The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga: Stories from Ayberia

by James Berardinelli

  She had been working as a whore for nearly three years when the woman sought her out. At first, Annie assumed she was just another customer. Although she was accustomed to serving men, she had been with enough women to know how to please them. Tongues and fingers mainly. In fact, many of her most pleasant experiences had been with members of her own sex, including her first orgasm. Women were less perfunctory and, although not necessarily more gentle, at least more considerate. But this one wasn’t interested in buying Annie’s skills for a single night. She wanted much more.

  “My name is Ponari,” she said by way of introduction. There were sitting on bales of hay in an inn’s stable. Outside, the pitter-patter of a late Planting season rain could be heard. It was a gray, dreary day - warm for the time of the year but unpleasant to be out in. “My husband, Warburm, owns this inn. Has owned it, in fact, for several years.”

  Annie nodded. She didn’t know Ponari but had heard the name of Warburm before. A big man with a bigger reputation. Some kind of hero from the North who had come to Vantok to settle down now that his adventuring days were over.

  “What can I do for you, Ma’am?” She smoothed down the front of her revealing frock when it became apparent Ponari’s interest in her lay elsewhere… at least for the moment. The woman’s eyes were directed at her face not her cleavage.

  “My stableboy tells me you’ve spent many nights in the loft up there.” She gestured vaguely toward an area in the back of the building where Annie occasionally slept, especially during the colder months. The stableboy, a red-haired lad named Visnisk, had a sweet spot for her and turned a blind eye when he saw her sneak in late at night. Someday, she might repay him for his kindness, but he was a little too young at the moment. It was her policy never to trade favors to anyone who hadn’t yet reached their Maturity. That was another lesson learned on the streets.

  “I have, Ma’am. Mainly when it’s cold. I don’t hurt no one. I’m quiet and make sure no one ’cept Visnisk sees me. And I never do no business in here.”

  Ponari smiled; the expression made her weathered features light up and she seemed years younger. Annie guessed her to be around thirty. “My purpose isn’t to reprimand you for using the stable but it must be a poor substitute for a fire and a blanket.”

  “That’s the truth, Ma’am. But ones such as me ain’t got that option. We take what we can get an’ the few coins I make in a day ain’t enough to pay for a night in an inn.”

  “And what is it you do for those coins?”

  Annie’s eyebrow shot up. Surely Ponari couldn’t be ignorant of her profession. “I fuck. Mostly men, sometimes women. Whoever’s willing to pay.”

  “Are you good at anything else?”

  Some might have been offended by the question, but not Annie. She knew more than a few whores who, faced with the possibility of doing something else, would have been lost. But she was young, strong, inquisitive, and willing to learn. She didn’t dislike fucking but she wished she could do it on her terms with whomever she wanted. She had experienced it enough to know that it could feel really nice but it rarely got that way with her clients. “I worked as a maid for several years before my Maturity. I ain’t afeared of hard work.”

  “What about serving tables?”

  “Like in an inn?”

  Ponari nodded. “Like in an inn. Could you do that?”

  Annie didn’t see why not and said so.

  “There’s more to it than just delivering vittles and drinks to patrons. You have to smile. You have to flirt. You have to give them glimpses down your blouse. And occasionally, if one of them is extra generous, you might be asked to go with him up to his room. It’s not a job for a pious or shy girl, but you don’t seem to be either.”

  Was Ponari offering her a position? Annie’s heart beat faster at the possibility. None of those things seemed difficult. Teasing men? Letting them see her tits? Sleeping with them? As a whore, she did all those things and more but without the promise of a decent wage or a real bed.

  “Folks tell me I spent a spell in the temple when I was real young but nothin’ I learned there stuck.”

  “And the gods?”

  “Hear tell from some they’ve turned away from us. Don’t rightly matter to me one way or t’other. I suspect they ain’t got any more time for me than I got for them. When you’re in the streets, you don’t think about the gods much. That’s for nobles in big houses and working men who got families to come home to.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Annie.”

  “A pretty name for a pretty girl. And when you’re cleaned up, I suspect you’ll be prettier. Warburm is a great storyteller but our inn needs more than his tall tales to compete with The Drunk Doxy and others in our class. My husband and I are relatively new at this business; we only came to the city a few years ago and we’re losing money. He asked me to visit the other inns and figure out what they have that we don’t. It’s serving girls like you. Pretty girls who will do a little extra for the customers. I’m not interested in turning The Wayfarer’s Comfort into a brothel but we need to offer more than Warburm’s stories, watered down ale, cold meats, warm bread, and old crones to deliver to tables.”

  “Are you asking me if I’ll work for you, Ma’am?” Annie couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. It was a delicious notion, something she had no right to expect… something she never would have thought possible when she had awakened this morning, her belly rumbling.

  Ponari nodded.

  A smile split Annie’s face from ear to ear.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll present you to my husband and see if he agrees. You’ll be the first of a group of new girls. When I’m done, The Wayfarer’s Comfort will have the comeliest crew of serving wenches in the city.”

  As it turned out, Warburm was in favor of the idea in general and Annie in particular. During their first meeting, as his eyes drank her in, Annie felt almost embarrassed - something that had never happened with man. It wasn’t that the innkeeper’s gaze was probing but this was the first time anyone of importance had looked at her like that. However, as intimidating as Warburm seemed initially, it didn’t take long for Annie to warm up to him. He was a good natured man, full of bluster and bravado but obviously devoted to his wife and ten-year old daughter. He treated Annie with respect even if his eyes were drawn almost magnetically to her cleavage. After a while, she began offering Warburm as many teasing glimpses down the front of her blouse as she did the patrons. Why not let him see, too. He obviously appreciates the view.

  Annie settled into her new position with ease. She came to like the atmosphere in The Wayfarer’s Comfort’s common room, especially on nights when the place was packed and the drinks were flowing. She enjoyed showing off her body and flirting with patrons without the expectation of a physical encounter, although she frequently accompanied the best tippers to their rooms for a brief assignation. For her, orgasms in the inn were more common than they had been on the streets. Once or twice, Ponari felt duty-bound to remind Annie that The Wayfarer’s Comfort wasn’t a whorehouse. On the whole, however, the innkeeper’s wife was pleased with her newest serving girl and the increase in customers resulting from her presence. Annie was soon joined by three other young serving girls: one was another refugee from Vantok’s streets, one was a visitor from Basingham, and the third was the widow of a murdered man of The Watch.

  One morning, she was alone in the common room wiping down tables when Warburm entered through the front door. Outside, it was the dead of Winter with light, fluffy snowflakes blowing through the air like ash. Despite being protected by his bulk from the worst of the cold, he was still ill-dressed to go out on a day like this. He shut the door behind him and vigorously stomped his feet and rubbed his hands together to restore circulation. Annie smiled at him fondly. In her half-year at The Wayfarer’s Comfort, she had come to regard Warburm, Ponari, and their daughter, Kira, with great affection - the family she had never known growing up on the stre
ets.

  “Fucking cold,” Warburm muttered. “This be the one thing I thought to leave behind when I quit the damn North.”

  “I’m glad to have a roof over my head these nights.” She couldn’t help thinking about all the others who weren’t so lucky - girls and boys, men and women who would hunker down tonight in some semi-protected place and hope they didn’t freeze to death in the dark. There were so many of them.

  “The rooms in this inn can be cold without another body to warm the bed.”

  At first she thought he was jesting, so she laughed off the comment. It was only after he had headed into the kitchen to prepare the morning vittles that she realized he might be serious. The idea of spending a night with him under the sheets, their bodies entwined, made her knees go weak. Out of shape and old he might be, but Warburm exuded the kind of raw magnetism that few men possessed. She was sure that a tumble with him would be unlike any previous sexual experience.

  Late that night, after the front door had been barred and the common room shut down, the innkeeper came to her room. His knock pulled her out of a light sleep. Butterflies danced in her stomach - she knew who it was before she answered. She padded barefoot across the wooden floor, shivering as much from anticipation as from the cold. Her thin shift offered little in the way of warmth but she knew that soon she would be generating enough heat for it to be an unwanted encumbrance.

  Warburm’s manner was gentle and deferential - much different from the loud, blustering man who held court every night downstairs. He made it clear that she was under no obligation to lie with him. That was her decision and, agree or refuse, it wouldn’t impact her employment. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but it didn’t matter. She wanted this, even though her conscience nipped at her on Ponari’s behalf. Annie had fucked countless married men before but this was the first time she had liked and was beholden to the wife. It created an unexpected sense of conflict, although her moral qualms were quickly burned away by the flames of desire.

  For two hours, Annie and Warburm performed acts of mutual satisfaction until, with the morning’s first rays rapidly approaching, he departed from her room to catch a few winks before the day’s duties required his attention. When Annie encountered him later, he favored her with a smile, indicating that he had no regrets about what had happened. For her part, she wasn’t so sure. It was difficult meeting Ponari’s eyes. As a result, she didn’t see the speculative look lingering there.

  The tryst lasted a week, with Warburm visiting Annie’s room every night. After their seventh encounter, however, Warburm simply stopped coming. He gave no reason for ending the affair and his daytime attitude toward her - playful, boisterous, and friendly - remained unchanged. She wondered if Ponari had found out but she suspected the reason to be more prosaic: Warburm had become bored. Whatever thrill he had experienced sleeping with his prettiest, most desirable serving girl had expired, desire extinguished by the approach of familiarity.

  Less than two weeks after Warburm’s last night in her bed, Annie was awakened shortly after closing by a knock. She rose from bed and answered the door naked, fully expecting to see the innkeeper. To her surprise, her predawn visitor was Ponari. The grogginess accompanying her sudden awakening evaporated.

  Ponari entered and closed the door firmly behind her. The room - a converted storage closet barely large enough for a bed - was nearly pitch black, with only a small amount of light from an outside pole-lantern filtering through the grime-covered window. Annie heard the swish of clothing being removed and dumbly recognized that the innkeeper’s wife’s intentions were the same as the innkeeper’s.

  “I know you and my husband had a fling. I don’t begrudge either of you that. Warburm has always been a lusty bastard - I knew that when he came to my village those many years ago and allowed me into his bed - although he has slowed down in recent years. On the day he agreed to marry me, we made a pact: he could sleep with other women under two conditions: he was honest with me about his assignations and he allowed me to ‘share’ them if I wanted to. Now that he’s done with you…”

  “I… He didn’t say anything about this to me.” Annie was having trouble forming a coherent thought. She knew that many women turned a blind eye to their men’s indiscretions. In fact, in some cases, they encouraged them. But this was the first time she had encountered a situation where the woman wanted her own affair with the mistress.

  “He’s too discreet to say anything.” Ponari had moved behind Annie and she could feel the other woman’s breath on her neck. Her flesh broke out in goose pimples. “As brash as he may seem, I’m usually the one who has to take the lead in these things. In fact, I wanted you more than he did. That’s a first for our marriage. My taste in partners rarely skews toward women. There have been one or two over the years but never have I been as strongly attracted as with you. It took a little prodding from me for him to make a move. As I said, he’s been slowing down lately. Not as demanding in bed as he used to be and it’s more difficult to get his… attention.”

  Annie focused on one thing Ponari had said. “You wanted me?”

  “From the day I hired you. It was inappropriate then - I didn’t want you to feel used or think it was a condition of your employment - but enough time has passed. Of course, you don’t have to do this. All I need is a single word from you. If you say no, I’ll pick up my clothing and leave. Nothing will be said about this tomorrow. If, on the other hand, you say yes…”

  Annie didn’t have to think about the answer; she didn’t even wait for Ponari to finish. “Yes.” Only then did she realize how much she wanted this.

  While the affair with Warburm had lasted a single week with nightly encounters, it was different with Ponari. The innkeeper’s wife came to her room throughout the rest of Winter and into Planting, although never more than once in a week and sometimes with much longer gaps in between. By the time Ponari’s ardor for Annie had cooled, Summer was approaching.

  When their sexual encounters ended, Ponari didn’t remark on it and the innkeeper’s wife continued to be cordial to Annie by day. For his part, Warburm acted as if Annie was just another in his small stable of serving maids; she was unsure whether he was aware of her liaison with his wife although she suspected that to be the case. If it mattered, he never showed an indication of it. By mid-Summer, all was back to where it had been before the night Warburm first came to Annie’s room. Much to her surprise, she found herself no worse for the experience and neither Ponari nor Warburm showed any inclination toward reprisals. She put it down to their being foreigners. Natural-born Vantok citizens wouldn’t be so open-minded. Still, it made her feel even more a part of The Wayfarer’s Comfort’s family than she had before the affairs.

  Summer gave way to Harvest, Harvest to Winter, and Winter to Planting. During that time, Annie’s outgoing personality and physical attributes made her one of the most popular serving girls in all of Vantok’s inns. She received several offers to change employers but her loyalty to Warburm and Ponari was firm (although she parlayed those offers into obtaining better terms at The Wayfarer’s Comfort). She gradually scaled back on providing customers with “special” service regardless of how well they tipped. Once a whore, always a whore, some might say. Annie was determined to prove them wrong.

  That didn’t mean she was ready to swear a vow of celibacy, but her affairs were less often with men who frequented The Wayfarer’s Comfort. She spent the better part of one week having nonstop sex (during her off hours) with a handsome, dusky merchant from the northern city of Andel. She dallied with Vagrum, the personal guardian of little Lady Alicia, the daughter of Duke Carannan. And, on one occasion when they were both drunk, she and Ponari briefly re-ignited each other’s flames.

  One late Planting morning, Annie came down into the common room after lying abed late. Warburm and Ponari were already up and about, engaged in an animated conversation.

  “He’s too young. No one works in a stable at that age. You should have left him on the
farm with his parents for a couple more years rather than bringing him here now.” Ponari sounded aggrieved.

  “At his age, I were helping my old da clear out whole forests. He’ll be fine. Just give him some time ta settle in, that be all he needs. Let that shit Visnisk train him then. When he gets older, he can replace him.”

  “Visnisk is hardly the kind of boy I’d want to be a role model.”

  “He knows his job an’ that be all that matters.”

  “Where’s he going to sleep?”

  “In the stable.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “It be a damn better place to bed down that that shit-hole shack where Kara and Lamanar be holed up. Nice straw for bedding…”

  “Shitty, mice-filled straw for bedding.”

  Noticing Annie’s presence, Warburm aimed a question at her. “Waddya think, Annie? You slept out there sometimes afore you came ta work here. Be the stable a good place to bed down?”

  As an alternative to sleeping in a gutter or out in the open, certainly. But as a place to lie down every night…

  “I suppose if it gets cleaned up…”

  “There!” harrumphed Warburm as if he had scored a point. “That be his incentive to make the stable the cleanest in Vantok.”

  “Who?” asked Annie.

  “The boy’s name is Sorial,” said Ponari, emerging from the kitchen. “He’s the son of a farmer and his wife. They offered his service until his Maturity - ten years in all - in exchange for an upfront payment. Their crops have been failing and they need the money. Plus, with their son here, it’s one less mouth for them to feed.”