Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, 5) Page 17

  “You are right, though. I am not going to kill you.” Shanti slowly put away her blade. “But I am going to strip you of everything you hold dear. And no, I am not so stupid as to think you care for anything that breathes.”

  She glanced at Sonson. “Do as we planned. Take their money, clothes, and horses. Tie them up and put them in the farmer’s house. I imagine he’ll come back before we leave. If not…maybe he never will. We’ll just have to hope he can read.”

  “Why is that?” Sonson asked.

  She frowned at him. “Because we’re going to leave a note.” Shanti ran her hand along the horse to quiet him before looking over the coach. At the opened door, she saw the lush leather seats and the dead Inkna in the corner. At the back, she fingered the locked trunk before tracing along its seams. “Let’s see what’s in this.”

  “What are you thinking?” Kallon asked.

  “Besides the wealth in this carriage that will be distributed to the poor people in this land?” She grinned, standing back and looking at the carriage again. “This is an entry ticket right to the highest officer of this city. The question is, how can we best use it to our advantage?”

  “Wait!” Ruisa yanked on Maggie’s arm and dragged her to the ground. Crouching behind three barrels outside an inn, she retrieved the map from the pouch tied around her neck. “We need to get our bearings.”

  Maggie, breathing heavily from exertion, hunkered down beside Ruisa.

  “Alena’s not an idiot,” Ruisa said, tapping the rear gate. “She’ll know to head there.”

  “She’s never been in a big city before. She’ll probably get lost.”

  “You haven’t either. What makes you better than her?”

  “I’m with you.” Maggie wiped her hair off her forehead. “But you’re right. There’s nothing for it now. There’s no way we’re going to figure out which way she ran.”

  “Bloody Inkna,” Ruisa murmured, looking over the barrel at the back door of the inn. A small engraved wooden sign read, Honey Beaver. “Oh ew, this isn’t an inn. It’s a brothel.”

  Maggie pushed up to glance at the sign before leaning toward her and the map. “We’ll probably run into the boys if we stay here…”

  Ruisa snorted despite the situation. “Probably not Xavier. He has no trouble getting girls. Leilius, though…” She paused to take a deep breath “Okay, I think we should stick to the sidelines. We don’t want anyone recognizing us.”

  “Or raping us.”

  “Trying to, anyway. I don’t know where we could hide dead bodies.” Ruisa slid her finger over the paper, tracing out a few options. When she found one that might work, she folded the map in half to just show the section she needed to work with, then put it away. Next she took out a mixing vial and a couple of other bottles. “What do you think we should do? Poison the food, or…?”

  Maggie looked inside the pouch and checked Ruisa’s stores. She tapped on a clear bottle with a green top. “Just put them to sleep. We need to get hold of some alcohol.”

  “The guards will probably have alcohol.”

  “I doubt the Graygual would let that sort of behavior fly. Not in this kind of place. There is a lot of money tied up here.”

  Ruisa rolled her eyes. “You think the Captain lets that sort of behavior fly? But what will you find in most crow’s nests, hmm? A drop of whisky, that’s what.”

  Maggie tilted her head in acknowledgement. “So now we just need better clothes.”

  “Or nudity…” Ruisa opened her neckline down to her cleavage and then let the garment hang off her shoulder.

  “You’re a virgin, I take it,” Maggie said dryly. “Men aren’t going to want to drink alcohol if you’re offering sex right from the get-go.”

  “Well…that’s our whole plan, I thought…”

  “We need to party first.” Maggie drummed on the barrel. Then she leaned forward and bumped her forehead against it. “Looks like a brothel might be right up our alley.”

  Ruisa’s stomach flip-flopped. She sighed. “Men never have to resort to this kind of thing.”

  “Or we could see if we can snatch something from a clothesline. Or steal from a shop. That was my original plan.”

  “I wish that had been an inn.” Ruisa put away her map. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can trade for something.”

  “Why not just buy it?”

  “I don’t know that flashing money around while wearing rags is really the best approach in our situation.” Ruisa stood and moved out from behind the barrel.

  “Now I know what Alena was talking about,” Maggie whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  “She’s the oldest of the Honor Guard, but feels like the youngest half the time. You guys are savvier than the normal army men. They just follow orders and try to stick pointy things in people. You guys…have more skills.”

  “And we’re in danger constantly. That’s S’am for you.”

  Maggie was silent for a moment as they walked around the building. Then she said, “I wonder if they’ll take a transfer…”

  A cart trundled by, hauled by two horses with clearly defined ribs. Passersby hurried along, rarely looking anywhere but directly in front of them. A woman on the opposite side of the street had her child’s hand firmly in her own, hitching up her skirt for speed. Based on her appearance, she was somewhere within the middle class, with enough money to eat and dress herself, but without extravagance. Still she hustled along, clearly not wanting to be out on the street.

  “It’s late afternoon,” Ruisa muttered, aware of the bright splotches of sunlight in between the elongated shadows. “I’d understand why people would want to get home after dark in a busy city, but while it’s still bright? Doesn’t make sense.”

  Maggie shook her head slowly, a troubled expression on her face. “We had a curfew when the Hunter ruled our city. Maybe that.”

  “Did that stop you from looking at each other, though?”

  “Mostly, yes. But that was because we didn’t want to give anything away. These people might be strangers. It’s a huge place.”

  Butterflies fluttered through Ruisa’s stomach. “Maybe. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Careful to hunch like Leilius would, Ruisa skulked down the sidewalk toward the entrance of the brothel.

  “I don’t know that women walk like that,” Maggie whispered.

  “I’m acting poor.”

  “You look like you’re saddlesore. Girls like you wouldn’t have a horse, which means you’ve been riding something else all night…”

  “For an unmarried woman, you sure have a lot of knowledge about this stuff.” Ruisa looked back with a quirked eyebrow.

  Maggie shrugged. “A girl has needs.”

  Heat rushed to Ruisa’s cheeks as a grin pulled her lips. She shrugged and looked up at the sign. Then the busy street in what looked like a well-kept part of the city. She frowned. “Maybe this is an inn.”

  “They need a name change if it is.” Maggie ran her finger in a decorative groove in the door. “Sure is nice for a brothel, though. Not that I have a lot of experience…”

  In a sudden panic, Ruisa patted herself and looked around her feet. “Crap, what did we do with our sacks?”

  Guilt passed over Maggie’s expression. She looked back the way they had come. “I have no idea. I forgot about it. Should I go check by the barrels?”

  “We are terrible at this.” Ruisa blew her bangs up in irritation, trying to remember if they’d even had the sacks when they were at the barrels. A man passed, keeping his eyes on the ground. “If this turns out to be an inn, we’ll go back. If it’s a brothel, I doubt they’d want it anyway. C’mon, I think we need to hurry.”

  Ruisa pushed open the door and was greeted with a lovely floral scent. A wide staircase curled around from the entrance with a finely turned wood banister. Just off the entryway stood what looked like a parlor, decked out in velvet chairs mostly occupied by lounging ladies wearing skimpy clothing or extravagant nightgowns revea
ling everything from nipples to their lady wares. One woman sat completely naked, scratching a small board across her manicured nails.

  “Brothel,” Ruisa said.

  Stiffer than a man with a hard-on, Ruisa continued forward to a tall, round table bearing a pink feather in a glass vase. A moment later a stocky woman with a pronounced bust sauntered through the doorway on the right. Her gaze swept Ruisa and then Maggie before shooting to the entryway beyond them. She stopped at the table and leaned a pudgy elbow against the surface.

  The woman said something that Ruisa couldn’t comprehend. She shook her head. “Do you speak the trades?”

  “We all full up. We don’t need no more girls,” the woman said with a bored expression.

  Ruisa’s face started to burn. “We were just wondering if you would maybe trade for our clothes?” She plucked at her rags.

  The woman’s brow creased.

  “I paid,” Maggie said in the most hacked-up rendition of the language possible. It was all too clear that she’d just started to learn it.

  “She said we can pay.” Ruisa prevented herself from tapping her sack of coins. That jingle would send the wrong message.

  The woman’s gaze slid over Ruisa’s body, pausing on her arms and resting on her hands. “Where you from?”

  Ruisa fisted her hands. The woman’s gaze flashed to her eyes, and then to Maggie, giving her the same scrutiny.

  “We don’t want a job,” Ruisa rushed to say, feeling the urge to cover up her body. “Just clothes.”

  “You once a pretty girl. What happened to you face, eh?” The woman leaned toward Maggie.

  Behind them the door opened with a gust of foul-smelling air. Ruisa hadn’t noticed that the city smelled so bad until she’d stepped inside this parlor. A man stalked in with a stained shirt and dirty boots. His grizzled face held a sneer and his lustful stare was directed toward the parlor.

  “You wait here, eh?” The woman walked around the table with a sway to her hips that denoted her trade. She spoke and caught the man’s attention.

  “I wonder if she sizes everyone up like that,” Ruisa said, not sure if the stare had made her uncomfortable, or just added to how the establishment was making her feel.

  The man stared into the parlor where giggling and sultry voices drifted out. He then glanced toward Maggie and Ruisa, surveying them.

  “This was a bad idea,” Ruisa muttered.

  He jerked his chin in their direction, followed by a point at Ruisa. Lust sparked in his eyes as he asked something that sounded like a question.

  The woman glanced back, shook her head, and then placed a hand on his arm, trying to steer him toward the workingwomen. He shrugged her off, stalking toward Ruisa with fire burning in his gaze.

  Cold tingles spread down her skin as that slimy gaze oozed over her body. Her hand jerked toward the sheathed knife hidden in her bosom. She half hoped the boys would burst in, because this felt more like an attack than anything she’d experienced before.

  He stopped too close to her, his size dominating her small frame. His eyes dipped to her bust. He licked his lips and said something that seemed to be directed to the hostess.

  “He thinks you new, eh?” the woman said, moving to his side. “You virgin?”

  “I’m not here for that,” Ruisa said through a tight throat. “I just want something else to wear. I can pay. I don’t need money.”

  “He make big offer,” the woman persisted with a fist on her hip. Her eyes flashed, but not out of greed. “You pretty girl and pure. He want you bad.”

  “What are they saying?” Maggie asked.

  “He wants to buy me.” A weight had settled on Ruisa’s chest as the man continued to survey her body. He spoke again.

  “He just raised offer. He probably be gentle. He might make offer to save you for just him. That big money, girl. That big dream.” The woman shifted again. The glimmer in her eyes said she was having fun.

  Ruisa’s body tightened up as a strange kind of fear worked through her. “Please tell him to go away.”

  “You need to stay strong, Ruisa,” Maggie muttered. “Harden up. You look vulnerable. This kind of guy is going to thrive on that.”

  As if he heard Maggie’s comment, the man grabbed Ruisa’s arm and yanked her toward him. His breath, a mixture of stale alcohol and vomit, coated her face. She gagged and panicked, struggling against that strong grip and the hardness pressing through his pants and into her stomach.

  The woman made a comment to the man. He smirked, and then jerked Ruisa’s arm as he turned. His grip tightened as he pulled her toward the staircase.

  “I said no!” Ruisa yelled out, tears coming to her eyes.

  “Do you want me to kill him or are you going to do it?” Maggie asked, following. “Say the word, Ruisa.”

  “No one miss that man,” the woman said, stepping to the side to watch the progression. “No one be looking for him.”

  The man shoved Ruisa toward the stairs as the woman’s words soaked into her. Gritting her teeth, fighting a fear like she’d never known, she ripped out her knife and spun, sinking it into the side of his fat neck.

  The woman rushed forward, yelling. She reached the door and threw the bolt, locking it. Women of all nudity levels rushed out of the parlor.

  “Leave in the knife!” the woman called as she dragged a piece of black material from the parlor.

  Ruisa paused in shock of what she had done without meaning to, before jerking her hand. The knife came out just a little, but slid back in, following the woman’s commands.

  Maggie stood in the center of the hallway with a knife in each hand, her eyes on fire. She was ready to kill anyone who came at her.

  The man gurgled as his knees gave away.

  “Grab him!” the woman called.

  Two women rushed up, one to each side, and directed his convulsing body toward the black fabric now spread out in the entryway. He hit the ground face first as the gurgles died away. Red seeped from the wound and pooled, a glimmering, deep red.

  “Sloppy. Now we have to strain our backs.” The woman rolled her eyes and waved her finger at a few of the girls. “You know what to do.”

  A woman with exposed breasts sighed expressively, showing with her whole body how annoyed she was, before slipping out of her silk garment. The others stripped too, revealing well-maintained hair around their lady bits. Working together, they heaved the man up while two other girls pulled on the black fabric, moving it until just his boots were off the fabric.

  The handle on the door jiggled.

  “Hurry up, girls!” the woman said.

  Maggie jumped out of the way as a barrel rolled out of a back room. A girl wearing a sheer red negligee followed behind, directing it to the entryway. Once there, she popped off the top and turned it, maneuvering the opening toward the man. “He’s not going to fit.”

  The woman put her hands on her hips as the door jiggled again. Someone knocked.

  “Quick, get him in the back. We might need to cut something off.” The woman got down on her knees and cut the fabric. She flipped the roll, tightening the loose fabric, then pushed it to the side. Two of the women grabbed it and dragged it back into the parlor. Two more women grabbed the man, each taking a hand, and tugged toward Maggie. She jumped out of the way in bewilderment. A thick line of blood followed the progress of the body as it disappeared from sight.

  A harder knock sounded at the door.

  “Let’s go, ladies!” the woman clapped as a woman with a mop splashed water down. Two other women spread what looked like oil on their bare skin. As the mopper was moving out of the way, the two women stepped into the entryway and embraced.

  “What the hell is happening?” Maggie asked with a slack jaw.

  The mopper ducked out of sight, leaving behind her a floor slick with red-tinted water. As other women knelt with towels and rags, the lips of the two women in the middle met. One of their tongues came out, then the next, and they engaged in the raunchiest for
m of kissing Ruisa had ever seen.

  The head woman opened the door, out of breath. Two men waited there, their faces painted with impatience. The woman said something in an apologetic tone, and then swept her hand toward the kissing women. As if on cue, one of them slid the palm of her hand over the breast of the other, and then on down, over her stomach and dipping in.

  Ruisa’s face started burning again. In a trance, she watched fingers dip in, and then start to pump in and out. The other woman gyrated her hips and moaned as their kissing became more impassioned.

  The men’s faces went slack before they walked into the room on uncertain legs. They didn’t notice the blood-tinged puddles on the floor, nor the smear of red on the head woman’s face, nor even that a few of the girls were wiping themselves down and getting dressed. They only had eyes for the show of female flesh going on in front of them.

  The head woman spoke again. The kissers stopped what they were doing and grabbed hands. Ruisa ducked out of the way, allowing the women to lead the men up the stairs.

  “I am way too naive for any of this,” Ruisa admitted, feeling heat where she probably shouldn’t.

  “Me too, and I’m not naive.” Maggie wiped her forehead.

  “Come with me, you two.” The head woman stepped around the standing water and through the rear door.

  The dead man lay next to a tub, bleeding onto the thick fabric. Around him, stacked neatly against the back wall, were other barrels. A worktable crouched in front of those, with paper spread over it in messy stacks.

  The woman led them around the body to a table and chairs. She barked orders to a scantily clad woman, then reached down and snatched the knife from the man’s neck. Without so much as a grimace, she settled her girth into one of the chairs and tossed the dripping knife onto the table. “Who are you, eh? And no lie to me. I cannot help you if I get lies.”

  Ruisa looked at Maggie. “She wants to know who we are. She said she can’t help if we lie.”