The women's bathroom is even filthier than the men's, a feat of no small proportions.
Graffiti covering every surface, some even on the mirror, ranging from stylized anecdotes like 'Anal Slut Stacy' to biting commentaries such as 'MC Dead Dreams'. The trashcan, overflowing, a mere suggestion, soiled paper both surrounding and nowhere near its vicinity. Two working girls looking at the mirror, doing their makeup and hair, passing a pipe back and forth, and a familiar sweet scent filling the room, almost enough for a contact high. Melder's great contribution to the world.
Their faces registering surprise at seeing me in the mirror.
“You ever see some shit like that,” says one, with a loopy smile.
“Uh uh,” says the other, taking a hit and laughing.
Going in the first open stall, doing my business and patting dry with a couple pieces of discount paper. The girls still out there afterward, and blocking the exit. Ignoring them and washing my hands at the sink. Seeing them in the mirror, looking at me, trying to figure me out. Knifing two nosy whores in the bathroom, an inauspicious end to the day. A small giggle coming out, and nasty smile growing on my face. Turning and heading to the door, and the two moving aside to let me pass. Returning to the bar and rejoining the table, a fresh pint at my seat.
“That bathroom is terrible. Take the men's room, remove everything even remotely clean, and then dump the bar mat on the floor.”
Laughter at my pronouncement and then scar pulling out a set of dice and a cup.
“I'm only doing coppers. Seriously broke.” Tapping the fresh mug, and gingerly taking a sip. “Appreciate the hospitality though.”
“Not a problem, Mac,” says beard, raising his mug. “Worried about you not showing up, good to see they didn't throw you back in jail.”
Ten copper up after a few rounds of dice. A sudden thought.
“Hey, I know this might sound out of the blue, but yesterday I was investigating something weird, over in the bathhouse. Some gypsy woman, one of you, did this mumbo jumbo fortune reading and then sent me over there.” Scar glancing up, beard narrowing his eyes and giant looking wary. “I was wondering, what is the Council? Figured you guys might know.”
“Mac,” scar says, but then being interrupted.
“Mac,” says beard, “the Council doesn't exist.”
“Mmm,” says giant.
“Now you see that,” shaking my index finger at beard, “that sounds like a load of bullshit when you put it like that.”
Scar putting a hand over his mouth and muttering something. Then looking at me. “Mac, you gotta understand, we're not really in a position-”
“That sounds like a load of bullshit, too. How about-” The door to the outside opening and a figure, drenched in rain, coming in. Pulling back the cowl on his cloak. Rath. Horrible timing. “Fine. I won't ask you anymore about your bullshit tonight. But, as far as this kid goes, he doesn't know about me, or any of this, and I don't see any particular reason to let him know. So you all do me a favor and go along with the line of bullshit I'll be spinning. Deal?”
Considering at me for a moment. “You got it, sweetie.” Scar giving an exaggerated wink.
Laughing uncontrollably at his sudden change in demeanor, beard and giant joining in. Rath coming over to the table and watching us lose our shit. Almost getting control, then making the mistake of glancing up at Rath's confused face and the giggling fit striking again. Trying to hold it in with a hand over my mouth. Scar, beard and giant laughing at my inability to get it together. Wiping away my tears, trying to control my breathing, and then taking a calming gulp from the mug.
“Rath, buddy,” says scar, “you came at a great time. Sit down, take off that wet cloak. We were just talking to, uh, what's your name, sweetheart?”
keep it together keep it together
“Lucy.” Holding my hand out to Rath. “Rath, was it? Nice to meetcha.”
Beard suddenly needing to look anywhere else, putting the back of his hand over his mouth and his body shaking. Rath, more than confused by our behavior, glancing at the people at the table and then doing a slow scan around the barroom.
“Wait, were you at the West Gate this morning?” His gaze returning to me. “Yeah, you were, weren't you. With that group from Stormhawk. Did you just get in?”
“Yeah, I-”
“Rath,” says beard, “you've been out there in all this? Take a seat, mate.” Then yelling at a waitress, “Hey, get this kid a pint.”
Rath taking off his wet pack and completely soaked cloak, and then heavily taking a seat next to me. A serving girl placing a fresh mug in front of him. The kid staring at the mug, and then downing the whole thing in one go. Slamming it on the table.
“So what's up Rath, you look like hell,” says scar.
“You have no idea,” he says, letting out a huge sigh. “So, allegedly, about three days north of here there's supposed to be some village in the mountains, by the glacier. They sell icicles or something, who knows. The problem is, every critter in those mountains is horrible and they've all got huge teeth. The trip up there is a guaranteed nightmare. But Sly has some free time on his hands now.” Glancing at me. “Oh, you don't know who Sly is. He's my new boss. A real piece of work.”
A waitress coming over to Rath. “Hey hun, you want a refill on that?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he says. “Oh, and can I get some dinner? I haven't eaten anything decent all day.”
Not going to pass this chance up.
“Hey Rath, sorry, I know I just met you.” Putting my hands on one of his, still cold from the rain. “I really need a huge favor. They just kicked me out of the dorm today and I only have enough money for a room tonight. I haven't had any food. Could you spot me? I'll get you back. Please?”
Looking down at my hands on his and then at my face. Is that a blush? Heh. Cute.
“Y-yeah. Okay.” he says. “I'll get two dinners and refill on that.”
The waitress glancing at me, her smirk mirroring the others at the table. “Alright, hun, coming up.”
“Oh and a water, too! Thank you.” Then to Rath, “Thank you so much. They said this was the cheapest place to stay in the whole city. It was raining when I got here, so I didn't want to turn back. Seems like a rough place but these guys have been real nice. How do you know them?”
Scar, shaking his head, laughing, and then standing up. “I'll be right back.” Walking in the direction of the bathroom.
“They're from the guild,” he says. “Oh, wait, if you only just got here, you don't know about that. Um, so how can I even explain.”
“I think I know. I met my master earlier in the cycle.” Another stray thought floating by. Looking at beard, right in the face. “Where did the master end up getting himself off to, anyway?”
Beard shifting nervously at my accusatory tone, giant looking at me and then downing his mug.
“Wait, you did?” says Rath.
“Yeah, they're still around. I was directed to mine by a woman over at Mink. Since these guys are from the guild, I figure they'd be the best people to ask.”
The waitress coming by with the refill on Rath's drink, my water and our two meals. Scar rejoining the table and beard hastily leaving.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Hey,” says Rath to scar, “Lucy here said she met her master earlier, she says they're still around. Do you know where the master is?”
“She did, did she?” Scar narrowing his eyes. “Well, sweetheart, I don't know what your master is like, but ours ain't exactly the type to be tied down. He's around, I've seen him here and there, but if he don't want to see you, you ain't going to be seeing him.”
“That a fact?”
“That's just how it is,” he says, shrugging. “But why are we talking about ancient history, anyway? This is a happy place, let's leave all that outside, play some dice.” Signaling to a serving girl. “Another round for the table.”
My second pint still sitting on the table, about halfway full and being nursed at the right speed. He's trying to get me drunk to distract me from this. Well, he's not wrong, there's nothing to be done about it right now.
“You're right, lets relax.” Downing the pint and then digging in to the food. Turning to Rath, “This is great, they sent me over to the right place. Thanks so much for the food.” My hand reaching over and touching his arm.
“Not a problem,” he says, with a bright smile. Starting in on his food.
Beard rejoining the table and the dice games starting. My third pint sitting on the table, untouched, drinking water. Betting for coppers at first, giving the pint a small sip, here and there. Jokes and laughter flying left and right at the table, and then, out of habit, somehow reverting to the typical two silver ante. Being down a bit and then up and then back down, reaching into my pocket for the next ante and finding only copper. Fishing under the table for my pack and checking the pockets, no silver. Sudden realization.
“Oh no, I don't have any money for a room tonight.”
“What's that, love?” Rath's hand going to my shoulder. He'd gone at least several cups deep.
“I just realized we've been betting silver. I was near broke coming in here and now I don't have enough for a room.”
“Don't worry about it,” he says, “I remember how tough it was starting out. I'll help you.”
“Thank you so much, I'll be right back, going to see how much it is.” Touching his arm again. Really sweet.
Standing up. Drunk. Not overly drunk, still slowly nursing the third pint, but definitely on the far side of tipsy. Pleasantly, happily drunk, but still agile enough to easily make it across the room, dodging serving girls and the other patrons.
Getting into the hallway and checking the time. The rune on my shirt and dagger had expired, lost track, but shield is still up. Focusing, calming myself, the mana starting to trickle, and then the surge. Still got it. A feeling of elation at a job well done, and then refreshing the shirt and the shield. Heading over to see Madam Ceclia about the price of the room, but passing by the ladies room sign. Giggling. No ladies in this building, only junkies, whores and myself, none of which really counted. Well, the Madam, but her stone cold heart makes her more like a demon than anything else.
Walking back into the bathroom. Two girls, the same ones, but standing in the opposite order. A little more disheveled than before and using the mirror to fix their hair and makeup. The pipe passing back and forth producing that same sweet smell. A cloud in the bathroom. Deja vu all over again.
The first couple stalls all occupied, so going to the one on the end. How in the world did someone manage to piss all over the seat? The mechanics of that are absolutely mind boggling. At least there's still paper on the shelf. And next to the shelf, a hole in the wall to the room next door, a bit bigger than a fist. Wiping off the toilet seat before sitting down. This bathroom is absolutely a mess. Graffiti covering every inch of the stall and the wall.
Finishing up, grabbing a bit of paper from the shelf, patting dry, and then a man's hand, holding two silver coins reaching through the hole in the wall. Dropping them on the ground. Odd. Standing up and then fastening my pants. Flushing the toilet, and then turning back around to leave. Bending over to pick up the coins. Then to the side, in my peripheral vision, something coming in from the hole in the wall. Glancing over. The full package at half mast. Freezing. What the fuck?
Looking at the two coins in my hand. Reading the graffiti surrounding the hole. 'Open Wide' 'Here's Your Treat' and a picture of an erect dick, all surrounding the real one coming through the wall, complete with a set of hairy balls.
Giggling at the sight of it and shaking my head. Turning to leave, and then being hit with an idea. Looking back down at it, and a loopy smile coming over my face. Reaching back to my braid and unraveling the second of the three pieces of spider's silk. Paying only two silver and blindly putting your dick in a hole, definitely in the category of more money than brains. Let's see just how much money you have.
Sinking down to my knees. Putting one hand on the shaft, the other cupping the sack. It's warm. Springing to life, filling and extending. The head poking out slightly with each stroke, and then fully erect, partially exposed. Taking the piece of spider's silk, giving a stroke, looping it around the sack once, another stroke, looping a second time.
Giggle coming out, continuing to stroke, running my hand up and down its length. Seems so big in these little hands, but having a fat cock might work against him in this situation. Suddenly a pang of guilt, second guessing my plan. Sympathy for the man. Slowly stroking the shaft, then slowly coming to a stop. My face right near it, near the masculine scent. Licking my lips. Maybe.
From the other side of the wall, a man's voice, “You about done playing with it? Get sucking, you stupid bitch.”
Guilt and sympathy and something else falling off a cliff, hitting less than zero. Letting go of the shaft and holding both ends of the string with one hand. Getting my knife with the one that had been giving him pleasure. Putting my face right next to the hole and pulling the string taut.
“Give me all your money or I'll cut your fucking nuts off.” Feeding the knife back through the hole, over his dick and poking his fat pad. Giving the string a yank. The man trying to pull back, a bit, but his sack getting discolored, stopping him short. Pushing the knife further into his flesh. “I'm not fucking around.”
Shuffling sounds from the other side of the wall, reaching into his pockets, and then coins being deposited through the hole, hitting the floor. The girl in the stall next to me starting to laugh, leaning her head down to see under the partition.
“That it? You better not be holding out.” Giving the string another yank and jabbing some with the knife. More shuffling, and then more coins.
Keeping a firm grip on the spider's silk, but returning the knife to it's sheath after wiping it off on my pant leg. Scooping up the coins. Some copper, some silver, and two gold. A veritable bonanza.
Tying off the string, his nutsack an unhealthy purple, and then tying the other end to the small metal bar on the bottom of the shelf. Leaving the stall, hand resting on the hilt of my knife, trying to wipe away the huge grin plastered all over my face. The same two girls at the mirror, preoccupied, smoking their pipe, and then out the door and into the hallway.
Getting the heart beat back down. Rocking my neck back and forth, cracking it, and then rolling my shoulders and stretching my arms. Heading back to the bar and rejoining the table, not doing a great job of hiding my smile, my adrenaline still too high, but the men even more drunk than before and not seeming to notice anything amiss.
“Lucy,” says Rath, with a bit of a slur and a drunken smile, “you said you didn't have money for a room and I said I'd help, but how about a wager to make it interesting?”
Scar, beard and giant looking like the cats that caught the canary.
“These guys help you come up with the idea?” Tilting my head over at them.
“Maybe, but its win, win. Hear me out.”
“Okay.” Taking a gulp from my half full pint.
“Single roll of the dice. Heads up. If you win, I'll get you the room. If I win, I'll get the room, and you can stay with me tonight. What do you say?”
The whole table looking at me, waiting for my reaction. Laughing at first, but then looking at him, considering. Got guts saying that. Thinking about earlier, the thrill still running through me, feeling on top of the world from my latest score and butterflies fluttering around my stomach.
“You think you can beat me? Kid, you don't even know. I'm an expert. But yeah, sounds fun, I'll take that bet.”
Scar, beard and giant's jaws dropping in surprise.
“What's life without risk?”
“You will?” says Rath, with a rakish grin. Cute wasn't the right word, more dashing, with that stubble.
Rath scooping up the dice and getting the cup. Starting to shake it and the butterflies in my stomach turning into angry hornets. Wait, this is Rath. A small, sober voice: don't do anything that can't be undone. The enormity of my bet dawning on me. Have to win. Rath casting the die out. Leaning forward to gett as close as possible. One a two, the other rolling, rolling onto a six, and then the barest fraction of a second later using Runic Shield, a single quick, light pulse, tapping on the bottom of the six to roll it over. A two.
Did they notice? Do they suspect? Or are they too drunk?
Scar, beard and giant letting out groans of disappointment and Rath hanging his head.
“Watch and learn.” Rolling the dice and preparing to cheat again. First a five, the second a three. Not even necessary. An enormous feeling of relief, mostly, but a fraction, a fraction of regret. “Better luck next time.” Reaching my hand out and patting his cheek, prompting laughter from the other side of the table.
Finishing my pint with a few more games for coppers. A man coming into the barroom from the hallway leading to the bathrooms, a murderous scowl on his face. My eyes following his path, going to a table, getting his gear and then leaving out the front door.
Rath graciously buying the room at the hotel. Giving him a peck on the cheek on impulse for the gesture. Madam Cecelia looking at me with a small smile, and then handing me a sweetener. Heading upstairs, depositing my gear in the room and then heading to the bathroom to get ready for the night. Undoing my braid and washing my face.
Back in the room with the latches all locked, nude, lying on the bed. Sounds from the room next door, a john and one of the girls. Too exhausted to deal with it. Opening Madam Cecelia's gift, a little ball of sweet smelling resin inside. Using the pipe already sitting on the table and a match from my bag. Breathing in the sweet flavor, and breathing out all the bad thoughts. And again. And a final one. Obliterating everything. Crawling under the covers, wrapped in a warm cocoon of happiness, unbothered by life, or its manifest errors, or the rhythmic sound of the bedframe hitting the wall from the room next door.