1.21 In Which the Dark Lord Ministers to the Poor

1.21 In Which the Dark Lord Ministers to the Poor

On Ephemera, the red light district was actually a blue light district. The traditional marker of a brothel, it seemed, was a lamp over the door which burned cool blue behind frosted glass; there were also paper lanterns strung on ropes across the entrances to Yrshith Streetor Cat Alley, as it was fondly calledwith the same color illumination, and others here and there along its length. According to Gilder, those were a mark of a better establishment, one which could afford to contribute paper and asauthec to the public lights, and so the ends of these streamers were always anchored above the blue light over the door of the brothel which footed the bill.

I figured this had to cut down on violent incidents in this district; blue light is known to have a calming effect on humans, to the point that its used in public lighting by a lot of cities on modern Earth, with measurable decreases in crime and suicides wherever theyre put up. I was not willing to give the Fflyr credit for that level of sophistication. Most likely blue was just the easiest and cheapest color their primitive (no doubt khora-derived) chemistry could make a flame.

Nightfall in Gwyllthean found Aster and I fully disguised and approaching the citys blue light district from its discreet rear access. This had necessitated renting an inn room (inside the walls for securitys sake) to store our things since carrying a change of clothes while doing what wed come here to do wouldnt be practical, but I told myself it would be worth the expense if my plans unfolded at all the way I hoped. Aster was now in a coat of the same general style as the nicer one Id bought her from the inner ring tailor, but rattier and with the addition of a deep hoodplus, of course, a scarf which doubled as a mask. I was also hooded, though I had donned a full-on cloakfor dramatic effect. Id put together a mask from long strips of fabric, with more wrapped around my hands (again, just for effect), and under the cloak another nondescript coat, plus a pair of scuffed leather boots because the shiny red ones Id been wearing around were way too distinctive. All of it, on both of us, was in nondescript shades of gray and brown.

I had been surprised to learn that the artifact greatsword was easily disguised. Id been worried about that, but as it turned out artifacts were very distinctive by design and we were far from the first people whod wanted to make one harder to identify whilst engaging in subterfuge. It had been very easy to obtain the necessary bits and pieces to re-wrap its grip, attach plain bits of gray akornin to its crossbar and pommel to hide their fancy design, and even smear a substance over its vivid blue blade to obscure its inlay and change the color to a murky almost-black.

So we were still a man with an accent and a woman with a greatsword, obviously disguising their identities, butwell, there was only so much that could be done. I just hoped the two of us hadnt made enough of an impression in the Gutters to be easily identified.

Yrshith Street sounded like a party, and it had looked like one too when wed passed by the entrance, thronged with customers, little sidewalk stands hawking a variety of portable goods, and scantily clad brothel employees lingering around the entrances of their establishments to hawk very specific goods. The mostly jovial hubbub was audible all the way back where we were now, approaching from the rear. Apparently part of the reason this had become the brothel district was because it was sandwiched between two of the canals which gave the Gutters its name, so every building lining the street had its rear overlooking the waterfront. The grimy, stinking waterfront. There was a narrow walkway behind the brothels, reached by rickety-looking footbridges from the slum district across the canal which didnt appear to have been part of the original architecture, and even a few small boats tied up. There were also blue lamps back here, though smaller ones left as afterthoughts rather than the assertive beacons out front. The Gwyllthean brothels did, it seemed, cater to people who wanted to enter and depart discreetly. Notably there were no women hanging out back here flashing the goods; the establishments which had somebody covering their rear doors had posted sinister-looking men with prominently-displayed weapons.

It was one of these which we approached first. According to my intelligence from Gilder, the Alley Cat was the crown jewel of Cat Alley, such an institution that he didnt know which had been named for the other. It was three stories, taller than most of its competitors, and alone of those in line of sight displayed a blue lamp over its rear entrance as bright as the one on the front door; apparently out front there were no fewer than three strings of paper lanterns leading to its door from across the small square onto which it opened.

A man in a sleeveless vest which left his brawny arms exposed was leaning against the wall next to the door, an akorthist-studded club hanging from his belt, conspicuously cleaning his nails with a dagger way too large for that purpose. He studied the two of us pointedly at our approach, eyes narrowing as he fixed them on Aster and the wrapped greatsword handle protruding over her shoulder, but he apparently found no reason to challenge us, just nodding once as I stepped up to the door.

Opening it let a torrent of sound wash over us. The laughter and shouting I had expected, but what made me hesitate a step was the music. They were singing in there. Clearly not just a paid performer, despite the accompaniment of a guitar, and anyway not everyone participating could carry a tune, but it had to be most of those present joining in song. That wasnt so unusual, except for the complexity of it. This miscellaneous gaggle of hookers and johns were carrying on two distinct melodies in perfect counterpoint, one of which had people singing in dedicated harmony, as well as a baseline of baritone and alto voices keeping the rhythm along with the stomping of feet, and at least three sopranos holding prolonged high notes above the rest. This was not a simple or easy musical form, and the local Gutter trash were handling it with the ease of long practice. Apparently just for fun.

Well, blow me down, there just might be something of value in this godforsaken country after all. I made a mental note to begin learning about Dountol folk music at the earliest opportunity. Even though the current piece on offer was about the sexual exploits of some woman named Sabrit and apparently an entire battalion of enemy soldiers.

Putting that aside, I stepped the rest of the way in, far enough to let Aster enter behind me and pull the door shut, and paused to take stock.

The rear door opened onto a foyer area from which an upward staircase and a hallway branched off; I was just in time to see two pairs of legs vanishing up the former, to the accompaniment of feminine giggling. It opened out into the main floor of the brothel, where a big public room contained tables around most of the floor and seating for couples along the walls, currently crowded with rowdy men and scarcely-dressed young women. There was clearly food and especially drink being served, though from this angle I couldnt see where the kitchen stood.

Positioned right where it had a perfect vantage over the back entry hall and the main floor was a desk area recessed into the wall, with a bead curtain partially concealing it from the front. It was well designed for the occupant to keep an eye on everything at once without being too accessible from the main room, which was additionally a step lower from the hall so that the desk loomed over the public area from behind its fringe of beads.

The woman sitting there regarded Aster and I with a raised eyebrow, drawing in a languid drag from the long-stemmed pipe she was smoking. I couldnt identify the substance being inhaled by its smell, though there was enough of it to form a visible haze near the ceiling. Sweet and subtly spicy, like everything the Fflyr seemed to like. Like the women out front, she was dressed in a distinctive kind of short robe of the style Id seen noblewomen wearing, falling only to the knee and wide open at the neckline, with a length of ribbon wrapped around the waist. Unlike the noblewomen, the prostitutes had nothing on under theirs, showing off a lot of cleavage and leg, and the waistwrap was much wider and encircled their waists only a few times, no doubt for ease of access. This lady, too, appeared to be in her forties, with at least a decade of age on the other women I could see working the floor. Heavy cosmetics around her eyes didnt quite conceal the dark circles underneath. I couldnt see what manner of furniture she was perched upon, but it allowed her to lounge in a languorous position which showed off that she was bustier than seemed average for Fflyr women, and constantly on the perilous edge of spilling out of her overworked neckline.

Well, good evening, stranger, she said in a drawling purr that carried through the singing and stomping from out front, then somewhat spoiled the sultry effect by coughing. Her voice had a deep rasp to it which said shed been at that pipe steadily for quite a few years. The Cat welcomes all sorts. Just so you know, your ladyfriend there is welcome to drink, or to watch if you go to a room, but my girls dont do women. This is a Goddess-fearing establishment, she added with a deeply ironic smirk, followed by another short coughing fit. And while we value your privacy, you will need to show your face before taking any girl to a room. Ill not expect them to touch gobrot or worse.

I stepped up to the desk, Aster shadowing me while the proprietess tried to eye me superciliously through another spell of coughing. So far, about what Id expected. At least the place seemed clean.

Have you ever seen smoked meat being cured? I asked her. My voice was slightly muffled by my mask. Also, it was tricky to breathe through a layer of fabric, more so than Id expected, but really it was just a minor nuisance. Only a feeble-minded wimp would complain of such a trifling imposition after the things Id already been through.

The madame, or so I assumed her to be, smirked voluptuously at me. I wouldnt have thought such a thing was possible, but thats the only way I can think of to describe that expression. Stranger, I have seen more meat than you can imagine.

Because thats the process happening to your lungs right now. You really shouldnt smoke that stuff. Or any stuff.

She took another long, slow drag, and very pointedly blew it in a thin stream of smoke right into my face. Managing, I was impressed to see, to make even that look seductive, though I was too distracted to appreciate the effect by my effort not to give her the satisfaction of coughing.

She coughed, spoiling her own fun, but it didnt stop her from drawling at me, Youre a bold son, to step into a den of mortal pleasures and criticize its owner for her little pet vice.

I am, I replied, holding up a hand. I did not speak, but just formed the word and the spell in my mind.

Heal.

Pink light flared around her. The woman straightened up and suddenly was sharp-eyed and holding a wicked-looking stiletto, which was a lot more impressive than all her seductive posturing because I legitimately couldnt conceive of where shed been keeping it.

Listen here, mister, you dont come into my place and begin flinging magic at

She trailed off, eyes going wide. I saw her hands instinctively twitch and then stop, as she wanted to touch her throat but had a pipe in one hand and a knife in the other. It was an understandable reflex; in the aftermath of the Heal, the woman spoke in a rich alto which sounded to me like that of a trained singer, with no trace at all of the smokers rasp.

The madames shoulders and chest moved as she inhaled slowly and deeply, then breathed out, and back in again, her expression growing more and more shocked as she breathed without difficulty for what I suspected was the first time in years. Her eyes remained fixed on me the whole time; I had deliberately arranged my hood and mask such that my face was in too much shadow for any of my features to be visible, unless someone were to shine a light straight into the hood. The woman stared, though, trying to work out who and what I was as she came to grips with what Id done.

I didnt ask for that, she finally said, her voice curt.

I sucked in a short breath myself, frozen in place. The girl was so badly beaten I honestly couldnt be sure, but she appeared to be no more than a teenager.

Miss Minifrit? the young woman whod been tending to the injured girl asked, her tone full of wariness. Whos this?

Minifrit held out her hand in a limp-wristed gesture that somehow managed to be commanding, silencing the questions. The madame herself was staring at me closely with an analytical expression.

It didnt suit the Healer persona I was trying to put on, but as usual when I was shocked off my equilibrium, I instinctively took refuge in snark.

And did the one who did this suffer for it?

The other womans face crumpled into a scowl and she actually took a step toward me, stopping only at another gesture from Minifrit. The madame herself reacted the opposite way, her expression going drawn and bitter.

I dont suffer my girls to be mistreated, she said in a biting tone. But if the world could ever be so sweet and simple, none of them would have fallen into this life in the first place. Most johns who dared do half of this would leave unconscious, head-first into the canal, and never be welcomed back even if somebody bothered to fish them out still breathing. But, this is the Gutters, and there are people to whom even I cannot afford to say no.

I shifted my cowl to look at her, the fabric obscuring my view of the injured girl. I could still hear her labored breathing; it sounded like she could barely expand her lungs.

People like Lady Gray.

Oh, that one would make a show of sympathy to a working girls life, Minifirt said with a mocking laugh that contained zero humor. Out loud, and meaning not a word of it. Then again, shes no worse than some of the other matrons on this street. Its the men under her whom I have to deal with, the ones using her authority in the knowledge that I cant exactly walk into their mistresss lair and register a complaint. The kind of swine who gets off on doing this to a girl, she gestured with her pipe at the bedridden prostitute, is also exactly the kind who loves nothing more than being able to impose himself where hes not welcome or wanted. Petty little creatures, permanently dissatisfied with their lot in life, and too stupid to cope with it any way other than by making someone elses lot even worse. They area perennial problem.

She turned to face me directly, her stare a challenge.

But to answer your question, healer It is not so simple, or so easy, to deal with such a man. That doesnt mean I cant. Just that it takestime, and some doing.

I didnt bother to answer the implied warning, instead stepping forward to the bedside. Instinct wanted me to put myself anywhere but here, but Id come here for strategic purposes, and found myself compelled to act by something deeper and more important.

Wait, did you say healer? the other girl asked. Can he

Heal.

The flare of pink light cut her off. It was far more intense than usualblinding in the cramped room, such that both women shied back from the bed and I had to shut my eyes against it. Apparently the spell had a lot more work to do than Id ever given it before.

But work it did. With a deep gasp, the young woman sat bolt upright in bed. I immediately shifted my head away at the revelation she had nothing on under that sheet, only seeing enough to verify that every injury had been washed away from her face And that she was, indeed, barely Yoshis age. If that.

My god in heaven. I knew teenage prostitution wasnt anything new; it even happens in modern Japan, though compensated dating in one of the worlds safest, cleanest, and least violent nations isnt even in the same ballpark as what I was seeing here. Every new day brought me another reason to raze Fflyr Dlemathlys to its foundations and salt the earth. Was this how Virya convinced ordinary people from the modern world to embrace the mantle of Dark Lord and start conquering and pillaging? Just dump them in the shittiest place she could find with an overpowered set of magical skills and let nature take its course? Because if that was the plan, as much as I hated her, so help me it was working.

Kastrin, Minifrit said, gliding swiftly to the bedside and pulling the sheet up over the girls chest, to my relief. How do you feel?

IIm Wonderingly, she reached up to touch her own face. Fine? I feelreally good, actually. Miss Minifrit, your voice! Whats happening? Wait, who is this?

Minifrit looked up at me, speculation naked on her features. This is the Blessed who healed you, Kastrin.

And who paid for that? the recently-injured girl demanded.

The price has been paid, I intoned. Miss Minifrit pursed her lips at me, but the other two girls tilted their heads to one side in almost comedic unison.

Butwho are you? Kastrin asked.

A healer.

Minifrit straightened up, keeping one hand protectively upon Kastrins shoulder, now that the girl herself was holding up the sheet.

I still dont know what it is youre actually up to, stranger, the madame said, pointing at me with her pipe. It appeared to have gone out at some point. But if this is what you are willing to do for my girls Nightlady take me, I will risk it.

Good. I just inclined my head once. After what Id just seen I felt sick in a way that went well past the queasiness I felt at the evidence of brutality in this room. But Id come here for a purpose, and it was far too late to back out. Then who is next?