Mire

by Vivien Leanne Saunders

  “We’re giving you the girl, and whatever she wants to take with her.” Sweetwater drawled. “You’re paying us for her time and effort. Do you want Clay to be cheated?”

  “I feel like I’m hiring a prostitute.” he retorted. “I can get someone to open their legs for a few coppers on the Mainland.”

  “I’m not a whore!” I burst out.

  “Then why should I pay you?” he looked at me levelly, as if I was a horse he was buying at market. I ground my teeth and glanced at my Mistress. She raised her eyebrows. The easiest way to raise the fee would be to show Jonas exactly what a Siren could do.

  “Not him.” I said, refusing her unspoken order. She shrugged and rifled through the papers on her desk.

  “There’s a murderer you can play with. He had a bad reaction to chloroform when he arrived so we’ve had him lazing away in the medical wing. Today his hand found its way up one of the nurses’ skirts, so I assume he’s feeling better. I was going to give him to Sheba.”

  “What do you need to know?” The world felt as if it had fallen into focus. It always did, when Sweetwater gave me a new victim. My mind raced so fast that every new detail sharpened my wits. Normally, I wouldn’t find out what the man had done until he told me himself. The old women picked a note out of the stack and sniffed as she read it, finally wiping her nose on her sleeve. Her voice became suitably dramatic.

  “He killed a landowner and emptied his safe. The money disappeared. They want to know where he’s hidden it.”

  “Fine. I’ll find out.” I raised my chin proudly.

  Sweetwater looked at Jonas, “Will that satisfy you?”

  He scoffed, “He’ll never tell you that.”

  “Let’s make a wager, then.” Sweetwater rapped her knuckles against the table, her watery eyes gleaming. “Clay’s been getting lazy. It’s time for her to do some actual work. If she finds out the truth in a week you’ll pay six thousand lorets. If she takes longer than that you can have the useless bitch for five.”

  Jonas folded his arms with a smirk. “You’d have more luck making me eat my shoes than getting a thief to part with his gold.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t tell me to work on you. You’d already have your bootstraps in your mouth.” I planted my hands on my hips and had to bite back a manic laugh when he grinned at me. The wager made me feel real excitement for the first time in years.

  Sweetwater threw a pen at me, and I cried out and ducked. The old woman’s face was red. “Didn’t you just hear me say we had a bet? Why are you still here? If you lose, I’ll take the money out of your skin!”

  CHAPTER 21

  I sprinted to the medical wing and caught my breath in the courtyard, tugging the creases out of my dress. I hadn’t even thought to change it. A fine way to start working – in a crumpled gown with my makeup smeared from running! By the time I had returned to the living quarters and changed, the sun was starting to set. Everyone was eating their evening meal, including all of the sick men who could walk. I found the man’s room and sat down on his bed to wait.

  A plump, balding man finally pushed the door open and stopped short at the sight of me. I did not move, but I smiled at him. “I hope you don’t mind me being here.”

  “Why…” he stumbled, and then managed, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Seashell.” I lied easily. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for ages, but they said you were sick.” I made my lip tremble, and finally stood up and moved over to him. “I was the one who found you lying on the beach.”

  His face creased in a smile. The eyes almost vanished in the soft fat of his cheeks, and his voice grew softer and higher in pitch. “Oh, you dear thing! They did tell me… but they wouldn’t tell me your name.”

  It was the lie we told to all of the men, until we could decide which nameless woman to assign to them. I forced tears into my eyes. “They’re so mean! I had to sneak in just to see if you were… were…” I met his piggy little eyes, and then choked and buried my face in my hands. He had no idea that I was laughing.

  A murderer, was he? If he had cut someone’s throat, it must have been an accident. His soft hands shook as he patted my shoulders, but he stayed a little too close as I stopped pretending to cry. I pulled myself away, blurting out something about having to leave.

  “Wait!” he reached out to stop me, and then drew his hand back guiltily. I froze, and he cleared his throat as he looked at my curious, nervous expression. “If I ask them, will they let you come back?”

  “It would make me feel better.” I admitted, wiping my eyes. “Thank you, you’re so kind.”

  He smiled generously and patted my hand. “I'd do anything for the woman who saved my life.”

  “Oh, no!” I burst out, shocked. “Don’t say that! I barely did anything! I don’t know how you made it. You must have swum so far… you must be so strong…”

  The man puffed up a little. He was so stoned that he could probably see the heroic image playing out like a painting before his eyes. Pride made him hold himself more upright. I gave him a shaky smile and left. It had taken me an hour to get ready. I had spoken to the man for less than five minutes. I stayed awake late that night and stared into the candle flame to make my eyes red, all the while planning what to do next.

  I really had grown lazy. I enjoyed drawing out the men’s surrender, and so I had no problem with taking my time. I would notice that the sun was setting, and decide that it was better to get a confession in the morning. The men would yawn once, and I would sing them to sleep. I always made them confess in the end, but I had never been particularly worried about how long it took me.

  In my arrogance I believed that the men I chose were more difficult than the others. Now I realized that I had simply been idle. No-one would dare to criticise me, but no-one had ever offered me praise. I had never worked to earn it.

  I decided to seduce the man. He had swallowed enough drugs to think I was his blessed mother, but I was more confident as a harlot than as a confessor. I pretended to be shy, innocently enamoured with the stranger who I had found in the sea. I admit that the irony of play-acting a virginal innocent often amused me more than the act itself. In the morning he would wake up with me in his arms, this sweet thing which he had defiled, and he would be wracked with remorse. That was when he would tell me things – anything I wanted, blurted out in a guilty stream until he condemned himself.

  I followed my script mechanically until the third evening, when the room was dim and the man was a little tipsy. I dosed his wine with honey liquor and waited until his eyes clouded and his mind strayed. I suddenly thought of Jonas telling Sweetwater that he could hire a prostitute to do this work. The memory made me so angry that I caught my breath. Did everyone on the Mainland see us like that? Like streetwalkers in silk skirts?

  But he was right. I had no idea how I might win my wager without surrendering my body. I had never used tact or skill to work on anyone, simply my blunt sexuality. I thought this, and hated myself, but shyly straddled the man’s lap as he had asked. He spread my skirts over my legs as if he was protecting my modesty. Frustration made me move a little faster, and I heard the man groan appreciatively. He caught my thighs with his hands and I rode him with a skill that made his eyes widen. His lips pulled back from his teeth, and he grunted like a pig. It had only taken him a few minutes to find his release. I let out a low moan, panting as if I had climaxed with him, and nestled against his neck.

  “You’re a natural.” he told me, and kissed my forehead. There was something obscene in the tender gesture. I bit back my irritation and made my voice soften with wonder.

  “Does it always feel like that?”

  “I wish.” His voice was a little dazed. I hid a smile and stayed with him until he was snoring. Then I smoothed the sleeping tonic under his nose and slipped out of the room.

  I beckoned to my guard. “Where’s Sweetwater?”

  The woman pointed at another room, and I groaned as I realized what had happened
. The old bitch had been watching me through the peepholes. Sweetwater laughed when I stormed through the doorway, and waved her hand at the other person in the room. She slipped the poison bottle into my hand before Jonas could see it. He was here to claim a Siren, not a murderess.

  Jonas was brick-red with embarrassment, and he couldn’t meet either of our eyes. “I shouldn’t have made that bet. You didn’t have to take it so far.”

  Sweetwater smirked at me as I snapped the shutter of the peephole closed. My voice was exasperated. “This is what Siren do, Jonas. You didn’t think he would spill his secrets for a smile and a bottle of wine, did you?”

  “You friend couldn’t watch.” Sweetwater confided, and then she pinched my ear so sharply that I yelped. “You’re lucky that idiot fell for it. I’ve seen more virginal rutting from a stallion in heat.”

  “He couldn’t tell the difference.” I said sulkily. She shook her head and was about to shout at me before she glanced over my shoulder and smiled. Jonas had recovered some of his insouciance, but he couldn’t meet my eyes. I felt more naked before his discomfort than I had the first time I had lifted my skirts.

  “It goes mind, body, heart.” I said in the flat voice my teachers had used in my first lesson as a true Siren. “We get them drunk to make them talkative, or give them drugs which exhilarate or frighten them enough to confide in us. That’s ‘mind’. If it doesn’t work then we use their bodies. The promise of sex does as much as the act itself. You’d be disgusted at how many spill their secrets to make us trust them enough to spread our legs. Others are ashamed of their bodies. Tomorrow, this one will confess because he feels guilty about what he made me do.”

  “Made you?” Sweetwater raised her eyebrows at me and then shook her head with a cackle. Jonas looked at me with hurt, accusing eyes.

  “What about heart, Clay?”

  “It hurts them so badly.” I stumbled over the words. Sweetwater patted me heavily on the shoulder blades, making me stumble.

  “It’s like listening to a fish talking about running.” she drawled. “Clay has no idea how to make people love her.”

  “I don’t want to.” I returned heatedly, staring at the floor so I didn’t have to meet Jonas’s piercing eyes. “It’s cruel!”

  I knew that some of the Siren preferred it. They would make the men fall hopelessly in love with them, and then either scorn them or beg them to steal them away from the island. I never promised anything that made the men think they had a future. The ones who fell in love suddenly found a new lease of life. They confessed because they wanted to start again. Instead of seeking understanding, they were desperate for forgiveness.

  I refused to inspire that kind of devotion. Lust promised nothing beyond the next tumble.

  Sweetwater spoke in a honeyed voice, “When your body starts to sag you’ll be gasping for the kind of love that blinds the poor men. I could make a lover sleep with me today if he cared enough for my heart, but if I flaunted myself in front of him…”

  “It works.” I said icily. “But if you want to go in and convince him that he’s in love with you, feel free. Then you can go to Altissi.”

  “I’d rather go to hell.” My High Mistress returned, still smiling. She was enjoying herself, the bitch.

  Jonas had grown silent. I knew what he was thinking. No matter how much we bickered, we still hadn’t proven that any of this worked. So far, all I had shown him was that I could make an old man groan for three measly minutes. Jonas could still hire his streetwalker from the Mainland. She might make a pretty speech about love, too. It did not mean either of us were good at our jobs.

  I woke the man up and sobbed. I told him I was ruined. What could we do? We had to run away. But I had no money. I didn’t want to starve.

  “Ssh.” he said, and his clumsy hands were damp as he embraced me again, “I have money. I’ll look after you.”

  “I don’t believe you.” I sniffled.

  It only took a few more glasses of wine and a few more tears before he told me everything.

  I heard footsteps outside of the door, and Sweetwater speaking to Jonas as they left. It was forbidden to make noise in the corridors, but she was letting me know that no-one was watching me. I dried my eyes and poured two glasses of water, making sure he saw my hands shaking as I drank from mine. He looked away in shame, and my hands were steady as I poured the poison.

  When the servants came to clean up the vomit I went straight to the bathhouse. No matter how hard I scrubbed at my skin, I still did not feel clean. The sensation bothered me. I could not hate myself for killing a murderer. Jonas’s face swam into my mind as I doused my hair with water, and I felt shame for the first time in my adult life. The way I had manipulated the man had been appalling. I had twisted him around my fingers. Yes, he had killed someone – but what if it truly had been an accident? He was a terrible person. Was I just as bad?

  I had spent many years convincing myself that what we did was not murder. Because of that, I honestly believed that poisoning the man was inevitable.

  Did the Mainlanders see it that way? They knew their prisoners would not return, but did they truly understand? The truth must have appalled them, or else Sweetwater would have let Jonas watch. He already knew that the Siren island was a trap, but he wasn’t permitted to see how we did it. We kept that a secret from our own children. It made no sense to let an outsider see.

  I told myself that, and it did not make me feel any better. Sweetwater had lied to my oldest friend, and I had helped her. She knew how quickly a friendship could turn a loyal mind into a soft heart. She had to drive a wedge between us before she sent us away. She had warned me not to sleep with Jonas but I did not need the warning. The thought disgusted me. I couldn’t imagine seducing him: I knew his name.

  I returned to the tower with my heart in turmoil, but my head quite clear. I had done what I had promised. I retreated into my bitter loneliness with some relief. The cold, numb resignation was familiar and comforting.

  I walked into Sweetwater’s office without knocking. I finally saw her for what she was – an old, twisted woman whose heart had once been as troubled as my own. Perhaps one day I would be more like her. Perhaps it would be easier.

  Sweetwater’s whole body was relaxed, an insouciant posture which made me suspicious from the start. She leaned closer to me, and her voice was unbearably smug as she greeted me with: “Dahra is going with you.”

  “Dahra!” I gaped at her, and scrambled for words other than the one that burst out of me. “Why?”

  The old woman’s eyes sharpened. “I’m not a fool, girl. These people need to believe that the Siren are goddesses, not selfish little sluts. If I send you alone then I may as well open up the island as a brothel and get it over with.”

  I resisted the urge to throttle her. “I did exactly what you told me to do.”

  She patted my hand in a mockery of a motherly way. “I know, little pet. If I thought you were flawed, would I allow you to go? The Altissi should see us as desirable, too. After all, that’s the legend – the beautiful, beguiling Siren! I could send Dahra to twist their minds around her little finger, but she’s not exactly a seductress. She’d rather drink her own poisons than smile at a man these days. Between the two of you, you make a half decent goddess.”

  “Thank you.” I snapped, stung. “Why not send a servant while you’re at it? Perhaps someone thinks the Siren can all bake pies. Or how about if you come? Aren’t there stories about us being ugly and cruel?”

  “We’re supposed to be.” she shrugged, “They call us goddesses because it’s easier than admitting that human beings are capable of what we do.”

  “Poisoning them?”

  “No.” The woman looked surprised, as if it was something I already knew. “Making loyal husbands and lovers turn away from their oaths. Capturing someone’s mind so that they lose all reason. It’s insuperably cruel.” I looked away, and she laughed dryly. “But you don’t understand. Perhaps someone on the Mainland
will do it to you.”

  “I don’t see men that way.” I tried to sound aloof. The High Mistress raised an eyebrow.

  “Let me guess. They’re not men – they’re murderers, and criminals. You never ask their names because you think they abandoned their whole lives on the Mainland. They’re skin and secrets, and that’s all.”

  “It was you who taught me that.”

  “It was. Now I’ll teach you something else. The men you will meet on the Mainland have committed no crimes. They have no reason to keep secrets from you. They will tell you their names. You’ve never spoken to a man like that.”

  “Jonas.” I pointed out. She grinned.

  “You see him as a child. When he watched you seducing that murderer you looked ashamed for the first time in your life.” her face changed back to its habitual cruelness. “It’s nice to know you’re capable of it.”

  “It’s a weakness.” I said flatly, and spread my hands. “Tell me what you want me to do. If you had a real problem with me then you wouldn’t let me go, so I guess you’re just mocking me.”

  “Believe that, if it makes you feel better.” The woman picked at her teeth with her fingernail and looked at me sidelong. “Some of the girls whisper that you have no feelings at all. Well, so what? It makes you good at your work, but that kind of behaviour can be toxic. Getting you out of the way for a few months will give me time to think about what to do with you.”

  My stomach dropped. “I have…”

  “I know that. But if you cannot convince a few idiot apprentices, I cannot trust you with the men.” she picked up a piece of paper and handed it to me. I was so confused that the words did not make sense, and I stared at it numbly until her impatient voice distracted me. “It’s your passport, girl. It’ll give you safe passage through the Mainland without you having to tell anyone you’re a Siren. You don’t want that kind of attention, believe me.”