Lillian huffed. “I don’t understand. First, you say we can’t buy him, but then you say we need a bill of sale. What are you proposing?” Lillian clenched her jaw, muscles flexing as she waited for Brenna to reply.
Brenna raked a hand through her hair, downed the last of her whiskey, and set her glass down with a hard thump. “I’ve had the misfortune of doing business with Helgar in the past, though never directly. I’ve heard from a trusted source that his evil takes on a particularly cruel form. We walk up to the horse breeder’s farm, knock on his door, propose not to buy his best horse but to purchase the worst performer of his operation. Once he agrees, we try to slip in a little something extra. We make him an offer so high he has no choice but to agree, maybe even takes us for fools.”
“You must have a mountain of marks saved somewhere?” Lillian asked with an arched eyebrow but before Brenna could answer added, “The something extra… that’s Baylan?”
“Precisely. It is far easier to get someone to agree to a second thing once they’ve agreed to a first.”
“Care for a drink? A refill?” The barkeep called from the gloomy counter.
“No, thank you,” Lillian said deadpan. “Well?” Lillian gestured impatiently.
Brenna bit her upper lip. “The proposition of buying one of his worst of the best, as I put it, will grant us entry, but that is not what motivates him. He likes to watch us humans fight.”
“Humie brawling. Heard of it, never saw it. A despicable practice.”
“I could not agree more,” Brenna said, lowering her head. “We propose to be interested in purchasing one of his fighters to get into the sport. I’ll say that you’re once again my advisor. If anyone had overheard us at the Golden Hill estate, at least our initial stories will be congruent.”
Lillian let out a breathy snicker. “You want me to play an expert humie brawler? Hardly look the part… suppose I could express some authority on killing.”
A line of bony cows ambled by the window, bells calling out with dull clanks.
“Yes. You have to believe, use your imagination,” Brenna said, gripping her empty glass.
Lillian gave a grim nod. “Is there anything lower than a man who wants to buy another man?”
“Bring out the darkness. Play your best slaver, one greatly interested in watching them fight to the death.” Brenna pressed her lips into a line.
Brenna and Lillian confidently strode side by side for Helgar Sorad’s mansion entrance. A pair of potted shrubs flanked the bricked walkway. Their flowers were a glowing pink, each the size of cups and nipping at buzzing flies foolish enough to try a taste of their sweet nectar. Around the pots was a well-kept garden of flourishing flowers, displaying a palette of fiery reds and oranges of the setting sun.
Behind them were ornamented pillars carved from creamy marble supporting parted iron gates. Before them was yet another set of gates, lower than the last and protected by a pair of Tigerian guards covered in gleaming armor. Their spears hissed together as they approached. Their faces were hard and the opposite of friendly.
“What is your business with the Sorad estate?” a guard grunted in Common.
“Owner Sorad is expecting us for tonight’s festivities. Is this how you treat all of his guests?” Brenna barked and gave a reluctant show of her slaver’s card. “This is my advisor, she goes where I go.”
One of the guards gave a faint growl, gesturing for them to pass, their spears rising to once again stand straight. The women crested the last few stairs, boots clicking on each of the great slabs of polished granite. They paused before the main door and Brenna put a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t forget your role. We work together, but you must be slightly subservient to me as you are in my service. No empathy. No compassion,” Brenna whispered.
Lillian nodded and licked her lips, pulling her shoulders back and puffing out her chest.
Brenna wore what she always wore, form-fitting pants and a snug corset that made her tremendous bust form a deep valley. Lillian was starting to understand why she might wear that bedroom top as the weight of her breasts started to return. Lillian wore her favorite dress, a burning red with sweeping tendrils of fabric that danced behind her. She wore her hunting knives and Brenna her sword and throwing daggers, though she had replaced her taloned gloves for a pair more suitable for shaking hands.
Brenna gave the gilded knocker a double tap, the sound swallowed in the heavy door. A few seconds later, the door swung open.
A beautiful woman with glowing olive skin greeted them with a smile. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, hair shining with oil. She wore a simple black dress that hugged her curvaceous shape. If Lillian were to guess, she was likely doing far more bed warming than opening doors for guests. She spoke in Tigerian, a series of grunts and short yowls.
Brenna wrinkled her brow. “Do you perhaps speak Common?”
“Enter,” the servant said with another warm smile, gesturing for them to pass inside.
Brenna placed her hand on Lillian’s shoulder, gently ushering her in before Brenna. Lillian eyed a silver plaque on the door embossed with ‘The Helgar Sorad Estate’ as she walked in.
The servant’s smile seemed like a permanent fixture. Lillian couldn’t help but pity her. All that smiling had to put a cramp on one’s face.
They entered a wide hallway with tens of rooms branching off it. The hall was rich with thick red carpet. Enormous flickering candelabras were hung from a vaulted ceiling. The walls were a dark walnut and carved with fine details. A few decorative couches were set against the walls, appearing to have never been used. A spiraling staircase was built into the end of the hallway, curling up to the upper three levels.
“I’ll let Hiko know you’ve arrived, Brenna.” The servant swept from the hallway, gracefully marching up the stairs.
Lillian looked at one of the many paintings, finding nothing but blobs of color thrown on a canvas, defying any notion of realism. She couldn’t understand why anyone would pay for such drivel. In all likelihood, a princely sum was relinquished for it.
“Art is in the eye of the owner,” Brenna commented, reading her mind.
“It appears so.” Lillian crossed her arms.
The thumping of boots came down the stairs, revealing a male Tigerian in a well-tailored suit. The tails of his jacket flowed down to his heels, falling between his wagging feline tail. The Tigerian bore spectacles and threw up his arms in welcome. “Brenna! I didn’t know a bounty hunter of your esteemed renown would be visiting us this evening. What brings you to us? Hopefully not a bounty,” he chuckled.
“No, no. No bounty, Hiko. This I can assure you,” Brenna and he exchanged a quick hug.
“Of course,” he said with a great sigh of relief. Hiko’s eyes fell on Lillian, lecherously tracing her figure. The back of her neck prickled. “And who is this? A new slave on offer? She is attractive. I think Helgar is looking for a new bed warmer. If he won’t take her, I surely will.” He laughed and clasped his hands in contemplation.
Lillian’s cheeks surged with blood, carotid arteries flicking with her raging heart. She set her jaw so no untoward words would emerge from her mouth.
Brenna laughed with a warm smile. “Alas, she is not for sale. She is actually my partner, my equal, and my advisor. This is Masa Thorne.”
“Oh, a shame then. Hiko,” he said, daintily offering his fur lined hand to her.
Lillian forced a smile upon her rebelling body. For the first time and hopefully her last, Lillian shook a Tigerian’s hand. “Masa.”
“Come along.” Hiko gestured for them to climb the stairs after him. “Helgar is in the game room, taking in a fight. Care to watch?”
“We’d love to,” Brenna answered while Lillian clamped her mouth down before it fell open. “In fact, it’s part of the reason Masa is here.”
They plodded up the winding staircase, the banister thick and masterfully detailed. “If Ms…. what is your last name? I don’t believe I kno
w it.” Hiko raised a finger terminated with a sharp nail.
Brenna inclined her head to hide her grimace. “Brenna is fine.”
“Ms. Brenna then. If Ms. Brenna didn’t tell you, Masa, I handle Helgar’s accounts and business transactions.”
“Mhm. Yes, she did. An enviable position,” Lillian said with horribly feigned envy.
Hiko let out a roaring belly laugh. “It’s certainly not for everyone.”
“Remind me, how long have you and Owner Sorad known each other?” Brenna asked, using the proper syntax for a plantation owner.
“I started working here when I was young, and you could almost say I was brought up by Helgar.”
“You could also almost say you had a soul,” Lillian said under her breath.
Hiko’s boot scraped on a step, stopping to turn and regard her. “I apologize, what was that?” Hiko asked, hand clamping on the handrail.
“It was nothing.” Brenna slightly shook her head at her, eyes narrowed in a warning glare.
“What did you say?” Hiko insisted. “I truly didn’t hear you.”
Lillian slitted her eyes. “I said—”
Brenna cut her off, speaking to Hiko. “She’s had a long day. Pay my advisor no mind.” She turned her head to seethe at Lillian.
“What?” Lillian mouthed with a wink. Once we find Baylan, I’ll burn this den of sin to ashes.
Hiko turned right on the third floor. He gripped the rounded handles on a pair of double-doors carved with an incredibly detailed depiction of a Tougere’s head. Lillian reminded herself that she had to maintain a stoic poise despite what horrors lay in this building. He dragged the doors open and with them came the grunts of combat.
They stepped inside the game room. Lillian smoothed the tightness in her face and pressed her lips into a thin smile.
Her eyes locked onto the combatants, both shirtless men and bloodied. One man’s skin was dark as tilled earth, the other’s a sunburned red. They were barefoot and wore trousers with threadbare knees. They were breathing hard, sucking in the warm air, both with rivulets of sweat and blood falling freely from their faces. They stared at each other, focused on nothing but survival.
The marble floor was a red smear where their bare feet squeaked as they shuffled between stances. The dark man threw a punch that thumped against the red man’s face, sending him staggering and falling onto his back. The dark man wasted no time, driving a heel into his gut and another crushing his knee. The sunburned man yelped and cursed. He straddled the sunburned man, driving fists like hammers into his skull. His head yielded a sickening crunch as it was pummeled against the stone.
Lillian breathed and forced herself to see the rest of the room. At the back was an enormous hearth that stretched about ten feet across, within it a few sorry tongues of fire. Before it was an area where furniture had been clearly moved away to accommodate the fight.
Just beyond the fight were two long couches set to form an angle, providing a clear view of the combatants. On either couch sat a lone Tigerian, each with their backs turned and watching the horrific spectacle. At the wall to Lillian’s right were two floor to ceiling windows, both with opaque curtains that refracted the silvery light of the burning moon.
In the middle of the room was a long table with a series of pegs for playing a game unknown to her. At the back was a small bar with a well-groomed man rigidly standing with his arms at his sides. Behind him was a shelf with at least ten glasses corked with spirits of various hues from ambers to dark greens.
The walls were painted with a pattern of swirling golds and reds from floor to ceiling. The room was well furnished with tables bearing exotic plants, ornamented candelabras, and priceless vases.
“Come on now, get up, you weak bastard! Put on a show at least!” a Tigerian shouted, waving a limp arm. “You better not make me lose my gold, or you’ll pay in the fields.” The Tigerian had a white mane of hair drawn up into a mohawk that swept down his neck. He wore a suit filigreed with threads of gold and silver. In his other hand dangled a pipe, trailing a line of white smoke. Lillian guessed correctly that this was Helgar Sorad.
The Tigerian to his right watched soberly. He was plump for a Tigerian with a belly that stretched the buttons of his suit jacket. On his knee rested a tall hat with a silver buckle.
The sunburned man scrambled onto his side and started blocking the blows of the dark man.
“Better now. Come on then, get your lazy self up. That’s better. At least try to fight,” Helgar roared.
Hiko made for the bar and gestured for the barkeep to pour him a glass of spirits. Brenna and Lillian stood rooted where they had entered, both doing their best to appear at ease. Brenna seemed to be having an easier time than she, Lillian reckoned.
“Why do you want to purchase a brawler?” Helgar called, his back still turned to watch the fight.
A groan came from Brenna’s chest. She gestured at Hiko, returning from the bar with a drink in hand. “Is this how you introduce yourself to all of your potential business partners? Perhaps Hiko could do us the honors.”
Lillian noticed that Brenna’s shoulders were drawn up, her posture taking on an unfamiliar rigidity.
“I’m not a Tigerian for burning time with pleasantries. Why do you wish to get into this business?” Helgar still hadn’t bothered to look at them, taking a drag from his pipe. “Please do answer the question, or I will have to ask Hiko to escort you out.” He blew out a lance of smoke.
Brenna let out a pitiful sigh. “The honest truth is that I’ve grown bored with bounty hunting. There is no target I can’t find, none that offers me any challenge. Murder… is too easy. I’m looking to invest my marks in a new venture. One that offers a bit more entertainment. Judging by what I see here, it looks like fun.”
Helgar whirled around to regard Brenna, his hard face breaking into a joyous smile. “It is.”
Brenna chuckled and gave a half-bow. Her shoulders dropped down, and she planted one leg wide, kicking out the opposite hip and placing her hand upon it.
Helgar gestured with his pipe. “Why don’t you come join me over here, plenty of room on the couch to watch the fight. Maybe you’ll learn something.”
“Gladly,” Brenna nodded and strode over to join Helgar.
Hiko turned to regard Lillian, once again feasting his eyes on her body. “Care to join me at the bar?” He placed his clawed hand on the back of her neck, his nails lightly touching her throat.
“Very well,” Lillian said, inclining her head and forcing her lips into something she hoped resembled a smile.
The fight went on. The sunburned man managed to scramble out of his bad position and seemed to be reversing the bout. Grim grunts, groans, and bones thudding against bones punctuated the room. It struck her then how hand to hand combat was merely men trying to murder each other by hurling their own bones as hard as they could.
There was a third Tigerian she missed before, this one wearing a narrow-brimmed hat. He sat on a gilded chair against the wall between the windows, glaring at her with unalloyed malice. He was tall and lithe with a coat of black and brown spots. He held a bare dagger across his lap, thumb and index finger tracing the tip. Lillian gave him a slight nod and a pointed sneer at his feeble weapon. She wanted to scorch his eyes from his face. She wanted to watch his fur spark alight in a hail of singing fire.
Remember your role. Brenna’s words echoed in her head. She broke eye contact, following Hiko to the bar. Hiko reached his paw into a jar of amber honey candies resting on the counter, dropping two into his mouth. Lillian looked back at Brenna and Helgar.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Brenna said, earnestly shaking Helgar’s hand. They were both standing inches from the brawling men, blood spattering the floor about them. The contrast made Lillian want to eject her dinner from her mouth.
“Please, please, join us and have a seat. The pleasure is mine.” Helgar ushered Brenna to a spot on the couch beside him.
Lillian had to remember
why they were here. It was easy to get lost in this strange hell, to forget her purpose.
Hiko leaned over the bar to address the barkeep. “Please do give our guests whatever they’d like, free of charge of course.” Hiko chuckled as if he’d made a clever joke. He threw back his drink, downing it one gulp. “Another honey whiskey for myself, and for you, Masa?”
“Honey whiskey sounds lovely.” Lillian gave the barkeep a nod, meeting his eyes. They were a dark cobalt, his face full and well fed by his slave masters. A corner of the barkeep’s lip twitched up for an instant. He produced a flawless glass from under the counter, then gracefully opened and poured her a drink.
“Honey whiskey for the lady,” the barkeep said in a deep voice, sliding the glass to the counter’s polished edge.
“A wonderful choice.” Hiko grinned, once again looking her over as if she didn’t have eyes to notice. She met his leer, waiting for him to meet her eyes. He finally did, and his mouth broke into a broad smile. Hiko nodded and turned on his heels. He sauntered over toward the front of the room and took a seat beside the plump Tigerian on the couch adjacent to Helgar and Brenna.
Lillian put her back to the bar, leaving her glass untouched. Dulling her senses in a pit of vipers would be unwise. She glanced down at her front, admiring the crisp folds of her dress.
A vase shattered as one of the fighting men smashed the other into a table. “He’s not doing what I told him!” Helgar shouted as he stood. “By the gods, I told him not to do that.” He shook his head, waving with his pipe, embers spilling about the floor.
The plump Tigerian near Hiko barked jeers and jabbed the air at the sunburned fighter. They were likely betting against each other, she realized.
Lillian felt eyes on her. She swiveled her gaze back to the Tigerian, who was still staring. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s poor manners to don your hat indoors?”
The Tigerian scoffed, broke his dagger stare, and turned to regard the brawl.
Helgar roared at the fighters. “Come on now! You got more than that in you!”
The couches were both turned such that Lillian could see Brenna’s grim expression. Almost everyone watched the fight unfolding with a stony countenance. Everyone except Helgar.
Forsaken Hunters_Book Zero of The Age of Dawn_A Prequel Page 9