Haft leaned close. “What’s the matter with you? She didn’t even bend over and give us a peek. I think if I patted her arse she’d slap my face. She’s no fun. What are you giving her money for?”
Spinner held his mouth close to Haft’s ear to answer. “There’s something strange going on here,” he said. “Maybe I can learn something about it from her.”
Haft leaned back and looked around. “What’s strange? I don’t see anything strange. This looks like—” His voice jerked off as Spinner grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him close.
“Quiet,” Spinner snapped. “I don’t know. A lot of little things don’t add up. If there is something wrong here and you go around yelling about it, we could wind up in serious trouble. So keep it down.”
Haft reached up and pulled Spinner’s hand off his neck. “No need to get so rough about it.” He turned pointedly toward the stage.
Spinner stared at him for a moment. When he was sure Haft wasn’t going to say anything else he shouldn’t, he also looked at the stage.
The juggler and tumbler were finished with their act. They bowed to desultory applause and disappeared behind a curtain that blocked the view of the doorway behind the stage. No sooner had they left than a troop of five midget acrobats cartwheeled onto the stage, accompanied by a round of laughter. The stoutest of the midgets stood on the stage, while two others clambered onto him and stood facing each other on his shoulders. A fourth climbed up and stood on those two. The last one eeled to the top, where he made a handstand on the fourth one’s upstretched arms; the hand stander’s feet brushed the ceiling.
Haft laughed and clapped and cheered at the acrobats along with a significant number of the other customers. Still, fewer than half of them seemed to be paying attention to the stage. Almost all were drinking, though.
Spinner drank slowly, pondering all the things he found to wonder about at The Burnt Man. He didn’t notice when the acrobats left the stage and the snake charmer came on. He hardly noticed when a sudden change in the tenor of the shouting announced the appearance of a flutist and three dancing girls. So far as he was concerned, the fire eater might as well have not appeared. Nor did he much notice the few times Doli exchanged his empty flagon for a full one; certainly he didn’t notice how much more often Doli replaced Haft’s empty with full.
It wasn’t until the lights went out on the stage and silence fell over the room that the music of finger cymbals and a tambourine drew Spinner’s attention.
The darkened stage was bare, and the music came muted from behind the curtain, the quiet in the room an expectant hush. Spinner blinked with recognition at a stringed instrument that softly joined its voice to the finger cymbals and tambourine, an instrument he hadn’t heard in a very long time.
There was a rustling of cloth, the curtain opened and someone slipped through. The singing of the tambourine and finger cymbals was no longer muted. The stringed instrument sang in a stronger voice. Spinner’s breath caught in his throat. The entire world seemed to have stopped, as though waiting to learn what the music was about. Then the music stopped, the stage lights came back up, and Spinner found himself looking at the most beautiful woman in the world.
She stood, a motionless figure of dynamic gracefulness about to erupt into movement. Her feet were wide apart and pointed sharply away from each other, her hips cocked far to one side, her torso curved in an impossibly sinuous S. Her face was in profile, her arms stretched languidly above her head. She held a tambourine in one hand; the other was poised to beat a tattoo on it. She wore tiny cymbals on the lesser fingers of both hands, but the cymbals were as motionless as she, and as silent as her audience.
A noise like a distant waterfall filled Spinner’s ears and seemed to slowly grow closer. His body felt like it was expanding, while at the same time it shrank to insignificance. All the other people in the room vanished from his ken, as did the trophies and weapons on the walls; the very room itself ceased to exist. The entire universe was reduced to himself and the woman he watched.
She was gold. From the top of her head to the soles of her feet, she was gold. Her hair, her eyebrows, were the color of honey. Her eyes were amber. Her skin was radiant sunshine. The short vest that left her shoulders and arms bare and didn’t fully meet between her breasts was cloth of gold, as was the narrow sash girdled low on her hips. Her pantaloons of sheerest fabric were likewise gold, as were the scantiest briefs she wore under them. The diadem that circled her head was of gold chains and gold coins. Gold bands circled her upper arms, gold bangles dangled on her wrists, gold rings adorned her fingers, gold hoops hung from the lobes of her ears. Gold coins depended from the hem of her vest and spanned the girdle of her pantaloons. The only relief from all of her gold was the black of her eyelashes and the scarlet of her lips, fingernails, and toenails. And a strange, silvery anklet.
Spinner had forgotten to breathe and his vision excluded everything but the woman on the stage. He felt faint. He felt that if something didn’t happen soon, he might die from expectation. His heart thudded to beat its way out of his chest. And he didn’t care. To die with such an angel filling his eyes couldn’t hurt, would cause no sorrow.
The golden girl abruptly snapped her lesser fingers together, releasing a tintinnabulation of bells and wind chimes. She tattooed her tambourine with a primitive beat, and Spinner’s heart beat in synchrony. She stamped a foot that raised a thin cloud of dust from the stage. The unseen stringed instrument sang out a wild, swirling song.
The Golden Girl danced. She spun and twirled and shimmied and shivered. She wove her arms through the air in impossible patterns. She bent in places no one could bend, and at times seemed to face both front and back at once. Her hands fluttered at the ends of her arms like birds; now songbirds flitting about building their nests, now a gyrfalcon swooping for food to feed her nestlings. She became a cat stalking the forest, then a deer fleeing the cat’s pursuit. Through it all, her cymbals clashed, her tambourine tattooed, her feet stamped, her coins jingled and jangled. And always the strings sang their wild, swirling song.
Somewhere, some time, Spinner remembered to breathe. He no longer felt faint, his heart no longer tried to beat its way out of his chest. He was aware of only the Golden Girl dancing on the stage. Dancing, it seemed, only for him.
After what felt like an eternity that took no time at all, the music stopped and the Golden Girl curtsied so low she was almost prone on the stage, her legs folded beneath her and arms spread wide to her sides. The lights over the stage went out.
There was a long moment of silence, then every man in the room applauded and stomped and yelled for more. The din grew, the sound of the applause and yelling a solid wall. The sound grew until it seemed it would shatter the windows of the inn. But the Golden Girl’s performance was over and she made no curtain calls.
After long moments of near pandemonium, the noise began to ebb. When it subsided to the point where a man with strong lungs could yell loudly enough to be heard farther than across his own table, Master Yoel bounded onto the stage. Beaming, he held his arms up for quiet. Quiet came, but only after several more moments, and then only relative quiet.
“Thank you, gentlemen, thank you,” the innkeeper called out. His voice carried to most of the room and set off another round of cheering, though not as loud as before. Master Yoel, still beaming, waved again for quiet. It slowly came, and the volume dropped until there was little more than a muted buzz throughout the room.
“Thank you again, gentlemen,” Master Yoel began. “I know you love the Golden Girl, but her performance is done. If you want to see more of her, you will have to come tomorrow night when, I promise you, she will perform again.” The yelling and cheering started up again. Master Yoel preened as though it was for him. After a couple of moments basking in the applause, he waved his arms and patted the air until the cheering subsided.
“It is nearing that time, gentlemen,” he said when the room was again quiet enough to make himself heard.
“In less than an hour the magician will put the troll to sleep for the night and our only light will come from candles and oil lamps. Those of you who have been here before know that when the troll goes to sleep, so does The Burnt Man. Until then, though, you can continue to drink. The kitchen will remain open for another half hour, so if you’re hungry, this is the time to order food. I’m glad you have enjoyed our entertainment this evening, and I hope you all will come back again very soon.” Finished with his little speech, Master Yoel jumped off the stage and slowly, as though leading a solemn procession, walked through the room. Here and there, he stopped briefly to speak to someone, and when he did, he looked as though he was bestowing a benediction.
Master Yoel stopped briefly at their table. “Did you enjoy the entertainment?” he asked.
“Very much,” Haft answered. He was still breathing heavily from the impact of the Golden Girl’s dancing, but Spinner was still too bedazzled by the dance to notice the innkeeper.
Master Yoel cocked an eye at Spinner and laid a finger alongside his nose. “Your friend seems smitten.”
“He does,” Haft agreed, more than a touch of amusement in his voice.
Master Yoel nodded, then went on without another word.
Haft followed the innkeeper with his eyes. It took the man several moments to reach the kitchen. He paused before going through the door, and turned three small cranks on the wall next to it, two of them more than the other. Abruptly, the room was lit like day—all of the vellum panels on the ceiling glowed with their slightly bluish light. Spinner blinked at the sudden light, but otherwise paid it no attention; his eyes were on the stage.
“What’d he do?” Haft asked Spinner. He had to poke his companion to get his attention and asked his question again.
“Oh.” Spinner looked at the cranks Haft pointed out. “He signaled the magician to make the troll work harder.”
Haft scowled at him. He wanted to know more about the troll, but Spinner clearly wasn’t going to say much of anything until he got over being mesmerized by the Golden Girl, so he looked around for Doli to order another flagon of beer.
In time, Master Yoel came out of the kitchen to announce that it was closing. Haft thought the innkeeper was giving them the once-over, but shrugged the feeling off.
Immediately afterward, as though the innkeeper’s voice had snagged his attention, Spinner murmured, “Beautiful,” shook his head, and became aware of his surroundings. He blinked again at the light as though seeing it for the first time. He looked around. Fewer than half the tables were occupied, and as he looked, more men got up and left. Those few who remained were still drinking and boisterous, but despite the occasional raucous laugh, were less loud than before the Golden Girl’s performance.
Spinner looked at Haft, though Haft had the impression his friend didn’t really see him, and said softly, “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Haft nodded. “She may well be that. And the way she moves, I’ll bet she’d be a lot of fun in—” A sharp look from Spinner cut him off. “Well, a lot of fun.”
Spinner nodded slowly, still looking hard at Haft. “Very much fun,” he solemnly agreed. Then he noticed his flagon for the first time since the end of the Golden Girl’s dance. He lifted it and drank deeply. Doli was there before he could even look around for her. She had full flagons with her.
“You enjoyed the entertainment?” she asked.
Haft laughed loudly. “It was wonderful,” he said. “But him! Why, I think Spinner still hasn’t come back to earth from it.”
Spinner glowered at him and took a drink to hide what he thought was a burning face.
Doli curled her lip in a wan smile. “Yes, Alyline is very . . .” She paused, seemed to think better of what she was saying, and finished, “. . . a very good dancer.”
“Alyline?” Spinner asked.
“That’s her name, the Golden Girl.” The corner of her mouth twitched, and then an expression of fear flickered across her face. “We aren’t supposed to say her name. You won’t tell Master Yoel I said it, will you?”
“Of course not,” Spinner said. Haft echoed him. “But why aren’t you supposed to say it? Alyline . . . it’s a beautiful name, as beautiful as she is.”
Doli shook her head. “I can’t tell you.” She rushed off before they could ask her anything else.
Spinner shook himself all over like a wet dog, then, with an effort, looked bright and fully aware. “Well, my friend, that was some entertainment!” he said.
“It was,” Haft agreed. “I wish we could stay another night and see it again.”
Spinner nodded wistfully, recalling in his mind’s eye the wonderful dancing of the Golden Girl, Alyline.
More tables were emptying, and serving maids who weren’t taking care of customers started cleaning the tabletops. One serving maid facing away from them bent over a table to wipe its far side. Looking down as he was, Spinner saw the hem of her skirt ride far up over her calf. He saw that she was wearing a wide, silvery anklet like the one on the Golden Girl’s ankle. He looked around at the others. Every serving maid whose ankles he could see had the same kind of anklet. The anklets were perhaps an inch wide and half that thick. They fit snugly, with no opening, though there was a place where the anklet was thicker than elsewhere. The wide place looked like a join, where one end fit into the other.
Haft signaled Doli for a fresh flagon. When she came, she stood between him and Spinner. Curious, Spinner reached for Doli’s skirt and pulled it up a few inches so he could see her ankles. Doli ignored him until he asked, “Why do all the serving maids wear those anklets?”
Doli jerked her skirt out of his hand and spun away, her face suddenly pale. “D-Don’t ask about that. You never saw that.” She hurried away from them.
“I didn’t know you had such an interest in women’s jewelry,” Haft said.
“I don’t, but that’s an odd-looking anklet. All the serving maids seem to wear one. So does Alyline.”
Haft shrugged. Not that he was unable to appreciate a well-turned ankle, but his area of interest in women’s legs lay higher.
“It must mean something,” Spinner murmured.
Few of the other tables were still occupied. The porters came out and started moving the empty tables and chairs to one side of the room; one of them wheeled out a large tub filled with steaming, sudsy water; several mop handles stuck out of the tub.
“We should go before they mop us up with the rest of the refuse,” Spinner said. He drained the last of his beer and stood. Haft did the same.
The innkeeper came out of the kitchen to announce the common room was closing. There was mild grumbling from the few men still drinking, but they also emptied the last of their beer or wine and stood to leave.
Master Yoel intercepted Spinner and Haft on their way to the stairs. “A moment of your time, young gentlemen?” He led them away from the path of the other men going upstairs.
“You liked our Golden Girl?” he said to Spinner.
Spinner nodded. “Everyone did.”
“Ah, but you liked her more than most, or I miss my guess.”
“Perhaps.”
Master Yoel laid a finger alongside his nose. “Would you have an interest in more than merely seeing her dancing on a stage before the public?”
“What do you mean?” Spinner knew full well what the innkeeper meant. His heart raced and his breath came rapid and shallow. He was sure his face flushed. Yes, he did have an interest in more than seeing her dance on a stage in full public view; he wanted more than just to watch her dance.
“If you are willing to part with another gold coin, you can have the rest of the night with her.” The innkeeper’s eyes shined bright and moist. “Alone,” he added meaningfully.
Spinner’s vision again narrowed, but this time it was from anger. “You sell her? And how many others have had her tonight before you offered her to me?”
Master Yoel held up placating hands. “None, young s
ir, I swear. I do not casually allow access to the Golden Girl. It is only when one such as yourself comes around, one who fully appreciates her for everything she is, that I offer her. Her price is dear. She can only be offered to a man who truly desires one such as she, one who can truly appreciate so magnificent a woman.”
Spinner’s vision narrowed further. He wanted to kill the innkeeper, who despoiled such beauty, such a wonder, as the Golden Girl. The large muscles in his neck, shoulders, back, legs, and arms swelled and grew hard, battle-ready. His fists clenched, ready to strike. The look he gave Master Yoel made the innkeeper blink and swallow.
Haft had had too much to drink to notice Spinner’s rising anger, but he broke the tension by slapping him on the arm. “Do it, man,” he said. “Do it. I’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t. I may not hear the end of it if you do, but it’ll be easier hearing about how it was than having to listen to what might have been.”
Spinner started. He turned to Haft with threat in his face. Then he realized that Haft was right. If he didn’t part with a gold coin for the night with Alyline, he would forever yearn for her, and forever hate the innkeeper. Alyline would be a distraction for him for a long time to come, perhaps too great a distraction for the dangers they might be facing on their journey back to Frangeria. But if he gave the innkeeper a coin and had his way with the Golden Girl, that would clear the mists from his mind and he would know she was a woman like any other woman, not the angel he thought he saw on that stage. Abruptly, Spinner relaxed.
“One gold coin for the rest of the night it is,” he said. A small part of his mind noted the hungry way the innkeeper glanced at his purse as he withdrew a coin.
“This way, good sir,” Master Yoel said softly when the coin was safely in his palm. He led Spinner to the curtain behind the stage and went through it.
Haft looked after them for a moment, then mounted the stairs to their room.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
A corridor behind the curtain went only a few paces before it turned to the left. The only illumination came from the light filtering through the curtain from the common room on one end, and into the other end from whatever place was around the corner.
Demontech: Onslaught Page 14
