Raymond Feist - Rise of a Merchant Prince

The Sign of the White Wing was nothing like what Roo expected. Then he considered he really hadn’t known what to expect. He had trafficked with whores before, but that had been on the line of march, with camp followers who would tumble a man beside to his comrades and be off to the next as soon as he could count out her pay.

But this was a different world. The five slightly inebriated men had had to ask several times to find their way. After a few failed attempts, they finally discovered a modest building near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign out front had been almost impossible to make out, being little more than a simple metal wing painted white, unlike the more boldly painted large ones marking more traditional trades.

The door had been opened by a servant who admitted the five without a word, indicating they should wait in a tiny anteroom, without furnishing of any sort, only decorated by some nondescript tapestries that hung on the two side walls. Opposite the entrance stood another door, of simple painted wood. When it opened, a well-dressed if somewhat matronly woman had stepped through.

‘Yes?’ she had asked.

The men glanced at one another, and it was Nakor who had at last answered. ‘We were told to come here.’

‘By whom?’ she then asked, looking somewhat unconvinced.

‘Robert de Loungville,’ said Erik softly, as if afraid to raise his voice.

Instantly the woman’s features had transformed themselves from dubious to joyful. ‘Bobby de Loungville! By the gods, if you’re friends of Bobby’s, you’re welcome here.’

She then clapped her hands once and the door she had slipped through opened wide, revealing a short entryway occupied by two large armed guards. As they stepped aside, Roo thought it clear they had been standing by to ensure the safety of the woman.

‘I’m Jamila, your hostess, and here,’ she said, reaching another door, which she pulled wide, ‘we enter the House of the White Wing.’

The five men gaped. Even Nakor, who had seen riches in the court of the Empress of Great Kesh, stood in stunned awe. The room wasn’t that opulent; far from it. In fact it was the lack of gaudy displays of wealth that made the setting so impressive. Everything about the room was subtle and tasteful, though Roo would have been hard put to say what made it seem so. Chairs and divans were placed around the room so that those inside would be within sight of one another, yet there was a clear sense of each area being apart from the others. This was made abundantly clear by the fact of a wealthy-looking man sprawling upon one divan, sipping wine from a goblet while two lovely young women attended him. One sat upon the floor, allowing him to caress her shoulders and neck, while the other hovered over him, offering him sweetmeats from a gilded tray.

As if by magic, girls appeared through several curtains. All were modestly dressed, like the two attending the man already in the room, wearing loose-fitting gowns of light material. That they were covered from neck to ankle did nothing to hide the curves of their bodies as they moved to greet their guests.

Each man found a pair of girls leading him toward one of the chairs or divans, allowing him to choose how he wished to relax, sitting or lying down. Before he knew it, Roo had been led to a divan and gently pushed down on it, had his feet raised and placed on the divan, had a goblet of wine handed to him; one of the girls began firmly kneading the muscles in his shoulders before he spoke.

The woman called Jamila said, ‘When you’re ready, the girls can show you to your rooms.’

Jadow, circling the waist of one of the young girls with one powerful arm, pulled her toward him, planted a loud kiss upon her cheek, and said, ‘Men and gods, I’ve died and gone to paradise!’

This brought a round of laughter, and Roo settled back, letting the light touch of the girl’s hands relax him in a way he’d not experienced in years.

Roo yawned.

The body next to him stirred under white sheets and he realized where he was. He smiled, remembering the night before, and ran his hand under the sheet and across the back of the young woman next to him. He didn’t think of her as a whore; the term was fit for the women who followed soldiers around camp, or who leaned over the balconies in the Poor Quarter of Krondor shouting ribald suggestions and insults at the workers and sailors below, but these ladies , he decided, were unlike anything he had imagined as a boy.

They were flirtatious, seemed well educated, were impeccable in their manners, and, as Roo had discovered the night before, creative and enthusiastic. The young woman next to him had taught Roo more things about pleasing a woman and himself in one night than he had learned from every woman he had been with in his young life. And they smelled wonderful, like flowers and spices. He found himself becoming aroused and with a grin continued to caress the body next to him.

The girl awoke, and if she had any problem with being awakened thus, she masked it with incredible skill; she actually seemed pleased to discover Roo lying next to her.

‘Good morning,’ she said with a wide smile. Running her fingers along his stomach, she said, ‘What a nice way to wake up.’

As he gathered the girl into his arms, Roo considered himself fortunate. He had no illusions about his looks; he was easily the homeliest boy from Ravensburg, but he had managed to bed two of the local girls in town before he and Erik had been forced to flee. He knew, given enough time, he could charm most anyone, though he rarely tried. But now he was alive, with gold in his belt, and a woman willing to make him feel handsome. It was the start of a wonderful day.

Later he bid the girl good-bye, realizing that he couldn’t remember if her name was Mary or Marie. He found Erik already dressed and waiting in the antechamber, speaking with a particularly pretty young blonde.

Erik looked up. ‘Ready to leave?’

Roo nodded. ‘The others?’

‘We’ll see them when we get back from Ravensburg, or at least I will.’ He rose and was still holding on to the girl’s hand.

There was something about his manner that struck Roo as odd, and as they left the brothel, he remarked, ‘You seemed smitten with that pretty girl.’

Erik blushed. ‘Nothing of the kind. She’s …’

After a silent moment, Roo supplied, ‘A whore?’

The city was busy at that hour of the morning, and they were forced to wend their way through the press. Erik said, ‘I guess. Something more like a lady, I think.’

Roo shrugged, the gesture lost on Erik. ‘They get paid well, that’s for certain.’ He was now considering the diminishment of his purse as he weighed the cost versus the reward. He decided he needed to husband his capital a bit more carefully. There were far less expensive whores to be found.

‘Where to next?’ asked Roo.

‘I need to talk to Sebastian Lender.’

Roo brightened. Barret’s Coffee House was one of the places he wished to visit, and having a social call to make upon one of the solicitors who plied their business there was an eminently acceptable reason.

They headed to the area of the city known locally as the Merchants’ Quarter, even though it held only a slightly higher percentage of businesses than elsewhere in the city. What marked the Merchants’ Quarter was a high number of very costly homes, many erected behind or above the stores that generated their wealth, the highest concentration of influential men who were not nobility.

The craftsmen had their guilds – the thieves, too: the Mockers – and the nobility had their rank from birth, but men who pursued their fortune through commerce and trade had only their wits. While a few of them had banded together to create trade associations from time to time, more were independent businessmen without allies but with many competitors.