"If that is what you truly want, then you have only to tell me, and it will be arranged," said Rogerian, doing his best not to be downcast. "But before you enter on such a course, speak to the women whose trade it is— so you will not trade one prison for another."
"I will, and I will heed what I am told," she promised him. "But I will also ask you to find me a house, a good one, not far from the waterfront, where sailing men might be willing to go. I must find a place to begin."
"Talk to the women first, I beg you," Rogerian said again. "You may have hit upon the means to have the life you want, but you have not had to endure that life." If only Olivia were here in Alexandria, he thought, he could take Avasa Dani to her. "You say you know how these women live; be certain you do."
"If you deem it necessary, then bring a few of them to me, and I will speak with them." She lifted her head. "If you will not, then I must seek them out for myself."
"I will bring a few such women to you," said Rogerian, capitulating. "All I ask is that you listen closely to what they tell you."
"I will do," she said, and pointed to the window. "Will you give that fellow some money so he will go away? His singing is
terrible."
"It is," Rogerian agreed. "All right." He started out of the reception room, then paused. "It may take me a night or two to find women who will speak to you."
"That is acceptable," said Avasa Dani.
"Do you want them separately or severally?" Rogerian asked; he wondered how he was going to convince pleasure-women to speak with Avasa Dani.
"Perhaps two or three together, and four groups or more," she said, so quickly that Rogerian knew she had made up her mind about it already.
"Not tonight, but tomorrow night I will find the first for you: tonight I must inquire about houses," he said, and went to bribe the tenor. He did not see her again until toward the end of the night, when he found her in the gallery over the garden.
Avasa Dani made a gesture of greeting. "You have something to tell me?"
"I have," he said. "I have been about the city, as you requested, and I have information to impart to you." He had taken his tone from hers and was rewarded with a crisp nod. "There are three parts of the city where houses of assignation may be found. There are a number near the waterfront and they cater to sailing men; these houses are rough and they are often closed by the magistrates of the city, and the women branded and their noses cut off."
"You are not saying this to discourage me, are you?" Avasa Dani asked, unable to keep from wincing.
"No. I am telling you what I have found out." He let her think this over. "There is a second area where such houses flourish, near the customs houses, between the Greek and Italian quarters. Most of the men who go there are merchants and other travelers. Those houses offer more than the ones at the wharves— they have singers and dancers and they provide meals and other pleasures than the use of women." He paused again. "Most of the keepers of those houses pay regular bribes and so are left alone by the magistrates most of the time."
"They pay bribes, you say?" Avasa Dani tapped her fingers on the gallery rail. "How much?"
"I did not find out. I suspect it changes from time to time, depending on the success of the house and the demand for such houses." He waited a long moment again, then said, "The third sort of house is found in quiet parts of the city, in gracious houses with all the appearance of wealth that are appropriate to the streets where they are located. These houses are the most discreet because they are the most luxurious and perverse. Some entertain only men desiring men, some are established for those who want children, some for those who want pain, some for those who want several lovers at once, some for those who wish to watch performances of all manner of lewdness." He shrugged. "Most of these houses have been established for a very long time. They demand high prices, but they also pay enormous bribes, and they do not tolerate competition."
"So you are saying— and none too subtly— that I might do best looking for a house of the second order: one for merchants, where there are bribes paid but not ruinous ones, and the men who frequent them may be relied upon to have unexceptional tastes." She waited for his answer.
"It would seem that you would have the opportunity you seek with the least risks in such an establishment, yes," said Rogerian. "Many of those houses thrive for years and years."
She nodded. "I see."
"If you want to look at the streets, I will have you carried there in a palanquin, to view them for yourself." He coughed delicately. "I will also take you to the other sorts of houses, so you may compare them, if you like."
"Let us go early in the day, at first light," she said, looking up at the sky. "Not tonight, tomorrow, when I have had time to think." She made a gesture, dismissing him.
"You will see that I have reported accurately," he said.
"I do not doubt it, but I want to see for myself," she replied.
"Tomorrow night, then, I will bring two or three women to you, and when they are gone you can see the houses," he said as he withdrew.
Avasa Dani wished him a good night, then rose and went to her quarters where she sat down before the carved chest she had brought with her from Delhi. She opened the drawer which contained the
records of her husband's visits during his pilgrimage, wondering where he might be now: had he escaped Timur-i? Was he still alive? Was any part of him Nararavi still, or had he become completely a pilgrim with only enlightenment in his thoughts? Would he ever return to Delhi? Sighing, she put the register back without unrolling it. By tomorrow night, her first steps would be taken into a life she could only imagine. Would he be angry with her decision to become the owner of a house of assignation, or would he simply consider her caught in the toils of the world, and deserving pity? Would he ever know what she was doing, or would he consider her lost? She frowned. If she was caught up in the world, was it not Nararavi's fault? Had he remained at Delhi, had he continued to be a husband to her, she would never have left. "And I would still be in Dehli, and I would be truly dead, not undead as I am, in Alexandria." It was a strangely comforting thought to hold in her mind as she sought out her bed that was set atop a chest of her native earth.
Rogerian was as good as his Word: shortly after sundown the next evening, he met Avasa Dani in the reception room. "I have three women with me, one from each of the houses we discussed."
Avasa Dani was nervous. "Will I need you to translate for me?"
"You may," said Rogerian. "You may not."
"Then stay when you bring them in." She took a seat on a low divan. "You may present them."
Rogerian went out into the broad hall and signaled to the three women sitting there. "The foreign lady will see you now," he said, and stood aside for the three to enter the reception room, bowing to them European style to show his respect. Following after them, he closed the door against any prying eyes the household servants might have; they were disapproving enough without knowing what Avasa Dani wanted from the women. "This is Nitsa, Gelya, and Vardis. They are your guests." He turned. "This lady is Avasa Dani." He stepped back, leaving the four women to study one another.
Nitsa was dark-haired and pale-skinned with hazel eyes, perhaps twenty-five, slender to the point of skinniness; she moved provocatively in her Greek clothing. Gelya was the oldest of the three— at least thirty— with hard lines in her heart-shaped face and white in her light-brown hair, and there was a brand on her shoulder; she was in
Alexandrian dress but wore no veil. Vardis looked to be little more than thirteen or fourteen, with a cloud of curly dark hair, deep-olive skin, and kohl-lined eyes the color of soot; she wore silks the color of persimmons and the coins dangling from her belt were gold. The three women chose not to sit together, preferring to occupy piles of cushions apart from each other; they faced Avasa Dani expectantly and with varying degrees of wariness.
"Welcome to this house," said Avasa Dani. "If you would like food or drink, I shall have it brought to you."
The women exchanged uneasy glances, and Gelya said, "We are hungry and thirsty. If you have wine, we would welcome it." She stared at Avasa Dani, then directed her gaze to Rogerian. "Which of you will see to our wants?"
"We have wine," said Rogerian. "I will order a meal brought to you at once." With that, he went to the door and clapped for Kardal, the steward. "Wine and food for our guests, if you please."
Kardal took a deep breath. "It is not well to have such women in this house, Friend-of-my-Master."
"They are our guests. Do not dishonor our master by refusing hospitality," said Rogerian.
"But women like that—" Kardal broke off. "Very well. I will bring the food myself. None of the others will."
"And for that you will be thanked and given a token of appreciation," said Rogerian. "You may tell the rest that I will remember how they have behaved."
Kardal lowered his eyes. "You must not blame them, Friend-of-my-Master."
"But I do. And Saint-Germanius will do so as well, when he returns." He remained in the doorway while Kardal withdrew, then went back to a carved rosewood chair behind Avasa Dani. "Wine and food will be brought shortly."
"Thank you," said Avasa Dani. "My guests will be grateful for it." She leaned forward, resting one arm on the rolled bolster at one end of the divan. "You have been paid for your time here, have you not?"
"We have," said Gelya for them all, a jaded smile on her lips. "I have pleasured women before, but I do not know if—"
"I have not," said Nitsa. "I have spent most of my life learning to pleasure men."
"Surely you have occasionally done other things?" Vardis said. "You may have had to pleasure more than one man, or a man and a woman?" Her smile was beatific but it did not reach her eyes.
"I have not had to," said Nitsa.
"Then this will be your chance to learn something new," said Gelya, smiling at Avasa Dani.
Avasa Dani held up her hand. "I did not ask you to come here for my pleasure but to find out about your work and your lives."
Gelya laughed outright. "Saints bless us, why? Why should you want to know about us? You have a good life and you want for nothing; you live well here, and you are not accustomed to doing what we do, little as you think you are."
"You are partially right: I want to know because you have experience of a way of life unfamiliar to me," said Avasa Dani, unperturbed by the derision she sensed in the women before her. "I am eager to know about the way in which you conduct your business."
"Why?" Gelya demanded. "So you can keep your husband from coming to us instead of staying at home?"
"No," said Avasa Dani. "Because if I am to establish a house of assignation there is much I must know; I rely on you to teach me."
The three women exchanged glances and laughed, Gelya the most openly, Vardis behind her hand. "You must be joking," Gelya said. "Why would you do this? What makes you believe you can manage such an establishment?"
There was a tap on the door; Rogerian went to answer it, and came back with a tray holding three cups and two jars of Italian wine. He set this down on a brass-topped table and poured out measures for the three women, carrying the tray to each of them.
"I will not know how to answer until you tell me what you know," said Avasa Dani.
"This smells very good," said Vardis, and took a deep sip; the others followed her example.
"You do not join us?" Gelya asked sharply as she put her cup down.
"No; I do not drink wine." Avasa Dani met her direct gaze. "I paid you to inform me. I would like value for my money. Surely you understand that."
"None better," said Gelya. She had more wine.
"Why would you want to establish a house of assignation?" Vardis asked, tasting her wine with practiced delicacy.
Avasa Dani smiled again. "I do not know that I do want to: I am hoping you will give me enough information that I may make up my mind."
"Keeping a house of assignation— any house of assignation— is a costly business," said Nitsa. "This is very good wine."
"I supposed it might be," said Avasa Dani. "But how is it costly? How much must be paid? And for what?"
"Well, any house needs women," said Gelya, "or boys, or both. They must be kept, and fed, and housed, and clothed. Then there is the house. It must be staffed and kept up. There are greedy officials who demand a portion of your earnings, and they must be paid promptly and in full or the house is closed and everyone suffers."
"I see," said Avasa Dani. "In fact, it is much like any other business. Except that it is not, is it? You, Gelya: tell me about how you practice your trade."
Gelya spat. "On my back."
The other two laughed, and Nitsa remarked, "The men you serve must not be very imaginative if you are only on your back."
