BloodLust (Rise of the Iliri Book 1) (20 page)

"The bay, Blaec, I promise."

"I just saw the dun go down, pinning you beneath it.  A guard cuts your throat..."  He blinked and looked at the sky.  "Sal, I can't let you do this."

"You already said it'd be fine, so long as I don't take the dun.  I swear to you, dearest, I will walk before I climb on any dun."  She slid from her saddle, ducked under Scorch's, neck, and moved to Blaec's stirrup. 

The Lieutenant dropped beside her, wrapping his arms around her.  "I saw you try to call my name while you bled out, and I saw myself kiss your hand when we found your body."  He buried her head into his chest.

"But the bay is fast?  You said the bay is fast."

"Yeah, I saw you on the bay, racing for the top of a hill.  Fuck, I know what hill that is, too."  He sucked in a breath. "I need a map!  If you can make the hill, Zep's there with a squad of infantry.  They'll hold off the guards and you can make it back.  You'll have something... I don't know what, but you'll have something we need."

He bent and kissed her, then looked in her eyes for too long, something still worrying him, before turning back to his horse with the thought unspoken.  Sal ducked back under her own mare and swung into the saddle easily.  Blaec was already moving toward the men before she found her stirrups and nudged Arden forward.  She caught the tail end of the conversation.

"Ok, I'll have someone meet you at the edge of the camp where we need to set up," Blaec said before he turned his horse and raced off toward the army encampment, Arctic on his heels.

Sal fell into line again while Shift and Razor led them at a sedate walk toward the camp.

They went to find a map,
Shift told her. 
LT said it's important.  What's with the dun?

If I take the dun, Blaec said I'll die.  That's all,
Sal sent back calmly.

Oh!  Damn, girl, then don't take the dun.

I know.  Swore to him I'll walk before I ride a dun, now.

Shift chuckled.  "Risk, remember to tell Tilso no duns for Sal or LT will fire him."

The men laughed.  It had a hint of nervousness to it, but even Sal felt the tension ease.

Chapter 24

Sal pulled the clean, but well-worn, clothes onto her new form.  "I need a name and a reason to be in the Chancery."

Blaec nodded.  "That we have.  You're Arisha Jocose, the daughter of the washer woman.  She took ill recently – the washer woman that is – and we bribed her with medicines to get you in.  Her husband served the Conglomerate but was lost in the first battle.  She does have a daughter, but the real Arisha has been living in Prin with an aunt for a decade.  She started telling people that her girl would come visit since she's ill, so it'll be no surprise when you show up."

"Can I meet her?  Does she know why I'm here?" Sal asked.

"You will, and all she knows is that we need you to get inside the building any way possible.  You sure you're ok with this, Sal?"

"Arisha, and yes.  I'm sure."

"Ok."  He turned to the door.  "Let me introduce you to your mother, then." 
I'm sorry, but I can't touch you like that.  You might as well be any normal human the way you look.

That's a good thing, Blaec.  If you don't recognize me, then no one else will either.  Make it up to me later.

I will, I promise.

She followed him through the tent flap and into a small pavilion a few rows down.  Ducking inside, she found herself next to an elderly woman.

"Pardon me," she said.

The old lady looked up, her rheumy eyes a pale shade of green that had been vibrant in its youth.  "She'll do," the woman said to LT when he entered behind her.  "She looks enough like me at her age, no-un'll doubt she's mine."

"Good," Sal said.  "So what shall I call you?"

"Risha allus called me Mam.  I'm Mrs. Jyor Jocose, though.  Round here, they just call me Vina, if they call me anythin' atall."

"Ok, Mam.  Tell me about myself.  What do I like, what have I done?"

As the old woman told stories of her daughter, Sal couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.  Most likely the real Arisha was selling her body or dead by now.  Prin was a hard place for a girl this age. 

She sent a thought to Zep.  W
hat's the going price for a whore in Prin?

High class or Guttertown?
he sent back.

Both.  And where would a washer woman's daughter, living with her aunt, end up? 

She could go either way.  Guttertown gets about twenty-five pents and is measured in two hour sessions.  High class whores in Prin can get up to a krit a night.  They also have courtesans, but they only serve the elite and start out at ten krits.

Ok, Zep, where would a girl like this one likely be?  Blonde with green eyes, if that matters.

Hard to say.  Humans can have blonde hair, but it's usually considered an iliran thing.  Mostly depends on the shade, really.  Tan or yellow?

Yellow,
Sal replied.

So, an iliri mutt.  That'd put her in Guttertown.  If she doesn't have the accent, she might do a fair trade in the working class areas regardless of her coloring.  If her teeth are dull?  Yeah, she'd make plenty.  Lot of well bred men want to see what your kind can do.  Why?  You're thinking something, aren't ya?

Yep,
she told him.
  Don't tell Blaec, but I have a feeling a whore is much more interesting than a washer woman's daughter.  Considering the Chancellor is known to have a fondness for young blondes?  I just need to know how to play it.

I can help you with that,
Zep thought smugly. 
Grab me when you're done.  I'll give you a burning of some memories – and only of the good ones I've been with.

Thanks, I think
.

While she chatted with Zep, Blaec had been asking the old woman questions about her daily routine and explaining what they needed.  Mrs. Jocose was adamant that no one could get into the Chancery.  The only people allowed past the servants' area were those invited – or detained.  From Blaec's questions, it was obvious he was trying to play it safe.  Not that it mattered.  The Chancellor was a paranoid and private man.  Sal wasn't going to be able to just walk in.  She had to be invited.  That meant she needed to get the Chancellor's attention, and the Lieutenant wouldn't like it. 

Excusing herself, Sal left Blaec to explain their plan to the woman.  She headed straight to Zep.  In less than fifty meters, a young soldier stepped into her path.

"How much, miss?" he asked.

Sal-as-Risha smiled at him coyly.  "Forty pents for a ride, sixty for the night." 

The youth reached into his pocket, checking his money by feel.

"Get lost, kid," Zep said, striding up behind him.  Sal had to smother a laugh when the soldier blanched and nodded.

"Sorry, sir."  He gulped.  "I didn't know she was spoken for."

"Get yer ass over here, wench."  Zep grabbed her by her arm and hauled her around the corner. 
Nice,
he thought. 
You're a natural at this.  Did I mention I have sixty pents for a blonde?

Keep dreaming, Zep.

Ok, figured I'd try before you see this.  Hang on. 

He pushed his memories to her.  Unlike the bright flames Blaec had shared with her, Zep's hit like a sledge hammer.  They burned brightly in her mind, but gave off only light – no heat.  When Sal focused on the glow, faces of girls passed across her mind.  Each one was involved in a sexual act with "her," since the perspective seemed to be from Zep's eyes.  Also, they were all iliran crossbreds. 

The impact of the images made her stagger.  Zep didn't have the mental skill to compartmentalize his memories like those with iliran ancestry.  Instead of a stream of consciousness, the jumble of partial thoughts made her feel almost dizzy.  As her knees went weak, he grabbed her and held her against his massive chest until she sighed.

Sorry, kid,
he said.
I warned you it'd be rough.

Just the packaging was,
she replied, patting him to show she could stand on her own. 
And by the way, nice tattoo. 

She'd caught a few glimpses of a tattoo on the inside of his hip, a place where few would see it.  It was hard to make out, but looked like an intricate swirl.  The ink was silver.  From the taste of his memories, she knew it signified something important.

Yeah, thanks.
  His black skin turned a deeper shade. 
Just, get what you need from that and meet me on that hill, ok?

Ok, big boy,
she teased, leaving him standing between the tents, blushing.

Chapter 25

It was late afternoon before "Mam" turned the cart toward the Chancery.  Sal had been collecting filthy clothing and piles of unwashed bedding then returning baskets of clean linens for hours.  Her shoulders burned in a way that sword work never caused.  The weight of the baskets made her soft hands red and raw, causing a new appreciation for the work civilians did each day.  It'd been years since Sal had done this type of thing and sworn she would rise above it.  When she was conscripted, she never thought she'd miss the calluses.  She could just add a few to her body, but it wouldn't help her image any. Sighing, she leaned against the cart.

"Mam?  How much more of this do we have?"

"Enough," the old woman told her.

"How much is enough?"  She let a whine creep into her voice, surprised at how easy it was.

"We still gotta get them linens to the Chancery, then take alla this back ta the house.  If we get done early 'nough, ya can spend a few hours in town.  I know ya ain't use ta it, Rish.  It'll come in no time, though."

A groan fell out when she pulled herself away from the cart.  "K," was all she said. 

She turned and leaned into its weight, the heavy burden rolling slowly forward.  She'd already propositioned a few young men – one from the Chancery – for later that evening.  The guy smelled interested, and Sal hoped word would get back to the Chancellor.  When they rolled to the servant's entrance, she noticed the guards.  If Blaec's vision was right, she should find herself the center of attention soon. 

At Mam's direction, she carried in the first basket of clean linens, flashing a coquettish smile at the guard inside the door.  After placing the basket in the storage room, she adjusted her bodice, showing more cleavage, and got a dirty look from one of the serving women.  Sal sniffed at the prude and shoved her chest out as she retraced her steps. 

The guard looked at her openly this time.  Again, she smiled at him.  He bobbed a nod, casting a glance at the women in the room before smiling back.  Outside, she grabbed another basket from the wagon and rolled her eyes when "Mam" shooed her back toward the building.  This time, two different guards waited next to the door.  A glance over her shoulder placed the first across the room, directing women toward her.

"Ms. Jocose?" he asked, and she nodded.  "Please leave that with these women and come with us."

"I need ta finish helpin' Mam."  She put on her best accent as she glanced from one to the other.

"Your mam will be just fine.  She's been doing this long enough to know her way round.  The Chancellor wants a word with you."

"K, lemme just tell her?"  She tried to play her part, but was unwilling to miss the chance. 

When she turned to the door, the nearest man grabbed her arm.  "Look, ya lil' slut.  Come with us nicely or we'll drag you, got it?" 

Sal nodded, keeping her eyes wide.  She could take these men, but fought the instinct to pull free.  Instead, she looked at a girl close to her. 

"Tell my mam," she called, feigning panic.  "Tell my mam the guards are taking me!" 

The girl skittered out the door, and Sal could see her running to "Mam" and the washing cart.  At least now the old woman would be able to get word back to the Blades that she was inside. 

The guards pulled her along the halls, up two flights of stairs, and into an ornate room.  The walls were carved with scenes of animals she'd never seen, walking through a forest of trees she didn't recognize.  In the center of the room, they released her suddenly, causing her to collapse onto the floor.  Pushing her golden curls back from her face, Sal saw a man in deep purple walk toward her from the dais. 

She made to rise and he spoke.  "Uh uh, my little one.  You'd do best to stay down there where you belong."

She looked to the stony faces of the guards while the man in purple made a lap around her.  Stopping directly in front of her, he waited a long time before he asked, "Who are you, child?"

"Risha, I mean, Arisha Jocose, if it please you, sir," she stammered.

He smiled.  "And do you know who I am?"

"No, sir."

"Good," he purred.  "You've been trying to sell yourself in town all day.  Sixty pents, I hear?"  While she stared at him wide eyed, he flicked two paper bills at her.  "I'll pay you two krits for the night.  You will not ask for names and you will not scream, do you understand me, Ms. Jocose?"

She nodded.

"Go ahead, pick those up, child."  He pointed at the money before gesturing to someone out of sight.  A pair of women entered and curtsied to him.  The man continued, "Clean her up and take her to the suite by sundown."  Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

When the carved door closed behind him, the older of the women said, "Come on, girl, we have to get you presentable.  Up to yer feet now."  Sal nodded and stood, noticing the guards still watched over them.  The older woman just huffed under her breath.  "Follow us, girl, and I'll only be havin' one of you come to help.  The rest of you can get your kicks somewheres else."

The younger woman reached out and grabbed Sal's wrist, pulling her along.  The first guard stepped in behind them, getting foul looks from the men who'd dragged her up the stairs. 

Sal followed her new jailers out of the room and up another flight of stairs, mentally mapping her path through the large building.  The elder woman paused at a plain door before opening it, then ushered them through.  Inside was a large, stone bathing chamber.  Kettles of hot water sat steaming beside the tub.

"Make yourself useful, Harn, and pour the hot water in.  Kasa, get the soap," the woman ordered, and both the younger woman and the guard obeyed.  "Now you – Risha did you say?"

"Yes'm."

"Risha, the Chancellor demands that his women are clean before he'll touch them, so start scrubbing.  If you don't do it well enough, I'll make Harn hold you while I scrub."

"Was that the Chancellor?" Sal asked, stepping out of her rags without embarrassment.

"No, that's the Viceroy.  You'll meet the Chancellor later.  And scrub harder."

Sal put effort into cleaning herself, but when Kasa reached for her discarded clothing, she paused.  "Hey!  What are you doing?"

"I'm just putting your clothes up to be cleaned," the younger woman said, confused.

"My krits's in there!"  Sal made to stand in the tub.

"Kasa, just leave it," the older woman ordered.

"Yes, Marna.  I'll just set it here for you," the girl said, placing the pile of clothes in Sal's sight.

"Thank you.  That's enough to get Mam's meds."  Those words elicited the first sign of emotion from the older woman.

"Is that why you're doing this, girl?"

"Yes'm.  If Mam don't get some meds, she won't make it through the winter.  Her cough's gotten bad.  I came back to try an' get her ta move, but Mam's staying.  Said Da died here, she plans to be buried next to him.  I don't know how to make much money, but the men say I'm pretty enough, and they pay well enough."  Her accent wasn't perfect but the story was close enough to the truth, and Sal figured that a little sympathy might be all she needed to get someone to look the other way. 

Marna patted her wet shoulder and gestured for her to continue scrubbing.  Sal complied.  After the third time, the women allowed her out of the bath, wrapping her in soft towels.  Harn leaned against the wall, his eyes following her without embarrassment.  For all of his youth, he was the only real soldier she'd seen so far.  Where there was one, there were usually others, Sal reminded herself, quoting Cyno's wisdom.

The women dressed her in fine satins and brocades, clothing a girl like Arisha would never have experienced.  Unlike the evening attire worn by soldiers, this was demure and covered most of her body.  The gown reached to the floor, hugging her hips too tightly.  The bodice, called a karakou, was sewn into the dress.  Rather than lacing, it had bone hooks.

Sal would be infiltrating the Chancellor without any weapons.  Shift carried an arsenal with him tonight, Cyno only needed a single blade, and Arctic would be using the jakentron, firing small poison filled needles.  Only Sal had the skills to get into the Chancery, and only if she entered without any obvious supplies.  She'd planned her clothing wisely.  The laces were made of strong fibers and would work as a garrote.  A few pins tucked into the hem were typical for a washer woman.  Hers were long enough to pierce the brain through either an eye or the ear.  Now, she stood dressed in clothing not her own. 

She looked it over for lethality.  The satin was strong enough, but too thick to be easily used.  The lack of laces made her wonder if the dress had been planned to be useless as a weapon.  While the women dried and styled her hair, Sal's heart sank.  They were going to leave it loose, not even giving her hair pins for potential weapons.  At least Cyno had trained her extensively on making the most of what was around – or using her own body to kill if she had no other options.  Silently, she thanked the hard man for the hours he'd spent forcing her to prove she could best him with nothing more than her bare hands and teeth.

When the women declared her suitable, she was allowed out of the chair.  A nod from Harn, and she followed him from the bathing chamber, through yet more halls.  Marna trailed them placidly.  Pink and violet light trickled through the window, signaling the day was nearly over.  Her heart beat faster.  She took a deep breath to slow it, but the older woman heard.

"Nervous?" Marna asked.

"Yes'm.  I'm terrified.  I've never worn clothes like this before, and I don't know what a fancy gentleman will expect of me."

"You'll do fine, child, I'm sure of that."  She gestured to a bed chamber.  "The Chancellor will be with you shortly, Risha."

Sal stepped in and looked around the room, hearing the door close behind her.  She couldn't decide if she was terrified or pleased to see the decor.  Ancient torture devices adorned every surface.  It was a veritable arsenal.  Knowing Arisha would have been scared to tears, she tried to call a few to her eyes. 

The walls were lined with manacles.  Screws and masks were set along the counters like prized sculpture.  The deep purples of the room only made the aged items seem that much more ominous.  Touching one, Sal felt actual metal, an item so rare it made sense that they had a place of pride in the room.  Military Command would definitely want to know about this.  When the door opened behind her, she jerked her hand away as though burned.

"Do you like what you see?"  The man's voice sounded bored. 

"I don't know, sir," she said weakly.  "It looks like a jail, or such."

"It does, doesn't it."  He proudly walked around the room, glancing at the items as if on stage.  This man was everything humans wanted to be.  "What's your name, girl?"

"Arisha, sir."

"Arisha, come here."

She resisted the urge to walk right up to him, knowing he wanted to make her afraid.  An ordinary girl would be terrified of a wealthy man like this.  Sal ducked her head as she slowly shuffled closer.  When he touched her shoulder, she trembled and wiped away the tears that should have come to her eyes.  His aged hand turned her chin up to his face, and he looked at her for a long moment.  His teeth were nearly perfect and his skin was almost as dark as Zep's.  Black eyes stared deep into hers.  She darted her glance from one eye to the next, biting her lower lip while the inspection continued.

"You'll suffice.  Have you ever been with a man before?" 

Sal nodded, hoping that was the answer he wanted. 

"Good.  I want you to do exactly as I tell you.  If you please me enough, I will double your pay for the night." 

She nodded again.  He wasn't a bad looking man, probably in his forties, maybe as old as fifty, but his body had never seen the hardships that were common among the poor. 

Casting a glance to the window behind him, dark sky allowed the light to reflect on the glass.  Night had just set.  In less than an hour, Zep and a squad of men would be waiting for her.  She was right on schedule, but needed the Chancellor to be off guard before she incapacitated him, otherwise he might call out and bring guards into the room.  Sal stepped toward him, trying to find a balance between terrified and seductive.