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

by CW Thomas

“I serve the house,” Brynlee answered. “I tend to any needs the women have, and bring food and wine—”

  “I mean, do you have any charges?”

  Charges. The informal word for clients. It was a word that terrified Brynlee because she knew that in just a few short years she’d be taking on her first.

  “No, ma’am,” she said.

  Rose smirked. “Mmm-hmm. Mungo is saving you, isn’t he? He knows he has someone special in you.”

  Brynlee felt something warm and wet sliding down her leg. Fearing she had spilt something in her lap unawares, she glanced down. Several drops of blood lay on the floor between her feet. Several more were trickling down her leg.

  Her stomach twisted in horror.

  Cordelia gasped and sniggered. “Looks like someone needs a cork.”

  Kerk chuckled and buried his face in Cordelia’s cleavage.

  Brynlee felt panic rising in her chest as she watched several more drops of blood fall from between her legs.

  “Someone get her a towel or something before she bleeds all over the floor,” Sir Dunmore muttered, his tone edged with disgust.

  Brynlee’s face flushed red with embarrassment. “P–pardon, my lords. Mistress Rose.”

  Tears of humiliation and pain sprang to her eyes as she hurried out of the room. She tried to control the blood drops with her fingers until she got to the room she shared with Korah on the second floor. The room smelled of candles and cherries, Korah’s favorite fruit, but at the moment it was dark and unoccupied.

  Brynlee grabbed a towel off the dresser, threw it on the floor and sat on it, sobbing. She wrapped her arms around her stomach as a cramp tightened within her, deep in a place she’d never felt before. She brought her hands to her face and sobbed into her palms.

  She had always known this day was coming. She remembered when her older sister had first bled, but Dana had the comfort of their mother and nursemaids to care for her. Unlike Brynlee, Dana hadn’t bled under the roof of a brothel run by a sadistic bawd who was chomping at the bit for her to come of age.

  Brynlee allowed her mind to return home, to Aberdour, to the arms of her gentle mother. She longed to sit in the dining room of the castle next to Dana and Scarlett, teasing her brothers. She wanted to feel Broderick tickling her feet under the table, and listen to father scold Lia for throwing food at the cook’s voluminous bottom even as he struggled not to laugh. His eyes always narrowed when he smiled big, those beautiful tawny brown eyes.

  Aberdour. It couldn’t really be all gone like they were saying. Surely there were some people left in the city.

  Brynlee fumed. Who did Rose and Dunmore think they were to criticize her father? If only they knew the struggles Aberdour had endured in the days leading up to the attack, the dilemmas her father faced, the lengths he took to keep his people calm and confident. It wasn’t his fault that the city had been so quickly overrun. Aberdour’s scouts had been paid off or assassinated, giving the city no warning to the coming attack. But no one remembered that part of history. They only remembered Aberdour as a city of stupid woodsy people, and its king a lazy fool.

  Brynlee sniffled when she heard the sounds of clopping horse hooves on the street outside. She went to the window and looked down over the balcony. A carriage had rolled to a stop in front of the house. Mungo stepped out, followed by Korah, the brothel’s most sought after woman.

  Brynlee felt her heart lift. She bounced on her toes while she waited by the door for Korah to enter.

  When the young whore walked inside Brynlee hurried forward to give her a hug, but stopped when she saw Korah’s face. The right side was bruised and swollen, her lip split, and her left eye a purple mess.

  “What did they do to you?” Brynlee asked.

  “It’s nothing,” she replied.

  Brynlee helped Korah to the bed where she sat down, holding her ribs.

  “Young men drinking too much, too happy, too excited.”

  “What can I get you?” Brynlee asked.

  The young woman shook her head. “I just need to rest.”

  Noticing Brynlee’s red eyes, Korah stroked her cheek where the tears had been. “You’ve been weeping. What happened?”

  Brynlee started to speak, but then couldn’t find the words to say. Korah’s eyes took in the bloodstains on her dress and the bloody towel on the floor. Then her bruised face melted into a look of compassion and she wrapped her arms around Brynlee. She held her for a long time, stroking the back of her head.

  “It’s all right,” Korah cooed. “This is a good thing. You’re a woman now.”

  Brynlee sniffled. “I don’t want to be a woman.”

  Korah held her tighter. “Some days neither do I.”

  The door to the bedroom opened and Cordelia poked her head inside. “I heard what happened. Are you all right, Korah?”

  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?”