The Fall of Ventaris (11 page)

Duchess had not spent years playing at words with Minette without learning to recognize coy curiosity, and in a strange way she felt more at ease. It was a game she knew. “And now that you’ve gotten your better look, Preceptor?” She could play as well.

He smiled, undeterred. “I withhold judgment.” His eyes measured her. “Indeed, judgment, like forgiveness, comes from the gods.”

“Then I hope Ventaris will forgive me for not introducing myself. They call me — ”

“Duchess. I know.” Before she could ask, he added, “As I approached I heard young Dorian Eusbius say the name, which is indeed unusual. Almost too unusual to be true.”

Duchess watched him warily, wondering if he was simply striking in the dark. “I’ve been called many things,” she replied at last.

“But never overly cautious, I’ll warrant.”

“And why should I be cautious in the Halls of Dawn, Preceptor?”
 

“Your conversations with
two
members of House Eusbius today did not go unnoticed. I would think,” he mused, placing a finger on his cheek, “that someone in your position would be capable of more subtlety.”

Realization stirred. Amabilis might wear a radiant’s whites, but he spoke like one of the Grey. If this wasn’t
fruning,
she was an alley cat.

“Well, I’m still new at this,” she tried, “but I’m always pleased to learn from my elders.” The flicker in his eyes gave him away. He
was
Grey. She’d heard stories of high-hill Rodaasi and even nobles who wore the cloak, but she’d never imagined a radiant might do so. A day for revelations, indeed.

He inclined his head slightly, as in salute. “We who wear the white and gold strive every day to serve the turning of the great wheel, no matter our position. All things have their place in the pattern.”

“All things, Preceptor?” She thought suddenly of the boy with the torch and of Manly Pete and Lysander. “Even someone like Adam Whitehall?” Let him chew on
that
.

If Amabilis was surprised at her audacity, he did not show it. “
Especially
someone like Adam Whitehall.”

“You say that as if you mean it.”

“I
do
mean it.”

She gave him a long look. “And you know what he’s done?”

“Of course. His crimes are what led him to the Halls of Dawn,” Amabilis said with a beatific expression. “I pray for the souls of those poor boys every day. But they are gone, and we are here.” He tilted his head. “There was a time when men made tools of iron, torn crudely from the earth and roughly shaped. Iron is brittle and black, but when exposed to fire the ore dries, the impurities removed, and in the end is turned to steel, stronger and more flexible. Forged and tempered into something better.” He looked down at her, eyes unreadable. “Ventaris is fire, child, and Adam Whitehall iron ore. Thus good might be made of bad, if one has but the will and the hands to shape it.”

She thought of Lysander, and how easily it might have been him in place of Pete. She stepped away from Amabilis, towards the Godswalk, her head full and her stomach sour. She didn’t know what the preceptor wanted, but she’d had her fill for the day. “Then I leave you to your work. I wish you luck with Adam Whitehall.”

“No fear, child.” Amabilis watched her with his strange eyes. “He has his uses. As do we all.”

Chapter Six: Worth the candle

When word came from Minette to meet her keeper, Duchess thought she was ready. She could not have been more wrong.

The Vermillion was busy, and the wide crimson parlor full of Minette’s ladies and their clients. She saw none of Minette’s boys, but that was not unusual. The Vermillion catered to men from up and down the hill, and commoners interested in diversions of that sort generally desired privacy. Lysander’s clients, on the other hand, were generally better born if not aristocratic, and less concerned about those proprieties. Not for the first time, she wondered why an act that was acceptable for the nobles was forbidden for the lowborn. None of the Vermillion’s males were as beautiful as Lysander, of course, although there was one Domae boy who was apparently a favorite. Minette was an equal-opportunity employer, and hired Rodaasi, Domae and Ahé alike. “Some men like a single dish, and others like a taste of this and a nibble of that,” Minette had once told Duchess. “So I stock all flavors.”

Daphne was not to be seen – no doubt busy upstairs with the priest – and for once the tall, blonde Lorelai had no time to spare, which was fine with Duchess, who was too nervous for idle gossip. She took a seat in a corner and watched the Vermillion’s ladies charm the men the evening had brought, almost like fisherman winkling the day’s catch from the harbor. She rarely stopped by the brothel in the evenings, when business was brisk, but she thought her plain tunic and leggings were enough to discourage anyone from mistaking her for the help. Watching the women entice the men, with a loaded glance or the subtle swing of a hip, Duchess felt a pang. Was this what men wanted from women? Sly seduction? She’d known few men, and only Lysander intimately, but he scarcely counted. There was that locksmith’s apprentice in the alley behind Noam’s bakery — she’d long since forgotten his name — but she hadn’t exactly seduced him. He’d wanted to put his hands under her shirt and she had let him. If she’d played the coy temptress, would he have come back for more? And was that what she’d been doing with Dorian Eusbius? He’d certainly seemed intrigued by her. It was sad to think that in Rodaas love was nothing more than another game, and yet it encouraged her to think that she might one day play it well enough to win.

But she had other business this day, and other games to play. She waited as long as she could stand before moving toward the stairs to the second floor. A huge woman with a cloud of flaming red hair stood guard there, nearly as wide as she was tall. Adele was stronger than any woman and most men, and when she was not on duty at the Vermillion she made extra money arm-wrestling sailors at the
Harsh Mistress
. She’d rarely been defeated. One of those sailors, humiliated at being bested by a woman, attacked Adele outside, claiming he was searching for the cock he was sure she had. Adele replied that if he were looking for a cock she’d gladly tear off his own and send him away with it in hand. The gentleman in question had promptly decided he was not that curious, and whether or not it was true the tale ensured that visitors to the Vermillion behaved themselves beneath Adele’s watchful eye. Duchess had no cock to risk, but she trod carefully around Adele all the same.

“Umm...Minette said, that I — ”

“Yeah, she told me,” Adele replied, in a voice as large as she was. “Go on up, sweetie.”

Upstairs, Daphne, dark and hair-tousled, was just closing a door on the left, belting a white silk robe around her. She was all rounded curves where Duchess was right angles, but the girl never seemed to hold that against her. She smiled and waved Duchess forward. “This one never falls asleep after,” she whispered, “so he’s awake and alert. A little
too
alert, if you ask me, and trying to get something for nothing.” She patted Duchess’ hand. “Good luck.” Then she was gone in a swirl of scented silk. Duchess never understood how mere moments after leaving a client Daphne never smelled like sex and sour sweat. A trade secret, she supposed.

Duchess knocked at the door, waited a moment, and then entered. In contrast to the red parlor downstairs, everything in the room was white and green. Embroidered green drapes were pulled sensibly across the windows, and woven green mats graced the gleaming wooden floor. The massive bed was outfitted with snowy blankets, although the sheets were a deep green. To hide stains, Duchess guessed with a flicker of amusement. The room smelled of sweet herbs, but under it Duchess detected the odor of sweat and sex Daphne had lacked. A lantern on the mantle threw soft light into the room. A large, round man, clad in rumpled keeper’s robes, stood at a small table near a wall-hung mirror, washing from a white basin trimmed in green. He turned when she entered, his hood pulled back to reveal black hair, speckled here and there with gray. He had slight crinkles about his eyes, which were as deep a green as the sheets. She guessed he’d hardly seen forty summers, and could not help but be impressed that at so young an age he’d risen to the post of First Keeper.

“What’s this?” he said in a voice thick with amusement. “Something free at the Vermillion?” He crossed to the bed. “I never dreamed I’d see the day. You’re no Daphne, it’s true, but you’ll do. I’m a bit exhausted, my dear, but if you’ll slip off those boy-clothes I’ll do my best to rise to the occasion.”

Duchess stared for a moment, unused to lechery from a priest. “Are you Jadis? Minette sent me up...to talk.”

Jadis laughed richly. “Now
that’s
a mystery. Most folk would rather pleasure a keeper than speak with one. Poor things: don’t know they’re living, don’t know they’re dead.” He sat on the bed and slapped his knee. “Have a seat, my precious, and we’ll speak of whatever you like.”

Duchess coughed delicately, then crossed the room and carefully sat on an overstuffed green chair across from him. Jadis’ smile widened but he said nothing, leaving her to cast about for how to begin. “They call me Duchess.” Jadis raised an eyebrow and bowed politely from the waist without rising from his seat. Duchess pressed her lips together. “I understand that you are the kind of man who...knows how to make a deal.”

Jadis leaned forward, hands on knees. “That’s what living is all about. So you like to drive a hard bargain, is that it? And here I thought Minette might have sent me a duchess for nothing. I happen to be fond of strong women, however, so let me find my coin purse and we’ll begin.” He patted around his robes with plump fingers.

“Not
that
kind of deal,” she replied, nettled. “I want...that is, they say that the keepers of Mayu know everything there is to know about potions and remedies and...other concoctions.”

He continued searching for his money as if he were barely paying attention. “You hear correctly, my dear, no surprise given those sweet little ears. Shall I nibble one as we talk?” She bit back her rejoinder, wondering if this sexual banter might not be a sly attempt to goad her into saying more than she should. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “In the stories keepers can make someone seem dead even when he’s quite healthy.”

Jadis left off his search and measured her with his eyes. “Many things grow in the Gardens of Mayu,” he said at last, his leers and laughter suddenly vanished. “But some of them are dangerous to the ignorant, and they’re all carefully accounted for. Mayu has granted us great honor in setting us over Her bounty, you see, and we tend it carefully.”

Now she was getting through. “Which is why I have come to you.”
 

He leaned back on the bed. “We keepers are thorough, but from time to time a bit of this or that goes missing from the alchemery. But replacing such a thing is costly.” His grin returned. “Have you coin, or do you plan to pay in trade?”

He never quit. “Oh, gold isn’t a problem,” she said more casually than she felt. She had a number of florin left from Noam’s gift and the sale of the baron’s stolen crest and twenty more from Antony, but would it be enough? “But don’t name your price just yet. I need one other thing to go missing. A corpse.”

He sat up. “And the mystery deepens. Now
this
is interesting. And precisely who is about to die?”

It was her turn to smile. “A prisoner, one in Sheriff Takkis’ care, I believe.”

“Ah yes...the incorruptible leader of the Saints.” Jadis laid a finger beside his nose, all innocence. “Does this prisoner have a name?”

Duchess pretended to examine her nails. “Names are dangerous, don’t you think? Suffice to say the man has no family to mourn him...or at least none that can be mentioned.” The gleam in his eye showed he knew the prisoner to whom she was so obliquely referring. A clever man, which could be either good or bad, depending. “Which would mean that if — when — he dies, there will be no one to pay for his funeral. Unless I am mistaken, such a case would then involve the keepers, yes?”

“The faithful of Mayu inter all the unmourned in paupers’ graves beyond the city walls. So, yes, what you ask would involve both a keeper as well as a bit of discretion. Both can be arranged...for the right price.” He seemed to consider her for a moment. “Perhaps gold is not what is needed here...a word with your principle, I think should suffice.”

Her principle? With a shock she realized that Jadis suspected she was a cat’s-paw, hardly surprising in this city of felines. Lysander’s tale had made it clear that Pollux’s dalliance was an embarrassment to the imperial court, which would be happy to see the situation cleanly and quietly resolved. If Jadis presumed she moved at the behest of a power in court she was not about to disabuse him. With luck, he’d be less likely to play her false. She hesitated, her mind working quickly. “Done: a word to the hand that moves me.” She moved herself, after all, so she was not exactly lying.

He clapped his hands together. “Done! I presume you expect this unfortunate to die soon. After all, so
many
things can happen to a man in prison.”

She nodded. “I think he’ll expire in just a few days, assuming you can provide this...substance.”

He stood, straightening his robe. “Tomorrow evening should be sufficient, I think, but not here.” He crossed to the mirror and checked his reflection. “Red walls sometimes hide prying eyes.”

He’d certainly read Minette well enough. Duchess had little doubt the cagey madam had ways of learning every secret whispered in the Vermillion. She might be listening even now. “We’ve already given Minette an earful,” Duchess pointed out. “I can’t imagine that anything else we might say would do much harm.”

“Perhaps no harm to
you
, my sweet, but I do not share your unvarnished faith in the mistress of the Vermillion.” He ran pudgy fingers through his hair until he was satisfied all was well, then turned from the mirror. “We’ll meet in Bell Plaza at sundown, I think, and there we shall...move to the next stage of our relationship.”