Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (12 page)

Aislan immediately understood. “Oh.” She stared at the sword and the dagger in awe. “They
are
enchanted. Not just anyone can touch them."

When he leaned closer, Aislan thought he would kiss her. Even though she would readily accept his apology for treating her so coldly, it seemed a bit inappropriate to display affection in the middle of a busy street.

"Refrain from talking about sorcery. We need no further attention,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath making her shiver in pleasure. Aislan had expected him to use the opportunity to brush his mouth against her skin, but he pulled away without a smidgeon of affection in his expression, apparently still miffed with her.

They walked nearly a dozen blocks before he stopped in front of a huge, ornate building that rose several stories above them. The walls had colorful paintings of nude, dancing girls.

Aislan dug in her heels.

"We stay here tonight.” Unremitting, Lucien dragged her through the doorway. “'Tis private and much more pleasant."

"Pleasant for you, mayhap.” Customers cluttered the brothel. “Private.
Huh
!” she muttered, wasting her breath in the din of music and laughter.

A stage took up an entire side of the huge room. Six scarcely dressed young girls strutted and swayed in unison on stage, their dress made of something diaphanous that showed their bare breasts and nipples. On first glance, they seemed to be wearing some nude material between their legs in a mild attempt at modesty. Upon closer look, Aislan realized they had shaved as bare as the day they were born. On the floor, young girls served drinks. Dressed in the same manner, most of them sat on men's laps, laughing and talking while they allowed their bottoms to be pinched and their breasts nuzzled.

Aislan could not believe Lucien would consider indulging in such debauchery, especially with her along.

A young girl hurried towards them, who looked at most about twelve. Dressed colorfully, but unlike the other girls, both her top and her bottom were decently covered. Even thought she had smoothed colors over her eyelids, cheeks and lips, she still looked like a very young girl beneath the assortment of vulgar necklaces and bracelets. Aislan was revolted at the thought of a child working in this repulsive place.

"Welcome, milord.” The girl curtsied and glanced at Aislan. “Milady,” she said, then batted her lashes coquettishly at Lucien. How could such a child be so full of guile, or was she not as young as she appeared?

"A room for the night,” Lucien said.

Aislan pulled her wrist free. “Could we not stay at an inn?” she asked petulantly.

He looked her way, his expression aloof. Forsooth, she only asked him to train her. He only had to say no, which he did. With all his power, how selfish of him to become offended at the mere thought of providing training for someone in need. She would receive training eventually with Victania, so why could she not ask him?

"Yes, milord.” The young girl curtsied again. “This way.” She led the way upstairs.

Lucien took Aislan's wrist rather than her hand, as if not to touch her too intimately. He followed the girl, and Aislan had no choice but to come along. On stage, the dancers turned their backs to the audience, flipped up their flimsy gossamer skirts, and bent over. The bare bottoms wiggling at the spectators were a sight Aislan had certainly never imagined she would see.

At the top of the stairs, the girl turned right and walked halfway down the hall before stopping at a door.

"In here, milord, milady.” She pushed the door inwards, and Lucien entered first. Aislan resisted his pull, expecting him to drag her in if he wanted her here. He glanced at her, then simply dropped her wrist and left her standing at the door. Aislan sighed. His infatuation barely had time to scratch the surface, and he stood ready to toss her aside in favor of a plentiful brothel. Aislan had nowhere else to go when it came down to it, not tonight anyway, so she went into the room, stewing.

"Bring a tub for our baths, then our meal,” Lucien said. “Also bring the madam."

The girl straightened in surprise. “Milord, madam is not seeing visitors this evening. Mayhap in the morn...” She stopped when he withdrew an ornate, red coin from his pocket and gave it to her.

The girl turned it over. “Yes, milord.” She curtsied and left, closing the door behind her.

Aislan turned on him immediately. “Why have you brought me to this place? Is this why you captured me, so you can sell me here?"

He looked into her eyes. “Should I?"

She bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “You dare!” But she knew he could if he wanted to.

"Then do not ask such a ludicrous question."

"'Twas not out of the question. You owe me no obligations."

"True. None.” His tone was too calm.

The doors opened and in came a couple of boys. They dragged a huge, oblong tub to one side of the room. A maid came with bathing essentials, and soon followed another boy carrying pails of hot water to fill the tub.

Aislan turned away and went to a chair by the bed to sit, turning her back to everybody. After a while, she began to look around the room. She noticed the bed, an ostentatious affair with drapery all around. The chains and bracelets built into the posts at each corner of the bed caught her attention, and she leaned over for a closer look. Well, she would never! Aislan turned to find Lucien watching her. The servants moved about busily and filled up the tubs.

"Come, Aislan. Take your bath."

"I—I have no need to.” She had bathed in the river several times already the past few days, albeit fully clothed. Those should be plenty enough baths for her.

"Make use of a nice tub filled with hot water. There may be no meal or bath readily available come the morrow."

Turning, she looked at him. “Why not?"

He walked towards her to look out the window. “The walls have ears,” he said in a low voice, then took her by the elbow. “Take your bath now."

She stood beside the tub and looked at the open door, refusing to undress in such a public place where everybody came and went. She also refused to undress in front of Lucien, knowing he was up to no good in this place.

"What is the matter now?” He looked annoyed.

"I need privacy."

"Why? Oh, by the saints, I have already fucked you and seen everything you have to offer."

Aislan hated it when she cried, but hot tears scalded her eyes. She tried not to blink so the tears would not fall. “Why are you so cruel to me?"

"Enough of your wiles!” He looked furious.

Before she could reply, in walked the little girl and a fat, old woman with a heavily rouged face, wearing a gaudy outfit. She appeared exactly as Aislan imagined a madam of a whorehouse would look. Turning away, Aislan quickly wiped her eyes.

"Milord, you summoned me.” The madam curtsied.

"Take your bath. I'll be only a moment,” Lucien told Aislan as he walked away. “Madam, my apologies for the late hour."

"Time is no concern when it comes to milord,” the woman said without inflection, sounding like something she parroted all the time.

"If I could have a moment of privacy.” He walked towards the door.

"Certainly, milord.” The woman paused to look Aislan up and down before she left.

Aislan stood there confounded. Obviously, he had not been in this brothel before. He and the madam showed no recognition of each other. Sighing, she pondered again at his change of heart. He blew hot and cold too unpredictably for her comfort. Aislan still stood there fretting when the little girl from earlier came in with another skimpily dressed older girl.

"She will assist your bath, milady,” the little girl said as she looked at Aislan's filthy clothes with barely concealed distaste. Aislan had never cared to conform to convention. She wore clothes that made it easy for her to run and to climb in and out of windows or up and down trees. After the younger girl had left, the older girl undressed her. Stepping into the tub, Aislan loudly sighed in relief as the hot water covered her. The girl wet her hair.

"Tell me,” Aislan kept her voice low, “what do you use to prevent a babe?"

The girl did not even blink. “Milady wishes for a potion?"

"I do not want to become with child."

The girl nodded. “Have you taken your dose?"

"Not for the past few days."

"Yes, milady, I'll have tea prepared for you."

Aislan looked at the girl gratefully, who smiled and continued to wash her hair.

Madam Isabel poured brandy into a glass and placed it in front of Lucien. “Welcome, milord. Lord Fulfill shall be pleased with your decision."

"Do you know who I am?” He doubted it.

"No, milord, but with Lord Fulfill's coin, you are most welcome. Your will is my command."

Lucien set the matter straight. “I have no interest in being recruited into the Fulfillment. I only seek information."

She gave him a sharp look. “I have no liberty to alter my master's conditions as you see fit, milord. ‘Tis a waste of our time.” She made a move to get up.

"Madam, kindly sit.” Lucien tried again. “Payment is no issue."

"Only invited guests seek information, milord. No one else."

"I doubt everyone who buys information has to become a recruit."

The madam smiled.

In no position to negotiate, Lucien conceded. “Very well."

"I'll provide you with an escort for the trip to Fulfillment."

"I am presently indisposed. I want information first."

The madam stared at him for a moment longer, then got up and went to her desk. Despite her loud appearance, the plush furniture denoted good taste. Two wall-sized paintings dominated the room. Valuable sculptures and vases adorned the various marbled tables. The madam pulled a drawer behind her and extracted a light brown parchment, an inkbottle, and a quill.

"You may compose your question. I'll have your message delivered."

Lucien picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink and wrote on the parchment.

Lady Aislan Temple. Reason for mark?

Madam Isabel looked at his writing. “If you please sign, milord."

Already doomed, yet Lucien hesitated adding an extra nail on the coffin.

"Our first rule: absolute confidentiality,” Madam Isabel said. “We do not blackmail our patrons."

Lucien kept his expression neutral. He could no more trust her than he would walk blithely into a viper's nest. He did not trust the Fulfillment, a secretive, mercenary organization that recruited men who served as moles exchanging information. They had tried to recruit him last year, but Lucien had no interest in betraying the throne or the Sorcery Circle by relaying information to the organization so they could sell or negotiate it.

Apparently, he made a good recruit source, but he was not one of the invited buyers of information. They wanted an equal exchange in kind. Lucien signed the parchment with the full awareness he had just signed his second death warrant. He had to arm Aislan with enough knowledge to defend herself when the time came. He needed a mole. In return, the Fulfillment expected him to reveal treasonous information. If he double-crossed them, they would kill him. They would have to stand in line. Lucien was more concerned about this coming to light with the king. First charge,
Murder
. Second,
Treason
. What he did was tantamount to the traitors he assassinated in the past. Ah, well, he would worry about the consequences when the time came.

The madam looked over the missive before she folded it carefully. “Where shall we deliver?” she asked.

"I'll be at Danier."

She waited, but she should have known better than expecting a specific answer from him.

"I'll find your sister to retrieve the answer,” he offered.

Madam Isabel sighed and pulled from her pocket the Fulfillment coin he had turned over earlier to identify himself. “Very well, you may ask for Madam Mariette."

Lucien took the red coin and stood up to go.

The madam followed him. “Milord, the lady with you."

He stopped and turned.

"She is very beautiful,” the madam continued.

Lucien knew exactly what she wanted, but he toyed with her. “Yes, she is. What about it?"

"Lord Fulfill will like her angelic look. He may be interested in the lovely lady as part of the exchange."

"Not a chance, madam."

"'Twill make a good exchange, mayhap an equal exchange."

The old crone could not be that obtuse, but he had to make it clear in case they decided to abduct Aislan. “The lady is under my protection. I guard her with my life."

"Very well.” She did not pursue the matter.

"One more thing, if you please. We need travel clothes.” He pulled out a thin wad of paper. The Treasury issued larger denomination notes with royal-stamped papers.

Finally, Lucien returned to their chamber to find Aislan in the tub, facing away from him, her head lowered as the maid scrubbed her back. He paused in the doorway to look at her.

It had been an unexpected blow when he realized she had used her body to barter with him, to acquire the training she wanted. He had put his life on the line for her, ready to die like a chivalrous fool to save the damsel in distress. He tended to her sensibility and wooed her like a besotted idiot. All along, she turned out to be a calculated, heartless woman.

He only had himself to blame for placing her on a pedestal while knowing nothing about the real woman. He should not have assumed anything about her. How could he be offended by her motives when she only wanted to survive? She had to do what she had to do.

Lucien walked towards the tub, and both women turned when they heard his footsteps. He stood over both of them and looked down at the divinely naked woman with her wet hair plastered to her shapely head and her skin dewy and pink from the heat of the water. Aislan looked back at him, her indigo eyes cold and disapproving as if he had wronged her somehow. What an impossible wench.

At his nod, the maid took her leave.

Removing his baldric, Lucien set his weapons against the tub, his gaze on Aislan's face. He knew he probably unnerved her by staring at her too much, but he enjoyed looking at her. She did not seem to mind before. Right now, she was angry because he had brought her to a brothel rather than an inn, but he felt no inclination to explain anything to her.