Ashwalk Pilgrim (2 page)

Once she must have been a beauty to behold. Mara could see the remnants of her youthful life hidden beneath the mask of sagging cracks curtained over her high cheeks. She wore a wig colored burgundy as rich, red wine and kept the locks at bay with a net of golden chains.
 

On her left hand, gold and silver bands coated her fingers while rubies, her favorite gems, glittered on her knuckles. On her right hand, she wore not a single jewel. It was the right hand Mara feared the most, because that was the hand of discipline.

Olessa’s dark eyes narrowed at Kard. “You glimmer fiend of a fool. You dare hurt my maidens? Boys, get him away from my girls.”
 

She motioned to the strong boys rushing in behind her. The two tall, muscular men lunged at the sailor. Kard tried scrambling out of reach, but one of the strong boys fell on him before he could make another move. The bodyguard planted his heel against Kard’s already swollen jaw and grabbed the sailor’s wrist, yanking it to the side.
 

“Get your freak dogs off me!” Kard rasped.

“Watch your tongue in my house, Kard.” Olessa crossed her arms and smirked. “My strong boys may lack that oily worm wagging between your legs, but there’s no guard more loyal than they, and believe me when I say they’ll have no problem forcing you into their ranks…if you get my meaning.”

Kard’s face paled. Olessa’s eunuchs grinned.
 

Gia groaned and sat up, grabbing her loose chiffon dress to cover her nakedness. “Thank you, Madame Olessa. It was the glimmer. I think it’s turned the idiot’s brain to mush.”

“Eh.” Olessa waved her off. “Boys, throw this puke overboard. Kard is not to return to the House of Sin and Silk unless it’s as a spirit to haunt my dreams.”

Kard’s eyes widened. He reached for Olessa, but the strong boys forced him back. “Banned? Please, Madame Olessa, I—I promise I’ll quit the glimmer. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right. It won’t. No one strikes my moon maidens except their madame, and not only did you strike two tonight, you cut skin! That is my asset, Kard.
Mine
.” Olessa turned from the sailor as the strong boys dragged him kicking and wailing from the room.
 

He managed to hook his foot on the doorway and delay his exit a moment longer. He snarled, spitting at Olessa. “You and your cows’ days are numbered, madame of the Floatwaif. Mark my words, you’re a dyin’ breed. Change is coming, and there’s no room for sin and silk beneath the Serpent Sun.”

She rolled her dark eyes as the strong boys yanked Kard away. “Yes, yes, the serpents are coming, magic is dying, the Fourth Sun rises. We’ve all heard what those snakes say. Why am I not surprised you bend a knee to them? I swear, fools will follow any hollow promise if it means avoiding a long, hard look at their own life.”

Her gaze settled on Mara. Her lips puckered like she smelled soured milk, her eyes glaring disapprovingly on Mara’s swollen belly. The woman’s steely glare shifted to the slash along Mara’s forearm. Her frown warped into an angry scowl.

Mara never should have been with child. Olessa demanded all moon maidens take an ebon orchid draught after they saw a patron. Mara did so, and she did it faithfully, just as she did everything Olessa commanded as if a god had carved it into stone for her to read. Even after Mara discovered the child in her belly, she still took the draughts. Yet for her, they did not work.

The woman’s jaw clenched, her chin inching up. “Mara, he cut you? Not deeply, I hope.”

Gia swallowed, glancing nervously at her friend. “It’s my fault. She did it to save me.”

“Did I ask you a question? Don’t speak unless I speak to you, Gia.” Olessa strolled forward. She grabbed Mara’s arm and inspected the wound. “If the Six look favorably on you, this won’t leave a mark. Bad enough you’ve got that worm squirming in your womb and ruining my good property. Now I see you might have a scar to further lower your stock in my house? Tell me, Mara, what patron will pay me coin for a whore with a flapping womb, sagging sacs of milk,
and
a scarred body?”

Mara winced at her madame’s words. “I’m so sorry, Madame Olessa. Please forgive me. I’ll—I’ll take care of the wound. It won’t scar if I use honey paste. It will be gone soon after the birth.”

Olessa’s bare backhand caught Mara square in her jaw. Hot pain flared against her cheeks, and her ear rang as her world spun.
 

“Come with me, Mara,” Olessa commanded.

No one disobeyed Madame Olessa, even if their world spun and the child in their belly protested angrily from the chaos. Mara sucked in her breath, and she wobbled to her knees. Gia threaded her arm beneath hers and helped Mara to her feet.

Gia kissed her lightly on the cheek. The faintest scent of sweat and jasmine drifted from the woman and tickled Mara’s nose.

“Thank you,” Gia whispered. “Be strong. I will light a candle to the Six for you. You know how Olessa worships them. Use that to your advantage and avoid the bruises.”

Mara squeezed her friend’s arm and forced a smile. She pressed her palm against the small of her back to support the weight of her unborn child. Her jaw throbbed. Blood oozed from the cut on her forearm. Each step pained her sore and swollen ankles. She would not speak of the pain. She would not show it.

She trailed Olessa out of Gia’s room. She would welcome sleep when it came. But first, Olessa would beat her until the woman was satisfied by Mara’s tears.

Mara sighed through her nose. She shook her head. Just another night in the House of Sin and Silk.

Teardrops splattered over Mara’s trembling knuckles. She stared at the the fine rugs masking the floor, their intricate weaves a swirling labyrinth of gold and crimson before her bleary eyes. “I beg forgiveness, Madame Olessa, I did not mean to let him cut me.”

Mara sucked the snot dribbling toward her lip and lifted her chin. Olessa glared at her property down the bridge of her long nose. Like always, gold, silver and glittering rubies covered her left hand. On her right, she wore a snowy glove over otherwise bare knuckles. Jewels and precious metals cut the skin. Silk and knuckles would not draw blood, but they would leave a bruise that taught a hard lesson.

Olessa shook her head. She turned her back to Mara and headed for a plush bench. She kept her personal room sparse save the rugs, a bench, a pedestal for wine, and a shrine to each of the Six so she could pray to whichever one the occasion demanded.

The woman admired her silk glove and wagged her fingers in the light of the oil lamps dotting the walls. “The Harvest Festival is upon us. Visitors from every city in the kingdom of Eloia will flood the Floatwaif looking for wine and glimmer and a taste of sinful flesh. Ships will sail from all corners of Urum, from the icy land of Skaard to the eastern kingdoms Blail and Hine, each tired sailor on their decks looking for a soft pillow and a moon maiden’s gentle stroke. Yet, my most beautiful maiden will remain untapped, her bulging belly ruining the years of etiquette, lessons, and fine food I’ve invested in her. You have ruined my profit in this endeavor, simply ruined it.”

Mara dipped her chin. Harvest Festival would be Olessa’s most profitable night. The Floatwaif would teem with countless revelers. Normally, chaste men and women would take a second look at the enchanting House of Sin and Silk with its great braziers and billowing ribbons and wonder if they should visit a moon maiden if only for a night.

“You were my best maiden by far, Mara.” Olessa closed her eyes and pinched her nose. “What happened to you? Why would you claim you took the ebon orchid draught when you clearly did not? Why would you launch yourself at a fool drowning in wine and glimmer and let that beautiful body of yours be further marred? Do you hate me so much? Do you wish to single handedly sink this home and serve the coral sharks a feast for the night?”

Mara dug her nails into the rug. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat. “Madame Olessa,” she said, daring to lift her gaze to her madame. “I swear upon the Six, I never once missed an ebon orchid draught. I even took it after I knew I was with child. You made the draughts yourself and watched me. I do not know why the child survives, but it does. Please, my madame, I only live to please you. I know no other world than yours, and I fear you will cast me from it once my child is born. I was not sure, but now that I am cut—”

“Mara, Mara.” The woman plucked a wineglass from the nearby pedestal and savored a sip. “Do you remember how you came to me?”

Mara leaned onto her knees and followed the woman’s gaze to the shrine of the Slippery Sinner. The statuette within the shrine watched Mara with wide eyes and a sly smile, dried rose petals and old incense littering his feet.

“I only remember small things. I remember a big man’s hand. I remember people in streets. I remember a boat, and the big man’s quiet smile. Then, we were here, and you were all I knew because you were all I needed to know.”

“His name was Laedon.” Olessa smiled, her fingers tapping her collar. “And he was from a time long ago, when things in Eloia were simpler and the old king ruled with a righteous hand. Before his son took the throne and renamed our fair city of Thean to Sollan in homage to his own stupid name. Who renames a city? Really, it’s quite foolish. I’m sure the mapmakers collectively fainted when they heard his proclamation.”

Mara tensed. Her eyes searched the shadows. Even she knew none spoke ill of Good King Sol. Those who did often disappeared, leaving whispers that they had become food for some great serpent lurking in the king’s palace.

“Was Laedon your patron?” Mara asked, trying to focus on something other than the king.
 

Olessa laughed and gazed upon Mara like she was a foolish puppy. “No, of course not. He was my brother and an acolyte of the Burning Mother. You can thank him for saving your life. You can thank him for your survival in the House of Sin and Silk. You can thank him that I don’t sell you for a tarnished silver when one of your many disappointments burdens my ledgers and lightens my purse.”

“I will light a candle to the Burning Mother for him tonight.”

“Do what you will.” Olessa took a sip of her wine, her eyes fixed on Mara. “He’s dead anyway, so perhaps he might hear your prayers himself and pinch your nipple if your words have a honeyed taste.”
 

Mara dare not laugh even though Olessa chuckled at her own words. Instead, she swallowed and nodded.

Olessa swished her wine and leaned forward. “So you speak true when you say you remember nothing of your childhood? Not a single memory of your mother or father? Siblings, perhaps?
Think
. Reach into that shallow sea of a brain and find some hint of who you were.”

Countless nights, Mara spent on her knees before Madame Olessa. Each time, Olessa asked the same questions, demanded answers Mara knew would never come. As far as she knew, Olessa’s brother had plucked her from the ground like a flower from a garden on his way to the pleasure barge.
 

“Please forgive me, Madame Olessa. I have no memory before your brother.”

“
Bah
!” Olessa launched her glass. It careened over Mara’s shoulder and smashed against the wall. Drops of wine slid down Mara’s cheek and stained her chiffon dress. Mara hunched on her knees, still as one of the statues in the shrines.

Her madame floated from her seat like a wraith cloaked in flowing red and gold. The woman cupped Mara’s chin in a hand slathered with citrus lotion and weighed by jewelry. “Strange times are these, and stranger still the girl named Mara. Laedon wouldn’t say a word to me, either. We never really had much in common, you know. He loved the Burning Mother while I’ve always favored the Coin Counter. He used that to my advantage and told me you’d turn a profit fast. I should have known better. Gods, I should have known.”

Mara’s child kicked. She winced, her hand clutching her belly. “I only ever wished to please you and your patrons.”

“Yes, my patrons.” Olessa chuckled and released Mara’s chin. “The House of Sin and Silk has treated king and queen, sailor and scoundrel. We are as much a part of this city as the palace and the temples. Tell me, Mara, what do you know of the wider world? What do you know of the Six?”

Her madame’s questions confused her. They were different questions than other nights, and Mara feared where the conversation might lead. “I…I do not know much other than that you worship them as do most throughout Sollan and the other cities of Eloia. My patrons, their tongues wag for flesh, not faith, and I would not trust the other maidens even if they would answer my questions. The Six are a thing outside the House of Sin and Silk. Patrons do not speak of their lives outside our gentle walls. I suspect they do not speak much of us once they leave, either.”

Olessa retook her seat and smirked. “It’s good to know I only purchase smart girls. I have always believed we are the unspoken priestesses of the Six. Most clergy choose a single god to serve. Their god is their patron. Not us. No, a moon maiden serves all gods.”

“How do we serve all gods?”

“We are a place of sin where for a night a patron may indulge in the fantasies that the world will only let them dream of. For a night, we give them a sinful kiss, and in the morning, they may run to their gods and pray for forgiveness. We are the fuel for the holy fire and the food for the heavenly feast.”

“I do not understand how that serves the gods, Madame Olessa.”

“Of course you don’t. Mara, here’s a hard truth. There are no gods without sin to bring the faithful to them.”

“Oh.” Mara clenched her knees. She still didn’t quite understand, but she feared looking foolish before the woman.

“Indeed.” Olessa’s dark eyes drifted to Mara’s stomach. She clucked and straightened, her shadow swallowing Mara. “As I said, my word to Laedon is all that’s kept you around. You’re lucky he took pity on you because my pity spout ran dry long before your birth. That said, I gave my word to keep
you
safe. That bastard you bear is a different story.”