The Fairy Gift

by J. K. Pendragon

  "No, of course not!" I cried, and then saw Titiana shift on her seat out of the corner of my eye. I realized that she had probably been listening to the entire conversation.

  Hailey seemed oblivious to the fact. "Well," she said. "I like you anyway. Quite a bit. I shall sleep with you for free, if you should like."

  I blanched, and Hailey giggled. "Oh, you are one of those men who prefer the company of other men, are you not?" She giggled again at the look on my face. "Don't worry. It should not be that obvious to most people. You'll find most women of our profession are quite adept at recognising that sort of thing. Part of the job description, you might say. Don't let it bother you."

  It did bother me, though; it bothered me a lot. Draeden had realized it, too, I remembered. I didn't like the idea of it being said out loud at all—saying it out loud meant admitting it was true. And if it was true then that meant that …

  I buried my face in my hands, and Hailey let out her tinkling laugh again. "I said, don't let it bother you!" Laughter still in her voice, she reached out a slender hand to pat me on the shoulder. "It's perfectly normal. I should know."

  I looked up at her, and she smiled at me, and then picked up her book again. "After the washing is done, you can go with one of the girls to the palace and see if they will let you in. Also"—she glanced up at me again—"if you change your mind, my offer still stands at any time."

  I blushed again, but the thought of sleeping with her did not appeal to me at all. She was right—I did prefer the company of other men; I really had no interest in women. I sighed, wishing for the thousandth time that I was back in Rell and that I had been born normal.

  Luncheon was had (more gruel), and then Muse was allowed to escort me to the palace. She seemed to have warmed up to me since the previous night, as she was clearly happy to get out of doing the rest of the laundry. She was a small girl, almost childlike in size, but this was belied by her loud, adult voice and the clothing she wore. She had piled her dark hair messily on her head, as seemed the style for prostitutes, and lined her dark eyes with kohl, and as we walked slowly through the streets of the city, she rushed about, chatting boisterously with women and flirting with men.

  It was much less intimidating in the daylight—while the streets and buildings were dirty and old, the people were friendly and chatted easily with each other. It was only when a carriage or wagon rolled through, carrying on it a lofty nobleman or several elegantly-dressed women, that the commoners lowered their heads and turned sullenly away.

  "Rich bastards," commented Muse acidly. "Think they could spare a dime for some of us less unfortunate folk, but no. What do they care if we're starving?"

  "Are many people starving?" I asked.

  "Oh, yes," she said. "They say there are jobs in the capital, but they're only there for the rich and educated. Ever since the economy's gotten better, the rich have gotten richer, but the poor have gotten poorer. I'm lucky to have a job with Titiana. Otherwise, I'd be out on the streets, probably selling myself under much less sanitary conditions. She's good to us, you know."

  Muse seemed pensive for a moment, and then jumped and ran ahead. "Look!" she said. "Here's the palace! Oh, do you mind if we stop at the royal bakery for a moment? I've got to do some business."

  Business involved flirting with the young baker's apprentice. Muse was a master at what she did—I almost believed that she was truly in love with the young man, and that it was a cruel twist of fate that the only time she could see him was when he could come by the Parlour and pay for her company. I stood awkwardly by the window as they waxed eloquent at each other.

  The palace was grand; I could see it through the wrought iron gates that stood twenty feet tall around the grounds. It was an old, impressive building, made of white stone and set all over with lavish carvings and gold inlay. Gold from across the sea, I remembered reading in one of Dante's books, although I couldn't remember what relationship this fact had had with magical history. Perhaps some myth about a curse attached to the gold?

  Finally, Muse was done, and we proceeded to the front gates where two guards stood, dressed in smart royal blue uniforms and wearing rather ridiculous tall white hats with feathered plumes. They sniffed down at me, obviously taking in my short boots and loose burlap trousers with dislike. They seemed rather more inclined to talk with Muse, but I forced their attention to me.

  "I'm here to see the Wizard Dante," I said. "Do you know if he made it to the palace alright?"

  "Indeed he did," the taller of the guards informed me through his thick, groomed moustache. "And who are you?"

  "I'm, er, an apprentice of his," I said, trying and failing not to be intimidated by their sharp, suspicious looks. "But we, ah … got separated. Perhaps he's mentioned me."

  "He most certainly has not," boomed the other guard, stepping to look down at me over his equally impressive moustache. "But then, he hasn't had the time to mention anything much since he's returned to the palace." The two glanced at each other darkly.

  "What do you mean by that?" I asked. When they neglected to answer me, I continued, "Look, can I just see him?"

  "Absolutely not," said the first guard gruffly. "We don't let whores and hooligans into the palace without leave. Besides, I'm disinclined to believe you." He leaned over again, inspecting me suspiciously.

  I thought about using my powers on him. I thought about making him so dizzy and in lust with me that he could barely walk, and would then let me into the palace—then I could find Dante and make him remember me—no, I mustn't do that. But really, how could Dante not remember me? Of course he did! There must have been some mistake, and I told the guard so, but he merely laughed at me.

  "Come back with a letter from someone inside granting you access," he said. "Then we'll think about letting you in."

  Chagrined, and with nothing to besides head back or make a huge show of using my powers (Muse was already looking at me suspiciously), I decided on the former, and together we headed back to the Parlour.

  It was nearly evening, and it seemed that the women of the Parlour were already beginning to take clients. I avoided them all and went to my room to sulk, but when I opened my door, I found that the bedroom was not empty. A young man was standing next the bed, and he looked up at me rather guiltily when I opened the door.

  "Ah. Er … wrong bedroom, sorry."

  He swept past me and out of the room before I could say anything to him. Annoyed, I shut the door and made my way to the bed. He had looked younger than me! Far too young to be seeking the company of prostitutes, I thought. And what had he been doing in my room?

  I noticed that some clothing had been stacked neatly on the end of the bed, probably by one of the girls. Was I to have no privacy? I then realized that the sheets had all been washed and replaced, as well, and felt slightly guilty. I had to remember that it wasn't really my room, anyway; just a room I was using for a few nights.

  I went through the clothing, which was all modern styles—the pants a little too tight for my liking, and the shirts a little too loose and billowy, but it would be nice to have more than one change of clothes to wear.

  I was contemplating going downstairs for some dinner when there was a knock on the door. I went to open it and found Emie standing there with a bowl of gruel. I was immediately touched by his kindness, but less touched when he informed me, "Titiana wants you to know that if you're going to continue to take advantage of her hospitality, you're going to have to start earning your keep."

  "Thanks," I said in a dead tone.

  "Don't mention it," he replied easily. "I'm just the messenger, remember." He winked at me and went away.

  I sat on the bed, eating my gruel thoughtfully as the sun went down. Suddenly, there was a fluttering by the window, and I turned to see Draeden leaning casually against the window frame and looking down at me with satisfaction.

  "There you are," he said. "You are impossible to track down! How did you get here? Wait, don't tell me." He took a step forw
ard and touched a long finger to my forehead. I felt a flurry of emotions and memories wash through my head, and I realized that he was reading my mind.

  "Hey!" I said, jumping backward. "Don't do that!"

  "It would have taken far too long to explain," he reasoned. "Fascinating story, though."

  "Get away from me," I muttered, turning back to my gruel. "This is all your fault."

  "I beg your pardon?" said Draeden, sounding highly offended. "My fault? If it weren't for my gift, you'd be on a slave ship right now on your way across the ocean."

  "Well, you could have given me something a little more sensible," I sulked, realizing that my argument was falling flat.

  "I couldn't have," he said. "The fairy that was almost selected wanted to give you the gift of reasoning. What good would that have done against that bastard, when your mouth was gagged? My gift is much more useful. Though I notice you haven't been using it much."

  "Of course not!" I sputtered. "I can't just seduce whomever I want just so I can get something out of them! It's cruel!"

  "They'd like it," said Draeden, with a little smirk on his face.

  "Oh, shut up. You are incredibly immature. Can't you make yourself useful?"

  He cocked his head. "Useful? How?"

  "I don't know!" I exclaimed. "Go find Dante! See if he's got amnesia, or if he's at least trying to find me! I've got to write a letter to my parents and explain the situation."

  "Alright," Draeden agreed. "You do that. I'll go and spy on Dante. Although I can think of a great deal of things I would rather spend my time doing." He sighed. "At least I am immortal." Then he vanished in a twinkling of midnight blue dust.

  I sighed and looked around for some writing instruments, finding that there were none to be had. Sighing deeper still, I got up from the bed and made my way down the stairs. Draeden's presence always served to leave me a little drained, it seemed.

  Emie seemed surprised to see me. "Problem with the gruel?" he asked.

  "Um, no," I said. "It was delicious. I was wondering where I might find Titiana?"

  "You want me to take you to her office?" asked Emie, raising his eyebrows. Hailey, who was sitting at the table and just beginning to eat dinner, giggled.

  "Er. Yes. I have to ask for something.

  "Well," said Emie. "Alright. It's this way." He exited through a side door that I hadn't noticed before, and I followed him into a dimly-lit hallway. He rapped curtly on the door for me, and then escaped back to the kitchen.

  Titiana's voice echoed from within. "Yes?"

  "Um, I was wondering if I might … borrow some paper," I said.

  The door opened, and Titiana stood menacingly over me, looking down her thin pointed nose. "Borrow?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows (which I was quite certain had been drawn on). "As in, you intend to return it to me later?"

  "Er, no," I replied. "I, ah … need to write a letter to my parents. You know, so they know what's happened to me and can, ah … come get me."

  Titiana continued to glare down at me. "I see," she said finally. "Paper is not cheap, you know."

  "Er, no, I'm aware of that, but …" I trailed off. She seemed to be thinking of something.

  "You'll have to do something for me," she announced after a moment. "And also, wash the sheets."

  "Alright," I said warily.

  "Tomorrow, I shall inform you of your task. When you have completed it," she sniffed, "I shall give you paper."

  She slammed the door, and there was nothing I could do but wander wearily back into the kitchen, wondering about the nature of this task. I supposed I could always refuse and acquire paper some other way, but then, I didn't want to end up on the street. Really, it was only fair that I did laundry in exchange for room and board. Was paper really that expensive, though? Perhaps it was just some menial task that she meant. But somehow, I didn't think so.

  The girl who had first taken me in—Aria was her name—and a few others were now sitting at the table, eating the gruel that Emie had prepared. Aria looked tired, and her dress had fallen off of her slender shoulders. She brightened up when she saw me, though.

  "Hello, Marcus!" she said cheerily. "You look beat. Fancy a ride?"

  It took me a moment to figure out what she meant by that, but then I blushed. "Um. No thank you."

  Something seemed to click behind her eyes. "Ohh," she whispered, "You like men, don't you?"

  I blushed deeper, and the other girls giggled. "Of course he does, Aria," one twittered at her. "Didn't you notice right away?"

  Then Aria turned to me and sighed, quite obviously looking me over. "If you change your mind, though, Marcus … " She winked. "You can let me know."

  "Um. Thanks," I managed to gasp out, and then fled the room as one of them called out something about a male prostitute.

  Hailey was on the stairs chatting with a customer. The moment I passed, however, she turned her full attention to me.

  "What did you want from Titiana?" she asked seriously.

  "Oh, er, nothing," I said. "I just needed something. She said I have to … do her a favour tomorrow. Any idea what that might mean?"

  Hailey looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shook her head and turned back to her customer, who I thought had been leering at me while I spoke to Hailey. I shook my head to clear it and headed up the stairs.

  Draeden was back. He was sitting at the foot of my bed and neglected to move when I flopped down onto it. "Your friend Dante is a cad," he informed me.

  "He's not my friend," I replied darkly. "What did you find out?"

  "That he is quite rich," said Draeden. "For some reason, this seems to endear him to women."

  "I don't want to know," I grimaced.

  "No," Draeden agreed, "you don't. So I won't tell you. But just know that I had to see it. I feel I should renounce my rights as a Sex Fairy." He shuddered.

  "I thought you were a Seduction Fairy," I said, wondering if I had gotten it wrong.

  "I am." He glanced at me. "Seduction is a division of Sex."

  "Ah."

  "It's all organized you see," he added, and then fell silent, apparently not feeling the need to explain himself at all.

  "So … " I prodded. "Is he attempting to find me in any way? Has he mentioned me at all?"

  "Not that I saw," admitted Draeden. "No one seems to have expected or missed your arrival. It's very odd. You'd think he'd have at least contacted your parents."

  "Well, that's what I'm going to do," I said. "As soon as I get some paper. I'll write a letter to Dante, as well."

  "Good idea. Anything that doesn't involve me spying on him again is a good idea." Draeden disappeared without even a word of parting.

  The next morning, Hailey woke me by knocking on my door. When I'd opened the door, she said a little warily, "Titiana told me what your task is. Here, go and put these on." She was holding a pair of knee-high boots and some rather expensive-looking clothing, all in the modern style, of course. I looked at them dubiously, but she insisted. As I changed, she explained through the door in her soft, clear voice, "I'm entertaining a customer today—a very rich one. Recently, his wife discovered that he was seeing me. That's about the worst thing that can happen to a prostitute."

  "I can imagine," I said grimly, reopening the door as I quickly buttoned up the flouncy silk shirt.

  "You look nice," Hailey commented, before turning and leading me away from my room, while I combed my hair with my fingers. "Anyway, we thought we had lost our customer forever, but yesterday, I received notice that he would be visiting me at his regular time, and that he would be bringing his wife with him!"

  "What?!" I squawked, suddenly aware of the reason I was being dressed in nice clothes. "No!" I cried. "I'm not sleeping with her!"

  Hailey giggled, as did several of the other girls who were eating breakfast when we entered the kitchen. "You don't have to sleep with her, silly," said Hailey. "You just have to entertain her. Talk to her while the girls and I service her husband."
>
  "I can't … What will I say to her?!"

  "Exactly what you need to," Titiana suddenly boomed from behind me. "I know you have a way with people."

  I suddenly remembered Titiana listening in as I confessed my powers to Hailey.

  "She must be happy when she leaves," continued Titiana. "Otherwise, she will not allow her husband to come back. If we lose this customer"—she glared at me, her face deadly-serious—"you will be out on the streets. I cannot afford to give free room and board to anyone I please."

  "Marcus, you have to do this," pleaded Hailey. "We're not asking you to sleep with anyone. Just help us out."

  "I can't," I sighed, before realizing that I was being selfish and spoiled. After all, Hailey probably didn't want to be in her profession (what prostitute would?), and she was being made to sleep with someone—many people, whose company she could not possibly enjoy. And she did it all without complaining. In fact I recalled her complaining about not being given enough customers! So who was I to gripe about having to entertain a woman for a few hours in exchange for not starving on the streets?

  "Alright," I agreed. "I'll do my best."

  "Good," said Titiana, "Unbutton your shirt."

  "W-what?" I stammered.

  "To your navel," explained Hailey patiently. "It's the symbol of a male prostitute."

  Suddenly, I remembered vividly a time when, as a child, I had returned from gallivanting in the forest and appeared in front of my governess with my shirt unbuttoned. I still flinched, thinking of the swat on the backside with her broom while she explained to me that to not keep one's shirt buttoned high around one's neck at all times meant that one was an uncivilized and whorish man. I didn't know she had meant that literally.

  Resignedly, I began to undo the delicate brass buttons on my shirt, until there were only two still clasped, and tucked the shirt into the tight waistline of the pants.

  "You look dashing," Hailey said. "And also very expensive."

  "Very expensive," agreed Titiana, sounding absurdly pleased. Then she continued on, business-like, "Mr and Mrs Edwards will be arriving at ten o'clock sharp. Marcus, you will entertain Mrs Edwards in the garden, while the girls will entertain Mr Edwards, first in Ellie's room, then Aria's, then finally Hailey's. Understood?"