Chapter 17: The One who got Away

“You ever ‘eard of the Solar Fox? The Golden Son’s personal ship. Swift enough to outrun the dawn itself, that thing is. Seen it meself. Don’t believe me? Let me put it like this. If the Golden Son wants your head, there is nowhere on this fucking speck of a world you can hide where he won’t find you. Be back by supper, too.”

-Rorin Cophley, Commonwealth deserter, 181 U.E.

“What would you say is your biggest flaw?” the woman asked, wiping the knife dry and setting it aside.

Kazzul breathed heavily, his chest and arms crisscrossed with dozens of cuts. He lifted his head with a winsome smile. “Flaws? Haven’t got any of those, sweetheart. But as long as we’re asking questions, I have one of my own. Who are you?”

He had studied the woman closely ever since seeing her for the first time, but he really had no recollection of her.

“Cantarella,” the woman said. “You are entitled to know that much, at least, before you die. You’ll be sent off to whatever putrid gods you hold knowing exactly who killed you.”

Cantarella. Doesn’t sound familiar.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” Kazzul said. “Who sent you? If it’s Nox, tell him I was gonna pay him back, but—”

“No one sent me,” Cantarella said. She paced around Kazzul, and he strained to keep his eyes on her. “Tell me something else, Kazzul Clanless. Have you ever loved someone?”

Kazzul already had a clever response on his tongue, but it died away. Long seconds passed, and he did not answer.

“I loved someone, once,” Cantarella said. She stopped in front of Kazzul, fixed him with a withering stare. “I had a sister. She was a strong woman, but too kind. Too trusting. Now she’s gone. Do you know why that is, Kazzul Clanless?”

“No,” Kazzul said.

Cantarella leaned in close and grabbed Kazzul by his jaw, forced him to maintain his gaze. “You killed her, you worm. Do you remember now? Do you remember my sister?”

“I…”

He did remember.

Lizzy.

*****

The Shirzuit, which apparently translated to ‘The Good Pain’, was a multi-story building painted a deep red. Thin lines of smoke and incense trailed from several of the windows, most of which were draped with heavy curtains.

There were no signs advertising the brothel out front, just a set of open double doors guarded by a pair of heavy-set bruisers in white suits.

Stephan could already make out moans, giggles, and more unsavory sounds coming from within.

Though he had supposedly spent at least a part of his evening in this establishment the night before, he had no recollection of it. He grew queasy at the thought of what he might have done in there, or what might have been done to him.

The crew approached the brothel, but Stephan held Yin back.

“I won’t tell you that you can’t come with us,” he said, “because I know you’d just sneak in anyway. But this is grown-up business, okay? You shouldn’t be seeing stuff like this. So how about we make a deal?”

“I’m listening,” Yin said.

Stephan took off his tie and handed it to her. “Here. I’ll let you come in as long as you’re blindfolded.”

“But—”

“No. Listen, Yin. Growing up here, I’m sure you’ve seen some things. But that’s not how it should be. Now, put that on, or I’ll be very cross with you.”

Yin scoffed, arms folded. “Whatever. Like I care what you think.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Stephan held her with a firm gaze, and they were both silent for a long while as Yin stared pointedly into the distance.

“Ugh, fine!” Yin said. She pulled the tie over her eyes.

The rest of the crew had already gone inside, so Stephan guided Yin up to the doors. The two bruisers cast Yin puzzled glances, but once Stephan paid the entrance fee—a rather hefty one—they were let through.

The interior of the brothel was dark and intimate, lit only sparsely with colored magelights. Stephan had feared that the place might reek of unsavory fluids, but a pleasant, floral perfume hung heavy in the air, masking any hint of more off-putting undertones. Muffled creaks and moans came from upstairs, which Stephan tried his best to ignore.

Women of every race and creed bustled inside the brothel, clad so that they could unveil their bodies with a single tug. Some were rail-thin, some were curvy, some spilled out of their dresses with excess bulk. Some were heavily tattooed or glittered with piercings, some were heavily made up, and some bore their faces entirely natural. A select few were clearly enhanced by magic, their bodies sculpted to inhuman perfection. He even spotted a wildkin engaging in her services, closing her furry bosoms around the face of an expectant client. Stephan kept his eyes to the ground to avoid a veritable sea of breasts, face growing hotter by the second.

He didn’t see Quintilla or Torch anywhere, but it was difficult to miss Kurko. The man towered above every other man in the brothel, head nearly brushing the ceiling. He had several women cooing on his arm, who he seemed to have half a mind to physically shake off.

Standing among such beauty, the first mate had never looked more miserable.

“What’s that sound?” Yin asked, hearing some particularly loud groaning from above.

“Uh, nothing!” Stephan said, immediately steering her in a different direction. “I think there’s trouble with the plumbing, so someone’s trying to fix it.”

“We’re in a brothel, Lordling. I know what sex is, you know.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t be nearly this close to that kind of thing.”

“Hey there, stranger,” came a feminine, husky voice in Stephan’s ear. “Come back for more?”

He jumped and spun around, coming face to face with a barely dressed woman.

Her skin was dark and clear, black ringlets tumbling over her shoulders, and her dress strained against a pair of heavy breasts, half-spilling out of the neckline. She wore a wide, bright smile, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Um, ah, hello,” Stephan said. “I, uh, have some…”

“Questions,” Yin concluded with a sigh. “We’ve got some questions. I’ll take it from here, Lordling.”

“Valeria almighty, aren’t you the cutest little thing?” the prostitute said, stooping in front of Yin. Her pendulous breasts nearly fell out of her dress, and Stephan was forced to look away. “Say, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Looking for a friend,” Yin said.

“A friend, you say?”

“Yeah. He’s missing.”

“If you tell me what he looks like, I might be able to help.”

Yin stroked her chin. “Hmm… Lubbard. Tall. Blue-green skin. Annoying. Thinks he’s a lot more handsome than he is. Goes by Kazzul, on a good day”

“Ah, yes, of course,” the woman said, smiling fondly. “He’s a regular. Kind of. Came in yesterday, with…” She glanced up at Stephan and stood. “With you.”

Stephan swallowed hard.

“You come back later without your daughter, I’ll put you through your paces again,” she said.

Again? By the Codes…

“Stay on topic,” Yin said. “Do you know where Kazzul is or not?”

“Haven’t seen him since last night. We kind of split you up somewhere along the line. I took you…” The woman tugged on the breast pocket of Stephan’s suit. “...and Cantarella took the lubbard. You’ll have to ask her if you want to know what became of him.”

“Thank you, ahem, very kindly,” Stephan said, taking a step back. “We’ll be on our way, then.”

The prostitute cocked an eyebrow and reached out a hand, expectant.

“Go on, Lordling,” Yin said, lifting her blindfold to peek out. “Pay the lady.”

Stephan sighed and handed the woman some money. She counted it, shrugged, and sauntered off.

“Not nothing, at least,” Stephan said as he looked around for the captain. He’d have to inform her of this development. “We’re getting closer.”

*****

“You’re Lizzy’s sister?” Kazzul asked.

“So now you remember her,” Cantarella said. “Too late, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t kill Lizzy. What happened to her was a case of bad luck and nothing more.”

She punched him straight in the nose, snapped his head backward. He groaned as his skull flared with dull, thumping pain, hot blood rushing down his lip.

“I’ve had enough of your sickly-sweet lies,” Cantarella said. “Bad luck, you say? You seduced my sister. Got her hooked up in all your little schemes. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had her do your dirty work. Got her to try and steal from the Meksen Crew.”

Cantarella’s voice cracked, and her words tapered off. She took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose between two fingers as she tried to compose herself.

“She was no thief,” she continued. “Not like you. You filled her head with butterflies, and that’s what got her killed. Would you say that’s an accurate recollection of events?”

Kazzul wiped his bloody nose on his shoulder. “Yes. Apart from one thing. I never made her do anything. Never manipulated her. We were a team.”

“Agree to disagree,” Cantarella said.

She drew her pistol and pointed it at his head.

“A few last words, if you will,” Kazzul said.

Cantarella shrugged.

“I’d like you to know what happened to the ones who were really responsible.”