“The former, I think. She told me that she simply didn’t want the responsibility.”
“And yet she told me she’s hunted before, and for food.”
Tal said, “Don’t ask me to untangle the ethical labyrinth of a Graykey.”
“Hmm. I hope I didn’t offend her by asking her to the hunt. I suppose she’ll be one of the stories of my rule, just like Deirdre was for Michael Veritie. One has to be so careful with legends.” He glanced around; Iolanthe was watching expectantly from beyond the stable door, standing next to Prudence, yellow gown beside yellow hair, both of them golden in the sunlight. Adrian said thoughtfully, “They say Deirdre left because she was offended, but the books don’t tell you why.” He gave Tal an unreadable glance. “Well, I approve, in any case. A personal relationship will do you good.”
He moved to join Iolanthe, and Tal watched him go, jaw clenched. Personal relationship? Sometimes the Protector presumed overmuch on his rank.
Personal relationship, indeed. Tal found that the hunt had left him with more energy than he needed, and he looked for a place to discharge it.
There was a spot that had served him well enough before. Requiem Row was the colloquial name for a section of deck between admin and residential territory, so-called for the number of sexually transmitted diseases contracted there. For which the Church prohibited any medical alleviation; if a man didn’t want such a painful and early death, it pointed out, he should refrain from going there. As for the girls, they should turn penitent and volunteer for the recycler. Adrian had been a popular figure on the Row once, but then he could afford Outsider medicine and had no scruples about purchasing it. For the other customers the witches could provide, at a price.
Tal had only ever visited one establishment, a midsized house called The Cherry Branch. Adrian had brought him there one half-drunken night—incognito, as he so touchingly believed … sometimes Adrian had too much faith in his own charisma.
The house was moderately priced, moderately clean, and had ten suites with two shifts of girls. The majority of them were in their teens, and only one was over the age of twenty-five. He presented himself there now to the manager, a woman named Lena.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, with more surprise than he thought was necessary. “Well, you’re just in time. Blossom was going to be leaving next week.” Lena was in her forties, slightly plump, and very respectably dressed. Not for her the outlandish costumes other managers wore; she wore a dress that looked more like an admin uniform. Tal approved; he liked to be businesslike, and he liked not having to talk.
She held out her podgy hand, and Tal put three twenty- dollar pieces into it. “You want a full night, I see. Well, you won’t be disturbed. Blossom’s in suite six.”
They’d only ever sent him the same girl, but he had no objection to that. Her real name was Beth-Ann. She hated “Blossom.”
Almost as much as he hated coming to this place. Not morally, of course; and not the physical experience. But it was distasteful to be forced into human society by an act of biology; to lack, at least in part, the element of choice in his companions. And to acknowledge that he couldn’t master the intricate dance of social cues that would allow him to find solace elsewhere. Keylinn indeed. To hell with Adrian.
He followed the turns in the corridor to suite six. The walls along the way were covered with pictures that he supposed were considered erotic. Bulging cheeks, rolling eyes, expressions of acute discomfort … the humans in them looked as though they were going to be ill. Anyway, he wasn’t sure some of those poses were possible.
He pressed the signal for admittance, and she opened the door.
“Hello, Beth-Ann.”
“Tal.” She smiled. “It’s been so long since you were here.” Beth-Ann was almost twenty, a venerable age in this house. She was brown-haired with wide blue eyes and a pleasant face. It was not visible at the moment, but there was a small red diamond-shape burnt into her right shoulder, testifying that she was a whore and should never be married or employed in any other capacity. She was slightly plump, which was considered an asset on the Diamond, and she pleased Tal by not kissing him immediately. He’d told her once that he disliked that.
He walked inside and started unbuttoning his jacket. ‘They tell me you’re leaving next week.” This was unusual; most of the people on the Row had nowhere to go. He sat down on the bed—the only furniture—and pulled off a boot.
“Maybe not, now,” she said.
The other boot came off. Beth-Ann slipped out of her robe and sat beside him, now entirely naked. Her whore’s brand was visible. Her breasts were full, with dark nipples. “I don’t understand,” said Tal.
“Lena was going to toss me out because it’d been so long since you came. I wasn’t bringing in any money.”
“But surely your other customers are sufficient.” He pulled off his shirt. Down to skin now, Beth-Ann judged it safe to put her arms around his neck and give him one kiss.
As she drew back, she said, “There are no other customers. Not since the first time you came here with Adrian.” He stood up to remove his pants. She moved behind him and said, “Raise your arms.” She reached around to undo the belt. “They’re all scared,” she said.
“Scared of what?” The underwear came off in a rush now, and he pulled her down on the bed.
“Scared to—well, the saying is, ‘put their seed where a demon has gone.’ They’re afraid their manhood will shrivel up.”
He pushed her gently back for a moment and looked in her face. “You’re not making this up, are you.”
“Uh-uh.” She moved forward again, but he held her away with an effortless grip. She lay back down obediently, but
