The Duchess of the Shallows

by Neil McGarry

  Those days were long past, and while Duchess had remained dark and slender, the Lorelei who led her into that crimson parlor was blonde and buxom. She wore a gown of deep green damask whose plunging neckline left little to the imagination, and a pale blue pendant on a silver chain that glittered almost as brightly as her smile. In preparation for the evening's traffic she went to a cabinet and busied herself with bottles of wine and other spirits.

  Duchess was surprised to see that the parlor was not entirely empty. In a small alcove formed by hanging drapes, two people faced each other across a game of tiles. The first was a slender, silver-haired man dressed elegantly in a black waistcoat with gold buttons and expensive-looking gray breeches; the second, a short, dark, curvy woman around Duchess' age. They seemed entirely absorbed in their game, and as she watched the man in black placed a wooden token on one of the tiles.

  Duchess gestured at the pair. "What's that about?" She knew most of the Vermillion’s regulars by sight, but she did not recognize this man.

  "You mean Lord Tiles?" Lorelei rolled her eyes. "I don't know his name, but since he smells of Garden we aren't allowed to ask. A new customer. He comes in...oh, twice a week or so, and never wants anything but a game. So we call him Lord Tiles, although not where he can hear." From the cabinet's depths she produced a square of cloth – red as anything else in the Vermillion – and carefully dusted the bottles, one by one, before taking them out.

  Tiles was a noble's pastime, so Lorelei's guess was most likely accurate. Tiles was a game of high stakes, with bets on both the tiles and the pot increasing as the game went on. The lower classes satisfied themselves with dice or lesser games, or if they did imitate their betters they used stones and tokens rather than coin. The Vermillion might be located firmly in the Shallows, but a good deal of tile playing went on there nonetheless.

  "So he just plays and that's all? What happens if he wins?"

  Lorelei shrugged. "Same as if he loses; he just thanks whomever he's playing and leaves. He's always clean and polite, and he's not stingy with his coin. If I were better at tiles I'd play him myself; it would be the easiest sou I ever made. But you know the game's beyond me." She grinned. "Daphne's better than anyone at the Vermillion…except Minette of course. Or the new Domae boy."

  "Who's that? I haven't heard of him before."

  "Minette brought him in a few weeks ago, although I can't say where she found him." Lorelei loaded several of the bottles on a silver tray, then set it down on a side table. "You know she likes to cater to all her clients, although usually she keeps him out of sight unless someone asks for a Domae." Minette kept a few boys on staff, Duchess knew, but for some reason had never asked Lysander to join them. There was no understanding Minette.

  "Turns out the boy's just as good as Daphne," Lorelei went on. "Took to the game right away, even though when he got here he hardly spoke a word of Rodaasi. I didn’t think that sort went in for civilized pastimes, but…" She waved a hand, dismissing both the boy and the game. "But why are we talking about tiles when there's far more interesting gossip? Certainly you've heard about Dorian Eusbius?" Her green eyes twinkled with mischief.

  "A bit here and there." That was an understatement. "He's been to the Vermillion?"

  Lorelei, turned back to the cabinet, sighing with mock regret. "No, more's the pity. He probably can't spare the sou anyway, and you know Minette doesn't run a tab. But we've seen him slumming from time to time, and Daphne is positively smitten." Daphne was always swooning over one pretty face or another, so that was hardly news. Not that Dorian would give a second thought to a Shallows whore after he'd paid her. "I hear the new lord of his House isn't fond of his heir, and there's talk that Dorian may suffer an accident before too long." Lorelei was setting out crystal goblets for the evening's clients. "I hope he sends the boy down here before that happens, for Daphne's sake, at least."

  Duchess would have helped with the goblets, but her hands weren't clean and Minette would bring down the wrath of Ventaris himself if she discovered dirty glassware in the parlor. Besides, Duchess wanted to be out of sight before the patrons arrived; she'd had enough of their disparaging glances at her boyish frame, plain face and even plainer clothing. "Is Minette in her office?"

  "As usual. Why?"

  "I heard Lysander romped her at tiles a few days ago and I'm hoping to do the same." Lorelei smiled, but before she could reply there was a sudden clatter from across the room. They turned to see Lord Tiles lurching to his feet, his chair fallen back to the floor his face red, mustache quivering. Across the board, Daphne looked up at him, bewildered.

  The lord's face was florid, but his voice was cold. "Why did you do that?"

  "What did I do, my lord? You beat me fair as..."

  "Fair as nothing," spat Tiles, his voice still disturbingly calm.

  "My lord, I don't understand..."

  "And now you lie. Deception upon villainy. You're just the same. All of you are the same!" Now his voice came closer to his expression, rising in tone and volume by the moment. He swept the game, tiles, tokens and all, to the floor with one hand and shook his cane with the other.

  Daphne scrambled out of her seat and retreated to the parlor, all wide eyes and the scent of jasmine. Lorelei and Duchess were equally nonplussed, and could only stare as the dapper man vented his rage in their direction. "All of you the same. The same! Pretty faces and kind words, but in the end nothing but liars!" He picked up his wineglass, only half-full, and in a surfeit of rage flung it towards the hearth. Although droplets of red went everywhere, the glass flew directly into the fire like an arrow to the bullseye; the man’s aim was even more terrifying than his anger.

  Duchess had decided to make a quick escape before the man picked a human target when a voice from behind interrupted. "I've always said that no evening can truly begin without the sound of breaking glass," Minette said, emerging from a doorway half-hidden behind a fringed curtain. She was a large woman, but she wore it well and moved with an elegance that belied her size. Her white powdered face and dark black eyes, darker even than the perfumed ringlets of her hair, were a stark contrast to the blood-red satin dress she threatened to overspill. She stepped languidly past the women and moved to Lord Tiles’ side, arms outstretched.

  "My lord, your wine has spilled," she noted calmly. "Lorelei, be a dear and get his lordship a fresh glass. The Ulari red, I think." She turned back to Tiles. "The gold is for earlier in the day, wouldn’t you agree?" Lorelei got moving while Minette made a show of examining the man’s jacket. "And not one drop gotten on the fabric, Ventaris be thanked. Such a lovely jacket. The work of the Atropi, unless I miss my guess?" The Atropi were the finest seamstresses in the city, and every autumn the empress herself wore a dress they’d specially crafted. Their work was too expensive for any but the highest nobility.

  Lord Tiles sputtered, caught between offense and flattery. "You have an eye for quality, madam, although this is from last season, I’m afraid." He tried to glare at Daphne, but it was clear Minette’s clever courtesy had disarmed him. He no longer seemed certain why he was angry.

  "Then it is a classic, and the classics never go out of style," Minette assured him. She took the glass Lorelei offered and presented it to Tiles. "You should find this to your liking, although I hope you’ll finish the wine before you send another glass into the hearth." Her laughter was rich and lovely, and the man could not help but smile in response. "That was a mighty throw, my lord…surely you developed such accuracy throwing javelins?"

  Tiles puffed up. "In my youth I was known to have outdistanced men twice my size," he said proudly, taking the proffered glass. "But that was many years ago…"

  Minette slid her arm through his. "As it's been for us all. Yet the years have not diminished your accuracy." He chuckled modestly, the red in his face now from blushing and not anger. "I sense a story there I simply must hear. Perhaps you’d care to visit my office, where we can chat more comfortably." And just like that she escorted the man fr
om the room towards the drape-hidden doorway that led to her private office. As she passed, she gave Daphne a look from her dark eyes that lacked any hint of the charm she’d employed against Lord Tiles. Even though she was not the target of that look Duchess had to restrain an urge to shrink back. Then the pair vanished through the doorway.

  "What in Mayu’s hells did you do?" Lorelei hissed when she was certain they were out of earshot.

  Daphne shrugged uneasily. "I let him win."

  * * *

  Duchess had to wait longer than she wanted. Apparently, Lord Tiles told quite a story. At some point Lorelei found her by the hearth where she was helping a contrite and slightly terrified Daphne sweep out glass shards. She said that Minette wanted Duchess to interrupt her and the lord in a few moments. It wasn't until Duchess was standing outside the office that she thought to wonder how Minette had made that wish known. Best not to think on it, really. Better to take care of business and get out. Minette was not done with Daphne, she was certain, and her wrath was fearsome…and cold.

  The door to Minette's office was closed, but beneath it she could see light and hear laughter. She knocked twice, then waited. Minette was a stickler for etiquette and she knew better than to simply open the door. There was a further murmur, then the door opened to reveal Lord Tiles, all calm and courtesy. Duchess lowered her eyes, as was proper when greeting a man of Tiles' station, and stood aside. He gave her a slight nod and then was away down the corridor. Duchess slipped through the door and eased it shut behind her.

  Minette sat at a small table, a pattern of white and black tiles shimmering in the lamplight before her. Although Duchess was no expert at tiles, she played well enough to see why Minette was in a good mood: from the pile of coins before her she'd beaten Lord Tiles handily. Minette's office was decorated in more soothing shades than the front parlor: there was a lavender settee, its pillows upholstered in cream, and thick rugs of purple and light blue. Duchess knew from long experience to slip off her shoes before setting foot on those rugs. The walls were whitewashed, and the lintel, baseboards and rafters were cedar, giving the room a comfortable feel and an aromatic scent. The desk that dominated the opposite wall, currently unoccupied, was real walnut.

  Minette was running one red-gloved finger over her winnings when she lifted her eyes, and without smiling gestured imperiously for Duchess to approach. Duchess slipped across the room to Minette's side to kiss a powdered cheek. "Don't smear my makeup, dear," Minette murmured. "Can't have the riff-raff think I'm dabbling with dirty-faced urchins." She tweaked Duchess on the cheek and began clearing the tiles.

  Duchess took the chair on the other side of the table. "And who, pray tell, did you fuck for that?" she asked gesturing to the small pile of money.

  Minette smirked. "Our good friend Lord Tiles," she replied, without missing a beat. Duchess put her hand to her heart in mock horror and Minette laughed. "He may still have an accurate throwing arm, but his skill at tiles is impressive only when compared to some. There's always a better player,"

  Duchess thought on that a moment. "After what happened with Daphne, he needed to be reminded of that."

  Minette laughed and nodded, but for the briefest moment her eyes were cold. "Giving a man what he wants – or rather what he thinks he wants – is one thing. Having him know about it is quite another. And in any case, I needed to take a pot or two after a certain ganymede took me for everything I had."

  "Well, I'm sure you were worth every penny."

  "That's what they say." Minette helped herself to a drink from the side table and gestured for Duchess to finish clearing the board. Duchess did so, placing the tiles to the side, upside down. She shuffled them carefully.

  "My luck has been pretty good of late," Duchess said nonchalantly as Minette turned back to the table, drink in hand. "Care to try it?"

  Minette looked at her for a moment, her dark eyes seeming to stare right into the back of her head. Minette had a voracious appetite for secrets that she required her employees to satiate. Between her girls (and boys) and the volume and variety of men who gave them custom, it was said that every rumor in the city eventually made its way to the Vermillion's crimson walls. Did she already know what had transpired between her and Hector?

  Minette only smiled. "Oh my," she purred. "Now there's an offer I can't turn down." Duchess took out a handful of half-pennies, a few coppers and a sou from her pouch and placed them at her end of the table, and Minette, drawing from her winnings, followed suit. Duchess placed the tiles and the game began.

  "I saw Noam this afternoon," said Minette, taking up her tiles from the pile with a red-gloved hand. She frowned at one, annoyed, but that of course could be a ploy. Minette was a master both at making and seeing through false expressions.

  "He's well, I hope?" Duchess replied casually, taking up her own hand.

  Minette raised an eyebrow as if surprised, which of course could mean anything. "Well enough. He asked after you." So Minette already knew that Duchess had left the baker's house.

  Duchess laid tiles on her side of the table, face-down, and tossed two half-pennies into the pot; Minette added her own. Duchess was a fair hand at tiles – Minette had made sure of that – but she rarely had the coin to play and so she'd often used stones instead of sou. Now that she had a pocket full of florin, supplemented by what she'd stolen the previous evening, they were both playing for coin, though at the moment she wasn't after money. Almost nothing that went on within the Shallows, or perhaps even the entire city, failed to come to her attention. Those who didn't owe Minette a favor feared her, and Duchess, who qualified on both counts, hoped to turn that to advantage.

  "I told Noam you were well when last I'd seen you." Minette glanced over her tiles, her dark eyes looking searchingly into Duchess' own. "I trust that was the truth?"

  "True enough," said Duchess. Minette hated carelessness, and had taught Duchess that careless words were more dangerous than knives. She laid out her first tiles and Minette did the same. "I'm staying with Lysander at the moment, but I don't really want to do that for too long." Minette handed her two more tiles, her white powdered face impassive. Duchess gestured for a third.

  "Very wise. A woman should never depend overmuch on a man…even when that man is as sweet and lovely as Lysander. So what will you do now?"

  "As it happens, that's one of the reasons I'm here," she said, still looking at the board. Duchess tried to seem earnest, but she felt as though Minette were looking directly into her skull and reading the thoughts there. "I was wondering if you knew of anyone who might be looking for a girl to work in their kitchens, or the like." She made herself meet Minette's gaze. "I'm a decent baker, and…well, I could stand at Beggar's Gate, but I thought you might know someone who needs help." She paused. "With parties. In Temple District."

  If Minette knew more, she made no sign. "I suppose. Would you be looking for something soon?"

  Duchess held her voice steady. "Very."

  Minette nodded and played her next tiles, placing one sou on each. Duchess covered a wince. The stakes had just gone up considerably. "You're doing very well," said Minette, without irony. Duchess glanced up at her, wary. "I've faced some truly bad tile players in my day, and I would not count you amongst them. Hector, for example, is an absolutely abysmal bluffer."

  With Minette there was no such thing as a non sequitur; clearly she knew Duchess had been dealing with Hector. She felt threatened from all directions, so she chose the safest route and said nothing at all.

  Minette nodded, pleased, and sipped at her wine. "He's rather sad, I think. The kind to strike out of simple jealousy or petty meanness." Before Duchess could respond, Minette went on, "Someone could manipulate that quite easily, you know. Turn him into a cat's-paw."

  Duchess caught herself frowning; she was being led somewhere. What was Minette saying? That this whole thing with Eusbius wasn't Hector's idea? "Would that be so bad? To be a cat's-paw, I mean."

  Minette clicked a tile into pla
ce. "It depends on the cat, my dear. Of course, Hector is not the sort of man to take his own risks, no matter what the grudge. He'd find a cat's-paw of his own."

  "And on and on it goes," Duchess replied, laying two pennies on one of her own tiles. She thought on it, and placed another beside one of Minette's. Clearly, there was an even larger feline than Hector at work here.

  "Well it always ends with someone," said Minette, smiling. The board was in her favor.

  "And what happens to that someone? In Rodaas, someone eventually sets a dog on the cat. What becomes of the cat's-paw?" The answer to that question seemed suddenly very pertinent to Duchess' immediate future.

  Minette took another sip of wine and thought a moment. "Have you ever heard the tale of how One-Penny Will got his name?" Everyone in Rodaas knew of the Shallows youth who eventually became one of the city's most notorious thieves; Will's exploits were the talk of many an ale house or wine cellar, and there seemed to be no end of tales. Duchess had heard many of those tales from her brother, but none involving Will's name. She shook her head, aware that this, too, was no mere non sequitur. Minette smiled and pushed back from the table, taking a break from the game. Minette enjoyed a good story, and Duchess wasn't about to pass up the chance to hear one. "There was a baron in Low District named Waverly, who was nearly as wealthy and influential as some of the highest aristocracy, but..."