by A. M. Sexton
“Clea,” Dulcie said immediately. “I don’t know what happened to her. They pulled her out of the parlor, but—”
“Lilja,” somebody else said, cutting her off. “She was upstairs with a flat.”
“Tawny,” a third voice chimed in.
“Where was she?” I asked.
“Still sleeping. She worked the late shift last night.”
“Anybody else?”
No answer, meaning that was it. Only five people had escaped. Of those five, three had been upstairs. Benedict’s men obviously hadn’t gone up there. They were well enough acquainted with the whorehouse to know the best time to strike, and had simply cleared the first floor and run before anyone was the wiser.
It turned out there were self-appointed guards at the Fish Gate, but only three, and they were beaten back easily enough by Benedict and his men, allowing our wagon to pass into the upper city. The late-morning sun reflected off the pearly white buildings, taunting us with the seeming cleanliness of the pureborn. I wondered where Donato was. I wondered if he knew what was happening. Had he himself ordered the raid? Maybe this was his way of getting rid of me? I didn’t think so, though. Not after what he’d said to me the night before.
“What’s going to happen to us?” somebody asked.
“There’ll be a trial,” Dulcie said. “We haven’t done anything wrong. They’ll have to let us go.”
I didn’t argue, because I didn’t want to alarm them, but I suspected she was wrong. Arrests were one thing, but the raids had always operated by different rules. It was as if whoever had been targeted had already been judged guilty. Nobody ever came back after a raid.
We reached the jail and were taken inside. I passed Benedict as I was marched from the door toward the holding area. I remembered meeting him at La Fontaine. I remembered the way he’d leered at me, asking Donato, “Going to give me a ride on this one?”
Did he know who I was? That night, I’d been dressed as a woman. My hair had been teased into a wild crown around my head and my eyes lined with makeup. Today, I wore men’s clothes. There was no kohl around my eyes, and my hair was twisted into a tight queue behind my neck. I held my breath as his gaze passed over me, but saw no spark of recognition in his dark eyes.
One by one, they searched us for weapons, confiscating our belongings. They removed our handcuffs and crammed us into one of two neighboring cells, each barely bigger than the wagon had been. The back wall was cold, grey stone. Steel bars comprised the other three sides. I looked around me at the stunned women, many of whom were rubbing their wrists, taking in their new quarters with wary eyes. Nobody spoke, but we turned as a single unit when Benedict entered the room. His boots echoed off the stone floor as he strode the hallway, surveying us.
“Good,” he said, to nobody in particular. “That went well.”
I kept my head down, not wanting to give him a glimpse of my green eyes, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me.
“Jak!” he snapped to a man standing by the doorway. “Fetch Donato. Tell him I have a new batch ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
They left, closing the outside door, leaving us in near darkness. The only light came from a row of tiny windows near the ceiling on the west side of the building. It wasn’t even midday yet, so only ambient light came through, and it wasn’t enough to ease the gloom of the jail.
I retreated to the back corner of the cell and sank down the wall to sit on the cool, stone floor. Some of the women did the same. Some of them paced. Dulcie leaned against the bars and stared blankly out the window.
Time passed. At first, the girls all fought the need to make use of the crude steel pail in the corner of each cell, but eventually, somebody gave in and was the first to lift her skirt and squat awkwardly over it to urinate. After that, they were all hopping anxiously from one foot to the other, waiting their turn. It was practically full by the time I made use of it. I hoped the guards would empty it soon. Of course, that would mean they’d have to be available, and so far, we hadn’t seen anybody.
The light through the windows changed as the day progressed. Outside, the temple bells rang, but other than that, no sound reached our ears. I estimated it to be a couple of hours past midday when the sun fell low enough in the western sky to shine directly through our windows, into the cells. The chill of the building quickly gave way to stifling heat. The stink of the buckets filled the air. We gave them a wide berth, but it didn’t do any good. I wondered if I’d ever be able to wash the smell of urine out of my hair.
Finally, the door on the far end of the room opened. This time, it wasn’t Benedict or any of his men who entered. It was Donato. I came instantly to my feet, although I remained near the back of the cell, feeling as if my pounding heart was lodged somewhere in my throat. A man I didn’t know followed Donato. He was older, and impeccably dressed, his entire right cheek obscured by the blue tattoos of nobility. I’d never seen so many on one person.
They were still several yards away, but Donato’s voice carried down the stone passage as they walked.
“He’s a fool! Criminals and orphaned street rats are one thing, Mayor, but these women—” He waved his hand toward the cells. “It’s bad enough he kicks the hornets’ nest when the city is this close to war, but to hit Talia’s? It’s insanity.”
Some knot inside of me eased. I’d worried that Donato himself had ordered the raid. At least I knew now that wasn’t the case.
“It’s done,” the man answered. Donato had called him “Mayor,” which meant he was one of the seven members of the Council that ruled Davlova. “Half the Council is chomping at the bit to get this done. You know how desperate we are.”
“Desperate enough to risk war?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“The lower city will be up in arms, even more than they already are.”
The mayor waved him off and came to a stop outside our cell doors. His nose wrinkled in disgust. “Has nobody been in to see to their buckets?”
“Knowing Benedict, probably not.”
The man grunted. He was shorter than Donato, but bigger, although none of it was muscle. He leaned back on his heels to examine us.
I kept my eyes on Donato. He was scanning the cells, checking each face. Was he looking for me?
“It’s a good bunch,” the mayor said.
“I suppose,” Donato said, still searching. At last, his gaze landed on me. His jaw tightened. He gave no sign of recognizing me, but I knew him well. I knew how to read his stormy expressions. He was furious, and I shuddered instinctively, knowing somebody would have to bear the result of that wrath.
“I’ve seen what I came to see,” the mayor said. “And it stinks to the heavens in here.”
He turned on his heel and went out the way he came. Donato let him go. He held my gaze for a heartbeat, and I wondered if he’d call me forward, but then he turned and followed the mayor out. I heard him outside the door, snapping at somebody. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone of his voice was enough to communicate his rage. A few minutes later, several of Benedict’s guards came in, looking sullen.
“All right, ladies,” one of them called to us. “Turn around and grab one of the bars on the side of the cell. Keep your backs to us. We’re gonna change out your buckets, but if anybody lets go of those bars, they won’t live to regret it.”
They took care of the other cell first. One man had the job of carrying the full bucket out into the corridor and tossing in a clean one while the other guards all stood inside the cell, watching the girls, making sure they didn’t make any move to rebel. None of them did. They all held still, their knuckles white on the bar. One of them started to cry.
One of the guards—the one who’d tried to rape Dulcie at the whorehouse—sidled up behind her and reached around to stick his hand down the bodice of her gown. His thick, dirty hand worked obscenely against her flesh. She shuddered in disgust, but otherwise held still.
“Goddess, Seymour,” the guar
d moving the bucket said, “give it a rest, will ya?”
“Yeah.” The guard next to Seymour turned to thwack him in the shoulder with his club—not as hard as he would have hit one of us if we’d tried to escape, but hard enough to get Seymour’s attention. “Damn fool. You think we want to stand guard while you get your rocks off?”
“We could take turns,” Seymour countered.
“To hell with that. It stinks in here.”
“We grab a bunch of whores and don’t even get to fuck ‘em?”
“Take it up with the boss.”
“Besides,” another said from across the cell, “Donato’s in a rage.”
“So?”
“So, I ain’t losin’ my job ‘cause you got an itch.”
“Then you’re as big a pussy as he is.”
“And you’re an idiot,” the guard who’d smacked Seymour said. “You see the look on Donato’s face? Jak’s right. This ain’t a good day to cross him.”
“As if I give a care what that old fuck thinks,” Seymour growled, but he let Dulcie go.
They moved on to our cell. We all turned our backs to them and grabbed a steel bar of our cage. The swapped the buckets, and as they began to file out of the cell, the one called Jak came over to me.
“I’m supposed to bring you to see the commander,” he said.
My heart skipped a beat. The commander? Did he mean Donato? Or Benedict?
The guard shackled my wrists behind me and I was taken from the cell. I felt the eyes of Talia’s whores on me as they led me down the corridor. I heard them begin to whisper.
“What’s the old man want with him?” Seymour asked.
“Ask him yourself,” Jak said.
But it seemed nobody wanted to do that. The other guards turned left outside the door, but Jak took me right. I was taken through a second doorway, down another hallway, and finally ushered into a small room that held only a desk, one chair, and Donato, who stood at the window, looking out, his back and shoulders rigid.
“Here he is, Commander.”
“Good. You may go.”
“Sir, I can’t. Lord Benedict’s orders are to—”
“Go!”
The man swallowed, his eyes shifting nervously as he weighed one command against the other. “I’ll wait right outside your door,” he said at last. He didn’t close the door behind him, either. He stood next to it, in the hallway.
The tic in Donato’s right cheek twitched rhythmically, telling me he was in a dangerous mood. He crossed the room slowly until we were shoulder to shoulder, his mouth bare inches away from my ear. He kept his back straight, his hands clasped behind him as mine were, as if he were shackled, too. I held perfectly still, staring straight ahead, waiting for him to give me some sign of what was to come.
“Did he touch you?” His voice was a tight whisper, quiet enough that the man outside wouldn’t hear it, and yet I could sense the beast behind his words. I could feel his pent-up fury itching to break free. “Did he or his men hurt you in any way?”
“No, sir.” I kept my voice low as well. “I don’t think he knew me.”
He let out a short breath of air. Not quite a sigh, but I felt the ebb of his anger. He was relieved, and some small part of me rejoiced, knowing that he’d been worried about me.
“I was afraid you’d ordered the raid.”
“Never. Not when it might have put you in danger. But letting you go means tipping my hand to Benedict. And if he ever suspects how I feel about you...”
I swallowed hard. “I understand.” Whatever was going on, Benedict and Donato were clearly at odds, and being caught between them would be dangerous. But did that mean he intended to leave me in my cell? “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. I trust you.”
“I’m not sure that trust is well-placed.”
His lack of confidence shook me. I swallowed again, my mouth suddenly dry. “What happens now?”
“You’ll be released immediately.”
My knees sagged with relief. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll expect you this evening at the usual time.”
“And the others?”
“The whores, you mean?”
“Yes. What happens to them?”
He sighed. “I’m afraid they’re beyond my reach.”
***
I was escorted to Plaza Gate. The makeshift guards on the other side didn’t bother to question me as I came through. All they said was, “I’d stay on this side until this is over, if I were you.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t tell them that I had no choice. In truth, I was relieved that they didn’t know who I was. They didn’t recognize me as the whore who passed them almost every night, because they never saw inside the carriage. And although I heard them muttering about the raid, they didn’t connect me with those who’d been seized. And yet, I felt their hostility. Not directed at me, but directed at the hill. They knew of the raid at Talia’s. They seemed to know Benedict had violated his own contract of “protection.” And they knew he’d hoodwinked them by using the Fish Gate instead of the Plaza Gate to do it.
“We’ll have guards on both gates from now on,” I heard one of them say as I turned toward the boulevard.
I was nervous about returning to Talia’s. A dozen of us had been taken, yet only one of us was coming back. I wondered how the rest of the whores would feel about that. I stopped when I reached the familiar white building. From the front, there was no evidence of the violence that had been done. The red front door looked as it always did, except that a sign had been posted: Closed Until Further Notice.
I went around the side, through the small yard where the girls often hung their laundry to the back door. The kitchen was deserted, but I found Talia and her four remaining employees in the back parlor, sitting silently around the small table the girls usually used for cards. They all jumped to their feet when I entered. The four employees were unharmed, but a deep bruise surrounded Talia’s eye, evident even against the darkness of her skin.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Lalo crossed the room in four long strides to pull me into a fierce hug. “Thank the Goddess you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again.”
I returned his embrace gratefully. It was only a moment before he let me go, but it was a feeling of pure relief. Lalo wouldn’t question me. He wouldn’t demand answers of me. He was simply glad to have me back. Part of me wanted to hold onto him forever, but the rest of them were already descending on us, asking questions.
“What happened?”
“Where are the others?”
“Did they let you go?”
I turned to face them. “The others are still there. I don’t think they’re coming home.”
I’d expected surprise, or outrage, but they were beyond that. There had been too many raids over the years. Everybody knew the standard rules of arrest—of weighing guilt against innocence—were null and void.
It was Clea who finally spoke. “But they let you go?”
Her voice shook, but I heard the challenge behind her words. “Yes.”
She stepped forward, her small fists clenched at her sides. “So Dulcie and Wera don’t even get a trial, but you get to walk free.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. An accusation.
“Yes.”
“I guess that’s the benefit of being Donato’s whore.” Her lip trembled as she spoke, but she took another step toward me. I wondered if she was going to slap me. “Will you think of our friends tonight, while you’re in his bed? Will you ask him what will become of them while he’s fucking you?”
“Enough,” Lalo said, stepping between us. “We all make our living in the same way.”
“But not all of us get free passes when the police come calling.”
“You’re one to talk,” Tawny said. “Everybody in this parlor was arrested but you, so don’t stand there acting as if being
Benedict’s favorite had nothing to do with it.”
“Do you think I want to be his favorite?” Clea asked, turning on Tawny. “You think I like what that pig does to me? Being fucked isn’t half of it!”
“I didn’t see you volunteering for the handcuffs, either.”
“Stop.” Talia pushed her way gently into the center of the knot of people, urging everybody to take a step backward. “Lalo’s right. That’s enough.” She turned to Clea. “If you want to blame somebody, blame me for refusing to pay him double last week. Or blame the Council. Or blame Donato or Benedict. But don’t blame Misha. He’s only doing his job, just like the rest of us.”
Clea burst into tears, but the fight had gone out of her. She let Lilja lead her away from our group, to an armchair in the corner. Tawny went to the other side of the room to sit by herself.
“I need to send word,” Talia said to me. I didn’t have to ask what she meant. Anzhéla would undoubtedly want to know that I was back. I wondered briefly if she’d been concerned about my fate, or if she’d only cared that she might have lost her spy.
I stood there, feeling awkward and terribly guilty. I couldn’t help feeling that Clea was right. Dulcie and the others didn’t deserve whatever was coming any more than I did. In fact, they probably deserved it less. They were whores, but they weren’t thieves. They weren’t spies. They weren’t knowingly betraying everybody they loved.
Lalo put his hand on my back, rubbing lightly between my shoulder blades. “Don’t hold it against her,” he said quietly. “She and Dulcie were very close.”
I ducked my head, nodding, taking comfort from the simple warmth of his touch. I wanted to lean into him. To give some semblance of comfort in return. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I’m glad I am, too. Does that make me a bad person?”
“Not any more than the rest of us.”
***
A few short hours later, after washing the stink of the jail from my hair and skin, I found myself once again in Donato’s carriage, on my way to his house for the evening. My heart was heavy with guilt, my thoughts as dark as the night that bore down on us from the east. The city seemed to be waiting for a new wave of yellow fliers to pour through the streets, detailing Benedict’s latest raid, kindling for the wildfire that waited to ignite. At the gate, the armed men beat on the sides of my carriage. The semi-friendly catcalls I’d endured for days suddenly had an edge.