Chapter Twenty-one
To my surprise, the location of Williams’s home was in the Upper Eastern Quad. It was a good enough area in High Scape, home to midlevel merchants and minor politicians. It was not, however, where I would expect someone as successful as Williams to live. Though perhaps it was an unreasonable assumption, on my part, to think a man who owned bordellos would live in the same area as a merchant as successful as Fines.
The house was nice enough, large, made of a decent wood, with a lot of windows. It was hidden from the road with trees and hedges. The driveway didn’t take us to the front of the house, as most driveways did, but instead curved around to the back. We didn’t exit the carriage right away, unsure as to whether being delivered to the back of the house wasn’t a mistake.
“Are you getting out or what?” a voice demanded from above us. The carriage driver, sounding irritable. So we left the carriage, which was jolted into movement as soon as we cleared it.
Not getting paid for services could certainly put people in a sour mood.
The door in the back of the house opened and a young man stepped out, smiling in greeting. He was extremely handsome, slim with a strong jaw, golden blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was dressed in blue, a strange style of clothing that was loose in cut but of a material that seemed to cling to his very attractive form.
“Source Karish? Shield Mallorough?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth. He probably had a gorgeous singing voice.
“Yes,” Taro answered.
“My name is Akira,” he said. “Please come in. The others are waiting.”
He gestured at the back door. We were actually expected to enter the house through the back door. Had anyone asked me whether I’d be offended to enter a residence through the back, I would have said no, of course not, I wasn’t so petty as to be disturbed by such things. But I was. I was ashamed of myself. It was ridiculous. Yet to be asked to enter through the back was bizarre.
I was surprised, upon stepping through the door, to be greeted by a huge foyer, with a grand staircase curving up to the second floor. To my knowledge, the back entrances to residences were usually small and utilitarian, as guests never saw them. There seemed to be a lot of furniture scattered about, lots of comfortable-looking chairs and settees. There were chaise lounges, which I could never recall seeing in the public areas of a residence before. And up against the wall, was that a stage? What would anyone want with a stage in their home?
Akira relieved us of our wraps and, shockingly enough, our footwear. While I had been required to remove my footwear while indoors on Flatwell, it had never stopped feeling unnatural and I’d never heard of anyone doing it anywhere else. For a moment, I wondered if Akira was playing a game with us, but then he removed his own footwear. So I guessed it was just a weird custom of the house.
It was odd to see a grown man in a formal situation with bare feet. He had nice feet.
I did not have a great deal of familiarity with private homes. I wasn’t sure whether there were rules as to how a house should be organized. But something about the huge space, with the furniture that merely lined the walls and created no conversation areas, struck me as unhomelike.
The smell of perfume was overwhelming. And if I found it so, poor Taro had to be almost gagging.
We were taken to the largest and strangest dining room I’d ever seen. The table with its chairs was set up on one side of the room, by the windows, which were covered by heavy drapes. The other half of the room was left virtually empty except for more chairs and settees and chaise lounges pushed against the wall.
The other guests were identical to those when we had dined at Fines’s, and again, there were no spouses or other partners. Williams was serving drinks, as there were no servants in the room. “How strange you should arrive at just this time,” Fines said once Taro and I were settled. “We were just wondering what our dear Prince Gifford has been doing to show his authority over the Triple S.”
I felt that question came out of nowhere, and I was a little confused by it. I looked to Taro, who grinned. “Our beloved monarch is causing some difficulty, is he?”
Gamut snorted. “It has been suggested to my theater manager that it might be in the best interests of the community if our program were examined by some government agent before being performed for the public.”
“I thought that was happening already,” I said. “Some plays are outlawed.”
“Aye, and I agree with some of their choices. Some pieces are nothing but excrement from curtain rise to curtain fall, with no technical merit whatsoever. What the Prince seems to be proposing now is different. Everything we would seek to put onstage would first need the approval of the Emperor’s agent, and that is insulting. To us and the audience. Not to mention tiresome, unnecessary and expensive.”
“Why would it be expensive?” I asked.
“We’d need to give the agent coin to get the plays approved, of course.”
I frowned. “Surely the agent would be paid by the government, not private citizens.”
Healer Cree managed to convey, with her placid expression and unfathomable eyes, her belief that I was an idiot. “He is speaking of bribes, Dunleavy.”
“Bribes,” I echoed, because sometimes I was an idiot.
“One needs bribes to encourage government agents to act in one’s favor.”
“You mean you need to give extra coin to get these people to do their jobs?” I demanded, appalled. Sometimes I really just didn’t want to learn anything more about people. Or the world. It was so often disappointing.
Gamut chuckled. “She’s so cute.”
I was not cute.
“She has no reason to know such things, Dean,” Ahmad chided him before she addressed me. “Whenever the services of a government agent are needed, it is expected that the agent will receive a gift. That is the way things are done.”
“And this is legal?”
“Oh, no. Quite the opposite. But there would be no point in attempting to fight it. After all, the only people to report it to are other government agents.”
“Everyone’s in on it,” Williams added. “Including anyone who enforces the laws. The Runners. The judges.”
“Not the Runners,” I objected. Not Risa. Nothing could make me believe that she required bribes to do her job. She was an honorable person.
“How about you, Grace?” Fines asked. “Has the Crown Prince pulled any of his stunts with you?”
There was a curious tone to his voice, and something seemed forced about the question. I felt I was missing something.
Ahmad snorted. “It has been suggested that all members of the guild should hire services and buy supplies only from sources approved by a government overseer.”
“That doesn’t seem wholly unreasonable,” said Fines. “Especially when you’re doing work on government projects.”
“None of it’s reasonable,” she snapped. “But yes, it would be tolerable if it were limited to such circumstances. However, I understand the plan is to restrict us in this way for all works performed by the guild.”
“At least they don’t plan on eliminating your guild altogether.” Williams poked at a chunk of fruit floating in his wine, then licked the wine off his finger. “There have been rumors of plans to close down all bordellos and make them illegal. Which is pure stupidity. Without the protection of the bordellos, the prostitutes are in more physical danger from their clients and the patrons are at greater risk of becoming diseased.”
“Why in the world would he outlaw bordellos?” Taro asked.
“Apparently His Royal Highness finds the practice of prostitution distasteful.”
“He can’t seriously believe,” Taro said, “it’s equitable to destroy the livelihoods of so many just because he finds it distasteful?”
“Ah, but he will be the Emperor, and what he considers distasteful is well within his power to change. And he will.”
Well, aye, that was disturbing, that the Prince would have the ability to destroy something so harmless for no good reason. What would be the point beyond demonstrating his power merely for the sake of it? Not that the Empress hadn’t thrown her weight around just because she could, but I’d had more respect for her judgment. The Prince had yet to do a single thing that I hadn’t thought was stupid.
“Ayana?” Fines prompted, and it did feel like a prompt.
Cree shrugged. “There has been a suggestion there should be regular inspections of my medications and accounts. The justification is to make sure my methods are sound and my rates are fair.”
To be honest, I didn’t think that was a horrible idea. The idea of healers being able to sell and do anything without being accountable to anyone was chilling. Those crazy elixirs could do a lot of damage, and the idea of someone without competence setting bones and cutting into delicate tissue made me squirm.
“And I am to be told who I may employ and who I may not,” said Fines. “If any of my people are not considered appropriate according to age and training, I will be fined.”
I wondered if my family were facing similar restrictions. They hadn’t written to me about it. They didn’t tend to get into that level of detail with me when it came to trade.
“Many are already suffering new restrictions or fines at the hands of the Prince,” Fines added.
“But the Prince hasn’t the authority to do those things yet,” I said. It took time to make all the preparations needed to have a title change hands, and even more time when it involved the throne.
“He will when he ascends the throne, and he’ll remember those who have opposed him. It would be idiotic for anyone to refuse his edicts merely because he temporarily lacks the authority to make them.”
I wondered what that would mean for Taro’s cousin and her refusal to pay additional taxes.
“Have you not received any such regulations from the Prince?” Williams asked.
Of course not. That was a stupid question. “The Triple S is a self-regulating institution, and it always has been. The monarch has no authority over us.”
“And what will the Triple S do should a monarch choose to exercise some authority?”
“I doubt it would ever come up.” The Empress had sent Taro and me to Flatwell, which was an unusual exercise of a monarch’s authority, but that wasn’t the day-to-day interference the others were discussing.
The door opened and in streamed about half a dozen of the handsomest people I’d ever seen in one place, pushing carts and carrying decanters. Three men and three women, all young, their brushed and shining hair left loose, which was unusual for staff who were serving food. They were dressed in a fashion similar to Akira, with loose trousers and the shirts that flowed closely under breasts and against flat stomachs, in colors that perfectly suited the wearer. And they all had bare feet.
This was a weird place.
The food smelled good, though.
“Please seat yourselves,” Williams invited once the servants had left. Once again, Taro and I found ourselves sitting across the table from each other. Though there was no reason why we should always sit together. We weren’t children in need of proximity for moral support.
There were the same little clay pots on the table, and we all rubbed the translucent paste within on our hands. I rather liked that little ritual. Maybe it was something I could do at home.
The food was delivered in the same manner as it had been at Fines’s. Everyone served themselves from the dishes and then passed them along. Each of us had our own decanters of wine. And as had been the case at Fines’s house, everything tasted absolutely delicious.
“An appalling waste of life,” Ahmad was saying, and I realized I had missed some conversation while contemplating the quality of the food.
“His actions did result in the death of two jockeys and five horses,” said Fines.
What was this? I looked at Taro.
“A ditch appeared in the middle of the track during a race,” he told me. “No one could stop in time. Five horses broke their legs and had to be put down right there. Two jockeys were trampled after they fell off their horses. There were many non-fatal injuries as well.”
“The ditch just appeared out of nowhere?”
“That’s what it looked like.”
“How could that happen?”
“It’s most likely that someone dug it, early in the morning before there were any staff at the track, and camouflaged it in some way, and no one noticed it until one of the horses actually stepped in it.”
“Now, Shintaro,” Fines chided him. “I expected better from you.”
“Excuse me?” was Taro’s frosty response.
“I take it you weren’t at the track that day.”
“I was, actually.”
He’d witnessed this event and hadn’t told me? Why not? It had clearly been a horrible experience. I’d need to talk about it if I’d seen all that. “When was this?”
My question was ignored.
“You weren’t questioned by the Runners?”
“I was.”
“But they didn’t mention to you that they found the paraphernalia for casting near the track.”
“They did.”
I could tell that Taro’s short answers were annoying Fines. I could sympathize with the trader, because they were annoying me, too. It wasn’t like Taro to be so reticent. Nor so impolite. “They think the ditch was created by a spell?” I asked. Why would anyone do that?
Ahmad snorted. “They don’t know what to think. They claim a spell couldn’t have created the ditch, yet they have convicted and hanged a man for the creation of a ditch resulting in multiple deaths, as well as for possession of implements designed for the purpose of casting spells.”
“So they believe he created the ditch, and they believe he was trying to use a spell, or pretending to use a spell, but not that he created the ditch with a spell.” I didn’t believe it, either. I just thought there was a piece of information missing in what I was being told.
“Isn’t it ridiculous?” Ahmad said in apparent agreement.
“But you don’t believe a spell was involved, Shintaro?” Fines asked.
Taro was committing the sin of playing with his food, pushing morsels of meat about his plate as he thought about what to say. “It seems an odd thing to do, if one had the ability to do such things.”
“Oh? What would you do if you had the power to do anything you wanted?”
“I’m afraid I’d have to give that matter more thought.”
“Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you haven’t been contemplating the possibilities since people have begun exploring casting so openly?”
Taro swirled the wine in his goblet. “The sky is obscured by boundaries.”
Heh. No one understood that.
“This appears to be a similar wine to what Trader Fines served,” Taro said, in an attempt to divert everyone’s attention. And it worked, to my surprise. Williams complained, in a good-natured way, about how much the wine cost, especially considering how many wealthy clients he exposed the vintage to, which was why, Fines explained, he sold the wine to Williams at such a reduced rate. This somehow led to a lengthy discussion between Gamut and Ahmad about someone Ahmad knew who would best be able to make repairs to the theater in which Gamut worked. And then a further discussion of services Cree supplied to Williams’s prostitutes.
I liked those topics of conversation much better, even though I couldn’t contribute to them.
After dessert had been consumed and cleared away, Williams took his wine and sat in one of the chairs in the other half of the room. The others followed, so Taro and I did, too. Conversation felt awkward due to the organization of the seating.
And then the door opened and seven servants walked in. Five carried basins and towels, one was pushing another cart, and one had a flute of some kind. A light scent of citrus filled the air, carried on a thin waft of cedar, and it relaxed me in spite of myself.
“Dunleavy, Shintaro, you may not be aware of this,” said Williams, “but many of my patrons enjoy having their feet bathed. It is a service we provide.”
Oh, damn it to hell. This wasn’t Williams’s home. It was one of his bordellos. Could I be any more stupid?
Was this why we had bare feet?
Suddenly, it felt as though my mind were spinning with questions. Was this appropriate? Were they prostitutes? Not that I had anything against prostitutes, but should I be accepting services from them? Was this what anyone had in mind when they talked about Sources and Shields being allowed to requisition goods and services for free? What should I be doing? They never talked about this at the Academy.
I looked at Taro. He was looking back at me, wearing the tiniest smile, obviously aware of my discomfort and entertained by it. He had no intention of indicating which way we should go with this. Bastard.
Everyone else, I could tell, was observing me as well, with various degrees of subtlety. What was this, a test?
Fine. This was something being provided by my host. Something that was not harmful. It was bizarre, but to refuse might offend my host. So, fine, I was going to have my feet bathed. I could accept that attention with a little grace.
The man with the flute sat in a corner of the room with fluid confidence. The piece he played was unfamiliar to me, but it was lovely, the lower sliding notes curling deep in my belly. Moving, but not dangerous.
Akira knelt at my feet, setting a basin on the floor. With gentle hands he placed my feet in the basin. Then he poured warm, scented water over my feet, and when he judged that enough water was in the basin, he poured oil into the palms of his hands. He rubbed his hands together and grasped my shin to rest my wet foot against his thigh, unconcerned with the soaking the thin material he was wearing was suffering.
And then he started rubbing the bottom of my foot.
I had had my feet rubbed before, primarily by Taro, back on Flatwell when the constant bench dancing wrenched my ankles and made the soles of my feet sting. That had felt nice. But this was different. More skilled, for one thing. And the results were different. Especially at one moment when he pressed his thumb hard against the sole of my foot. It sent an oddly pleasant jolt right through me, making me sit up straighter in my seat.
Akira looked up at me and smirked. Clearly, my reaction had been anticipated. He was playing a game with me. I looked at the others, who were all enjoying their foot baths with varying displays of enjoyment. No one appeared shocked.
They were all playing a game.
Except for Taro. His attendant was a broad-shouldered youth with closely cropped hair, and his hands looked big on Taro’s slender feet. Taro appeared relaxed, and there was a slight smile playing about his lips.
The fact that that disappointed me was entirely illogical. Of course he would enjoy the skills of other people. Just as I would enjoy the skills of Akira, if he weren’t being paid to do this, and I didn’t suspect this was all some ploy to make me feel foolish, or something.
It was all just bizarre, and I worried about what the next step would be.
“Have you ever enjoyed the services of a bordello, Dunleavy?”
There it was.
“No, I haven’t,” I answered Williams.
“Why not?”
I didn’t know. Was it something most people contemplated? “I’ve just never thought of it.”
“You should think of it. You’re welcome at any of my establishments at any time.”
Um, thank you? I glanced at Taro before I could help it.
Williams caught the look, of course. “Certainly, the two of you can come together. We provide excellent services for couples.”
“Thank you.” Seriously? A couple would come and share a prostitute? Or would they each hire one? I really had no idea.
Well, I was certainly getting an education from these people.
“Would the two of you like to spend the night and savor some of our services?”
“No, thank you,” I said quickly.
Taro chuckled, no doubt delighting in my discomfort.
“My people can make you feel quite fine. Anyone here can attest to that.”
Seriously, that was information I neither needed nor wanted. “I am sure that’s true, but I’m really not interested. Sorry.”
“Perhaps another time.”
“Perhaps.”
No one asked Taro anything. He was always the lucky one.
Once everyone’s feet were determined sufficiently clean, they were gently dried, and Ahmad left. That meant we could leave, too, and we did. I was relieved. Because that had been odd, and I felt there was some kind of agenda going on. And that thought made me feel ridiculous. Because what would such a group want with us?