by Tony Roberts
“Take your time and do what you wish,” Demtro said.
Clora did, and found for the first time that what she had been forced to do for so long could actually be a pleasant experience for her too. Later, after they had gone to her bed, she had wept into his chest, clinging to him. She had blurted out in between sobs that she would do anything for him, and he had lay there stroking her hair, knowing that she would, and hating the feeling that it had provoked in him. What was it about her that made him feel so? That Tybar spy, Leiala, had been used by him for his pleasure once he’d broken her, in return for her safe passage east to a place of safety far away from Tybar agents, and it hadn’t bothered him in the slightest. Perhaps it was because this girl here was an innocent; a victim. Leiala had done what she had because that was what she wanted. Clora on the other hand was an unfortunate who had suffered the loss of her parents and been left an orphan, and because of her looks had been forced into the selling trade.
Demtro waited until Clora had fallen asleep, then had slipped out of the bed, dressed, and gone downstairs to his sitting room, a luxurious chamber where he often sat and thought. He poured himself a red wine of Romos and sat quietly, contemplating. She was young enough to be a daughter to him, and maybe that was what was bothering him. But there again maybe not. He’d bedded women as young as she in the past, and she was in the selling trade, so to take her wasn’t a moral issue.
No, he knew it was something else. Finishing his drink he went back upstairs and looked in at her sleeping form for a while, then cursed under his breath and softly shut the door and went to his own bed chamber.
Over the next few days he began to teach her how to really pleasure a man. He was quite happy to do so since he was the subject she had to work on. Over his many years in actively seeking out female company he’d come to learn that some women were much better at love making than others and it were those he sought out if he had the opportunity. He used his experience to show her how she could fully satisfy a man, and take the lead. He constantly told her she was beautiful and desirable, and that she would be irresistible.
Clora looked at him with doubt. After being told she was worthless and good for only one thing for so long, she had begun to believe it. Her self-esteem was non-existent and it was a hard job getting her to believe him. He gave her the first retainer pay, and she stared in disbelief at it. “This is all for me?” she said.
Demtro shrugged. It wasn’t that much, but clearly more than she was used to. Most of what she’d taken from her ‘clients’ at the Black Rodent had gone to the tavern owner. “You’ll get more when you undertake a job for me, of course.”
“More? This is more than I’ve ever had in my life!” She was overcome and flung her arms round his neck. “Oh, the gods smile on you! You’re too good for me!”
Demtro gently disengaged her arms. “I’m not a holy man, Clora. I’m a ruthless merchant and sometime agent for the Koros. I do dirty jobs for them, and since you now work for me, you’ll be undertaking some of those dirty jobs on my behalf. It won’t be all enjoyable, you know.”
“The Koros! Could I meet them one day? They’re going to save the empire, aren’t they?”
Demtro chuckled. “Oh, hopefully they will. And meeting them? I don’t know. Maybe one day if you’ve been good and dress like a lady. They won’t be seen with a courtesan, you understand.”
Clora nodded. “I can buy clothes with this!”
“And food. You won’t have to pay any rent here, but you will buy your own food. I won’t be here quite a fair bit, so you’ll have to feed yourself, and keep this place clean and tidy.”
Clora enthusiastically set about her domestic duties, happy to have a clean place to call her own, and not to endure the grubby and claustrophobic conditions of the tavern. Demtro was a much kinder and nicer employer than the tavern owner, and Clora was happy to do his bidding.
During much of the day she was alone in the house and spent some of the time exploring. There were lots of rooms and cubby holes to poke about in, and some very strange jars and objects here and there. She had no idea what they were for or what they did. It was best not to touch. Demtro came back one evening and he was holding a package, wrapped under one arm. “Here, try this on,” he said, passing it to her.
Clora, curious, unrolled it and gasped. It was a dress. “Oh, Demtro! It’s beautiful!” It was of weaveworm fabric, and light. It was a dark red – almost brown - colour and held in at the waist and flared out down the legs to the ankles. Clora slipped it on and ran her hands down it. “It-it’s wonderful! It’s mine?”
“It fits you, does it not?”
“Yes – you made it specially for me?”
“Of course,” Demtro said, critically examining her. It was a good fit; he’d made sure that his supplier had been given the right measurements. It pressed her chest up and exposed half of it quite delightfully. The latest fashion of the east, so he had been informed. A bit risqué in the empire, but the dress was magnificent. Other women would turn green at seeing it. The colour suited Clora. All they needed to do now was to get her hair sorted.
“This is the dress I want you to wear when you start working for me this sevenday.”
“This sevenday?” Clora looked up in surprise.
Demtro nodded, seating himself comfortably and allowing his eyes to rove over the girl. “There’s this man who works for the city accounts office I want you to seduce. He has information – I think – that I badly need. He’s not likely to tell me, but a beautiful woman who’s laying him could well loosen his tongue. All you have to do is make his year, take him to the gods and back, and then find out what he’s doing with the money he’s stealing from the council.”
“What if he doesn’t tell me, Demtro?”
“Oh he won’t be able to resist you. He’s a lonely man, about ten years older than you, never had a women – mainly because he’s got a face like a canine’s back end – and ripe for a pretty young thing like you. And you look far too young to be working for a naughty man like me.”
Clora giggled. “I’ll do to him what you showed me?”
“Repeatedly. He may end up begging for his mother but don’t show any mercy, Clora. He’s a bad man. We think he began stealing because he’s a lonely man and somebody promised him some of the money or something equally attractive if he stole the funds. Now, I’ll want to know who he gives the money to and where and when. I doubt he’ll know much more than that. I want his contact.”
Clora smiled. “I’ll get that for you.”
Demtro smiled. “Good girl. Now, let’s work on our plan a little more, and tomorrow we’ll go to the market place and I’ll point out this man to you when he passes. He always does at the same time each day. Typical office council worker.”
The following day Clora escorted Demtro to his day stall in the market where he sold his fabrics. Clora helped behind the stall, guided by Demtro, and it was interesting just how many more male browsers there were that morning. Demtro showed the dress she was wearing to all prospective buyers and in fact made a few sales which pleased him no end. Clora seemed to enjoy herself too. Her skin looked much healthier in the outside air; she hadn’t been out much in the past three years and the wash, clean and fresh air seemed to do her wonders, even though it was cold. Her coat was fastened and they shut the stall for the lunch period and walked off, Demtro describing the various traders and what they sold. Business was still slow but it was getting better, gradually. The opening up of the Lodrian market had helped, and rumours of a possible trade deal with the Tybar lands had everyone buzzing. Merchants just couldn’t be relied on to keep a secret.
“Here,” Demtro stopped and leaned against a wall. He nodded across the square towards the council buildings. “He’ll be along in a moment. He’s not the most handsome of fellows.”
“That won’t worry me, Demtro; you should have seen some of the men I had to pleasure in the Black Rodent!”
“I can imagine.” Demtro pointed. �
�There he is. Wearing the grey long coat.”
“I see him,” she said, looking at him intently.
Demtro squeezed her on the shoulder. “I’ll return to my stall now; good luck and remember your part.”
“I’ll remember,” she said and made her way across to the bread stall that the council worker used each day to purchase his lunch. Making sure her chest was as exposed as the cold would allow, she arrived almost at the same time as her target. He was thin, long necked, had a pale complexion and very dark hair and a large upper lip. No uglier than some of her former clientele. She casually bumped into him. “Oh, sorry,” she said automatically and dropped her new purse Demtro had bought her.
The council worker looked in surprise at her and his eyes widened as she bent down in front of him and picked her purse up, showing him her charms. “Oh, no sorry, my fault!” he said in a stammer.
Demtro watched from a distance but even that far away he could tell the man was going red. He watched for a while as the two seemed to have a conversation, and the man began smiling widely. Clora was certainly playing up to him and turned away, then looked back at him and Demtro couldn’t see the expression she used, but suddenly he was following her. “Like a herdbeast to the slaughter,” he muttered.
His expenses were going up, but he considered Evas’ promise to get him a lucrative trade deal worth it. The rent on the small house off the square for the sevenday was more than he would have paid normally, but she needed a place to take him and work on him in private. He lost sight of the two and had to concentrate on his business deals that afternoon, but he closed early, having made enough that day, and made his way to the house two streets off the square. Here the buildings leaned towards one another and the street wasn’t that wide, but it was clean enough.
He stood at one end and waited a while. The council worker would be missed by his office but he may well excuse it on illness. How they would view that was anyone’s guess. He saw the man leave slowly close to dusk, and he waved back at the house and guessed Clora was waving back; he vanished up the street and dodged a couple of people with difficulty. He looked as if he were having trouble walking straight. Demtro chuckled and went to the house and knocked. Clora opened it.
“How did it go?”
“Oh, fun,” she grinned. “His name is Fulmas and he’s twenty-seven.” They went to the single room downstairs and sat in the hard wooden chairs. “Lives on his own – no girlfriend or wife or anything. Poor man lost his parents in one of the riots two years ago. Their house got burned down. Did I do well?”
“Very,” Demtro nodded. “Is he going to come here again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she giggled. “He thinks I live here with a fierce father who goes to work outside the town every day, so he’ll not come until mid-morning. He’s going to excuse himself from work on a sick aunt. He does have one in Kastan, so he says.”
“Good,” Demtro thought quickly. “See if you can start getting him to spend money on you. We need to put pressure on him to spend over his salary. Ask for jewellery, clothes, anything.”
“But will he do that?”
“Of course. He looks besotted. Don’t forget what I’ve already told you, Clora. You’re in charge; he wants you. You control the relationship. Give him what he needs and he’ll give you what you want. A man is often like a pavement.”
“A pavement?”
“Yes. Lay him correctly the first time and you’ll be able to walk on him for years.”
Clora frowned. Demtro waved his hands in the air. “Ah, forget it. Bad joke. Look, you’ve got him eating out of your hand. Keep doing to him what you’ve done today and he’ll do anything for you, trust me.”
“He isn’t that good,” Clora said, putting her arms in between her knees. “He didn’t really know what to do, so I took over.”
“There, he’s going to be easily led by you. Promise him to go to Kastan to live there. Say you’ll marry him once you’re there and live in happily married bliss for ever.”
“Oh! Should we do that? I mean, its mean to do that!”
Demtro sighed. “Clora. We’re in the business of deception. This man is stealing from Niake’s council. He’s giving the money to someone else, and we need to find out who. You could ask but it’s too obvious; even a besotted man could well be suspicious. Promise to take him away from Niake and live your dreams.”
“Yes, I’ll do that, Demtro. Can we go home now? I’m hungry.”
Demtro stood up, holding out his hand. “Of course. You’ve earned it. We’ll speak further after dinner.”
The two locked up and made their way through the streets to Demtro’s home as the street lights were being lit by the militia patrols. Over the next couple of days Clora worked on Fulmas and the accountant began to buy her expensive items. They even came to Demtro’s stall one lunchtime to buy an outfit. Demtro made a fuss over Clora, declaring she was very beautiful and only the best would compliment such a woman. Fulmas spent the time with his eyes fixed on her; he couldn’t tear his eyes away. In the end Demtro selected the most expensive material and the most expensive style. After all, Fulmas – or his intended recipient – was paying.
On the fourth evening Clora came home. She was silent at first and Demtro waited patiently. Finally she spoke. “He’s in trouble. He’s paid a huge amount on me and this morning he told me he may have to leave Niake quickly. He wants to take me away. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know – but he said I must meet him at the Kastan Gate. I think he’s taking all the money he’s taken from the council and is going to flee with it with me. I don’t know what he’s planning but he’s got to do it in the next day or so.”
“Right – this is what we do, Clora.” And Demtro went over the plans very carefully with her.
____
The dawn had broken and the gate was opened, allowing in the traders and visitors first, then those leaving could file out to wherever they were going. Demtro stood on a street corner waiting. He looked left and right. Armed men were nonchalantly talking, seemingly paying no attention to anything going on. Others were making their way up and down the street and a few other figures were lurking in shadows. Demtro spotted them all in moments.
Fulmas turned up, looking furtive, carrying a large pack. He might as well been painted bright yellow and with a sign hung round his neck. He stopped by the gate and peered left and right, hoping to see Clora. She wasn’t long in coming, having got a signal from Demtro. She came along the street, her heart beating rapidly. She almost couldn’t run, she was so nervous. Even though she knew Fulmas was a thief and a criminal, she felt sorry for him. He was a victim of his own stupidity, and inexperience. She didn’t like deceiving him as she had, but as Demtro had pointed out on more than one occasion, he was stealing from everyone in Niake.
As Fulmas straightened, having seen her approach, some of the shadows in the alleyways moved. Suddenly figures converged on Fulmas and he stiffened in shock and yelled at Clora. “Clora – run!”
Clora stopped in the street, her hands to her mouth. One of the shadows had produced a dagger and sank it into Fulmas’ chest, and his colleague grabbed the pack he had. Demtro nodded and the nonchalant armed men drew their swords and blocked every exit, including the gate sentries. The two shadows looked left, right and along the street. Clora was screaming at the slumped figure of Fulmas, and the guards closed in on the two muggers. There was a brief struggle, a flash of a sword and one of the two was down, his blood draining into the paving. His colleague was immobilised, two men pinning his arms and another man took the pack.
Demtro nodded again and the men left, dragging the corpse of the killer away as well. People began running from all directions towards the bleeding figure of Fulmas. Clora got there first and leaned over him, weeping. The man’s eyes flickered open and he smiled. “Ahhhh… Clora, I’m sorry…. All our dreams….”
“Fulmas!”
Fulmas coughed and struggled to rais
e his hand. Clora took it. “You’re so beaut…..” and he stopped, his eyes no longer moving.
Clora buried her head in his shoulder, crying uncontrollably. Demtro slowly came over and gently took her by the shoulder. “Come on, Clora; let’s leave this poor fellow to the street militia. There’s nothing more to be done for him.”
“He’s dead!” she wailed. Demtro took her and held her tight. He said nothing more; there wasn’t much that could be said. It took some effort but finally he managed to take her away back to the house. The inquest from Clora came, of course, and Demtro did his best to placate her accusatory tone. “You knew he was going to die, didn’t you?”
“No I didn’t, and that’s the truth.”
“I don’t believe you! He didn’t deserve that! You just stood there and watched him die!”
“I had no idea that was going to happen. My men were there with orders to take Fulmas prisoner. He was to be arrested with the money in his pack. Those two murderers were obviously hirelings from whoever Fulmas was supposed to give the money to. Clearly they thought him no longer useful.”
“Useful!” she pounced on the word. “That’s all people are to those like you, aren’t they? Useful!”
“What else, Clora? Life is like that – unless you live in a small community. This is a city and everyone survives because they are of use to another. It’s give and take. I have use to those who want my goods, and the buyers are of use to me because their money gives me this house and a lifestyle I enjoy.”
“And what do you see me as, Demtro? Once I outlive my usefulness to you – will you discard me like a worn out shoe?”
“No, no, no, of course not.”
