Chapter 8
The inside of the house was tranquil and cool, setting Riella at ease.
The robed man led them to a plush bar area, where three young and beautiful women sat at a table. The women stared at Riella and her companions, one of them even rising in her seat to get a better view. The siren automatically gravitated toward them. She yearned for female company after a long, hard day being around men.
Emerald and sapphire tones decorated the salon and a peculiar brass contraption played music from the corner. Small circular tables dotted the room and a demure young woman polished glasses behind the gilded bar.
“Do you seek an introduction?” asked the robed man of Artus.
“I do,” he replied. “But first, I’ll need an audience with Madame Quaan. In private.”
The robed man nodded, glancing at Riella. “Follow me.”
He disappeared down a hallway and the captain followed, along with Fletch.
Left alone at last, Riella approached the women. Their faces were painted prettily and they wore elaborate hairstyles and luxurious dresses. She was relieved that none of them seemed to fear her, unlike the woman on the street.
“Look at you!” exclaimed a girl with golden-blonde curls. “Are you . . . a siren? You look like the ones I met on my sea voyage from Stathgate. You have the same otherworldly beauty. But how on earth do you have legs?”
She grasped Riella’s hand and urged her to sit at the table. The siren shifted on the seat in an attempt to get comfortable. She’d never sat in one before and it was an odd sensation.
“I am a siren,” she said in confirmation. “Or at least, I think I still am. It’s a long story. But what is this place? Can anyone here perform magic?”
The women giggled.
“Oh, all of us can,” said a woman with long red braids. “We’re true magicians.”
She winked at the siren.
Riella frowned, and took another look around the room, an awful suspicion dawning on her.
The woman with red hair touched Riella’s elbow. “Listen, we’ll take good care of you, okay? That’s what we do at Madame Quaan’s. We look out for each other. Life here isn’t perfect, but if you’re being brought in by the captain—” She inclined her head where Artus went with the robed man. The other women scowled at the mention of him. “—then I’m sure it’ll be an improvement on whatever the pirates were doing to you. Are you injured?”
Riella tugged at the sleeve of her oversized shirt. “No, but I’m quite dirty. I was in a brig.”
“We’ll get you cleaned up,” the woman continued. “We’ve got an hour or so before the first of them arrive. Apparently, we’re getting a visitor from the palace today, which means lots of gold. So, your timing is sublime in that regard.”
At the mention of coin, the siren perked up. “I need gold. I need to get to the Black Cliffs.”
“We all need gold, darling. And to get far away from here.” She put her slender hand on her prominent bust. “I’m Sehild. This is Odeya.” The golden-blonde woman smiled and nodded. “And this is Yvette.”
Sehild gestured to a tall, willowy woman with a mass of dark curls.
“I’m Riella,” she replied. “But why did the captain bring me here?”
The women exchanged glances, their smiles fading.
“How long have you had legs?” asked Odeya in a gentle voice.
“Since yesterday.”
Odeya winced and leaned back in her chair, picking at her varnished nails. The women paused and exchanged glances again, as if none of them wanted to be the one to speak.
“We are here for men to buy sex,” said Yvette, apparently deciding it would be her to break the awkward silence. “Madame Quaan is our boss. Overlord, more like it. I believe the captain is in the back right now, negotiating his fee for bringing you here.”
Riella’s eyes narrowed, her suspicions confirmed. “He’s selling me?”
Slavers often traversed the seas, and she knew this was the fate of many of the female captives. Never did she imagine she’d be among their number. She should’ve slaughtered Artus when she first laid eyes on him.
Jarin had been right about the captain—Artus deserved death.
“Yes, darling,” said Sehild, in a far more soothing tone than Yvette’s blunt declaration. “It could be worse, though. This is one of the better establishments in Klatos. We receive wealthy clientele, including men of the Court. Madame Quaan runs the place with an iron fist, but as long as you don’t get on her bad side, you’ll not see the end of her cane.”
“Why don’t you overthrow her?” asked Riella. “It sounds like she has plenty of gold for the taking. Slavers always do.”
“She has Gerret,” explained Yvette. “And friends in high places.”
“Gerret? The man in the black robe?”
Yvette nodded. “He’s vicious.”
“I see.”
Sirens killed slavers as a matter of principle. But when she and her friends intercepted slave ships, the captors on board were always male. Could she kill a woman, even if that woman was a slaver? She had no frame of reference for such a dilemma.
Life on land became more complicated by the minute, and she’d only been part of their mad world for less than a day.
Voices carried from the hallway, including a familiar male baritone. Artus was returning and she needed to decide how to proceed. It was best if he believed the transaction had gone seamlessly, to get rid of him.
Then, she’d find a way to deal with Madame Quaan and her black-robed man-servant. Jarin could deal with Artus. Helping these women was more important than a feud between pirates.
“Where does she keep her coin?” she hissed at Sehild, before the captain returned.
Sehild chewed her lip, concern darkening her pretty features. “In her study, downstairs at the end of the hallway. But it’s protected by steel and magic, and all the exits from the building are locked.”
Fletch and Artus walked back into the bar. This time, a tall and sinewy woman with severe features accompanied them. Her steel-gray hair was pulled into a tight bun and her black dress covered her entire body. On her hands, she wore black gloves.
At once, her eagle-like gaze focused on Riella. After inspecting the siren, she turned to Artus. When she addressed him, she did not bother lowering her voice.
“All seems fine. As a bonus, I would like to offer you some entertainment before you leave. What say you?”
A cretinous smile spread across the captain’s face. “Wouldn’t say no, Madame. We’ve the time.”
Madame Quaan clapped her hands once. “Yvette. Sehild.”
As obediently as puppets on strings, the women stood. They smoothed their voluminous skirts and went to Artus and Fletch. Without a backward glance, they led the two men into the shadowy depths of the hallway.
Riella dug her talons into her palms to stop herself from going after both men and tearing them to shreds. Gerret still lurked somewhere unseen, and she could not risk the other women getting hurt. She would have to be wise about her movements.
Madame Quaan waved her hand in Odeya’s general direction. “Take her to the washroom. Get her ready. She’ll meet the Count when he arrives.”
“Yes, Madame,” said Odeya, rising dutifully to her feet and indicating for Riella to follow her. “Right away.”
The washroom was behind one of many doors lining the hallway. Riella noted the dark recess at the end of the corridor leading to Madame Quaan’s study.
“I’ll run a bath for you,” said Odeya, closing the door behind them. As soon as they were alone, the golden-haired woman noticeably relaxed. “We’ll wash that lovely hair of yours, and we have plenty of dresses to choose from.”
The washroom was windowless, and constructed of white marble with dark veins running through it. A bathtub sat against one wall, next to a bench crammed with various bottles and jars of cosmetic potions. Garments bulged from a rack on hangers, in tulle and lace and silk of all colors.
There were also several full-length mirrors in the room, some facing each other. Riella stood in front of one, noting she could see every angle of herself.
“To make sure we look good from the front and back,” said Odeya, rotating the tap handles over the bath.
Riella frowned, turning this way and that. She was familiar with her own reflection, of course, but standing in front of the mirrors showed more detail than she’d ever seen before. The longer she looked, the less she liked what she saw. How did that work?
As the water rose in the tub, it drew the siren. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to be out of the water for a moment longer. She stripped the smelly pirate garments from her body and stepped into the bath.
The water was hotter than she was used to, and devoid of salt, but the sensation was divine nonetheless. Her skin felt as though it was coming to life. With a contented sigh, she lay back and submerged herself fully in the water. The familiar silence and weightlessness made her heart sing.
But after some time, she began to choke. In her excitement, she had forgotten she needed to hold her breath underwater now, and inhaled a gulp of liquid. She sat up, coughing.
Odeya was staring at her in wonder. “How did this happen to you? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“A mage,” said Riella with a splutter, as she regained her breath.
“And how do you feel about it?” She tilted her head. “I can hardly imagine what it’d be like to wake up with a tail, and live in the ocean. To have the opposite happen must be very peculiar.”
“Feel?” repeated Riella.
Sirens weren’t encouraged to feel, much less talk about their feelings. But since Polinth had changed her, she couldn’t deny that her emotions had been stronger than usual. And more complicated.
She frowned, trying to find the right words.
“It feels lonely,” she said, surprising herself. “I feel a bit sad. And angry. And afraid. And . . . something else.”
“Excited?” suggested Odeya.
“Yes, actually. How did you know?”
The blonde woman smiled. “The way you look at everything around you. You’re fascinated. But that’s normal, don’t worry. Even scary things can be exciting.”
“Normal.” She kicked her legs in the water. “What a strange thing to be.”
Odeya washed the siren’s hair with suds smelling of flowers. When Riella was clean and the water began to cool, she reluctantly stepped from the tub and dried off.
The more Riella used her legs, the stronger she realized they were. If she could master how to operate them to their full potential, she could do a lot of damage. They were certainly no tail, but she could adapt.
“Where will you go when we escape this place?” asked Riella as the other woman selected undergarments and a dress for her, laying them over a chair.
“I dare not say, unless I know it’ll truly happen. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
The siren furrowed her brow. “Of course it will happen.”
Odeya just smiled sadly.
She helped Riella into an overly complicated array of sheer, frilly undergarments. The clips and straps made no sense, and Riella was already resigned to the fact that she’d have to simply rip them off when the time came to remove them.
Odeya helped her into a simple blue dress, cinched at the waist and sheer at the bust.
“Blue to match your eyes,” said Odeya as she tightened the bustier. She fluffed Riella’s hair, arranging it in waves around her face and shoulders. “Count Zemora is an odd man. He’ll adore you, but don’t let him push you too far. He will, if you let him. They’re all like that.”
Riella sat on the chair while Odeya helped her put on silk slippers. Like all of the clothes, wearing the shoes made her feel oddly constricted.
But, here on the land, it seemed that body parts needed the protection of garments—for more than one reason. Jarin had been right about that, too.
There was a light rapping on the door, in a distinct rhythm.
“Come in,” called Odeya.
Yvette and Sehild were in states of semi-undress, their hair and makeup messy.
“Done,” said Yvette, heaving a sigh and flopping down on the chair. “Until the next one.”
“That captain is a vile man.” Sehild wriggled out of her dress with Odeya’s help. “Thank the heavens he’s gone.”
“Get anything good from him?” asked Odeya.
Yvette unlaced a hidden section of her bustier and two gold coins fell into her waiting palm.
“Madame gave him a hefty bag of gold for you, alright,” she said to Riella.
“You stole that from Artus?” asked the siren.
“Yes.” Yvette gave her a wary look. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing. I’m glad.”
Yvette’s face relaxed. From the hidden compartment, she also withdrew a battered piece of folded parchment. She opened it and frowned at the contents.
“What’s that?” asked Sehild, lowering herself into the bathtub naked, having arranged her red braids on top of her head to stay dry.
“I thought it might be a title or deed.” Yvette shrugged. “But it’s just some nonsense.”
She tossed it onto the cosmetics bench and began raking her fingers through her thick, unruly curls.
Out of pure curiosity, Riella picked it up. The parchment was indeed covered in nonsense markings and symbols. Except . . . some of them weren’t nonsense to her.
“It’s Shirranis,” she said in wonder. “The ancient language of Shirrani mystics. We studied it during our language lessons with the elders, but we didn’t learn in detail, because it’s too rare. I recognize this symbol, though.” She tapped the parchment. “It means sacrifice. What would Artus be doing with this?”
“Knowing Artus, something bad,” said Yvette with disinterest, scrubbing her face with a dampened washcloth. “You can have it, if you like. I’ve certainly no use for it.”
Riella wasn’t sure she did either, but decided she may as well keep it, if for no other reason than Artus wanted it, and she liked the idea of depriving him of something he wanted.
She’d just stuffed the parchment down the front of her dress when the door banged open without warning. In the threshold stood Madame Quaan, surveying the women with blatant contempt.
“Siren.” She pointed her gloved finger at Riella. “Your turn.”