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The Wolf of Oren-yaro

Page 13

by K. S. Villoso


  “He did that to you?” There was a note of outrage on his voice.

  I nodded, pretending to look away. “Mistress Ziori found me two mornings ago in the rain. I owe her my life, but the doctor’s bill…”

  “Tashi Jhao has exorbitant fees,” he agreed.

  “Tati told me you preferred someone exclusive to you. And after last night, I thought perhaps…” I deliberately trailed off, allowing his mind to fill the blanks.

  There was a moment of silence. “I could arrange that,” he said.

  “Could you arrange it elsewhere?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I dislike the food here and I will not be locked away here like an animal, forced to service whoever my masters pleased. I may have made mistakes, but I still want my dignity, my lord. Pay Mistress Ziori, but keep me elsewhere—an inn or a place of your own, where you can come and go as you please. Then we can have freedom and comfort instead of this dark room, where you can’t be sure she’s made me share myself with other men. Your wife need not know.”

  “You’re asking for too much,” he said in a low voice, but I knew I wasn’t. You could tell from the look on his face that he was already thinking it over, that the thought of such an arrangement pleased him more than he let on. He wandered over to the door and eventually let his eyes fall back on me. The desire was unmistakable. I tried to hide my discomfort as best as I could.

  He eventually strode out of the room without another word.

  I waited, wondering if Ziori would agree to such a thing. How badly did she want to keep me? The novelty of the whole situation had become tiresome. I wanted nothing more than to order my guards to take all of them out of my sight, go home, and sleep beside my dogs on my own bed. Jin-Sayeng felt like a lifetime ago.

  I heard two sets of footsteps. Lo Bahn stepped in first, gesturing at me. “Get your things ready. She has agreed to this arrangement under the express condition that you be returned to her at first sight of trouble. I would warn you now—if you are thinking of crossing me, don’t.”

  “He is the most powerful man here in Shang Azi,” Ziori added, fixing me with a glare that could mean anything. I wondered what she told him. “I would take that advice if I were you.”

  I bowed. They withdrew, and Tati came by in their place. She kept her chattering to a minimum as I got dressed. I didn’t get my old clothes back—they were valuable, and Ziori must’ve decided to keep them. I didn’t care. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Lo Bahn and his men were waiting for me out on the street. All thoughts of trying to escape now fled my system. I was going to have to be patient again and find an opening when they least expected it. Right now, out here in broad daylight and with my leg the way it was, I had no chance of getting very far.

  Lo Bahn strode ahead of us. Despite his talks of having a wife, he didn’t seem at all in a hurry to drop me somewhere and get home. I refrained from talking and focused on keeping up. The last thing I wanted was for him to lose patience and take me back to Ziori. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself not to do anything rash if that happened; I had decided I would rather die than return to that despicable place.

  We eventually stopped at a marketplace. Vendors and people swarmed around us like ants, and I began to look for a chance to get lost in the crowd. But one of Lo Bahn’s guards whistled to me, and I saw that Lo Bahn was starting up a flight of stairs. I shuffled after him.

  The stairs led to a platform with a series of doors set aside a large, decrepit building, so drab and grey that it looked like an enormous wall that engulfed one side of the marketplace. Lo Bahn picked the last door. It opened up into a narrow staircase the smelled of rot and animal droppings. The tight space did strange things to the shadows—they leaped and loomed over us like branchless trees.

  Chatter and music greeted us as we landed at the bottom of the staircase. My eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, and I saw that we were in another market, one that stood inside the building itself. People hovered around various stalls which contained wares from pots to paper fans, woven rugs, vases, colourful blankets and pillowcases, and clay ornaments. One woman was selling luck charms and beads, “Made from the finest black wood in the holy mountains, blessed by Saint Fei Rong himself.” Other stalls seemed to be for gambling and games—I saw caged rats in one, and a table full of dice and markers in another. In another stall, people pressed against each other to view spiders fighting on a stick. They were screaming and exchanging coin while the spiders coiled on top of each other. They had spider fights in Jin-Sayeng, too—I was told they kept them starving in dark boxes for days to make them fierce. Children loved to catch and train them, to fight amongst themselves or to sell for a good sum at the market.

  My attention drifted back to my surroundings. The only source of light came from the beams of sunlight streaming from the three windows at the top of the far wall. I felt one of the guards push me closer to Lo Bahn in an effort to keep me in sight. The smell of fried meat and rancid sweat formed a thick, nauseating musk in the air. I was relieved when we turned into an alley formed by several stalls and entered another door into a room.

  Here, the air was clear, if still stagnant. The walls were lined with lanterns and red rugs embroidered with golden thread—most depicting various forms of lionbeasts and other Zarojo creatures unfamiliar to me. A large table dominated the center of the room. Several men sat around it—rough, grim-looking men, the kind I’ve been warned about that you didn’t want to meet alone in a dark, empty street. They looked up as we arrived.

  “You’re late, Lo Bahn!” a voice barked. A familiar voice. My senses swirled.

  Lo Bahn forced me into a chair before I could think. “A distraction, Lamang,” Lo Bahn retorted. “One you wouldn’t know anything about, I’m guessing.” He squeezed my shoulder possessively before taking a seat himself.

  “He wouldn’t,” another man laughed. “Lamang can’t afford women if they offered to suck his cock for a bite to eat.”

  “Ah, you got me there,” the familiar voice said. “I’m so poor I had to go barefoot while the cobbler stitched up my boots the other day. You see why I’m here.”

  “You’re here because you’ve got nothing better to do all day than play with yourself, and that isn’t going to make you rich. Pah! Who knows? Maybe you’ll win this time.” Lo Bahn laughed. “I’ll even cover you for a night at Ziori’s. Not that it’ll do you good, Lamang—nothing about you that a woman can fix. Besides, I already picked the best one there for myself.” I flinched as he drew me to him for a quick embrace. The man he was talking to turned to me, and I saw his face.

  It was Khine.

  He recognized me as soon as our gazes locked. The smile on his face faded. I saw a line of concern, followed by confusion, and for a moment I felt relief at the thought of not being alone and friendless after all. But he quickly regained his composure and turned to Lo Bahn like he didn’t know me. “I can see that you did,” he said. “Gods damn it, Lo Bahn. Leave some for the rest of us. It’s not like you’ve got the energy for them all in one go.”

  There was a bark of laughter from the table.

  Lo Bahn grimly picked up a cup. “Are we yapping or are we playing?”

  “I’m just trying to wear you out, Lo Bahn,” Khine smirked. “Give a poor man some credit. I’ve got a mother to feed.”

  “You told us last week she was dead,” a man called out.

  “Dying,” Khine corrected. “But still very much alive.”

  “And she’ll have our hides if we don’t bring anything back,” the man sitting beside Khine said. He was young, with a thin beard that looked like it was in its first season of growth.

  “I don’t think you Lamang brothers know how this game works,” someone called out.

  “They don’t,” Lo Bahn sneered as he dropped dice inside the cup and began to shake it. “Or they’d have won something by now.” He slammed the cup on the table and lifted it. “Two and four,” he said.
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  “Liar!” Khine called out.

  Lo Bahn pushed his dice to the middle of the room. Khine took one look and gave a soft groan.

  “You should know by now. He never lies,” the young man beside him said.

  “Not true, Cho,” Lo Bahn retorted. “He just doesn’t know how the game works. At least he has balls. How about the rest of you cowards?”

  They exchanged bids, and I lost track of the next round. Normally, I would’ve sat there and taken the opportunity to analyze how the game worked—I’ve never had the chance before, as dice games were traditionally played by the common folk and not by royals. Winning by pure luck, without the thrill of strategy or outsmarting your opponent, was seen as a waste of time. I liked learning about such things—you never know when that sort of seemingly inane knowledge might be useful.

  Only that time, I didn’t feel up to it. I was trying very hard not to show how much Lo Bahn’s pawing irritated me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off Khine. He was acting the fool too much, something that the rest of the men around him seemed unaware of. He had them, though for what purpose, I couldn’t tell. He seemed to be losing money faster than he could hold on to it.

  “Lo Bahn’s woman seems enamoured by Lamang!” a man observed.

  I heard Lo Bahn growl. I quickly turned my head away.

  “I am pretty charming,” Khine said. “Lend me to her for a night, Lo Bahn. I’ll pay.”

  “No you won’t,” Lo Bahn snorted. “You’ll be penniless by the end of this morning. By the gods, you’ll be penniless by the end of the hour. Are you purposely losing, Lamang, or do you have some trick up your sleeve you were hoping to use? Something, say, that would’ve been useful back when we first started?”

  “No trick, I’m afraid to say,” Khine said, shaking his head.

  “He’s just really bad at this game,” Cho piped up.

  I heard Khine give a sharp intake of breath. I turned back to him in time to catch him gave Cho a quick glance, a look of reprimand.

  No trick surfaced. Khine lost all his money and walked away from the table like a man in a lot of pain before the whole game was done. He all but stumbled to the door. There, he paused. “It’s still early, gentlemen,” he said. “Take a break. A stroll out in the sun will be good for your lungs. And you should feed your woman, Lo Bahn. She looks starved.”

  “She can wait,” Lo Bahn grumbled. “If I win this round, I’ll take her out for lunch.”

  “Piss and vomit, man, this is why your wife is a harpy and you have to pay to get your wick dipped.” He reached into his pocket. Lo Bahn’s guards jumped, and he shot them a look. “You bastards,” he said, all the honey gone from his voice. He placed a paper bag on the table beside me. “Eat before you pass out,” he murmured.

  “You’re not a doctor anymore, Lamang,” Lo Bahn said distractedly. He was busy counting his winnings.

  “Never got that far,” Khine grumbled. Out loud, he added, “And you don’t have to be a doctor to have decent sense.” No one said anything, and his face tightened. “Fuck. Let’s get out of here, Cho.” He stepped through the door and disappeared, his brother at his heels.

  I stared at the bag. After a moment, I peeked into it and saw a meat bun.

  “He’s pissed because he lost,” Lo Bahn said, completely ignoring me. “Man’s a sore loser, always had been. Six and four! I told you!” He jumped up, slamming his fists on the table. I was starting to dread the next few hours of my life.

  ~~~

  The game lasted over two hours, maybe more. I can’t remember ever being so uncomfortable in my life. I felt like a prisoner bereft of a sentence, like someone hanging from the edge of a cliff that just wouldn’t break. Twice, Lo Bahn ordered somebody to give me water and accompany me to the public outhouse; each time, I tried to find some means with which I could escape, but I couldn’t. A couple of opportunities presented itself—the tiny window above the outhouse, my guard becoming momentarily distracted by the line outside, craning his head away from me long enough that I could’ve grabbed something and smashed his ear in—but I found myself unable to move fast enough to take advantage of them. Something about the last two days had wrung all the fire out of me. I was hesitating, when once I wouldn’t have thought twice about seizing what little I could.

  Before I realized it, the game was over and Lo Bahn was raking in his winnings. He was becoming chatty again—dicing and three cups of rice coffee seemed to have done much to improve his mood. “I have an apartment at the edge of the district,” he said, giving me a look. “If you don’t mind living next to a slaughterhouse, you can stay there for now.”

  I bowed. “That is very generous of you.”

  He snorted. “We’ll see. I don’t remember anything from last night—I think you owe me a reminder.”

  “Your performance was…exemplary.”

  Lo Bahn lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t talk like a whore. I ought to remember. You’re lying. I suppose I can’t blame you for trying to spare my feelings. You gave me too much wine. You should see me when I haven’t had any. You’ll never forget it.”

  He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and whistled to his men. “Take her to the flat,” he said. “I have things to do, gods be damned.” He grabbed me by the shoulder, his rough hands caressing my neck. I thought he was going to force his lips on me and found myself stiffening. But he only looked into my face thoughtfully.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he grumbled.

  “My lord,” I said with a bow.

  He snorted. Two men came forward to lead me away. One was big, barrel-chested and with ham-like arms, but the other man hardly had muscle on him. The disparity in their structure made it clear that these were not professionally trained guards.

  I had been warned by my swordsmaster never to engage in battle directly—most male warriors outweighed and outmuscled me, and I think he was worried about me making foolhardy decisions that he could get blamed for—but I think if my leg had felt a little better, I might have tried to fight them. I could’ve intimidated the smaller one into giving me quarter while the bigger one lumbered behind us and found a way to immobilize them while I made my escape.

  The thought distracted me throughout the entire walk. Before I realized it, the men were leading me up the stairs of a small compound. Clotheslines and potted plants crowded most of the view, but I noticed people staring at us and giving us a wide berth. It was clear that they knew these were Lo Bahn’s men, and that—as Tati had warned me—he was not a man to be crossed.

  We stopped in front of the door at the very top of the building. The men didn’t say anything as they unlocked it and gestured at me. As soon as I walked in, they closed the door behind me.

  I glided through the flat, pretending that the neat furnishings interested me. There were various paintings of a distinct style—a combination of thin, water paints and thick, black ink—and colourful vases the size of barrels. I looked into one and saw blue fish with bright yellow fins swimming through miniature lily pads.

  I absently touched the surface of the water, half-amused at the way the fish bumped my fingertips, before investigating the kitchen. There was a stone stove filled with burnt firewood and a small table fit for two people. I noticed a purple rice cake, dotted with sweet sesame seeds and wrapped in lotus leaves. I opened it and sniffed—it was still fresh, probably no more than a day old, which told me that Lo Bahn lived in this flat as often as his own home. The realization did not make me feel better about myself. I needed to get away, and soon—I had no intention of becoming anybody’s whore.

  I ate the rice cake—still half-expecting someone to scream in horror and tear it away from my hand—and contemplated my next move. Afterwards, I walked back to the door, opened it, and stared at the guards.

  “There is no private bathhouse,” I said, making it sound like it was the most tragic thing in the world.

  The guards exchanged glances before turning back to me. “Did you er, expect one?” one asked.
I could see amusement dancing on the corners of his lips.

  “I was promised one,” I said. “Lo Bahn said I would have one. How am I supposed to get ready for him like this? He’ll be back tonight. I don’t want to smell like a slaughterhouse when he gets here.”

  The other guard craned his neck towards me and sniffed. “You don’t smell like a slaughterhouse,” he said helpfully.

  I drew away from him in disgust. “And I’m supposed to trust you, when both of you seemed to have grown up in filth? I noticed that neither of you were gagging in that wretched market.”

  “The nerve of the whore…” the first guard said.

  I pointed at him. “Lo Bahn will hear from me. He promised comfort, not some pigpen with two slack-jawed idiots for company. Go on, try to hit me!” I added, noticing he was lifting his arm. “See if Lo Bahn lets you get away with it! I’ll tell him! I will!”

  The commotion was starting to draw attention, which made both guards uneasy. I think dealing with an angry woman was more than they had bargained for. “Calm down,” the second guard—the larger, more cheerful one—said. “There’s a public bathhouse just across from here. I’m sure Lo Bahn will let you go later. He’ll probably even accompany you. He likes his baths.”

  I opened my mouth, pretending to be speechless for a moment. “You want me to wait for him while stewing in my own filth, and then ask him to go with me to the bathhouse?” I paused, letting the silence fill in the blanks.

  “Now that you put it that way…” the man murmured.

  “There’s a laundry pump somewhere in this compound,” the other guard said. “Calm down for a moment, woman. You’re making a scene. Look, I’ll go ask the neighbour for some soap, and then maybe you can get yourself cleaned up a little in the meantime.”

  “A laundry pump? You expect me to get myself ready for Lo Bahn at the laundry pump? He didn’t hire you for your brains, did he?” I crossed my arms. “Take me to that public bathhouse now, before he gets here. I can at least tell him you weren’t totally incompetent.”

 

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