by Stone Thomas
“What a lovely shop,” Cindra said.
“She…” the elf said. “She talks. Your slime pet talks.”
“Why does everyone keep calling her a pet?” I asked. “It’s very rude.”
“Oh, this is illegal,” the woman said. “Very illegal. You have to go.”
A mouse climbed up the woman’s back and stared at us, but it wasn’t exactly a mouse. Something “exactly” a mouse would have long white whiskers and gray, maybe brown fur. This thing was green. Like Cindra. And while it had eyes, they were also green. This was a slime mouse.
It twitched its nose while its owner pointed at the exit. “Out!”
A door behind the counter swung open as another woman pushed through. She was also a yellow elf, but younger, with brighter skin and darker yellow hair. A black vest showed off strong, slender arms. “What’s going on here?” she asked, eyeing me and Cindra.
“A talking slime pet,” the clerk said.
“How… uncommon,” the second woman said.
“You mean illegal!” the clerk said.
I peered through the open door behind the counter. A row of doors on either side led to a set of stairs. One of the doors cracked open and an elf woman stepped out, wearing pink lingerie against her light blue skin. She counted silver coins and walked up the stairs without looking our way.
The clerk slammed the door so I couldn’t see anymore.
“I’m Zid,” the second woman said, “with a Z. This is my establishment. What brings you here this evening? Is it business or pleasure?”
“We’re looking for Mournglory,” I said.
“This is the open forest,” Zid said, “between Mournglory and Fatesong. The laws of both cities apply. Enforcement is lax, but we take great care anyway. My employees deserve that care.”
“That woman in the back,” I said. “Is she your employee?”
Zid just smiled at me. “Would you like to see our room rates?”
“Oh, so this is an inn,” I said. “That depends on how far the city is. We don’t want to get caught in the forest alone at night.”
“Not an inn,” Zid said. “Our rooms go by the hour.”
I glanced at the racks of soaps and other bathing items on the shop’s shelves. “So you’re a spa?”
“If I gather correctly,” Cindra said, “this is the type of place a man visits for a woman, but doesn’t bring a woman of his own.”
I was getting a crick in my neck from hunching in the tiny building. “I don’t get it,” I said.
“Ladies of the night,” Cindra said. I stared at her. The sun had only just set.
“They practice the oldest profession here,” she said.
“Ew,” I replied. “You’re lawyers?”
“They’re sex workers,” Cindra said.
“Oh. A whorehouse. Why didn’t you just say so?”
“Come with me,” Zid said. She walked out from behind the counter and left the shop with us trailing behind.
“I don’t know by what circumstance you gained speech,” Zid said to Cindra, “but you should stay out of sight. Elves are fond of slime pets because they are not really alive, don’t eat, and only act as animals until their slime dissolves back into the ether. Slime pets are a novelty. Using magic to impart a living soul into one, however, runs counter to our laws.
“I, of course, care little about the law. I, however, am uncommon.”
“What do you mean, dissolves back into the ether?” Cindra asked.
“You glow with an energy I’ve never seen,” Zid said. “Your slime is a very high quality, but not high enough to last forever. Your body will dissolve over time.”
“And what of Cindra’s soul?” I asked.
“What happens to any soul when its body is gone?” Zid asked. She shook her head. “Night is coming, and with it my clientele. I need you to leave because your presence puts my girls in danger. Our profession is risky enough without drawing added attention.”
“Which way is the city then?” I asked.
“Don’t go there,” Zid said, turning toward the false soap shop that hid the brothel inside. “Go back the way you came and cherish the time you have, because from what I can see, it’s already running out.”
+35
“So it’s not just my soul that’s giving up on me,” Cindra said, sitting beneath a tree with her parasol, “it’s my body too.”
“We’ll fight this,” I said. “We’ll make them change their stupid laws.”
“Before the Chal convenes?” she asked. “And Valona dies, and Kāya and Duul enact their dire plan against Nola? Or after that, when my whole life has dissolved into the air around me? There’s not enough time to do it all. Go, rescue the gypsy women, defeat the rex fulmin, build the shrines. I’m just one woman.”
“You’re so much more,” I said. We hadn’t walked far from Zid’s brothel. I heard the front door open and shut. As I peered out from behind our tree, I saw a small elf with red skin like Mamba’s. He looked over his shoulder three times as he approached the door, then hurried inside. The night had barely begun, and already Zid’s clients were coming. “You do well at night though. When the sun isn’t pouring through your body, your soul revives.”
“But my body doesn’t,” she said. “Each day is harder than the last, and now I know why.”
A few more elves sneaked up those stairs, always one at a time. “That’s it,” I said. “Zid is giving us a room. I don’t care what I have to do to earn it.”
“It’s a whorehouse, Arden,” she said. “What if she makes you work for it?”
“Oh,” I said. “Joke’s on her, I’d be on call all night with no work to do. I haven’t seen a single female client yet, it’s only out-of-shape men with skeezy looks in their eyes.”
“I’ll ask again,” Cindra said. “What if she makes you work for it?”
I puzzled over that for a minute before an unwelcome image popped into my head. “Ah. I see what you’re saying now. I’ll find another way to earn our keep though.”
I marched toward Zid’s shop with Cindra following behind. A blue elf, much older than Greggin but just as short, took a few unsure steps toward the shop but stiffened when he saw us, then turned and disappeared into the forest.
The door to the soap shop was unlocked and I marched up to the yellow elf clerk. “I want to speak to Zid.”
“And I want you to leave,” she said.
“I have a business proposition,” I said.
“What is it?” the clerk replied. “I’ll communicate it to her.”
“No, I will,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what it is yet!”
Upstairs, someone screamed and glass shattered. I climbed over the counter and rushed past the elf clerk. I would have “leapt heroically” over that counter, but with a five-foot ceiling there was no leaping heroically, only “bumbling averagely.”
“No weapons!” the clerk yelled as I jogged toward the stairs in the back room, hunching and banging my spear against the floor and ceiling with each stride.
The upstairs area had higher ceilings, though the doors were still four feet high. I followed the sound of a scuffle to the last door in the hallway and kicked it open, ready to save a sex worker from an angry john.
I really hoped this wasn’t some sort of kinky fight fetish between consenting elf adults. That would ruin my rescue attempt and, possibly, ruin fighting for me altogether.
An elf woman in black lingerie sat on the floor, her cheek red despite her yellow skin. Her attacker turned back to look at me, his belt undone and a long knife in his hand.
“Occupied!” he yelled.
“That’s never stopped me before!” I yelled.
Then he screamed and fell down. A letter opener stuck out from his boot, bleeding red all over the carpet. Zid pushed me aside, bursting into the room from behind. A pulse of yellow energy left her palm, washing the man in golden magic. His body floated upward while he kicked and
bled.
The woman on the floor stood up. “Zid,” she said, “I’m sorry, I had no choice!”
Zid raised a hand to silence the woman, then walked to the window. She opened it, pushed the man outside, and closed the window behind her. His body continued to float and glow with yellow light as he drifted away through the forest.
“He had a knife,” the woman continued. “A real one, like the kind thieves use. He wanted to go… off-menu.”
“You call me,” Zid said. “I drag the angry ones downstairs. That’s what the meditation beds are for.” She cursed under her breath. “That’s the second time this week. These men think they can bring weapons here. Here. They know we’re unarmed.”
“Why?” I asked. “I’m surprised you don’t keep a stash of weapons somewhere safe to protect yourselves.”
“And where do you suppose we get weapons from?” Zid asked. “You waltz in here with your black metal lance, and your slime girl with her bow. That’s all well and good for you, but our peace with the empire hinges on the Disarmament Clause.”
“Right,” I said, “that’s um, that’s in the Free City Pact somewhere.” I knew I should have read that stupid pamphlet Yurip gave me, I just never found the time.
“No,” Zid said. “The Free City Pact is more general. The Disarmament Clause applies to elf lands only. It’s the terms of our peaceful surrender to the empire’s demands. We keep no weapons here, on pain of the Great Mother’s retribution.”
“She’s not in a position to do much retributing these days,” I said.
“First of all,” Zid said, “that’s not a word. Secondly, what on earth are you talking about? Has the empire fallen? News travels slowly this far off the beaten path.”
I told her about Duul’s army, camped outside the Imperial City in a stalemate with the Great Mother. I told her about Nola, and Kāya, and Valona. I told her about premonish, yet another wonderful word she somehow missed.
“That’s why we’ve started seeing armed johns,” Zid said. “The empire’s hold on us is weakening. People are taking risks.”
“I can arm you,” I said. “And skillmeister you. In combat, that is. I’m not sure how well improving sex worker skills will keep anyone safe.”
“My girls have other useful classes beside their profession,” Zid said. “I’m a levitress, for instance. Why would you risk helping us?”
“Point us toward Mournglory,” I said. “Tell us what we need to know and let us stay the night. In the morning, come to the portal arch and we’ll hand over enough swords for all of your girls.”
“That’s forty swords,” she said. I held out my hand and she shook it. “Come with me.”
I followed Zid up another set of stairs to the attic. The far wall was the rough bark of the massive tree this shop was built against. The ceiling was tall enough in the center for me to stand comfortably, and it tapered toward the edges of the building until it met the floor.
“This room is for special guests,” she said. “Royalty, imperials, head priests.”
“When was the last time a head priest came here?” I asked.
She smiled and turned toward the door. “Rest well. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
Cindra sat on the bed and patted her hand on the mattress. I took a seat next to her.
“I’ll need a disguise,” she said, “if I’m to enter the city.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, parting it into two halves, both made of sculpted slime that she molded and carved. When she was done, two replicas of bunny ears sat atop her head. One folded forward, then the other, before both ears sprang back to their alerted position. “A touch more convincing than Kāya’s little familiars, don’t you think?”
“Is there anything you can’t do?” I asked.
“I can’t shrink myself down to the size of a normal rabbit,” she said. “I can, however, pretend to be a very large slime pet. What confuses me is how a woman of my tall stature could be the daughter of an elf. Unless what Avelle said about Mercifer’s attempt to resurrect his lost daughter was inaccurate.”
She gazed up at the twin skylights overhead. The sky darkened between the large branches and oversized leaves of the elven forest, revealing the night’s first few stars.
“What do you suppose animates that little slime mouse?” she asked. “If placing a soul inside would be a crime, then it’s a creature without one. And yet it looked right at us, ran and jumped, twitched and watched. It did all the things a living mouse might.”
“You’re not a slime mouse,” I said, “or a lumentor. Once we find Mercifer we’ll know more. The goddess here must have the same power as Nola, to reach out to the minds of the residents and find a particular one. Or the city has a census that will direct us to him. Or we’ll knock on every door if we have to.”
“I love that you’re trying so hard,” she said, placing a hand against my cheek. Her palm was soft and warm, her skin as smooth as her touch was delicate. “I have a taste of what you felt now, when Nola told you about the premonition of your death. If my body is melting away and my soul’s light flickering out, I’d rather not know it. At the same time, it’s all I want to know. Whether now is the last chance to live as myself, instead of a quivering puddle of green.”
I opened my mouth to speak, hoping the right words would come next. We’d fight our fates. It’s what we were good at. She touched a finger against my mouth to stop my thoughts from forming words.
“I don’t want to think such dreary thoughts,” she said, “not when we have the stars above us and a supple bed below. I want to feel alive. I want to try something… new.”
“Oh?” I asked. Her finger trailed down my lips, my chin. She found the strings that kept my wine-red vest together, then unlaced them slowly. She kept her eyes locked on mine as she worked her way down, not breaking eye contact as she climbed on top of me to peel my vest back from my body.
She leaned me back against the bed. I folded my hands behind my head as she unfastened her dress and tugged it downward, pulling the garment low and releasing her large green breasts. Her skin had regained its glow when the sun had set, an electric energy coursing through her semi-translucent body that screamed of vibrancy and power.
When Cindra lowered her body and touched her chest to mine, I wrapped my arms around her in one quick motion and rolled us, together, onto her back.
Her eyes widened. I had caught her off guard. My hands ran the length of her outstretched arms, past her elbows and her forearms, until I reached her wrists. “Tell me, Ms. Rabbit,” I said. “Are you the type of bunny that explodes when a man gets close?”
“Come closer and find out,” she said.
I leaned toward her, when a hand ran fingers through my hair. Cindra’s hands were pinned to the bed though, so I flinched, confused. Another slime woman stood behind me now, her body slightly see-through just like Cindra’s but yellow where she was green. She had no Radiance Gown as Cindra did, just a thin lace garment too small to cover much of her bright bold body.
The woman smiled and spoke with Cindra’s voice. “Like I said. Something new.” The door creaked open then, and two more slime women came through, one a deep dark blue, like the ocean at dusk. The other was cotton candy pink. Both had the same pointy bunny ears rising from their heads, parting their long hair. They also sported round cottony tails at the base of their spines.
I looked back at Cindra. She lay there smiling. I realized now she was using her ability on me again. That moment of realization was delicate. I could shatter the whole illusion right now if I wanted to be free of it.
But good gods, why would I do that?
+36
The sky was just turning light when I woke up. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the skylights overhead brightened the room considerably. I’d have to wake Cindra at dawn, which wasn’t ideal, but for now I’d let her sleep.
There was a mirror in the room, and I did what I could to fix my hair. I noticed the dark “smudge” Mamba h
ad seen under my eyes. It looked like the start of the dark rings Nola’s premonition foretold.
“Savange,” I whispered. There was no answer. “Savange!”
“Can’t a swarthling sleep in?” she asked.
“What’s this?” I rubbed at the blackness on my skin.
“Eye shadows,” she said. “Harmless, just a little memento of my power. When you make me blind your vision, all that shadow has to stick somewhere.”
“So you did this,” I said. “Undo it.”
Savange yawned. “It will fade with time, so long as you play nice and don’t force me to smother you again in your own shadows.”
I shook my head and sat down at a small table in the room’s center, near its door. I pulled out my pocket copy of the Free City Pact. The writing was small, and exceedingly boring. A long preamble sang the virtues of the Great Mother and the empire, inviting all cities to pay tribute to the Imperial City in exchange for protection and other benefits.
It was clear, however, that cities that chose not to join the empire were still ruled by it. They were allowed to exist with some freedom, but those who broke the Free City Pact would be invaded and annexed.
Part of the one-sided pact dealt with the treatment of gods and head priests. Head priests were not to be harmed, conscripted, taxed, or imprisoned without the Great Mother’s consent unless—
A soft knock at the door drew my attention. It was Zid.
“I came up the stairs last night to bring you an extra blanket, but decided not to interrupt.” She spoke softly. “I couldn’t help but overhear something interesting through the door.”
“Oh,” I said, my cheeks warming with embarrassment. “About that. I guess we got a little loud toward the end. She knows what I like by now… I just… like to be called ‘Daddy’ sometimes. I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s because everyone calls me ‘Father Arden’ all the time, or because I’m going to be a dad soon and I’m really excited about that, or because I didn’t have a father growing up other than mean old Father Cahn, and I dunno, is that weird? Is it unhealthy? Maybe I should talk to the psycholowitch about it. You’ve heard worse than that before right?”