A Ghost of a Chance bv-1

by Mercedes Lackey

  The office was just inside the door to the staircase, and held only a desk and two chairs. Amber took the first, and Rune the other, for the second time that day dropping her packs down beside her. Amber studied her for a moment, but there was lively interest in the woman's eyes, as if she found Rune quite intriguing.

  "Tonno is a very good friend, and has advised me on any number of things to my profit," she said at last. "He's very seldom wrong about anything, and about music, never. So perhaps you can explain how you can be both his student and the musician I've needed here?"

  "I'm self-taught, milady," Rune replied with care. "Last night, my first in the city, the owner of the Crowned Corn said I was good enough to expect the same profit as anyone else who isn't a Guild musician. But that's on the fiddle-and I can't read nor write music, can't read much better than to puzzle out a few things in the Holy Book. So that's how I'm Tonno's student, you see-on the lute, and with things that'll make me ready for the Guild trials."

  Amber nodded, her lips pursed. "So you've ambitions, then. I can't blame you; the life of a common minstrel is not an easy one, and the life of a Guild musician is comfortable and assured."

  Rune shrugged; there was more to it than that, much more, but perhaps Amber wouldn't understand the other desires that fired her-the need to find the company of others like herself, the thirst to learn more, much more, about the power she sensed in music-and most especially, the drive to leave something of herself in the world, if only one song. As she knew the names of the Bards who had composed nearly every song in her repertory except the Gypsy ballads, so she wanted to know that in some far-off day some other young musician would learn a piece of hers, and find it worth repeating. Perhaps even-find it beautiful.

  No, she'd never understand that.

  "I will be willing to take Tonno's assessment of your ability as a given. This is what I can offer: a room and one meal a day of your choice. This is what your duty would be: to play here in the common room from sundown until midnight bell. I should warn you that you can expect little in the way of tips here; as you have probably guessed already, this is not an inn as such."

  "It's a-pleasure-house, isn't it?" She had to think for a moment before she could come up with a phrase that wouldn't offend.

  Amber nodded. "Yes, it is-and although many clients come here only for the food, the food is not where the profit is; it is merely a sideline. It serves to attract customers, to give them something to do while they wait their turn. Your capacity would be exactly the same. You would not be expected to serve above-stairs, is that clear?"

  The relief must have been so obvious in spite of Rune's effort not to show it that Amber laughed. "My dear Rune-you are a very pleasant girl, but a girl is all you are, no matter how talented you might be in other areas. This house serves a very specific set of clients, by appointment only. And let me tell you that the four young ladies entertaining above are quite a peg beyond being either girls or merely pleasant. Beside them, I am a withered old hag indeed, and their talents and skills far outstrip mine!"

  Irrationally, Rune felt a little put out at being called a "pleasant young girl"-but good sense got the better of her, and she contemplated the offer seriously for the first time since Tonno had brought the possibility up.

  This meant one sure meal a day, a particularly good meal at that, and a room. She need only play until midnight bell; she would have the morning and noon and part of the afternoon to busk before her lessons with Tonno. Not a bad arrangement, really. It would let her save a few pennies, and in the winter when it was too cold to busk, she could stay inside, in a building that would, by necessity, be warmly heated. Still, this was a whorehouse . . . there were certain assumptions that would be made by the clients, no matter what Amber claimed. If Amber wanted her to dress as a female, there could be trouble.

  "No one will bother you," Amber said firmly, answering the unspoken question. "If you like, you can keep to that boy's garb you've taken, although I would prefer it if you could obtain something a little less-worn."

  Rune looked down reflexively at her no-color shirt, gray-brown vest and much-patched breeches, all of which had been slept in for the past three days, and flushed.

  "Tonno can help you find something appropriate, I'm sure," Amber continued, with a dimpling smile. "I swear, I think the man knows where every second-hand vendor in the city is! As for the clients and your own safety-I have two serving girls and two serving boys below-stairs; you may ask them if they have ever been troubled by the clients. The ladies do not serve meals; the below-stairs folk do not serve the clients. Everyone who comes here knows that."

  Rune licked her dry lips, took a deep breath, and nodded. "I'd like to try it then, Lady Amber."

  "Good." Amber nodded. "Then let's make your meal for the day a bit of dinner with Tonno, and we can call tonight's effort your tryout. If you suit us, then you have a place; if not-I'll let you have the room for the rest of the night, and then we'll see you on your way in the morning."

  A short trial-period, as these things went, and on generous terms. But she had nothing to lose, and if nothing else, she'd gain a dinner and a place to sleep for the night. She followed Amber back out into the common room, where she sat at Tonno's table, ate one of the best beef dinners she had ever had in her life, and listened while Amber and Tonno talked of books. The only time she'd ever eaten better was when the Sire had sent a bullock to the village to supply a feast in celebration of his own wedding, and Rune had, quite by accident she was sure, been given a slice of the tenderloin. The beef she'd normally eaten was generally old, tough, and stewed or in soup.

  During that time, she saw several men leave by the stairs, and several more ascend when summoned by a little old man, so bent and wizened he seemed to be a thousand years old. They were all dressed well, if quietly, but for the rest, they seemed to fit to no particular mold.

  As soon as she'd finished, she excused herself, and returned to Amber's office for Lady Rose, figuring that the office was the safest place to leave her gear for the moment. Fiddle in hand, she came back to the table, and waited for a break in the conversation.

  "Lady Amber, if you please, where would you like me to sit, and what would you prefer I played?" she asked, when Amber made a point that caused Tonno to turn up his hands and acknowledge defeat in whatever they were discussing. They both turned to her as if they had forgotten she was there. Tonno smiled to see her ready to play, and Amber nodded a little in approval.

  Amber's brows creased for a moment. "I think-over there by the fireplace, if you would, Rune," she said, after a moment of glancing around the room for the best place. "And I would prefer no dance tunes, and no heart-rending laments. Anything else would be perfectly suitable. Try to be unobtrusive-" She smiled, mischievously. "Seduce them with your music, instead of seizing them, if you will. I would like the clients relaxed, and in a good mood; sometimes they get impatient when they are waiting, and if you can make the wait enjoyable instead of tedious, that would be perfect."

  Rune made her way around the edge of the room, avoiding the occupied tables, a little conscious of Amber's assessing eyes and Tonno's anxious ones. That was an interesting choice of music, for normally innkeepers wanted something lively, to heat the blood and make people drink faster. Evidently the "inn" was not in the business of selling liquor, either. It must be as Amber had said, that their primary income came from the rooms above. Rune would have thought, though, that an intoxicated client would be easier to handle.

  On the other hand, maybe you wouldn't want the clients drunk; they might be belligerent; might cause trouble or start fights if they thought they'd waited longer than they should. So-must be that I'm supposed to keep 'em soothed. Soothing it is.

  She found a comfortable place to sit in the chimney-corner, on a little padded bench beside the dark fireplace. She set her bow to her strings, and began to play an old, old love song.

  This was a very different sort of playing from everything she'd done in inn
s up to this moment. There she had been striving to be the center of attention; here she was supposed to be invisible. After a moment, she began to enjoy it; it was a nice change.

  She played things she hadn't had a chance to play in a while; all the romantic pieces that she normally saved for the odd wedding or two she'd performed at. Keeping the volume low, just loud enough to be heard without calling attention to the fact that there was a musician present, she watched her audience for a while until she became more interested in what she was playing than the silent faces at the tables. The serving-girls and men gave her an appreciative smile as they passed, but that was all the reward she got for her efforts. It was as if the men out there actually took her playing for granted.

  Then it dawned on her that this was exactly the case; these were all men of some means, and no doubt many of them had household musicians from the Bardic Guild whose only duty was to entertain and fill the long hours of the evening with melody. That was why Amber had warned her she should expect little in the way of remuneration. Men like these didn't toss coins into a minstrel's hat-they fed him, clothed him, housed him, saw to his every need. And on occasion, when he had performed beyond expectation or when they were feeling generous, they rewarded him. But that only happened on great occasions, and in front of others, so that their generosity would be noted by others. They never rewarded someone for doing what she was doing now; providing a relaxing background.

  Ah well. If I become a Guild musician, this may well be my lot. No harm in getting used to it.

  After a while, she lost herself in the music-in the music itself, and not the memories it recalled for her. She began to play variations on some of the pieces, doing some improvisational work and getting caught up in the intricacies of the melody she was creating. She closed her eyes without realizing she'd done so, and played until her arm began to ache-

  She opened her eyes, then, finished off the tune she'd been working on, and realized that she must have been playing for at least an hour by the way her arms and shoulders felt. The customers had changed completely; Tonno was gone, and Amber was nowhere to be seen. One of the serving-girls glided over with a mug of hot spiced cider; Rune took it gratefully. They exchanged smiles; Rune found herself hoping she'd be able to stay. Everything so far indicated that all Amber had claimed was true. She hadn't seen the serving-girls so much as touched. And both the girls, pretty in their brown skirts and bodices, one dark-haired and one light, had been friendly to her. They acted as if they were glad to have her there, in fact. Perhaps the clients were making fewer demands on them with Rune's playing to occupy their thoughts.

  When she had shaken the cramps out, and had massaged her fingers a bit, she felt ready to play again. This time she didn't lose herself in the spell of the music; she watched the customers to see what their reaction was to her playing.

  A head or two nodded in time to the music. There were two tables where there were pairs of men involved in some kind of game; it wasn't the draughts she was used to, for the pieces were much more elaborate. Those four ignored her entirely. There were another three involved in some kind of intense conversation who didn't seem to be paying any attention either. Then she noticed one richly dressed, very young man-hardly more than a boy-in the company of two older men. The boy looked nervous; as an experiment, she set out deliberately to soothe him. She played, not love songs, but old lullabies; then, as he began to relax, she switched back to love songs, but this time instead of ballads, she chose songs of seduction, the kind a young man would use to lure a girl into the night and (hopefully, at least from his point of view) into his bed.

  The young man relaxed still further, and began to smile, as if he envisioned himself as that successful lover. He sat up straighter; he began to sip at his drink instead of clutch it, and even to nibble at some of the little snacks his companions had ordered for their table. By the time the wizened man summoned them, he was showing a new self-assurance, and swaggered a bit as he followed the old man up the stairs. His two companions chuckled, and sat back to enjoy their drink and food; one summoned one of the serving-boys, and a moment later, they, too, were embroiled in one of those games.

  At first Rune was amused. But then, as she started another languid ballad, she felt a twinge of conscience. If the boy had actually responded to what she'd been doing, rather than simply calming normally, then she had manipulated him. She'd had her own belly full of manipulation; was it fair to do that to someone else, even with the best of intentions?

  Did I do that, or was it just the liquor? And if it was me, what gave me the right?

  She wondered even more now about these invisible "women" Amber employed. Did they enjoy what they were doing? Were they doing it by choice, or because of some kind of constraint Amber had on them? Were they pampered and protected, or prisoners? Just what kind of place was this, exactly?

  She had finished her second mug of cider and was well into her third set, when the midnight bell rang, signaling the end of her stint. There was no sign that the custom had abated any, though; the tables were just as full as before. While she wondered exactly what she should do, Amber herself glided down the stairs and into the room, and nodded to her. She finished the song, slid Lady Rose into her carrying bag, and stood up, a little surprised at how stiff she felt. She edged past the fireplace to Amber's side, without disturbing anyone that she could tell. Amber drew her into the hall of the staircase, and motioned that she should go up.

  "At this point, the gentlemen waiting are in no hurry," she said. "At this late hour, the gentlemen have usually exhausted their high spirits and are prepared to relax; past midnight I probably won't ever need your services to keep them occupied."

  They got to the top of the stairs, where there was a hall carpeted in something thick and plushly scarlet, paneled in rich wood, and illuminated by scented candles in sconces set into the walls. She started to turn automatically down the candlelit hallway, but Amber stopped her before she'd gone a single pace. "Watch this carefully," the woman said, ignoring the muffled little sounds of pleasure that penetrated into the hall and made Rune blush to the hair. "You'll have to know how to do this for yourself from now on."

  She tried to ignore the sounds herself, and watched as Amber turned to the shelves that stood where another hall might have been. She reached into the second set of shelves, grasped a brass dog that looked like a simple ornament, and turned it. There was a click, and a door, upon which the set of shelves had been mounted, swung open, revealing another hall. Amber waved Rune through and shut the door behind them.

  This was a much plainer hallway; lit by two lanterns, and with an ordinary wooden floor and white-painted walls. "This subterfuge is so that the customers don't 'lose their way,' and blunder into our private quarters," Amber said, in a conversational voice. "I never could imagine why, but some people seem to think that anything ordinary in a pleasure-house must conceal something extraordinary. The serving-girls got very tired of having clients pester them, so I had the shelves built to hide the other hall. I took the liberty of having old Parro bring your things up to your new room so you wouldn't have to; I imagine that you're quite fatigued with all your walking about the streets today."

  Rune tried to imagine that poor, wizened little man hauling her pack about, and failed. "He really didn't have to," she protested. "He-he doesn't-"

  "Oh, don't make the mistake of thinking that because he's small and a bit crippled that he's weak," Amber said. "He wouldn't thank you for that. He's quite fiercely proud of his strength, and I have him as my summoner for a good reason. He can-and has-brought strong guardsmen to their knees, and men constantly underestimate him because of the way he looks."

  "Oh," Rune said weakly.

  "You'll meet everyone tomorrow; I thought you'd rather get to sleep early tonight," Amber continued, holding open a door for her. "This is your room, by the way. You did very well, just as well as Tonno said you would. I'm happy to welcome you to my little family, Rune."

  Rune
stepped into the room before the last remark penetrated her fatigue. "You are?" she said, a little stupidly.

  Amber nodded, and lit a candle at the lantern outside the door, placing it in a holder on a little table just inside. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall, and there should be hot water in the copper if you want to wash before you go to bed. In the morning, simply come downstairs when you're ready, and either Parro or I will introduce you. Goodnight, Rune."

  She had closed the door before Rune had a chance to say anything. But what could she say, really? "Wait, I'm not sure I should be doing this?" That wasn't terribly bright. "Just what is going on around here?" She knew what was going on. This was a whorehouse. She was going to entertain here. The madam was a gracious lady, of impeccable manners and taste, but it was still a house of pleasure-

  But this was certainly the oddest bawdy-house she'd ever heard of.

  She looked around at her room-her room, and what an odd sound that had! There wasn't much: a tiny table, a chair, a chest for clothing, and the bed. But it was a real bed, not a pallet on the floor like she'd had all her life. And it was much too narrow for two, which in a way, was reassuring.

  There's no way anyone would pay to share that with Amber, much less with me.

  The frame was the same plain wood as the rest of the furniture; the mattress seemed to be stuffed with something other than straw. Not feathers, but certainly something softer than she was used to; she bounced on it, experimentally, and found herself grinning from ear to ear.

  There were clean, fresh sheets on the bed, and blankets hung over the footboard, with clean towels atop them. The plain wooden floor was scrubbed spotless, as were the white-painted walls. There was one window with the curtains already shut; she went to it and peeked out. Less than an arm's length away loomed the wooden side of the house next door; there were windows in it, but they were set so that they didn't look into any windows in this building, thus ensuring a bit of privacy. Not much of a view, but the window would probably let in some air in the summer, as soon as the warmer weather really arrived. It was better than being in the attic, where the sun beating down on the roof would make an oven of the place in summer, and the wind whistling under the eaves would turn it into the opposite in winter.