The Rose of the World (31 page)

‘So, Varyx,’ he said now, turning to his friend, ‘how would you like to proceed – have them all in at once so you can make immediate comparison, or draw it out and see them one by one?’

Varyx smirked and a dribble of red wine ran down his chin. He wiped it away absentmindedly with the back of the hand not clutching the vast goblet of Jetra’s finest and reclined a little further onto the couch. ‘Oh, one by one, Rui, most certainly. And then all together. Best of both worlds, y’know?’

Rui gestured to the slave boy who stood by with the wineflask. ‘Go fetch Peta,’ he said, taking the flask from the lad’s hands. ‘Tell her to bring the women up to my dressing chamber. We shall have them in one at a time.’

The boy – one of Rui’s many bastards – flashed a grin and left the room with alacrity, hoping very much that he’d be allowed to stay.

By the time Peta and Agia ushered the first veiled figure into her lord’s receiving chamber, Lord Varyx was patently plastered. His face was flushed, his eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed to be having difficulty focusing. Peta found that she was inordinately irritated by this. She had spent the last several hours overseeing a frantic preparation of the women – having them bathed and oiled, shorn and painted, then draped in very proper sabatkas. She knew that her master preferred to see his houris in sheer robes which barely hid a detail; but she also recognized the power of the tantalising glimpse. The northerners had been sullen but for the most part quiescent during this demeaning process. The least disobedience had resulted in a whipping with a wet cloth, which stung the skin but left no lasting mark: that had quelled all but the most rebellious and uncooperative of them, and she had a strategy firmly in place for keeping that one compliant . . .

Peta enjoyed her life as the mistress of Rui’s seraglio: she had a loom of her own, pleasant quarters and more power than she could ever have imagined when she was a backstreet slave in the Eternal City. Since that grim time she had been bartered and traded all the way from Jetra to Gibeon, from Gibeon to Cantara, from Cantara to Cera; and at last from Cera to Forent, picking up new tricks and tales of others’ misfortunes all the way. Rui Finco was a relatively indulgent master: in comparison with many other women in her situation she had few complaints. And life as a common servant would be hard indeed now that she was past her prime. She had no intention of allowing a skinny little northern bitch to ruin the prospects of her comfortable old age in Forent Castle.

‘Make your obeisance and tell the lords your name,’ Peta chided in the Old Tongue, pushing the first girl firmly in the back.

Forna Stensen bobbed her greeting and mumbled out her name.

‘Your hands, girl,’ Peta whispered crossly, and Forna held out her hands to be admired, palms first then backs, so that the candlelight glittered on the strange coloured lacquer they had applied to her fingernails. Then she curled her right hand as she had been shown, left hand cupped below it, and as gracefully as she could manage, moved it up and down. When performed by a properly trained Istrian houri such a gesture was deliciously suggestive: but Forna looked more as if she were milking a cow.

Varyx guffawed. ‘By the Lady, she’d pull your cock right off!’

Rui sighed. ‘Don’t bother with the trimmings, Peta: we’re not at the marketplace . . . yet. Let’s see what she’s made like.’

Peta inclined her head. ‘Show the lords your pretty feet, my child,’ she urged Forna, and Forna Stensen stuck one pink appendage out from under the hem of her demure robe and waved it about in a lumpen sort of way.

‘Not my type,’ the Lord of Ixta exclaimed, sitting back. He waved languidly. ‘Next!’

Rui Finco raised an eyebrow. For all his bravado and his reputation, Varyx was something of a traditionalist, it seemed. For some reason, he found this rather amusing; and yet he had to admit that there was a certain simplicity to it. Besides, if he followed tradition to the letter, Varyx would never see much more than her hands and feet anyway, since even whores tended to keep their capacious robes on when worshipping the Goddess. It seemed ridiculous to him not to appreciate a woman’s entire form; but many would regard him as perverse for even framing such a thought, let alone acting upon it.

Agia conducted Forna outside, then returned first with a fat girl, then a thin girl, neither of which met with approval, then a large and clumsy one who trod on the hem of her robe as she came through the door and went sprawling in such a manner the men could see more than they wished of what lay beneath the concealing robes. After her came one with warts on her fingers which Peta had in the time available to her been able to do nothing about, and she was immediately sent packing. Next came Leni Stelsen. Neatly put together and graceful in her movements, she matched the Istrian ideal far more closely than her predecessors. Varyx was intrigued. He ran a bold hand over her foot, even venturing so far as to lift the hem of her robe an inch until Peta tsked and drew the girl away.

‘Not bad,’ he said with a leer.

The Lord of Forent fixed his seraglio keeper’s disapproving mouth with a hard stare. ‘Keep that one outside, Peta,’ he said smoothly. ‘We may recall her later,’ and watched as she bundled Leni away.

Now a taller girl swept in behind Agia. She wore, Rui Finco noted with some annoyance, a finer robe than the other women, one which clung to her curves and moulded itself against her legs. Whichever one she was – and he had his suspicions – she must have gained Peta’s favour in the short time she had been in the castle, which in itself was no mean feat. He beckoned her over and she came with a swaying gait, throwing out each hip in a graceful arc, her painted toes pointed, her hands pressed with apparent modesty to her crotch, which merely served to draw attention to that area. Reaching the couches where the two lords reclined, she bowed deeply and the way she caught in the fabric of the sabatka gave them both a clear outline of her not insubstantial breasts.

When she straightened up, the men were treated to the sight of an exquisite pair of lips, finely delineated and coloured in glistening pink and silver. A small silver star twinkled in the middle of the philtrum; seeing the lords mesmerised by this detail, the tall girl formed her mouth into the coyest of pouts then shot the very tip of her tongue out into view to touch the star and back again quick as a snake, leaving a bubble of saliva on her gleaming lower lip. Varyx spilled his wine in his haste to inspect her more closely.

‘Now this one is rare,’ he proclaimed, breathing heavily. He reached out and touched a swell in the fabric and sighed contentedly as Kitten’s soft hand closed around his probing finger. ‘Rare, indeed.’

The Lord of Forent leant forward. He knew exactly which of the women this one was, and having seen her naked was not driven by curiosity to see her undressed; but her blatant sexuality intrigued him. ‘Have her disrobe,’ he said to his harem keeper.

‘Really, Rui, I’m quite happy to touch her through the cloth—’

‘Have her disrobe!’ he repeated sharply.

‘My lord!’ Peta was scandalised. ‘This is slavemarket behaviour, not to be indulged in by honourable men . . .’

This was too much for Varyx. He grabbed Rui Finco by the arm, almost weeping with delight. ‘She thinks we are honourable men, my friend! How extraordinary. How wonderful! How long has it been since we were honourable, Rui? Thirteen? Fourteen?’

The Lord of Forent prised the other man’s wet fingers from his velvet sleeve, noting with irritation how the nap had been marked. ‘Really, Peta. Anyone would think you ran a chapter of Falla’s Sisters rather than a whorehouse.’

‘Seraglio,’ Peta corrected him sharply. ‘My lord.’

‘Although money may not be exchanged at the time, my dear, my guests pay for your girls’ services in many other ways, believe me.’

Peta’s head remained stubbornly still: he could tell that instead of regarding the floor with due deference she was staring at him with her little gimlet eyes glittering away behind that veil.

With a sigh Rui Finco levered himself to his feet. ‘Whatever is the point of keeping a bitch and having to bark oneself?’ he declared into the close air of the chamber. Behind him, Varyx sniggered drunkenly, a sound which came to an abrupt halt as the Lord of Forent whisked the shimmering robe from the northern girl, revealing Kitten Soronsen in all her statuesque glory.

‘Oh . . .’ Varyx was beside himself, almost literally. His body might have been sprawled on the day-bed, but his eyes and mind were elsewhere entirely. ‘I’ll have this one, Rui, truly I will.’

But his friend was not listening to him. ‘What are you called?’ he asked, head on one side like an acquisitive robin regarding a worm.

Kitten bobbed her head. ‘Kitten Soronsen, my lord.’ She gazed up at Rui Finco through her lashes. It was a frank look, not the blushing, deferential glance he was used to. Interesting.

‘Kitten, as in “little cat”?’

Kitten smiled, revealing the tips of sharp, pearl-white teeth. ‘Yes, my lord.’

‘I wonder if I could make you purr.’

That drew a blush. ‘I am sure you could, my lord.’

‘Well, perhaps I shall. But I have a task for you first.’

‘Yesh . . .’ Varyx was on his feet now and wobbling unsteadily towards them. ‘A very . . . pleasant tashk indeed.’

Turning swiftly, Rui extended one hand, fingers splayed, and pushed Varyx firmly back onto the couch. The Lord of Ixta landed in a heap with his legs in the air and a most perplexed expression on his face. ‘Now then, Rui . . . fair’sh fair. It’sh my choice. You shaid sho . . .’

‘Oh, you shall have your choice, my friend. It’s just that this one is not part of the deal.’ He turned back to Kitten Soronsen, knelt and retrieved the crimson sabatka. This he held out to her graciously. ‘Put on your robe, my dear. Now, tell me: do you know a man called Erol Bardson?’

Kitten’s eyes grew round. ‘He is the King’s cousin.’

Rui grinned. ‘Excellent. So that much is true, at least.’ He looked past her to the mistress of his seraglio.‘Is she schooled, Peta?’

The woman laughed. ‘I would hardly call any of these northern women “schooled”, my lord. They came to me as rough as dogs and I have little chance to teach them our ways. But she is the best of a poor bunch.’

‘Do you want to be rich, Kitten? Rich and pampered and treated like an empress?’

Her eyes grew rounder. Then she nodded quickly.

‘You shall spend your first night in my service in the company of this Erol Bardson, and you shall make him as comfortable as he wishes to be. Do you understand what I mean by this?’

Again, Kitten nodded.

Rui caught her by the elbow and guided her to one side, his voice no louder than a whisper. ‘You will ask him why he is here and whether someone is paying him. You will ask him what he knows of Halbo City and its famed Sentinel Towers, which you have heard are impossible to pass from the sea. Then tomorrow you shall tell me all he says. You are an Eyran: he will talk to you more freely than any of my other women. And if you perform this service well for me and glean such knowledge as you can, I will reward you richly and keep you here in Forent Castle rather than sending you to the slave-blocks to become the property of some filthy old merchant. Do you agree?’

Kitten flashed him her most winning smile. ‘Oh yes, my lord, I do.’

‘Excellent. Agia?’

‘My lord?’

‘Have Plano conduct this lady to the quarters of the Earl of Broadfell and explain that it is my wish he makes the most of Forent’s famed hospitality.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

Peta said nothing, which in itself conveyed her displeasure. She watched Agia guide Kitten away with her hands on her hips, a most belligerent stance.

‘So, Peta, we have two ladies left for Varyx to choose from, I believe?’

‘There are two left.’ This was not what she had expected at all. Varyx should have seen Kitten Soronsen and the whole charade should have been over; instead they were left with the hell-cat and her difficult mother. She wondered if she might get away with bringing Leni Stelsen out again instead of the fox-haired brat, but any hope of this was immediately dashed.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing whether you have succeeded in taming the little redhead,’ Rui said with a cruel smile. ‘I’m sure you won’t have forgotten our bargain, Peta.’

‘Indeed not, my lord,’ Peta returned through gritted teeth.

Agia made to move through the door to fetch Katla, but Peta waved her aside. ‘I’ll get her,’ she hissed.

As soon as the door was unlocked, Katla was on her feet. With Plano gone, now was as good a time as any to make a run for it, if she had the chance; but Peta blocked the doorway with her robust frame. ‘You see this?’ the seraglio keeper asked softly. She inched a wicked-looking little blade out of her sleeve so that it gleamed for a moment in her palm.

‘Mmm,’ said Katla, trying to sound uninterested, though the sight of the weapon riveted her.

‘Embarrass me any way – take one wrong step or say one wrong word – and this lady – ’ she indicated the dark-robed Bera Rolfsen standing behind them ‘ – feel its kiss from here – ’ a sharp-taloned nail touched her right ear ‘ – to here.’ The nail drew itself across her throat to the other ear. ‘I make myself clear?’

Katla glared at her through the annoying veil.

‘She your mother, I believe,’ Peta added silkily. ‘At least, that what Agia told me when you were reunited yesterday.’ She leaned in closer to Katla. ‘We have no secrets here, in this seraglio: so I also cut her if you tell any more your dangerous nonsense to my girls about how free are Eyran women, you hear?’

Katla’s eyes narrowed. One quick foot inside the other woman’s instep and she knew she could have Peta on her back and the knife in her hand. Her fingers itched and buzzed as if she could feel the blade nestled in her palm already.

The door opened and all immediate chance of escape evaporated. ‘Is there a problem, Peta?’ Rui Finco asked smoothly. ‘You see, my lord of Ixta is becoming rather . . . tired and emotional and would like to make his choice.’ He smiled. ‘Before he passes out.’

He ushered both Katla and Bera ahead of him into the receiving room, where Varyx was slumped on the couch, snoring gently. The Lord of Forent smiled. He had watered his own wine while adding a tasteless but very potent rye spirit to Varyx’s, never having had the least intention of allowing him to spoil his prize merchandise. Nevertheless, he took the precaution of crossing the room and shaking the man by the shoulder. To no avail: the Lord of Ixta blew and whistled, then curled himself around his friend’s arm, murmuring obscenities. Rui removed himself with a curse, then turned to face the women.