Trudi Canavan - Priestess of the White

She laughed. “Rozea won’t let me keep it.”

“Of course I will,” the madam said, smiling. She moved the man’s piece back to its former position.

Emerahl met the woman’s eyes, then looked down at the board. She drew a little magic and sent it out. A black counter slid across the board and flipped on top of another.

The two guards jumped, then grinned at her. “Clever trick, that,” the friendly one said.

“Yes.” Rozea was staring at the board. “Very clever.”

“Yield?” Emerahl asked.

“Can’t say I have any choice,” Rozea admitted.

“What?” The guard turned to stare at the board. “Did she win the game for me?”

“She did.” Rozea pushed a few coins in his direction. “I believe half of that is hers.”

“Oh, you owe me much more than that, Rozea,” Emerahl replied. “And it’s time you paid up. I’m leaving.”

The madam leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “We had an agreement.”

“I’m breaking it.”

“If you leave now, you go with nothing.”

Emerahl smiled. “So you’ve said. That’s hardly fair. I’ve earned you quite a sum. If you will not give me the wages I’ve earned, I will take them.”

Rozea uncrossed her arms and set her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Fling counters at me with magic? Your sorcery does not scare me. If you were able to force me into giving you money, you would have done so before now.”

“Your weakness, Rozea, is that you think others are as selfish and greedy as you. I only stayed to protect the girls. Now that you’ve caught up with the army you’ll be able to hire new guards. You don’t need me anymore.”

“ Need you?” Rozea laughed. “You flatter yourself.”

Emerahl smiled. “Perhaps. It’s been a long time since I had to use magic to hurt anyone. I don’t like to. I prefer to find ways around it. So I’ll give you one last chance. Give me my wages. Now.”

“No.”

Emerahl turned and strode toward the tarn in which Brand and Tide were sleeping.

“Where are you going?” she heard Rozea demand.

Emerahl ignored her. She reached the tarn and opened the flap.

“Wake up, girls.”

The girls started awake and blinked at her in surprise as she climbed inside.

“Jade?”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving,” Emerahl told them. She turned to the front seat. “Stand up.”

Tide and Star rose. Emerahl felt under the seat and found a tiny latch. She pulled and the compartment opened. Behind was a collection of boxes.

Rozea’s face appeared in the doorway. “What are you . . . stop that!”

Emerahl drew out one of the boxes. It was encouragingly heavy.

“Give that to me!” Rozea demanded.

Emerahl opened the box. The girls hummed with interest as they saw the coins inside. Rozea cursed and started to climb into the tarn.

With a gesture and a small shove of magic, Emerahl pushed the madam out of the tarn. Rozea toppled backward and was caught by the guards.

“Stop her!” the woman shouted. “She’s robbing us!”

“I’m not robbing you,” Emerahl corrected her. “Now, Panilo said you were charging twice what he originally paid me. That’s a hundred . . .” she paused as the guards reluctantly tried to enter the tarn, and gently pushed them out again “. . . ren per customer. Since coming to your establishment I’ve had forty-eight customers, many who were richer and more important than Panilo. Let’s make it a nice round five thousand ren, which makes ten gold. I’ll subtract one gold for a month’s food and board—and for the clothing—which I’m sure you’ll give to another girl anyway. I’ll need some change, of course, so . . .”

Emerahl began counting, aware that Rozea was standing a few steps away, glaring at her. The girls in the tarn were silent—too surprised to speak.

“Jade? Jade? Are you sure about this?” Brand asked suddenly, her voice low and urgent with concern. “There’s a battle about to happen. You’ll be all alone.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s you girls I’m worried about. Don’t let Rozea take any risks. Get yourselves back to Toren as soon as you can.”

“I don’t understand.” This came from Star. “If you’ve got Gifts enough that you can heal me and take your wages off Rozea, why’d you end up in a brothel?”

Emerahl looked up at her, then shrugged. “I . . . I don’t know. Bad luck, I suppose.”

The question made her uncomfortable, and not just because it might get them thinking of reasons why a healer sorceress might have resorted to prostitution at a time when the priests were searching for someone of that description. She counted the rest of her earnings out in silver and gold, to quicken the task.

When she had finished, she looked at each of the girls. They still looked confused. She smiled.

“Take care of yourselves. And take this advice: if you all demand it together, Rozea will have to give you your earnings. Don’t squander it all; put some aside for the future. Never think you don’t have a life outside the brothel. You’re all talented, beautiful women.”

Brand smiled. “Thanks, Jade. You take care of yourself, too.”

The others murmured farewells. Emerahl turned away and climbed down out of the tarn. She caught the eye of a servant.

“Get me a pack, with food and water. And some plain clothes.”

The man glanced at Rozea. To Emerahl’s surprise, the woman nodded. He hurried away.

“I guess I shouldn’t force you to stay when you’re so set on leaving,” Rozea said resignedly. “I’m not happy about this, but if you must go, you must go. Should you decide to return to the business at some stage, don’t think you’re unwelcome in my house. I’m not such a fool that I wouldn’t consider employing you again.”

Emerahl regarded the woman thoughtfully, sensing a sullen respect. Why so friendly now? Perhaps I didn’t take as much money as she expected. I still can’t get used to the way prices have inflated over the last century .

“I’ll remember that,” she replied. The servant appeared. He thrust a bag into her arms. She gave the contents a quick examination, then hoisted it over her shoulder. “Look after those girls,” she told Rozea. “You don’t deserve them.”

Then she turned her back and started along the road toward Toren.

As the sun rose above the horizon, light spilled over the Plains of Gold. The shadows of the Circlian priests, priestesses, soldiers and archers stretched out like fingers pointed in accusation toward the mass of black-robed invaders.

The last shred of lingering weariness disappeared as Tryss watched the two armies draw closer. Of the entire Circlian army, only the Siyee had rested the previous night. It had been a restless sleep even so. Few were able to keep their minds from the coming battle. He suspected that if the landwalkers had stopped their march they might not have gained much rest from the long night either. Even from the air he had seen signs of agitation and nervousness among them.

Black flapping shapes rose from among the Pentadrians—an evil cloud of potential death. Tryss heard exclamations of dismay around him. He glanced at the men and women nearby. People of his own tribe. Not his family or wife—the Speakers had decided it was too much to ask a flight leader to take his relations into battle—yet tribes were never so large that a Siyee didn’t know every member. It was still hard to think that these people might die if he made a mistake in judgment.

His stomach clenched. He ignored it and took a deep breath.

“These black birds have beaks and claws,” he called. “But they must get near us to use them. We have darts and arrows. We will kill them before they reach us.”