In Which Thaya Knows for Certain

August 15, 1185

"My lord?" Thaya recognized the baron mainly by the family colors of his well-kept tunic. She'd never seen him before, not in the brothel, not in the market... not once. Lord Severin had shown up too frequently for her taste between his two marriages, back when Rissa had still been alive, but if the baron had ever called, it would have been before his marriage to Princess Holladrin--and before Thaya had ever worked here.

Florian had said he'd call once the healers had reported to the baron. He would ask how those who'd been infected were, keep calling until they were all better and the brothel could be reopened, bringing along their reimbursement all the while. Maesflein's former business partner, mortified by the new-found knowledge of the cruelty and mismanagement, had pledged to continually pour what would have been Maesflein's share of the butcher shop's profits into a health fund for the women of the brothel. It would likely be a few weeks yet before they could reopen, but even if they couldn't work, they were better off financially than when Maesflein had been pulling the strings.

The baron must have known that, at least through hearsay. He must have called just to see for himself. "How may I help you?"

"Mistress Madrun, correct?"

Thaya nodded--though not once in her life had anyone called her 'mistress'. "Yes, my lord."

"I thought you and your colleagues ought to know the results of Grayer Maesflein's trial." That had been yesterday. If her still-recovering friends hadn't needed her, she would have sought the results herself. "Stop me if I'm wrong, of course."

"You're not wrong, my lord." Thaya looped her finger through the cord bracelet on her left wrist. One of Rissa's bracelet. She'd left the nicer one to Ilvina--the poor girl would be buried with it tomorrow--but she'd given this one to Thaya just before she'd died. Wherever Rissa was, Thaya hoped she didn't know just how much had died with her. "I won't sleep unless I know he got what he deserved."

"Then rest well, as he did. Maesflein will hang on the first of next month."

And Thaya would watch him. Such relief was an alien feeling after all the grim years of Maesflein. She ought not to have missed relief--relief only occurred where dread and anxiety had been--but she found she had. "Good."

"You are the most senior woman here, correct?"

"I am, my lord." But she found no joy in it, as all those before her were dead.

"Then when this brothel reopens, you shall be its madame. Such enterprises ought to be run by those who know the business--not men who wish to bleed the world dry."

"I... suppose not." But what did a madame even do? It had been so long since Rissa! And for all Rissa's face still hovered in her mind, she recalled little of her shrewdness, her leadership, her generous heart--not enough to know how they worked. She would have to go to Veldora, once a few more of the others had recovered. She would talk to one of the madames there, ask how she ran her brothel. She wouldn't be Rissa, but she could be helpful.

And at least, Thaya knew for certain, she couldn't possibly do a worse job of running the place than Maesflein. "Thank you, my lord."

NEXT CHAPTER:

In Which Lonriad's Hopes Are Unfulfilled

June 7, 1169

"Here for a little evening delight, good sir?" She was a small, hatchet-faced woman with a humble bosom, but her red curls were soft and bountiful and her hips looked ample enough.

Lonriad felt a smile creeping up on him; whores in Naroni were so much more polite than their counterparts back in Dovia. "I was hoping to go well into the night."

The woman returned the grin. "That can be arranged." She placed her hand upon his hip and let her fingers dance their way up his side.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lonriad chuckled, taking a red curl in hand and wrapping it around his finger. "How did you know that gets me every time?"

"Oh, just a hunch."

She flashed a mysterious smile that in the dim light seemed to soften her entire face. Lonriad fished some coins out of his pouch and pressed them into her warm hand. "Will that be enough?"

She took a moment to count the coins with her fingers, then slipped them into the pocket of her apron and nodded. "Plenty. I'll take you to the back room now."

"I trust that a fine establishment such as this has rather comfortable facilities?"

The woman replied with a wink. "As comfortable as you want them to be."

That sounded promising; Lonriad took a deep, contented breath. "Perfect."

She giggled. "Then it seems we--"

The door to the back opened with a crash as a second prostitute barged through it. "Forget it!"

The redhead glanced back at her colleague, then rolled her eyes. "Thaya, you know the agreement; it's your turn."

The girl named Thaya slammed the door shut behind her and stepped forward. She was tall, blond, and full-figured, with long legs and daintily exotic features--younger and prettier than the other woman, but a man didn't get to be Lonriad's age without knowing that a smiling partner was always preferable over a scowling one. "I know, Rissa; I did what I had to do."

Rissa shrugged. "Then how can there be a problem?"

"Oh, there's a problem," Thaya insisted in a bitter hiss. "He strolled in here, drunk out of his mind, and paid for one roll in the sack, so I gave it to him. Then, after we're done, he keeps nursing that flask to the point where I have to steal the damn thing, and by then he's so drunk I'm thinking he's forgotten how to leave. Now, he's insisting that he paid for two romps, which he didn't."

The older woman sighed. "Just give him what he wants."

"Rissa, I don't care who he is; I'm not about to fuck a man for free."

"If you could steal his flask, then you can steal the money for a second time."

"But it's the principle of the thing! He can't go around thinking he can come in here and get what he wants without paying for it!"

Nodding apologetically to Lonriad, Rissa turned around to face Thaya. "Honey, if he's as drunk as you make it sound, he'll never remember it."

"Still, what if--"

"Thaya!" Lonriad had to raise a brow at the sound of that voice. "Oy! Thaya! Where'd'ya go?"

His fears were confirmed when Severin stumbled out of the back room, his steps uncertain and a ridiculous expression on his face. "Thaya! Come on!"

"Not until you pay me!"

"I did!"

"You did not!"

Now would have been a great time for heart attack, Lonriad decided; with his luck, though, it never came. "Severin!" He couldn't believe this. He'd thought he had one son--one!--who might turn out better than this. Was that really too much to hope for?

Confused, Severin's gaze shifted Lonriad's way. A few seconds of silence passed; Lonriad guessed he was trying to correct his focus. "Th'ell are you doin' here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Lonriad sighed. "Viridis didn't raise you to spend your spare evenings pestering prostitutes, you know."

He watched as his son shuffled further into the room, a burning sensation welling within his core. Now would have been a great time to wake up; with any luck, this was just a nightmare. "Tell Thaya I paid 'er."

"He did not!"

"Ladies, please." Lonriad took Rissa by the waist and seated her on the bench by the wall. He then did the same with Thaya and proceeded to Severin.

"What the hell were you thinking, kiddo?" he scolded, despite the fact that it was probably useless at this point. "You're better than this; what gave you the idea to get drunk off your ass, then head over here and cause trouble for these ladies?"

Severin tossed back his head and laughed. "I'm not drunk!"

"And I'm the Empress of Byzantium." Lonriad crossed his arms and looked his son over once more. Seriously--great time to wake up. "I haven't seen you so befuddled since you were twelve years old and you and your brother stole the sacramental wine from the chapel. Now, let's just get you home and sober you up, all right?"

"I'm fine," Severin stressed, his grin wide enough to prove otherwise thrice over. "Maybe you're drunk."

"Then how come I'm not the one making an ass of himself?" Lonriad grabbed Severin's arm, worried that he might not be able to support himself for much longer. "Come on, let's go."

"But I paid for--"

"No, son, you didn't." He watched as Severin's pupils dilated and constricted, then shook his head and frowned. "Come along; you need to rest."

Severin yanked his arm from Lonriad's grasp, causing him to sway backward; he caught himself only by a lucky half-step. "I'm fine!"

"Then how come you can't stand up straight?"

"I can!" He looked as if he might try to prove himself by jumping, but luckily, he seemed to have forgotten the required motions. "It's everythin' else that can't."

This was getting out of hand. He expected this sort of thing from Rudolphus, and he had a feeling it was only a matter of time before Sidwein was pulling stunts like this too, but Severin? He had to get to the bottom of this. "Just listen to yourself! Really, you need to just--Severin!"

Thud!

Well, that had been inevitable, he supposed. Lonriad cringed as he looked down at his son's unconscious form. He never thought he'd be here--on his feet, alert and aware, while Severin was passed out on a whorehouse floor. He couldn't remember ever being so disappointed in his son.

Nor could he remember ever being so disappointed with himself.

He reached into his pouch and grabbed a few more coins, tossing them in the direction of the two prostitutes. "Sorry for all the trouble, girls."

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