by Tristan Vick
I thank them for their time and let them go about their business. It seems if Lisette was on any vessel, that would be the one. But if she’s here, why didn’t she meet me at the rendezvous point?
Perhaps, I think, she has wandered off to get some shopping in before our meeting and simply lost track of time. Assuming that must be the case, I walk back up the street to the bustling market and find a nice patch of shade under a fig vendor’s awning made of burlap to rest under.
A seagull lands on the corner of the fig seller’s table and begins pecking at some figs. When the seller, a burly man with a dark beard and wearing a white apron, sees the intruder he swats at it with a stick. It flies away amid a flurry of curses lobbed at it, ones which I dare not repeat, and I catch myself inadvertently grinning as I imagine that this little routine of theirs is part of a daily ritual. After all, the vendor has a special stick at the ready for just such an occasion.
The fig seller defends his post nobly and the feathery thief manages to get away with only a dappling of fig on his beak. I like to imagine that on other days the seagull is, perhaps, luckier than it was today. Even birds must eat, Master Kel would always tell me. Master Kel was always fond of feeding the birds.
“You there, girl,” a deep voice grumbles from behind me. “You gonna buy some figs or just stand around gawking like a pedestrian?”
Realizing I’ve outstayed my welcome, I nod graciously, then cinch my belt and sash, securing my sword tightly to my waist, and head off to find the brothel that Queen Sabine told me about.
As I weave through the crowd, passing the local merchants, peasant women shopping for their families, and a few of The King’s Guard, who are policing the streets, I contemplate asking them whether they’ve seen a young woman fitting Lisette’s description. But seeing how it’s early yet, I figure I’ll give her another couple of hours before I panic.
In the interim, I feel it will serve my time better if I seek out Bethriel.
After heading several blocks in a southeasterly direction, I make my way to the end of the market, which opens out onto the cove. Fishermen are unloading their catches and sailing vessels loiter about, anchored in the bay. The smell of seawater and fresh fish fills the air and I stretch my arms over my head and take in a deep breath.
The sound of the waves lapping at the shore, the distant call of the gulls, and the busywork of the fishermen all blend together into one song of life upon the high seas.
I turn the corner and follow the street which runs past the iron welders, the machiners, and the blacksmiths to where it finally comes to a T-junction. Coming to the end of the street, I peek around the corner just in time to find the local brothel. It’s a three-story, peach-colored stucco apartment complex with slatted window shutters which are painted black. In one of the upper windows I see a woman changing. It doesn’t seem to bother her in the least that the people in the streets can see her; in fact, it appears to be deliberate. A type of advertisement for the sorts of delights you’ll find inside this flesh-colored palace.
“By the Goddess.” I gasp in dismay as I watch the woman in the window slip off her brassiere and expose her bare breasts to the entire world. My cheeks flush and I divert my gaze. I don’t want to face the embarrassment of getting caught watching that woman. A couple of sailors nearby can’t seem to help themselves, however, and let out a whistle.
The woman in the window pulls out a folded fan and flips it open. Resting her rump on the windowsill, she stretches her back against the wooden frame and begins fanning her chest as though she’s overheated. The two sailors look at one another, then wrapping their arms around each other’s necks they stroll into the brothel. Soon enough one of the men appears in the window, grabs the woman by her waist, and pulls her inside. I can make out the faint sound of giggling followed by the immediate sounds of carnal moaning.
As I work up the courage to go inside, I can’t help but feel I’d much rather be in the rolling hills of Bellera practicing with my blade as the warm summer wind rushes through my clothes and hair. Even so, I must find Bethriel, and so I reluctantly head to the brothel’s entrance.
I pace back and forth nervously in the hope of giving myself enough time to build up the nerve to go inside. But no amount of pacing helps and I contemplate going back to the market to see if Lisette has arrived.
Before I can make up my mind, a voice speaks to me in a thick Gaul accent. “You gonna go inside, chérie? Or just pace about like a wee nervous virgin too timid to give up her precious flower?”
I turn to see the smug grin of a tall, dark-haired Gaul. He’s leaning against the brothel wall as if it were his second home. By the athletic build of his body and the stubble on his face, I peg him at twenty or twenty-one years of age.
I scowl at him and snarl, “What I do with my time is none of your business.”
Ignoring my chastising, he continues to fiddle with a slip of paper and a wad of tobacco as he rolls himself a cigarette. When his eyes lock on mine he winks and I feel my blood begin to boil.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” he informs me, ignoring my prior protest. “You have a good time in there, chérie.”
With a flash of rage I draw my blade, spin around, and pin the fool to the wall with my sword.
With the smartass immobilized, I press the sharp edge of the blade firmly to his neck. I glare at him. I want him to know that he messed with the wrong girl.
“If I hear anything less than a courteous ‘yes’ or ‘no’ come out of your mouth, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to the gulls. Do I make myself clear?”
“I meant no disrespect,” he says without thinking.
I press on the blade even harder and draw just a trace of blood.
“I mean, yes. Yes!” he squeals. Distressed, he shakes in his boots.
“Good. Now that we’re on the same page,” I say, keeping the blade to his throat for added incentive, “I’d really rather not go inside a brothel in midafternoon. So, here’s what we’re going to do instead. You’re going to go in for me. Got it?”
“Yes,” he acquiesces. Not that he has much of a choice in the matter.
I squint my eyes at him, making sure he’s reading me clearly, and answer, “Good.”
9
The Gaul’s back is pinned against the wall with my blade to his throat. He stares at me with large panic-stricken eyes. Slowly he raises his hand as if he were a schoolboy needing desperately to ask the school master if it would be all right to use the bathroom. He looks at me with a face that can hardly conceal his burning question.
“What is it?” I snap.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” he inquires, hesitantly, rubbing his finger along the marble-like swirls that are pressed into the blue steel of my blade, “who exactly shall I find for you?”
“A woman,” I respond.
“Yes, well, that’s a given,” the Gaul says with a smile. “This is a brothel, after all.”
“No!” I gasp in horror. “It’s nothing like that. I’m supposed to meet someone. A courtesan by the name of Bethriel.”
“Ah,” the Gaul says, scratching the stubble on his chin.
“Do you know her?” I ask excitedly.
“No,” he replies, dashing all my hopes. “It’s just that most courtesans fetch a pretty penny. They’re not your typical coquette, after all.”
“We’ve been over this,” I growl. “I’m not here to mess around with some skeevy woman. I need to find somebody. Actually, two somebodies, but that’s neither here nor there. So can you help me or not?”
“No problem,” he says with a sheepish grin. “I was about to head inside anyway.”
“Ugh,” I say, and shove the man out of my way with my hand. I watch as he makes his way toward the brothel. Before entering, he turns around as asks, “If I find this Bethriel, what should I tell her?”
“Just tell her Arianna De Amato needs to speak with her and that I won’t take up to much of her time.”
&
nbsp; “Right,” he replies, then disappears into the entrance.
After a quarter of an hour, the Gaul returns. He looks flustered. “What’s wrong?” I inquire.
“Nothing,” he says. Fetching a handkerchief from his back pocket, he proceeds to wipe the sweat from his brow.
“Why are you so worked up then?” I ask again, pushing him to come out with it.
He looks at me and smiles at me with his big pearly white grin. “Well, it is a whorehouse, after all,” he informs me.
“Goddess!” I scream. “Is that the only thing you men can think of?!”
“What?” he asks, sounding rather offended. “There’s nothing wrong with laying with a beautiful woman.”
“But…you were supposed to find Bethriel!”
“I’m sorry to say,” he replies, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket, “she wasn’t available.”
“And…?” I say, pushing him to divulge everything he learned while inside.
“And something about some noble suitors. The palace. You know, it was all kind of hard to make out all her words between her screams of ecstasy.”
“First off, I didn’t need to know that. Secondly, did she say anything important? Some little detail, no matter how trivial?” I ask, desperate for more answers.
“Chérie,” he says, smiling at me, “I wouldn’t worry. If she’s in the palace, she’s being taken care of.” He winks at me to ensure I know what ‘being taken care of’ refers to in this context. I merely glower at him.
“That wasn’t my question,” I say, growing terse.
“No, nothing.” He responds.
Reaching down into my shirt I pluck out the coin purse that Queen Sabine gave to me, to the pleasant surprise of the Gaul, who stares at me with an engrossed gaze, and count out some coins. “How much?” I ask.
“How much for what?” he asks.
“For helping me out.”
“My apologies chérie,” he informs me, “but I don’t sleep with virgins.”
“What? Ew, gross. No! Just…ew. I’m not propositioning you, you self-absorbed, mouth-breathing brute!” I practically scream it in his face.
“Ah, I see,” he replies, one eyebrow raised as he looks at me suspiciously. “You’re into women.”
“No!” I say, still talking about the misunderstanding. “I mean, yes. I like women. But that’s beside the point. Wait…what makes you think I’m a virgin?”
“Because you’re standing out here when you could be in there,” he says nodding at the brothel behind him. “And anyone who is familiar with the pleasures a woman has to offer wouldn’t be standing out here talking with me,” he responds with a suave grin that I’d like nothing better than to knock off his smug face.
“Never mind about my personal sex life. That’s none of your gods damn business,” I fire back, jamming my pointer finger in his chest.
“I meant no disrespect,” he says.
I glare at him for a few seconds to let him know any further line of inquiry into my personal life will be met with my fist embedding itself in his face. He seems to catch the hint and changes the subject. “You were saying something about a payment?”
“That’s correct,” I inform him. “I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your help in tracking Bethriel down.”
“What would you have me do?” he asks.
“For now, just stay here in case she returns. That way, you can inform her that I’m looking for her. Then, just keep her preoccupied till I get back.”
“That, I can do,” he says with a mischievous grin. I just ignore him.
“In the meantime, I’ll head to the palace and try to trace her last footsteps. With any luck, I’ll locate her before dark. If I return without her and she’s still not here, I’ll expect you to assist me in locating her.” I count out eight bits and give it to him. “Here’s a week’s worth of pay, it ought to be enough to cover your troubles.”
He gladly receives the payment and tucks the coins into a breast pocket of his fancy vest, and then pats the pocket as though he’s securing his treasure.
I place the remaining coins back into their secure location, inside my tightly pressed cleavage, which I have to handle quite roughly to get the coin purse to stay. The Gaul merely watches with a bemused expression on his face as I play with my breasts to get everything properly situated. When I shoot him an annoyed look he stops staring at my chest and finally makes eye contact. Having been paid, he offers his further assistance. “Is there anything else I can help you with, chérie?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. You haven’t seen a young girl wearing a blue dress with a white shawl by any chance, have you? She’s about my height, eighteen years old, and goes by the name Lisette.”
“I’m not entirely sure,” he says, his eyes trailing back down to my chest. “My memory isn’t what it used to be, I’m afraid.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “I just paid you!”
“Yes,” he responds. “You paid me to help you find Bethriel, not help you find Lisette. Lisette is a separate person. Therefore, I require a separate payment.”
“Figures,” I mutter under my breath. Just my luck, I think. It had to be this conceited, full-of-himself, womanizing buffoon that I’m left no choice but to rely on. “Fine,” I say, seeing no way around it but to perhaps bash his stupid pretty-boy face in. An option that is looking more and more agreeable by the moment. But I check my temper. I need to keep a cool head if I’m going to find Lisette and Bethriel. Reaching back into my shirt, I pull out the coins again and hand over three more bits. “Does that help jog your memory?”
“Why, yes, yes it does.”
“So you’ve seen a girl by that description?”
“Yes. Some sailors were harassing her down by the docks. She grew fed up with their ill manners and decided to teach them a thing or two.”
“That sounds like Lisette, all right,” I say aloud.
“At any rate, she beat them to a bloody pulp. Some fishermen had to literally pry her off of them. I’ll tell you what, I haven’t seen such a spirited young woman in a long time. Quite impressive.”
“Go on,” I say.
“Of course, by that time she’d drawn a rather impressive crowd and caught the attention of the Royal Guard as well. They broke up the fight and took your friend into custody.”
Anxious to find Lisette, I rush off. “Thanks for your help,” I call out as I head off in search of the local jail.
“Don’t mention it, miss,” the Gaul replies.
I hook a left and head back toward the town square, when the Gaul suddenly clears his throat. I stop and look back at him. “What is it now?”
“The jail is that way, chérie,” he says pointing me in the direction I need to go.
“Right,” I reply, spinning on my heels and heading off in the other direction. When I pass the Gaul I make it a point not to look at him.
I march up the street till it comes to a junction, then I take a quick glance over my shoulder back at the Gaul. Sure enough, he is still there, leaning against the brothel wall, as if it’s his favorite spot to be. He picks out another slip of paper and pinches out some more tobacco and begins rolling himself another cigarette.
I can’t help but wonder who he is and why he’s just hanging out in front of a brothel all day long smoking cigarettes as though he has nothing better to do. Never mind, I tell myself. It’s not important. Marching onward, I hook a left and make my way toward the jail.
10
Pretending I have urgent business, I walk straight into the prison. Upon entering, I find a guard asleep at a table at the other end of the room. I head over to where he slouches in a wooden chair and snores noisily. He’s sound asleep and, if the large empty mug of ale sitting before him is any indicator, he won’t be waking up any time soon. Still, I can’t take any chances, so I quietly grab the mug, raise it high, and then bring it crashing down against the back of his head.
The guard falls out of his chair and hits the
ground with a thump. Lying flat on his stomach, he drools out of the corner of his mouth as he dreams of Valandrian sheep.
“Who’s there?” a girl’s voice calls out from the corridor.
I look over to see a slender face with big, soulful brown eyes staring out at me from behind iron bars. She has a short and boyish haircut, which looks very cute on her, and the prettiest milky white skin this side of Valandra. Only elves have whiter skin than hers. And since she’s the only prisoner here in a blue dress, it’s my bet that this is none other than Lisette Durante.
“It’s me,” I whisper. “Arianna.”
When I approach Lisette’s cell, she meets me at the bars. “Thank the Goddess you found me!” she says. “I wasn’t sure anyone would come for me.”
“Why would you ever doubt such a thing?” I say, lightheartedly. “Admittedly, though, it took me a while to find you.”
“At least you found me,” she said, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Why in the realms are you even in here, Lisette?” Although I heard the Gaul’s account from earlier, I want to hear the truth from Lisette.
“When I arrived by ship, a couple of the sailors pulled me aside and tried to have their way with me. I broke their noses and left one with a cracked skull. I guess they weren’t expecting a young woman like me to know how to fight.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe and sound,” I say, much relieved. Looking around the grated prison cell, I realize the gate keys are nowhere to be found. “Now where are the keys?” I say aloud to myself.
“I thought the guard had them,” Lisette informs me, looking back at the guard lying unconscious on the floor.
Annoyed that I missed them the first time, I say, “Wait here,” and stomp back over to where the guard lies. I nudge him with my foot just to be sure he’s not rousing from his slumber.
