Gail Martin - The Sworn

Aidane locked the door behind her and made her way down the narrow stairs to the street. The rooming house smelled of burning meat and overcooked cabbage. The others who shared the building generally ignored Aidane, and she ignored them as well. Better that way. Aidane had clients enough to keep her fed, and more company from the ghosts who begged to be allowed to use her body than she needed. Solitude was the one luxury she couldn’t purchase.

It wouldn’t do to hire a carriage to take her all the way to the client’s home; the driver might remember that he’d dropped off someone from this part of town near the home of a highborn magistrate. That could lead to questions, and in Nargi, questions never had good answers. Instead, Aidane would hire a carriage to take her as far as the marketplace, and from there, another carriage to the client’s home.

“Where are you going?”

Aidane startled at the harsh voice. She looked up to see a man in the red robes of a Crone priest blocking her way. Her heart thudded in her throat. He doesn’t know. He can’t see your clothing. It’s just the usual night patrol.

“Heading for the temple,” she murmured, keeping her face averted. She hoped her voice was suitably respectful.

“Late for you to be out alone,” the priest chided.

“I felt the need to pray,” Aidane said quietly. “Please, I want to make my offering.”

“Next time, go by daylight. Proper women aren’t in the streets alone after dark.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

The priest turned away to shout at another passerby, and Aidane hurried away. After a long while, her heart stopped pounding and she said a prayer to the Dark Lady in gratitude for her safety. The priests despised serroquettes, male or female, and of the few other ghost whores Aidane had known, all but one had disappeared. That made Aidane’s skills even more highly sought after, and enabled her to raise her fees. It also increased the odds that luck would turn against her.

Even at this time, the marketplace was busy. Torches lit the walkways and stalls that sprawled along the Kathkari Market, a tangle of pushcarts and tables covered with whatever goods might be had this week. The ascendance of the Crone priests under King Thaduc had made commerce a dangerous business, since edicts enlarged the list of forbidden items each week. Illicit goods, such as smoked fish from Principality, Tordassian brandy, or luxurious sweets from Dhasson, could still be had, of course, if the buyer had enough money and the right connections. Aidane shouldered her way through the crowd, ignoring the calls of the food vendors, although their bowls of noodles or skewers of chicken and beef smelled delicious.

She chanced a look around to make sure she was not being followed. It was difficult to know for certain in the bustle of the marketplace, but no one looked familiar. At the far end of the market, Aidane hailed another carriage, one with an enclosed passenger compartment, and breathed a sigh of relief as she settled into the cushioned seat.

By moonlight or by daylight, the city of Colsharti looked gray and lifeless. Nargi had always been conservative in its ways, some would say hidebound. But since Thaduc had forged his alliance with the Crone priests, the life had gone out of both the city and its people, who walked with their heads down, and usually with their cloaks up, as if skulking in broad daylight. Conversations had become guarded, and people now chose their words carefully, even among friends. Many public gatherings had been banned, so music and theater had become contraband, performed in cellars and in the caves beneath the city, constantly changing locations. Aidane fingered her necklace. Maybe soon she would have enough gold saved to buy her passage out of Nargi. Maybe soon…

M’lady, is it all arranged?

The voice sounded in Aidane’s mind. The speaker was a ghost, a handsome man with dark hair and midnight-black eyes, the dead lover of Aidane’s client.

It’s arranged, Aidane answered silently.

You’re certain she’ll accept you? There was a hint of nervousness as Nattan, the ghost, replied.

She understood the offer.

Nattan hesitated. Jendrie’s taste didn’t run to women. How…

Aidane sighed. It’s just as we discussed. You said yourself that there are no male serroquettes to be found in Colsharti these days. When I’m alone with her, I’ll give over my body to your control. You can do what you like together; Jendrie paid for two candlemarks’ time.

Nattan seemed embarrassed. But you will know; you will see.

Are you afraid you’ll shock me? I’ve been a ghost whore since my moon days began. I’ve made couplings for ghosts of every taste and interest. You’d have to want something damn acrobatic to surprise me.

And I’ll feel the coupling through your body?

Yes.

Nattan fidgeted. It will be strange, coupling with Jendrie as a woman.

Aidane’s nerves got the better of her, making her patience thin. It’s up to you. If you’d rather, you can talk over tea-

No. It just takes some getting used to. Perhaps there’ll be opportunities for pleasure that are new in this arrangement. That’s a good thing.

Serroquettes were just one more item of contraband in Nargi. Aidane fingered her necklace nervously, as if it were a good-luck charm. Every new appointment ran the risk of discovery by the priests, and with it the threat of torture, imprisonment, and death. Wealthy clients could usually buy their freedom. Poor clients, who had barely scrounged up the ghost whore’s fee for a desperate reunion with a dead spouse or lover, often suffered the same fate as the serroquette should the priests learn of the liaison. And still, business was brisk.

If this goes well, when I can use you again?

Aidane hated the word “use” even as she had to admit it was accurate. I accept one client each night. My nights are all taken for at least a month. Be cautious. You may be a ghost but Jendrie and I aren’t dead yet and we’d like to keep it that way. Meet too often and someone will see, or Jendrie’s husband will find out.

Understood.

To Aidane’s relief, Nattan said nothing more for the rest of the ride. She could still feel his presence dimly in the back of her mind. Silence gave her time to prepare. No matter how long she had been servicing clients, it took preparation to allow the ghost to fully inhabit her body. Usually, Aidane could lock herself away in a corner of her mind, resolutely ignoring what her body was doing until it was time to collect the fee. That worked most of the time, except when pain was part of the foreplay. Or when the lovers got into a quarrel that involved injury. Then, Aidane slammed back into consciousness, sometimes fighting with the ghost to share the body and protest rough treatment. And more than once, a determined ghost had tried to make the possession permanent. Fortunately, Aidane’s magic had been strong enough, so far, to keep that from happening.

“Stop here,” Aidane called out to the carriage driver as they reached the road that led to Jendrie’s home.

“I can take you to the doorstep, m’lady,” the driver said courteously.

“No, thank you. I can walk.” She paused, reaching into a velvet purse for coin enough to pay the man. “Be back at this crossroads in two and a half candlemarks. Mind you don’t stop and wait, just go up and down the road. I’ll need a ride back to the city.”

The carriage driver came around to open her door. Aidane made sure her cowl was covering her face so that he could not identify her. “Yes, m’lady,” the driver said, helping her down. Aidane waited until the carriage had disappeared from sight before she began walking. Discretion was essential for a ghost whore, to protect both whore and client. Lanes to several manor homes led off of this stretch of road, so even if the carriage driver mentioned bringing a fare this way, he would have no idea where his passenger had gone.