“I told him I would consider it,” said Sorak. “But I should like to know something of a man’s background before I agree to work for him.”
“Quite understandable,” said Tajik, nodding. “Well, I know where we can probably find out. If he has been recruited for such a post, he must have a reputation. His fellow mercenaries would know, and since most of them have just been paid, I know where we can find a good sampling to ask. But perhaps we should escort Ryana back to my home first.”
“Why?” Ryana asked, puzzled.
“Because the Desert Damsel is not the sort of place to take a priestess,” Tajik replied.
“And why is that?” she asked again.
Tajik cleared his throat. “Well… the Damsel is a pleasure house, the most popular attraction in South Ledopolus, where women dance and, uh, artfully remove clothing. One can go there simply for the show, but there are also rooms upstairs where, for a price, one can enjoy a, uh, ‘private dance,’ if you get my meaning.”
“How very interesting,” Ryana said. “I would like to see it.”
Tajik looked scandalized. “You would?”
“Yes, very much. Can we go there after dinner?”
Tajik swallowed hard. “I… uh… really do not think it is a proper place for a lady like yourself.”
“Why not?” Ryana asked.
Tajik glanced at Sorak, helplessly.
“Don’t look at me,” said Sorak. “Ryana makes her own decisions.”
“I have never seen a pleasure house,” Ryana said. “I’m curious to know what it is like.”
“It is much like any other place where mercenaries drink, only much more so,” Tajik said. “I don’t think you would enjoy it much.”
“I should like the opportunity to judge that for myself,” Ryana said.
Tajik sighed with resignation. “Well, if you insist…”
* * *
“It is a rather rowdy crowd tonight,” said Edric as he came into the dressing room, rubbing his temple where a thrown bottle had struck him. It had shattered and cut the skin, and a thin trickle of blood ran down the side of his face. The spot was already swelling, and there would be a nasty bruise.
Cricket was up out of her chair at once. “Here, let me see,” she said.
“It’s of no consequence,” said Edric. “This is my last night.”
Cricket moistened a clean cloth and gently washed the cut. “Those brutes,” she said vehemently.
Edric winced as she cleaned the cut. “Well, they did not come to hear my ballads. I do not know why Turin even bothered hiring me.”
“To build up their anticipation,” Cricket said. “He likes a dull act to open the show.” And then she realized what she had said and bit her lower lip. “Forgive me. That came out wrong. I did not mean that I found you dull myself.”
Edric chuckled. “No, I understand. The pleasure of your company has been the only thing that has made this engagement bearable. And you have been a most appreciative audience, for which I thank you.”
“I cannot wait to leave this place,” said Cricket. “I’ve booked passage on the caravan. I only wish it would leave tonight.”
“Tomorrow will be soon enough,” said Edric. “Turin still does not suspect your plans?”
“I do not think so,” Cricket said. “If he does, he’s shown no indication of it. Still, I would not put it past him to attempt something to make me stay.”
“What could he do?”
“Hire some mercenaries to detain me while the caravan departs,” she said. “He probably wouldn’t even have to pay them. He would merely offer them inducements.”
“Mmmm, yes, I can imagine what sort of inducements he would offer,” Edric said. “Still, he can’t force you to dance.”
Cricket shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have wanted to leave here for so long, it hardly seems possible that the time has come at last. I keep thinking something will go wrong.”
Edric patted her shoulder. “Nothing will go wrong,” he said. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll be on our way to Altaruk.”
“I want it to be now,” she said anxiously.
“Try to put it out of your mind,” said Edric. “You don’t want Turin to wonder why you seem distracted. Go out there and put on a good show. It’ll be the last time they’ll ever see you in this pestilential dump. Give them something to remember.”
She smiled. “That I can do.”
* * *
Walking into the Desert Damsel was like entering another world. Outside lay the quiet, picturesque and orderly dwarven village of South Ledopolus, with its immaculate streets and well-tended shade trees and desert gardens. Inside was the raucous South Ledopolus the Wanderer had described in his journal.
Tajik, Sorak, and Ryana entered through a small antechamber where a dwarf seated at a high podium collected the cover charge of ten coppers, which included a token for one drink. He also gathered all weapons, in exchange for numbered tokens that would allow the owners to claim them on the way out. Just past the podium was an arched, curtained entry where a muscular human bouncer stood at his post, thick arms folded across his bare, barrel-shaped chest.
Tajik led them through the beaded curtain and into the interior of the Desert Damsel—a single, large, open room with booths built around the perimeter and small round tables with wooden chairs filling the space beside the long bar against the right wall. Behind the bar and in the center of the room, at the rear, were two large stages with four smaller stages on square risers on the right and left sides of the room. No matter where one looked, there was a stage in view, and atop each of those stages, including the one behind the bar, nearly naked women danced.
There was a small band playing, set up on a small stage at the right rear corner of the room, just beyond the bar, and a woman gyrated on the stage in front of the band, as well. The band consisted primarily of drummers, bell ringers, and cymbal players.
