The King and the Courtesan

by Angela Walker

  “He says he’s here on time, just like you requested.”

  Ezekiel sniffed. “Well then. Give the man a medal. However, there’s no excuse to escort us in vehicles such as…these.” He sighed heavily and took my arm. “Where the hell is Osric?”

  “I see him,” Bruce muttered, just as one of the men in casual dress made his way to the front. I recognized him immediately, even though the last time I saw him was when he’d been leaving Blade’s apartment. Osric, of course, was Jahralian, though he could speak Sumerthan without an accent. He was handsome, but beneath his good looks and charm there was a hint of cruelty, the same kind I sensed in Bruce and Garrett.

  He was dressed in traditional Jahralian garb: a long tunic with boots that came up past the knee to prevent getting covered in leeches while wading through the swamps. There was nothing too bright or elaborate, since Jahralians considered decoration a frivolous self-indulgence.

  “Welcome to Jahral, sir. Pleasant flight?”

  “Is this the caravan you arranged?”

  “Yes, sir. I apologize for the state it’s in—nothing but a truck can get through the roads right now. We were hit with a week of rain, and everything is covered in mud. Also, Jahral isn’t exactly the greatest place to rent a limo.”

  Ezekiel looked irritated, but let it go. “Osric, have you met Melissa?”

  “I’ve seen her about Metro.” He stepped forward and bowed his head slightly.

  “Osric,” I greeted, barely giving him a nod.

  “I may be gone often. Osric will be looking after you.”

  I paled. “Wh-what?”

  “I’ll show you around the house a bit,” Osric said with a grin.

  “But—”

  “Let’s get going. I’ve been standing in this heat for far too long.”

  “You could remove your coat, sir,” advised Bruce.

  Ezekiel ignored him and headed for the first truck. I went to follow, but Osric took my arm.

  “He’s going somewhere else. Second truck, miss.”

  “Miss,” I said sarcastically.

  Osric raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer Melissa?”

  “Shut up, Osric. You know I would.”

  Osric clucked his tongue. “A viper.” He winked. “I suppose you haven’t changed.”

  “I suppose you haven’t, either.”

  Osric pulled me toward the truck with a bit more force than was necessary. The minute we left the asphalt, my heels sunk deep into the earth. I let out a cry and waved my arms, trying to retain my balance. Osric laughed, reaching for one of my flailing arms to pull me straight again.

  “Wrong footwear for Jahral, Melissa,” he chuckled.

  “Well, I apologize for wearing the uniform. I can’t go clunking around in boots like you.”

  “That’s why it would be best if you stay in the house and be Ezekiel’s ornament while we do all the work.”

  I huffed, but there was nothing I could say. I was Ezekiel’s ornament, and pretending I wasn’t was fruitless.

  The truck ride to Ezekiel’s house was far from pleasant. The roads were uneven and thick with mud, which made for slow going. Mosquitoes were already attacking me, though Osric promised me they sprayed around the house to take care of that problem. The heat was heavy, like a sizzling, wet blanket draped over my shoulders. I felt sweat glide down my spine. I was expecting pleasant tropical weather, like that of Goddess, but Jahral was something else.

  At least the local fauna was interesting, if the truck remained steady enough to keep me from falling over. Giant mangrove trees grew like weeds, their vines hanging down so low over the road that sometimes I had to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face. Flowers of every color and shape bloomed amidst the greenery, flourishing in weather that humans weren’t meant for. Beneath the pelt moss and grass were what looked like vast pools of water.

  “Swamp. All of it,” Osric said over my shoulder. “Step off the road and you’re up to your waist in muck. Some of it’s just mud. Some of it’s water. And there’s all sorts of nasty things swimming in it.”

  I shuddered. I’d heard that escape from Jahral was difficult. I’d assumed that meant they had tough border control. Perhaps they did, but it was probably the wilderness that prevented most of the refugees from fleeing. It also made invading Jahral difficult, since no one knew the land better than Jahralians.

  Eventually, the road split. Ezekiel’s truck went one way. Mine went the other. Without the creak and splash of the other truck, the drive was shockingly quiet. I noticed the ground evening out and the swamp vanishing. Tall brick walls on either side of the road replaced it, carefully manicured ivy running up each side. Even in Sumertha, that was the sign of a very wealthy man.

  We passed through several wrought iron gates with towers and guards on either side—none looked friendly. They all waved us through without a problem. It was getting dark, so I couldn’t see the scenery very well. Normally the darkness didn’t bother me, but in the middle of a mysterious swamp surrounded by guerrilla fighters, it kept me anxious. With Roger there, I might have felt some level of calm. Instead, I had some guy I barely spoke to and Osric, who had always been such a smarmy bastard.

  “So how long did you live in Jahral?” I asked. I hated the eerie silence even more than I hated talking to Osric.

  “I was five when I moved to Sumertha,” he muttered.

  “Oh. So you moved there with your family?”

  “My mom.”

  For some reason, I couldn’t imagine Osric having a mother. But, of course, he had to have one.

  “Why’d she move to Sumertha?”

  “Why wouldn’t she move to Sumertha?” Osric turned slightly startled eyes to me, as if shocked I could possibly ask such a question. “There was nothing here. She was in an arranged marriage with an asshole. I vaguely remember him.” Osric reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it smoothly, even though the truck jolted from potholes.

  “She must have been a brave woman,” I whispered.

  “Maybe she wasn’t brave. Just terrified.” Sadness descended upon him, and for a moment, I wanted to feel sorry for him.

  “Is your mother—is she—?”

  He took a drag from his cigarette. “She’s pretty sick.” Then he turned and stared out into the wilderness, hair blowing in the breeze. He didn’t elaborate upon what illness she had, and it made me think of Roger’s wife, of my sister, of all the battered women trying to make it and failing.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He took a deeper drag this time, clearly ruffled. “Whatever.” He stood up and gripped the bars that formed the walls of the truck. He said something to the driver in Sehitian. I decided to turn my attention back to my surroundings.

  We arrived at the house—though “house” didn’t do it much justice. It was a mansion made of bleached white adobe, rising three floors and spanning out as far as a city block. There were fountains and manicured hedges and a cobblestone drive that circled in front. It was absolutely breathtaking, of course, but nothing that particularly made it different from any other mansion in a tropical place.

  “All right.” The truck stopped by the steps, and Osric reached past me to open the door. “We’re here.”

  “Didn’t notice,” I muttered as I stuck a leg out. My thighs were sweaty, and I could feel a drop of sweat slip between my breasts. Ugh. How could one stand this heat? Even summers in Sumertha weren’t this bad.

  The cobblestone was not fun to walk on in heels, but I managed to get to the steps, which were concrete. My bodyguard got out as well and followed me with my bags in hand. Osric patted the hood of the truck, and it drove off with a rev of the engine.

  “Welcome to the nicest house in all of Jahral.” Osric nodded at the two men with rifles near the entrance, then opened the door. “Enjoy your stay.”

  “Even better than the ruler of Jahral’s?”

  “I would say so. Jahralians aren’t much into luxury. It goes against their belief
s.”

  “Right. They’re into humility or something, right?”

  “On the surface. Underneath they’re just as hedonistic as you and I.”

  The foyer floor was made of red tile, which made my heels especially loud. A glass dome holding a huge, crystal chandelier soared above me. Tropical plants grew in large pots, blurring the line between indoor and outdoor. There was a staircase to the right and a huge sunroom to the left.

  “Um, so what do I do?” I asked.

  Osric shrugged. “Wander around, I guess. Make yourself comfortable. If you go straight, there’s a pool. Ezekiel told you to pack a swimsuit, right?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Ezekiel’s bedroom is on the second floor. It’s hard to miss.”

  “Okay.” I wanted to do more than just lounge around, but that was my job, for the most part—lounge around in skimpy clothing and prove to everyone that Ezekiel could afford a trophy. I headed for the staircase.

  “Oh, and one thing.” I stopped and turned back, listening to Osric. “Stay inside if you can, all right? You can wander the gardens, but don’t go too far. You’re safe if you’re on Ezekiel’s land, but the soldiers outside of the compound may not be so kind.”

  “I don’t see why I’d want to walk off, considering it’s all swamp. Is there a town nearby?”

  “A few miles away, sure. But Jahralians aren’t fond of strangers, and I don’t think the alligators are, either.”

  That was one way to give me nightmares. I was relatively sure alligators couldn’t climb stairs, so I felt safer with them than I did with any Jahralian soldiers. “Fine. I won’t go anywhere,” I told him, then headed upstairs. Ezekiel’s bedroom was easy to find. When I turned left, there were huge double doors at the end of the hall. I grabbed the handles and pulled, but the doors were locked. I sighed in exasperation and turned to my bodyguard, who still carried my spare luggage.

  “How do I get in here?”

  “You’ll need Osric.” He pointed to the touchpad by the doors. “You need fingerprint ID.”

  “Are you serious?” I growled and began to march for the stairs again, but the bodyguard took my arm.

  “I will get him. You wait here.”

  Osric was slightly amused when he arrived, telling me he’d forgotten about this particular feature. I think he just wanted to frustrate me. He pressed his thumb to the touchpad and typed in the code. The door blinked green, and then he motioned for me to try again. I did, and the doors opened without a problem.

  I didn’t thank him as I went into the bedroom. I told the bodyguard to leave the luggage and do as he wished. I wouldn’t need his protection here.

  There were huge windows all around, but they were all barred, probably to keep out invaders. No luck escaping from here. There was a huge white bed in the center of the room, along with equally large white furniture, like a wardrobe and a dresser with a gilded mirror.

  Sighing, I sat on the bed. I supposed I could tour the house. I went through my bags and found my slightly shorter heels. Not the best exploring shoes, but the only ones I had.

  Slipping them on, I left the bedroom, leaving the doors open so I wouldn’t need Osric’s help again.

  Chapter 32

  I didn’t feel comfortable here. I knew the organization behind the dysfunctional government terrorized my home country on a regular basis. But, I couldn’t sit around and worry about it. That was unrealistic. Ezekiel wouldn’t have brought me if I weren’t safe.

  I took out my bathing suit and went for a swim. As I emerged from the water, I spotted Osric stepping out onto the patio, dressed in pristine white, wearing large sunglasses. He was talking in a low voice on the phone. I hoped he would head back into the house again, but instead he stretched himself out underneath an expansive umbrella, a tropical drink in hand. Even though he wore his sunglasses, I could tell he was staring at me.

  I slipped out of the pool and stood at the end of his lounge chair until he looked up. His hair was down for once, about an inch past his shoulders. Looking at him, I finally realized why he was here with me instead of off doing important things.

  He was Ezekiel’s substitute.

  People in Metro knew what Ezekiel looked like, or had some semblance of an idea. They at least knew he wasn’t Jahralian. But here in Jahral, I bet Ezekiel was some vague legend. No one knew who he was, or what he looked like, only that he had the power of a god. And maybe he did, like the ability to be in two places at once.

  Osric was here to take Ezekiel’s place in case someone came knocking. He was young, good looking, and was a native who spoke the language. And right now, in his white suit and reflective sunglasses, he could have been the king pin of crime. No one needed to know the difference.

  I just hoped no one expected me to sit on his lap.

  “Can I help you?” he asked after he hung up.

  “Do you really have to be out here?”

  “Is there a reason I can’t sit by the pool and enjoy myself?” An eyebrow rose from beneath his shades.

  “Not while I’m out here.” I glared at him. “Enjoying the view, are you?”

  A sleazy smile crept onto his lips, and even an oblivious woman wouldn’t have missed the perusal he gave me, from my feet to my shoulders. “I can’t say it’s a particularly bad view. I am rather enjoying it, yes.”

  “Ezekiel wouldn’t—”

  “Ezekiel couldn’t really care less how I look at you.” Osric’s voice returned to indifference. “As long as I don’t touch you.”

  “Do you serve as his substitute when he’s gone?”

  Osric smiled slightly. “Smart girl, you are.”

  “Why? Why does it matter?”

  “Why not? With me as his substitute, he can be in two places at one time, and no one has to know. It keeps people in line. Only the closest, most confidential employees know the real him. For everyone else, it’s interchangeable. It keeps them on their toes, looking over their shoulders. Good for business.”

  “It’s deceptive.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t exactly feel bad for the Yentis.” Osric raised his eyebrows. “They’re far more evil than Ezekiel could ever hope to be.”

  “And you’re such an angel, so you know what evil means.” Sighing, I moved past him.

  “Hey.” He scrambled up, but not before depositing his empty drink on the table beside him. “I have morals, you know.”

  I headed up the steps toward the house. Osric was right on my heels.

  “And I don’t think you have the right to judge, either. You’re a hooker, after all.”

  I turned and glared at him.

  “What? Does saying so offend you or something?” Osric implored.

  “Prostitutes aren’t evil—we don’t provoke violence, we just receive it. You, on the other hand, are a criminal.” I poked him in the chest. “Just like Blade. You make Metro the hellhole it is.”

  “And Ezekiel doesn’t?”

  “I never said that.”

  “Look, I do what I have to so I can take care of myself.”

  “You know, you could try getting a college degree and a good career with the money you’ve earned so far. Make something of yourself.”

  Osric pushed back his glasses to roll his eyes. “Oh yeah, cuz I’ve never thought of that before. Thing is, a ‘real’ degree and a ‘real’ career want you to sit around in a chair all day and listen to bullshit. I’m not very good at that, and I’m really good at this.” He spread his arms to imply the luxury around him. “The risks are pretty high, but so are the perks.”

  “All of this comes at the expense of others.”

  “So does everything else. Come on, Melissa, surely you’re not so gullible to believe in good guys and bad guys. You think I’m worse than some marketing department at a cigarette company? How many people die from lung cancer every year? You think they consider what they do evil?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.”

  “I’m sure they don’t lose a wink of slee
p over it. They probably tell themselves all those people deserve to die for being such morons and smoking in the first place.” Osric shrugged. “Personal responsibility and all. You could say the same of people who use drugs. They didn’t have to start, right? No one put a gun to their head.”

  “You’re an idiot,” I muttered. “It’s more complicated than just choosing to become a drug addict one day.”

  “Complicated or not, it’s not my problem. I do my job just like everyone else. Turns out I’m pretty good at it.”

  I was about to snap at him, but something on the TV caught my eye. It was turned to a Sumerthan satellite channel, so it was in the language I understood. After heading all the way into the house, I grabbed the remote and turned it up.

  “Today police raided an old warehouse in West Metro, where an anonymous tipper told authorities substantial amounts of a drug colloquially known as street dust could be found. The tipper said the bags were prepared for distribution among the Metro populace. The police were met with heavy fire as they arrived; three policemen were airlifted to a nearby hospital with serious gunshot wounds. There is no word yet on their conditions. Once the authorities fought their way inside, only a few traces of the drug remained. The police believe the drugs were removed during the shoot-out. They are looking for more information about the new location of these narcotics.”

  I lowered the volume and slowly turned to Osric.

  “Osric?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did Ezekiel really come here?”

  “A few of the overseers were giving him problems.”

  I stared at him, silent. Osric smiled.

  “He knew that raid was going to happen,” I whispered.

  “Perhaps. He came here to get out of the heat, I guess you could say.”

  “How could he know—”

  “There are leaks within his organization. But, for every one man with a conscience, there are three more willing to take Ezekiel’s money and turn him in. Ezekiel was told about the leak, and he assumed what would happen, though he wasn’t sure where. He pulled his inventory out of that warehouse before the police even arrived. But now he knows exactly where the leak worked. In fact, I think he knows who this ‘anonymous tipper’ was. This will be the last time the guy tips anyone, I think.”