As he finished his drink, Nraya smoothly nudged Velsa out of the way and took her place on the man’s knee, giving Velsa time to collect herself.
Before long, he was moving on, curious about the other girls in the House. Amleisa and Nraya rushed to reassure Velsa. “You did just fine,” Amleisa said. “The first one is always the worst.”
“Well—” Nraya interjected. “Except occasionally they are really awful. He wasn’t so bad.”
Amleisa gave her a sharp look. “Let’s not mention that today.”
“I already know,” Velsa said. “I’ve heard all the stories. I just never understood how it would really feel… How can you stand it, knowing that the worst of men could own you at any moment? Any moment, he might walk in the door and your life would be over?”
“Shh.” Amleisa was smoothing her hair again. “You know what they say. Even the worst of it will wash our sins away.”
No one bought Velsa that day. A tiny piece of her was disappointed, to take off the embroidered stockings and the fine robes. Tomorrow she would wear her own new concubines robes; still expensive, but not as expensive as the ones tips could buy. It was a point of pride to be one of the rare few who was chosen on the first day, and shameful to linger in the House for months, passed over again and again. One girl had remained in the House for three years, such an embarrassingly long time that men who came to visit more than once began commenting on her continuing existence there. On her twenty-first birthday, she finally left and went to the Fanarlem brothel in Porstan.
Nraya was right. The first man who came through the door really wasn’t that bad, after all. Over the next week, Velsa endured a parade of men.
The easiest visitors were younger men, naive and curious, with no intention to buy. Usually they came from smaller towns and considered it a novelty to spend their evening with Fanarlem girls. They stared with wide eyes, but they were too nervous to touch. Older variants of the curious man were not so naive. They were businesslike in their visits. They mostly just wanted to stare, to say that they had seen Fanarlem concubines.
The men who truly fit the description of “skarnwen”, and preferred Fanarlem girls over any others, were easy to spot. Some even declared their preference openly, as if the girls might be flattered. They spoke with the assumption that the girls would want to belong to them.
One of them cornered Velsa by the window and took her hand. She felt as rigid and fragile as glass, with her small hand engulfed by his. “You’re so beautiful, darling,” he said. “I would give anything to have you but my wife wouldn’t approve. She’d be jealous. She doesn’t understand that you’re very different from a wife. You’re something special.”
Very different from a wife. Did he think this a compliment? If she were a wife, she might be forced into a marriage, but at least she would have rights.
She said nothing as he went on and on.
The next day, the weather was fine and the House was busy. They were already entertaining one shy young merchant when Dalarsha showed in a man whose eyes alighted on Velsa from her first bow. While Amleisa poured him a drink, he sat on the sofa like he owned it and held a hand out to her. “Come closer, doll, don’t be scared.”
They always said that. Don’t be scared.
Nothing good ever followed those words.
She sat on the sofa beside him, rigid with fear, but it only seemed to stir him to move closer.
“Shy,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “A shy little thing.”
Nraya and Amleisa didn’t help her this time. They sensed true danger, Velsa thought, and now it was every girl for herself.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’d treat you well. I have a beautiful house with a beautiful room that would belong to you, and every day I would bring you flowers and jewels.” He produced a pair of beaded hair ornaments from his pocket. “Do you like these?”
“No,” Velsa said.
“No?” He seemed affronted. “Really? Ah, you’re just being shy, but no one will ever buy you if you don’t relax a bit.” He put a hand on her thigh and slid it up above the hem of her under-robe so that she batted him away with shock.
“Please,” Velsa said. “Don’t touch me. You’re not allowed to touch me.”
“Unless I buy you.” He brought out a pouch full of coins, hefting it right before her eyes. “I could buy you and lock you away and keep you as my little pet. My secret treasure. Adorned in all the finery money can buy.” He put the hair ornaments in her hand and forced her fingers to close around them. Then his hand moved up her thigh again.
“No!” she shrieked, springing to her feet. She threw the hair ornaments at him. “No!”
Amleisa rushed to her side. The man was abruptly angry, red-faced, shouting, “A girl like you ought to be grateful!” Dalarsha stormed in.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
“You should teach these girls to obey,” the man snapped.
“I’m very sorry, sir. We do have a policy that you must purchase them before you touch them.”
The man glared at Velsa. “Then I’ll buy her.”
Velsa clutched Amleisa’s hand. The room seemed to spin. She could not accept this. She would fight him until her limbs fell to pieces.
“Sir, I really don’t think she would be a good buy for you,” Dalarsha said. “Let me show you to one of the other rooms.” She ushered him out, but he still gave Velsa one last look. If he insisted, what would Dalarsha do? Amleisa showed Velsa to the sofa, where she sank on shaking knees. She wanted to cry but sobs wouldn’t come.
“They get like that sometimes,” Amleisa said. “It’s usually better to take the tips and let them touch.”
“I couldn’t,” Velsa said. “I can’t.”
“It gets easier.”
“No!”
“One day, you’ll be bought and you won’t be able to refuse. Velsa, you need to learn submission before the fight destroys you. Do you think some nice man is going to show up and rescue you?”
Surely…it isn’t impossible. Amleisa is just bitter. She’s been in the front of the House for almost nine months.
Nraya stood near the drinks, biting her finger.
“What truly nice man is ever going to show up here?” Amleisa said. “I think the idea that it ever happens is a myth. Men buy us because we’re the only woman they can own completely. They can even sew our mouths shut. We’re not going to see a nice man. None of us. It’s our penance. We might as well stop dreaming.”
“It’s all we have,” Nraya said. “Dreaming.”
“No,” Amleisa said. “All we have is to embrace our fate. We have to accept what we are. We’ll go mad if we fight. If we give our will over to our master, maybe it isn’t so bad.”
“You’re mad,” Velsa said. “If you think it’s easier to let a man lock you up forever and treat you like a pet than it is to fight.”
“Isn’t it?” Amleisa spoke sadly, as if she didn’t expect an answer.
Dalarsha returned, and motioned for Velsa to come with her, leading the way to her office. She waved for Velsa to sit in the rickety wooden chair opposite her cluttered desk.
“Velsa,” Dalarsha said, still standing. “You know you aren’t supposed to yell at the men. If he touches your maidenhood, you must calmly call my name, but we don’t want to have a reputation that our girls are troublemakers.”
Velsa stared at a row of carved wooden figurines on Dalarsha’s desk, depicting Fanarlem concubines in costumes from the Age of Kings. They were all in dancing poses, with impossibly tiny feet and alluring little painted faces. They mocked her. Why can’t you be more like a figurine, Velsa? She imagined these perfect wooden girls would be happy to be locked away.
Dalarsha put a hand on her chin. “Velsa, I don’t want to see you still here in a year, because you are too rebellious.”
“I’m not rebellious.”
“You’re the most dangerous kind of rebellious. Restrained enough that you never break the rules, but yo
ur eyes suggest that when you do, it will be in a spectacular fashion.” Dalarsha smiled faintly. “I can’t blame you, dear, but you have to try harder.”
“Yes, madam…”
“If you yell directly at a customer again, I will have to strip your hands for a few days, but since this was the first time, I’ll let it go.”
In truth, serious buyers didn’t come often. Besides that Fanarlem girls were expensive, they were a commitment and not to everyone’s taste. Velsa was there for ten days before Dalarsha sent one to see the Village Girls.
She could tell something was different about him from the start, because Dalarsha seemed serious, and when they bowed to him, he didn’t seem interested in flirting. He looked them over head to toe and made a small “hmm” sound.
“I like the look of this one,” he said, pointing at Nraya.
Nraya stared at him, her face drained of its usual flirtatious smile.
“You could take some time with her, if you like,” Dalarsha said.
“Yes,” he said.
Dalarsha beckoned Nraya to follow her out of the room.
Velsa sank onto the sofa, her mind a swirl of emotions. Thank the fates he didn’t like the look of me. She felt guilty for thinking it, but he might come back and decide he did like the look of her after all, and Nraya would think the same.
He hadn’t waited for them to say a single word. He was seeking a ‘look’ and he seemed to know just what it was. What could that even mean? They had no say in how they looked.
She twisted her fingers. Every moment seemed endless.
If he chose Nraya they might never see her again.
Amleisa stood by the window, quiet. They waited as if they had breath to hold.
Half an hour later, Nraya returned with dull eyes. The man followed, with Dalarsha just behind him. “Amleisa,” she said. “He’d like to see you, now.”
“Yes, madam,” Amleisa said, keeping her eyes down.
I might be next, Velsa thought. She got to her feet. “What happened?” she asked Nraya.
“Not all that much,” Nraya said. “Dalarsha talked me up as best she could. He asked to see me without my clothes.”
“Without your clothes?” Velsa said, dismayed.
“Yes, but when I took them off, he barely even looked. She wouldn’t let him touch. He didn’t say much. He just shook his head at the end… I don’t know what he wanted.”
The wait continued until Dalarsha returned alone.
“Amleisa has been purchased,” she said gently.
“She has?” Nraya clutched her chest.
“Yes, he found her quite charming. She’s been here a long time, you know. She’s hungry to move on, and sometimes that’s how it needs to be.”
“We don’t even get to say goodbye?” Velsa asked, but she already knew the answer.
Dalarsha just shook her head.
Chapter 2
Outside, it was raining again. Autumn brought many days of cold drizzle, when the house seemed dim and cheerless. It almost never snowed in Nisa; it simply rained and rained. They weren’t allowed any fires in the hearth until the men came; fuel was wasted on Fanarlem girls. Water lashed the windows, the trails of drizzle gleaming in the lamplight. Business would be slow again. They went an hour without any visitors at all.
Finally, the door opened. Dalarsha greeted a man downstairs. Velsa, Nraya and another girl new to the House, Lasia, stood in the hall listening. So did some of the girls from other rooms. They were all so bored. Dalarsha didn’t allow them to read or embroider or do much of anything during business hours. Needlework was not seductive.
“Let me take your coat,” Dalarsha told the man.
“Thank you. I’m here to buy.” He added, “Maybe, if I see someone that interests me.”
“And I’m sure you will,” Dalarsha said. “We have wonderful girls here. The best Perfumed Ribbons in all the world.” The word ‘perfume’ was often a euphemism for high-brow prostitutes. Flesh and blood courtesans were “Perfume Women”, but Fanarlem girls were referred to as “Perfumed Ribbons”, perhaps because both were fine and frivolous things made of cloth. “What kind of girl strikes your fancy?” she continued.
“Hmm,” he said. “Well, let’s see them all. That’s too big of a decision to make without knowing all the options.”
“Of course!” she said. “And a fine night for it. Not many men are braving this weather. They’ll all be happy for a visitor.”
She started leading him up the stairs. The girls ducked back behind their doors.
“I’ve never bedded with a Fanarlem girl before,” he said as they reached the top of the stairs.
So he was one of the curious ones. Young-sounding. Well-bred and mannered, she thought, choosing a polite word like ‘bedded’ over some of the other options. His voice was respectfully soft, but direct.
Velsa doubted he would buy today. Not if he had never slept with a Fanarlem girl before. Usually the ones who bought knew what they were getting into. It was cheap enough to visit a prostitute first, to test the experience.
“Well, they have everything you need,” Dalarsha said in a conspiratorial tone. “And besides that, they are very clean. Their skin is treated with spells to give them a life-like property, with special attention paid to their faces and mouths, their hands, which are all water-proofed, as well as their maidenhood, which is also given a vanishing spell so you will not have any messes after you enjoy her. They are dry, however, so oils are recommended. But I never hear any complaints. I’m sure you are aware, they are entirely adaptable. If you see a girl you like but something isn’t quite to your taste, remember that you can always change any part of her body except for her eyes. The girls here are all a basic type, to keep our costs reasonable, but many nice customizations cost just a little more. I can recommend a man in town who works very quickly if you’re traveling.”
Velsa bit her lip. She really should never listen in on Dalarsha and the men. She didn’t need detailed reminders of what a man really wanted her for, and especially that her body could be changed on his whim.
Dalarsha and the man disappeared behind a door. She heard a flurry of excited greetings from the entertainer girls. Dalarsha must have pegged him for the sort of man who would like conversation and talent.
Velsa still wished she had been placed there. Just because she couldn’t play an instrument all that well! It wasn’t fair that she was left out of meeting the most thoughtful men for the sake of a few damned strings.
Velsa paced the room while Nraya and Lasia whispered the same things she had been thinking. “He won’t really buy anyone today. Not if he’s never been with one of us before…”
He stayed with the entertainer girls for a quarter of an hour or so, and then Dalarsha took him to the innocents. They knew very well the sound of each door.
“We always get the good ones last,” Nraya said.
Lasia picked at a loose thread circling her wrist and sighed when the length of it came out, leaving a gap in her skin. “Well, he won’t want me anyway, apparently I’m falling apart tonight.”
“Why is that?” Velsa asked. “Why do we get the worst of it? I feel like I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do.”
“We just don’t do it well enough,” Nraya said. “We’re too normal. That’s what Dalarsha told me. Men don’t come here to buy someone like the girls they grew up with. Maybe we read too much.”
The girls were encouraged to read. If the books in the House library were not moral tales, they were non-fiction that would enable them to have interesting conversation if the need arose. Velsa read them all a few times over.
Lasia flopped into a chair, hiding her injured wrist behind her over-robe. “Surely somewhere in the world, there must be a man who likes girls who read.”
“Not for a Fanarlem concubine,” Nraya said. “Maybe for a wife.
Thinking back on all the men Velsa had encountered in the past two weeks, would she have wanted to go home with a single one
of them?
She twisted her hands.
“Watch it,” Nraya said. “Don’t you break your fingers now. I don’t think he’s pulled anyone aside yet. Let’s make a good impression.”
Finally, almost an hour later, their door opened.
“Watch your step, sir,” Dalarsha said, showing the man in. He was tall, dressed in a long black coat with red trim and silver clasps, paired with knee high boots, characteristic of any well-to-do man of the province. His black hair was in a braid down his back but he had done nothing fussy with it as many men did, such as braiding it around a wire to form a loop or wearing hair ornaments above his ears, which was currently in fashion for both men and women—Velsa had shimmering shards of abalone pinned above her ears today. His messy bangs looked like they hadn’t seen a brush all day. As Velsa had guessed, he looked young, but with an air of assurance.
The three of them bowed and greeted him in unison.
He laughed faintly. “I’ve never been bowed to so often.”
“Yes, sir, my girls are very polite. And these three, well, you will enjoy their company very much. They’re well rounded and I’m sure any one of them would make a perfect companion on your journey.”
A journey.
Velsa had always supposed that when she was acquired, she would be taken to a rich man’s house, and given a room or two to be her home for the rest of her days, except when he took her out. Usually at night, to seedy places where concubines were welcome. It would be very much like the House of Perfumed Ribbons.
A journey…that was something new.
Something she hardly dared dream of.
He looked at her, seeming to notice how this idea had captured her attention. For a moment, their eyes met. His eyes were light brown and slanted slightly, indicating eastern blood, and making him seem a little cat-like. He was tanned, like a ship captain, like he had been on many journeys before.
“You wear a golden band,” he said, his eyes moving down from her eyes to her neck. “A telepath?”
“It’s just for precaution,” Dalarsha assured him. “She has never used her abilities. The band has locked them since her creation.”
The Sorcerer's Concubine (The Telepath and the Sorcerer Book 1) Page 2