Барб Хенди - Dog in the Dark

Chap tugged on Wayfarer again as he warned Leesil. — Do not—

Brot’an cut in. “Let us go to our—”

“It’s a ‘house of leisure,’” Leesil idly answered the girl.

Magiere, incensed, shot back at him, “It’s a brothel!”

Chap wanted to groan.

“What is a brothel?” Wayfarer asked.

Everyone, even Magiere, stalled in silence, and then she stormed off up the stairs past a visibly uncomfortable but smiling Mechaela. Wayfarer glanced after Magiere, looked at Leesil, and then stared once more at the scantily clad woman in the far room.

The girl’s mouth slowly dropped open.

“Oh ... oh ... you!” she gasped.

Leesil frowned and then suddenly turned aghast. “No, wait ... I wasn’t looking at the—”

“You ... you ...” Wayfarer sputtered at him in outrage. She snatched her hand from his arm and whirled to rush off. She grabbed Magiere’s arm along the way and pulled her in a race up the stairs.

Brot’an unfolded his arms with another long exhale and followed them. Mechaela hurried upward, not looking at Leesil even once, though he still had that sly smile on his olive-toned face.

Leesil stood in shock, mumbling, “I wasn’t looking at—”

Chap stalked away up the stairs.

Leesil did not catch up until the host had walked them to their two rooms down a long hallway. Mechaela opened both doors and handed a key to Magiere and then Brot’an.

“Please let me know if I can have food sent up or anything to make your stay pleasant.”

Brot’an stepped into the first room. Magiere entered the second, and Wayfarer followed her. But when Leesil tried to enter, the girl turned on him through the half-opened door.

“You ... shame!” she accused. “And Wynn, too ... shame for this place ... and you for ... Oh, you!”

Wayfarer slammed the door in Leesil’s face.

—Half-wit—

Leesil stabbed a finger at Chap’s nose. “Don’t you start. You know exactly what I was—”

Chap snapped at the extended finger. Leesil jerked his hand back, and Chap scratched at the door. Before anyone answered, Leesil opened it and stormed inside—and stopped cold.

Wayfarer sat on the end of a huge, fluffy bed, while Magiere stood beyond, with her back turned, at the grated window.

“I wasn’t looking at the woman!” Leesil shouted. “Did you see the amount of coin on that table?”

Magiere turned her head, narrowing her eyes.

—We—know— And Chap hopped up on the bed behind Wayfarer, but the girl did not know Leesil as well as he and Magiere did.

“I do not believe you,” Wayfarer said coldly, looking away as she crossed her arms. “You were ... are unfaithful.”

At that, Magiere’s ire faltered. She swallowed hard, fighting to suppress a smile, before she said to him. “Either way, it’s not going to happen. So don’t you even think about it!”

Leesil looked around at all three of them and slapped his hands to his head.

“We’re running out of coin!”

“Humph!” Wayfarer twisted away from him a little more. “Liar!”

Chap couldn’t help a little ambivalence. That Wayfarer still did not believe Leesil might be amusing, but what he’d said was true. They were low on money. However, they also could not afford another of Leesil’s fund-raising schemes.

Magiere took a deep breath and rubbed her face. “We’ll figure something out,” she said. “But not—”

Two knocks at the door were followed immediately by the twisting of its handle. Brot’an entered without invitation and looked at the bed. Stepping closer, he pressed his hand down until it sank into the puffy bedding, and he shook his head in disgust.

“Worse than the annex at Chathburh. How do any of you sleep?”

Chap ignored him.

Leesil only frowned. “The price of having any meals brought up may cost more than the rooms. We should go out and bring something back.”

Being frugal didn’t carry any weight with Wayfarer. “I will stay here,” she declared.

“Brot’an stays with you,” Magiere added.

—Then—I—stay—and watch—Brot’an—

Magiere eyed Chap, and Brot’an frowned, likely wondering what he had said to her.

“Perhaps Magiere and I should go,” Brot’an offered. “We speak the local language best.”

Chap didn’t care for that. Brot’an was after two things: getting Magiere alone for more questions and getting her out of Chap’s sight for that. Magiere apparently came to a similar conclusion.

“Leesil likes to pick out his own food, as does Chap,” she said, and looked at him again. “So we’ll bring him with us. Yes?”

This was clearly not a request. Chap wrinkled his jowls at her and wondered when she had become subtle about anything. She was quietly telling Brot’an that she would not go anywhere without Chap. At the same time, she would get Chap off the old assassin’s back.

“Well enough,” Brot’an answered.

With a grumble, Chap steeled himself to go off into another foreign city and leave Brot’an unwatched.

While Magiere didn’t particularly like this cesspit called Drist, she was relieved to have her weapons back as she walked the dark streets with only Leesil and Chap. Much as she’d come to care for Wayfarer, perhaps more than was wise, the girl was too easily frightened.

“What’s it going to be?” Leesil asked. “We could probably get anything we fancied around here.”

True enough, for Magiere had never seen so many races and cultures mingled in one place. The choices for warm, prepared food would be broad. She tried to smile at him.

“Just follow your nose,” she quipped, and then added more seriously, “but don’t think you’re settling in for anything else.”

Leesil snorted and sauntered onward. “Never crossed my mind. I’m sure half the citizens in this port can cheat better than me.”

Only a block away from the hotel, Chap’s ears rose. He began drooling like a hog at the sight of a slop bucket, and Magiere shook her head. Leesil wasn’t the only one to get them in trouble; she hoped Chap hadn’t picked up the scent of some rolling sausage cart. Instead, he steered a quick course and trotted out ahead.

Magiere hurried after, and around one corner she spotted a little brick eatery enveloped in a delicious aroma. Chap was already there by the time she and Leesil caught up. Once inside Chap again caused a fuss by just being a “wolf” ... or just being Chap. It didn’t help when he panicked a couple of old men by sticking his nose over the edge of their table, where they were trying to finish off their meal ... of sausages, of course.

“Stop that!” Magiere warned, grabbing him by the scruff and hauling him off to where Leesil had found an empty table.

As a dusky-skinned proprietor passed by with a tray, Leesil stopped him to inspect what he carried. Leesil pointed to a plate of skewers, each loaded to the ends with roasted chunks of meat, red potatoes, bits of onion, and sweet peppers.

“Five,” Leesil said, holding up a hand with outstretched fingers and thumb. “Five ... those ... to take away.”

Magiere shrugged at Chap. Leesil might be a disaster when it came to any tongue but his own, yet in this he didn’t need her to translate. The proprietor came back so soon that it was startling, which made Magiere wonder how long ago that food had been cooked and left to sit. Leesil gave it no mind, paid the man, and scooped up the five skewers, wrapped loosely in some strange flimsy waxed paper.

Their errand was finished faster than Magiere expected, and they were all outside once again. Part of her wished they’d stayed out a little longer, but they had what they were after, so they might as well go back and eat.