I was eight, during which he bedded me, until several years later he discovered his exploits were to bear fruit. Then it was a simple matter of arranging for a boy to be found in my bed. My family wanted to disown me and cast me out on the street.
“It was my uncle who proposed a way to preserve the family honor by placing me at Casa Calida. It was too late to get rid of the baby, so he paid Dona Soriana an exorbitant sum to accept us both. She kept me in a separate lodging from the floritas until after I delivered. It was the dona’s plan to sell my baby, but when Yenega was born with a malluma on her face, no one wanted her. I convinced the dona that Yenega would prove useful in later years as a slave at Casa Calida. At first she was skeptical, fearing a baby would distract me from my work, for there were many customers who wished to enjoy my favors.”