Chapter 6
Six
Lierick
Doend was nothing like Ozryn, or even Eaglehoth.
It was large enough, set among the thick cover of the Darkwoods that curved in around it on all sides like a fortress, but it was a ramshackle city that could have been great if it had more.
More money, more citizens willing to stay at the far reaches of Ebrus, more light.
Instead, the roads were still compacted dirt, the buildings still rough-sawn wooden structures, the timber sourced from the darkwood forest itself.
It also seemed to be devoid of women, though there were dozens of dirty-faced men on the walk toward the well-lit inn near the center of the city. None of them seemed to be vagrants, but all of them looked at us suspiciously. It all added up to be slightly disconcerting.
“Have you ever been to Doend before?” I asked Vox quietly.
“Not as anything but the First Line envoy. We never saw this side of Doend.”
I bet he hadn’t. I didn’t doubt he’d ever traveled anywhere without an entire brass band announcing his arrival.
We had Avalon right in the middle of our group, with the large hounds baring teeth to the staring citizens of Doend. The atmosphere here was off, and I got the impression they didn’t like outsiders all that much.
The inn was lit up like a beacon in the darkness, and I moved toward it quickly as possible without looking like I was hurrying.
I had no doubt that I could incapacitate everyone within three hundred feet without breaking a sweat, and that Iker could probably clear out the rest. That was without the disconcerting magic of Vox and Hayle.
We were easily the most magical people here, but there was still power in numbers.
As we made it to the door, Iker peeled off. “I’ll go get us some rooms.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd. We stepped into the general noise of the bar area, but it quietly cut off as people began to notice us.
I double-checked Vox’s disguise, but it was holding strong. If I didn’t know it was him, I would never guess that the man beside me was an illustrious Heir to the First Line. He looked like a pig farmer.
Hayle moved closer to Avalon, his hand on her back like he was waiting for someone to make a wrong move.
I led us toward a table in the back corner, far from the bar and probably a little too far from the fire, but it would be quieter and out of the way.
It also didn’t hurt that our backs would be to the wall, and that there was a rear entrance a few feet to the left.
I didn’t trust anyone with Avalon’s safety. On that, Hayle and I agreed completely.
We put Avalon between us all once again, watchful but trying not to be overt about it. We didn’t want the locals to think we were hostile. I needed these people onside.
I could hear Avalon’s stomach rumbling from here.
The idea of her being hungry was too much for Hayle.
He stood, shuffling me in closer to his Soul Tie, so I could protect her properly.
“I’m going to order Avie some food, then see if the tavern has a runner who can take a message to the Baron of the Sixth Line for a meeting. ”
Nodding, I wrapped my arm across the back of Avalon’s chair, but my senses were scanning the people in the bar.
I could feel their eyes on my skin, and our group was in more than a few thoughts.
Mostly, they recognized Hayle and his hounds; the Third Line was generally respected among most Lines.
They didn’t recognize Vox, which was a relief, though there were more than a few lewd thoughts about Avalon that made me clench my fists.
I couldn’t let it get to me, as showing my hand now would be a mistake. Ignoring them, I focused on our little group. Avalon looked exhausted, already resting her head on Vox’s shoulder. In return, he was looking at her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.
He could never go home. It would be interesting to see how long it would take for Feodore Vylan to publicly denounce his son, or if he’d hide it away, since it would look like a failure on his behalf.
If he could lose control of his second-born son, then how could he keep control of the Lines of Ebrus?
Hayle reappeared with a jug of beer and a large glass of something red with slices of orange in it. A grizzled-looking man followed behind Hayle, carrying four thick wooden steins. Hayle gave him a cocky grin and slapped him on the back. “Thanks, Rupert.”
The man grunted. “I’ll send the runner over when he returns. Linus will be out with your food when it’s bloody well ready.” Then he left. No fanfare. No calling him Heir Taeme and kissing ass. Hayle was still smirking as he watched the old man go.
“He seems nice,” Avalon teased, taking a sip of her drink.
“I asked him to make a mocktail. You’d think I asked him to amputate a limb with no numbing.” Hayle laughed. “If it makes you feel better, it’s just blood orange juice and sugar water.”
“It’s delicious. My compliments to Rupert.”
I’d thought Hayle would kick me from my place beside her, but he just sat down opposite us, his back to the crowd.
The hounds sat either side of him, their eyes watching the citizens of Doend for any sign of aggression.
He trusted those hounds with his life, and given their devotion, I didn’t blame him.
“Rupert sent the tavern runner to the Baron’s manor with my request for an audience, so hopefully, he won’t make us wait too long for an answer. I doubt it will be tonight, though, so we may as well enjoy the tavern and all it has to offer.”
As if summoned by his words, a group of women sashayed down the stairs from the second floor. They had big hair and barely any clothes, and I realized we hadn’t walked into a normal tavern.
We’d walked into a fucking whorehouse.
I watched Avie’s eyes go wide as the women wove through the tables.
There were four of them all in all, and the goo-goo eyes that the locals in the room gave them told me that they weren’t here under duress.
The thoughts of the bar’s inhabitants confirmed it.
They all looked upon the women like shining stars in the darkness.
Somehow, these prostitutes had taken this tavern filled with shady men and made it their glittering court.
I skimmed the minds of the men in here again, trying to find anything that would suggest any kind of malice directed toward them, but all I could find was a nauseating amount of lust and absolute devotion.
The women themselves were like the four corners of a compass—completely different, even though they were dressed in a similar manner.
They were obviously not all from the Sixth Line; one had the soft, golden skin of someone from the Twelfth Line, and another, the long, willowy body of the women from Cyne.
One of the other women’s origins I couldn’t pick, but the one that I somehow knew was the leader was definitely from Doend.
She was beautiful in a way that spoke of dark promises and even darker secrets.
She made her way toward us, a small smile on her face promising pleasure if we wanted it.
“Are these new faces I see in this fine establishment? Tell me, my pretty little cockerels, what brings you to Doend this fine night?” It was hard to estimate her age, but I’d put her in her early thirties, maybe.
“Just traveling through. We have business with the Baron,” Hayle answered good-naturedly.
The woman leaned forward, only one sneeze away from her breasts losing their battle to stay in her corset. She raised a brow. “Is that so?” She placed a hand on his arm, and I felt Avalon stiffen beside me. “Have you tried the tasting menu here? It is quite… exquisite.”
You didn’t have to be a genius at subtext to realize she wasn’t talking about whatever bar menu the kitchen ran. She ran her fingers up Hayle’s arm, and at the same time Hayle shrugged away, Avalon stood, leaning forward and planting both hands on the table.
“Do not touch. He’s mine.”
The woman looked at Avalon with a cunning expression. “No need to fret, sweet thing, you can have a taste too. You’re pretty, and I’m not particularly discerning about who’s delivering the pleasure to the table.”
Clearing her throat, Avalon shook her head. “No, thank you.”
The woman let out a tinkling laugh. “So polite. Perhaps one of you other fine gentlemen might like to have a bite?”
Shaking her head more vigorously, Avalon met the woman’s eyes again. “No. They are all mine,” she all but growled.
This time, the woman’s carefully manicured eyebrows nearly reached her hairline.
“All three? Sweet thing, maybe we should abandon the sausage on the menu altogether, and you can show me what wiles you have that keep three such fine specimens satisfied.” She laughed heartily.
“Honestly, variety is the spice of life, so good for you, girl.” Just like that, the femme fatale act was gone, and she cocked her hip. “Where are you guys coming from?”
“Out west,” Vox answered imperiously, and I realized a distinct flaw in our plan. He looked like a pig farmer, but sounded like he’d been born with a silver spoon shoved up his ass. When the woman’s eyes narrowed, I knew she hadn’t missed that small fact either.
If I had to guess, I’d say these four women were informants, but for who was the mystery. Logically, you’d assume it would be the Baron of the Sixth Line, but why would he need to keep an eye on his own citizens?
The woman’s chin lifted slightly. “A real tragedy, the famine out there.”
“Yes, indeed. Someone should do something about it,” I agreed lightly.
She sucked on her teeth, raising a single, manicured brow. “Indeed.”
A bedraggled-looking boy appeared with a tray full of bowls—the infamous Linus, I assumed.
The woman leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, making the boy blush.
“Evening, Linus.” She rolled her shoulders and pasted the coquettish smile back on her face as she looked between our group.
“Well, time waits on no woman. Perhaps we’ll have time to speak later? ”
“Perhaps,” Hayle agreed. “It was lovely to meet you…?”
“Liselle. And you’re Hayle Taeme, Heir to the Third Line.
” She pouted exaggeratedly. “I’ve heard some things about the prowess of the Third Line, but none of you ever come down this way.
It’s a real shame. Tell your fellow Line members to visit Doend, so I can find out firsthand why your girl is so territorial.
” She winked at Avalon and sashayed away.
We watched her go, before turning to our food. Avalon’s eyes lingered a little longer, and I could hear the doubt in her mind even without dipping into her thoughts; she was wondering how she could ever measure up to that level of feminine beauty.
“She was pretty,” she said with false nonchalance.
Hayle, to his credit, frowned. “I guess. Not as beautiful as you, though.” He fed her a piece of his bread, which was still steaming from the oven. “Her beauty is her armor.”
“All the better to spy with,” Vox muttered. “She was mining us for information.”
A kid in ratty pants that had been sewn up more times than I could count, and who looked about thirteen, appeared at the table. “Baron Marlee will see you tomorrow morning at nine,” he gasped out between puffed breaths. He’d obviously lived up to his role as runner.
Hayle smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold coin. It was probably more than his parents made in a month. No kid should be working in a whorehouse, but clearly, age-appropriate jobs were for people with options.
The kid’s eyes went wide as he stared down at the coin. “Thank you, Heir Taeme.”
Liselle appeared behind the boy. “Take that upstairs and put it in the safe, Garus, and send your Pa for it in the morning.” She looked at Hayle disapprovingly.
“Do you want the boy to be robbed on his way home tonight? You can’t give a child a month’s worth of coin and expect him to get home without a knife in his ribs. ”
The boy, Garus, raced up the stairs. Hayle frowned at Liselle. “You won’t keep a cut for yourself?”
Liselle bristled. “I might be a whore, Heir Taeme, but this place is my Barony, and unlike some rulers, I care for each and every person who steps foot across its threshold. Insult me again, and you’ll find yourself in the tender hands of Doend after dark yourself.”
I skimmed her mind, and while everything about her earlier persona might have been fake, her outrage at Hayle’s suggestion she would steal from a child was all too real.
I raised my hands placatingly. “Apologies, Miss Liselle. We just want to make sure the boy is taken care of, much like yourself. We didn’t mean to besmirch your integrity.
There are many in your position who take a little off the top, as their ‘due.’”
Liselle grumbled beneath her breath, but couldn’t argue with those facts.
Hayle nodded. “I apologize too. It appears we hold similar beliefs when it comes to those in our care.”
She narrowed her eyes at Hayle’s self-deprecating grin, and shook her head. “Charming bastards, the lot of you. Good luck to you, sweet thing,” she said sarcastically to Avalon, then flounced back to the group she’d been speaking to before she’d sent Garus upstairs.
Twenty minutes later, Iker reappeared, looking tousled, his hair mussed and his shirt untucked. There was lipstick down his throat. “So, turns out this is a whorehouse.”
Avalon laughed, and the tension in the table disappeared. We settled into food and warmth while we could.