Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (49 page)

The young woman nodded.

“Mungo is pretty upset,” Cordelia said as
she walked over to join them on the bed. “He says he’s going to
charge them extra, and that he won’t let them come here again.
Wealthy bastards.”

“He’s said that before about others,”
Brynlee said, “but he lets them come back anyway.”

“Oh, Emma, Mungo wants you downstairs,”
Cordelia said. “Sorry, I almost forgot.”

“What does he want?”

“How should I know? By the way, are you all
right?”

Brynlee decided not to answer. She knew
Cordelia didn’t really care.

She stripped off her stained dress and
slipped into a robe. She hurried down to the common room, not
because she was eager to get there, but she knew what the
consequences would be if Mungo caught her dawdling.

The brothel owner stood next to the hearth
in a bright orange robe. He and Mistress Rose were engaged in a
tense looking discussion.

“I’ll understand if you don’t want her,”
Mungo said, running a hand through what little hair he had on his
head.

“How bad is she?” Rose asked.

“She will be unable to work for at least a
month.”

Rose thought for a moment. “If it’s true
that Korah speaks two languages, can read, and is as refined as you
say the time lost will be of little consequence. I’ll get my
money’s worth out of her soon.”

Mungo noticed Brynlee standing at the
entrance to the common room. “Ah, there she is. My bright,
beautiful little Emma.” His smile dropped when he noticed her pale
face and red eyes. “What’s wrong, my lovely?”

Rose cleared her throat. “This little
charmer became a woman tonight.”

Mungo didn’t seem to know what that meant at
first. His brows lifted when it dawned on him. “Ah. Right. The
blood on the floor. Be sure to clean that up, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was hoping you might consider trading
this one as well,” Rose said, gesturing toward Brynlee who shivered
at the woman’s words.

Mungo looked taken aback. “Oh, she is far
too young.”

“But exceedingly smart,” Rose said. “Surely
you know what a high price a well learned whore can generate in
this town. Some men like a girl who can hold a conversation without
sounding like an imbecile. Little Emma here put on quite an
impressive show for us tonight. With a little more refinement she
could be earning three times what most girls her age make.”

Rubbing his chin as he thought, Mungo paced
away from the hearth. “What is your offer?”

“I’ll take her and the young woman. Korah
won’t need as much training. I could begin working her as soon as
this winter. After one year, I’ll return her to you, and you’ll
have yourself a top earner skilled enough to draw in clients with
deep pockets.”

“Korah is already a top earner.”

“Ah, but when you get her back from me
she’ll be the best girl in the whole city, one of the best in the
realm. Men will come from every kingdom to have a taste. I’ll waive
my usual fee if you promise to allow Korah to work for me on a
regular basis.” Rose looked at Brynlee. “And as for this one, I’ll
take her under my wing until she comes of age. Then there will be
two top girls in Perth.”

“You’ll want to work her after you finish
training her, I assume,” Mungo said.

“Of course, as soon as she’s ready. I would
say you’ll have her back in about three years.”

Mungo shook his head. “I can’t be without
her for that long. My regulars look forward to seeing her. The girl
has charm, and she’s a good worker. She lends a touch of class to
my establishment.”

“Indeed.” Rose took a deep breath as she
thought. “Very well. I’ll take her, train her, and return her to
you, but I’ll consider her on loan to you for three years after
that. She will be mine to call upon as needed, and I’ll expect a
percentage of her earnings while she’s here.”

Brynlee looked from Mungo to Rose, then back
again. She didn’t like what was being discussed. Words of protest
were on the tip of her tongue, but she knew it was pointless to
speak them. She was Mungo’s property, and she’d face punishment if
she did anything less than what he commanded.

“Agreed,” Mungo said.

Rose smiled, her eyes crinkling, revealing
her age. “Wonderful!” Turning to Brynlee, she added, “Run along
Emma and pack your things. We leave tonight.”

Brynlee was too stunned to move.
“Leave?”

“You’re going to stay with Mistress Rose for
a while,” Mungo said. “You should be honored. She trains the most
elite courtesans in the known world.”

“Only pack a few necessities,” Rose said.
“I’ll have a whole new wardrobe for you in a few days.”

Brynlee remained rooted to the floor. As
much as she hated to admit it, the brothel had become her home and
she didn’t want to leave. She thought of her friends, Maidie and
Vika. Would she ever see them again? Did she have time to say
goodbye? They were all that she remembered of her old life in—

She jumped when Mistress Rose banged her
hands together, sending a piercing smack through the air. “Move
your feet, child!”

With great reluctance, Brynlee returned to
the second floor, walked down the east hallway, and went to her
room. She felt like she was in a daze, trapped in a dream that she
couldn’t wake up from.

In a small travel bag, she packed a few
articles of clothing, along with some perfume and makeup, a hand
mirror, a hairbrush, and a few books.

In the hallway, she met Korah limping from
her room with a small leather bag. Brynlee’s heart melted in pity
at the sight of her. She took the young woman’s bag and helped her
down the stairs. She wondered if the clients who visited Rose’s
brothel were any better than the cheap ruffians who frequented
Mungo’s. She wished more of the charges that came through the doors
were like Sir Dunmore Waters. He was a true gentlemen, she
thought.

“Are you all right?” Brynlee asked, as they
descended the stairs.

Korah put her arm around Brynlee. “That’s
what I should be asking you,” she answered.

“My stomach hurts.”

“You’ll feel well enough soon, love.” Korah
gave her shoulders a squeeze.

A carriage was waiting for them in the
market plaza. They climbed in to find Rose sitting in the dim
interior, back straight, nose up, the pristine image of exorbitant
wealth and faux nobility.

Night hid much of the mistress’ abode from
view, but the following morning’s golden sunrise revealed an
extravagant mansion in the middle of the city. Large black and
white tiled floors covered the first level. Reddish brown walls
stretched up into endless sequences of carved mahogany that lined
the ceilings and corners. Every window, doorway, hearth, picture
frame, and mirror was ornamented with rich brown wood. Everything
smelled of sweet perfumes. The rooms were smaller than what Brynlee
was used to, but where Mungo’s brothel was designed for
entertainment and orgies, Rose’s place was built for intimate
encounters between a whore and her charge.

Brynlee found a large spread of fresh fruits
on the breakfast table, but she wasn’t hungry. Her stomach was too
busy churning from the future she imagined living in Rose’s house
of sensual curiosities.

“It’s very different, isn’t it?” Korah said.
She was at the wardrobe putting her clothes in place. “Nice though,
don’t you think?”

Brynlee was amazed at Korah’s optimistic
naivety. For a woman who had spent a good portion of her life lost,
alone, and abused, she often seemed determined to make the most of
it.

“Mungo hated small spaces,” Korah continued.
“He liked the rooms open so that clients could watch if that’s all
they wanted to do, but here I sense… I don’t know. I think it will
be nicer here.”

Korah’s face still looked awful from the
beating she’d received the night before.

Before midday a knock sounded on the
doorjamb and a wide-eyed blonde with bouncy curls pranced into the
room. She looked about fifteen, and wore a slim dress with a deep
v-neck and a slit up the skirt that almost reached her hip. “Are
you ready?” she chirped. “Today’s the big day… oh my.” Her hand
went to her mouth at the sight of Korah. “Are you all right,
love?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, well, um, my name is Tavia. I’m
supposed to help the two of you get ready to meet Rose for a picnic
with Sir Dunmore Waters.”

“Sir Dunmore?” Brynlee said, unable to deny
the spike of curiosity that prickled within her.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” Tavia said, her crisp
blue eyes sparkling. “Such a legendary knight, he is. Sleighed a
dragon in his youth, they say, and tore the head off a giant. A
giant! Can you imagine?”

Tavia wore on her sleeve what Brynlee felt
in her heart: an eagerness and excitement at hearing more of Sir
Dunmore’s thrilling adventures.

Brynlee and Korah spent the rest of their
morning with Tavia, trying on various outfits and hairstyles,
speculating about what Mistress Rose had in store for them.

Tavia was a wonder when it came to working
with hair. Using a heated metal rod she curled the ends of
Brynlee’s straight locks giving them a jaunty bounce on the end.
Tavia then added a blue ribbon to the back of her head to match her
yellow and blue dress. She sprinkled her with scented oil, making
Brynlee feel prettier than she had felt in a long time.

Rose’s brothel was situated on a prominent
corner in a bigger section of town, fronted by a circular plaza of
stone and granite pillars that joined four major streets. The three
girls drew a good number of stares from nearby men as they walked
around behind the building and up an exterior stairway to the roof
atop the fifth floor. There lay a spacious garden of green ferns,
stone statues, and delicate wooden furniture warm under the
afternoon sun. Shading the rooftop garden was a dark brown
latticework wreathed in vines and flowers breathing sweet perfume
into the air.

Mistress Rose was seated at a square wooden
table across from Sir Dunmore. The pair of them looked like rulers
sitting atop a small kingdom waiting for their servants to
arrive.

“Wonderful,” Rose said, noticing the
girls.

Sir Dunmore stood and dipped his head to the
ladies. Brynlee thought he looked handsome in his formal
attire—black pants and blue velvet tunic. There was something
different in his eyes though, Brynlee noticed. Something
hungry.

Rose beckoned the girls to her with a wave
of her fingers. “Today’s exercise is quite simple,” she began. “Sir
Dunmore and I are old friends who have not seen each other in many
years. We wish to talk for as long as we can stand one another, and
we do not wish to be disturbed, but, tragically, as you can see on
our empty table, we have no refreshments. The most refined women
can serve without being a distraction. So, come ladies, serve
us.”

Without paying the girls any further notice,
Rose returned to her conversation with Sir Dunmore, a dull
discussion that could’ve put anyone to sleep about a plot of land
on the hills north of Perth.

Tavia seemed to deflate while Korah looked
confused.

Brynlee noticed the rich arrangement of
foods under the shade to the left. She walked over and examined the
spread, making mental notes of the various utensils, jams, butters,
breads, fruits, leafy greens, cakes, and drinks that filled the
table.

Korah appeared at her side and began
preparing a plate.

“No,” Brynlee whispered. “Drinks first. The
tea cup.” She pointed to a white cup overturned on a small white
saucer. Korah grabbed the cup, and Brynlee took one of the
pitcher’s from which she could smell a steaming brew of lemon and
honey.

As quickly as she could Brynlee dished out
the various foods and drinks while Korah and Tavia delivered them
to the table.

The etiquette of serving food was a cultural
staple on Edhen, a process filled with intricacies, longstanding
customs, and important details. Food spoke volumes to the feelings
the host had for his or her guests, as did the manner in which it
was served.

Tavia was about to walk away with a plate of
cakes when Brynlee caught her by the sleeve. “Wait.” She removed
the spoon from the tray. “Wrong one. This is the proper serving
spoon for cakes.” She slipped a large utensil under one of the
pastries, a flat spoon with a forked lip, meant to ply apart the
often-sticky surfaces of sugary treats.

“How do you know so much about this?” the
young woman asked, looking distressed and overwhelmed.

Brynlee hesitated, just long enough to stop
herself from telling the truth. “Uh, my family worked in a
castle.”

As Tavia returned to the table Brynlee went
about preparing the next stage of the meal when she heard the
clumsy tripping of feet and the scraping of wood, followed by the
cringe worthy shatter of glass against stone. When she whipped
around she saw a horrified Tavia standing over the plate of cakes,
which had spilled all over the floor and Sir Dunmore’s lap.

“For–forgive me, my lord,” Tavia said. She
dropped to her knees and began cleaning up the mess.

As displeased as Sir Dunmore looked it was
nothing compared to the expression of rage on the face of Mistress
Rose. She slid her chair back and stood.

“Tavia, come here.”

The girl jumped up and ran to Rose. “Yes,
Mist—”

Her head snapped to the side as Rose’s hand
breezed by her face.

“How dare you?” the woman growled. “Not only
have you ruined a very good serving dish, but you’ve ruined our
food, and you’ve interrupted our conversation, and you have
humiliated my guest. What is wrong with you, girl?”

Tavia was quivering, her cheeks red, and not
just from Rose’s disciplinary slap.

Rose reached under the table and withdrew a
stiff leather whip with a curled loop on the end.