Njkall didn’t seem bothered by the comparison, but then again, maybe he didn’t understand the reference.
“You will need some clothing, little one.”
Once again, Joan braced herself for a negative reaction, but Polly only pouted up at Njkall. “I don’t like clothes.”
“You need them to leave the ship,” he said firmly. Polly scowled but raised no further objection as he began to sort through the clothing they had brought with them.
“I never would have believed it,” she said softly to Varga.
Baralt was close enough to hear her words, and he smiled. “Njkall has always had a way with recalcitrant children.”
“But she is not a child.” As she watched the older male carefully pull a hat over Polly’s tangled curls and wrap a cloak around her shoulders, she wondered if he realized that.
“He is the finest of males,” Baralt said. “You do not need to fear for her.”
She sighed and went to put on her own outdoor clothing. Perhaps she was simply overreacting.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Joan’s doubts resurfaced as they headed for Baralt’s house. As they walked through the icy streets, Polly continued to cling to Njkall’s hand. She actually seemed to be talking to him, and he listened patiently, occasionally giving that deep pleasant chuckle.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered to Saka who was walking next to her. “She seems to be terrified of everyone else but she’s not scared of him. He must be twice her size. And he has fangs.”
Saka had been eyeing the shops they passed, but now she focused on the two in front of them. “I have never seen a Hothian in person before,” she said thoughtfully.
“I doubt Polly has either.”
“Yes, that’s my point. There were no Hothians in the mines. No one who even resembled them at all. Which means she was never abused by a male who looked like him.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he’s safe.”
“Little bird,” Varga said firmly from behind her, and she jumped as she realized he’d been listening. “As you pointed out, she is not a child and he is a trustworthy male. They do exist.”
“I know you’re trustworthy.”
“And I am not the only one.”
She sighed and settled into step next to him as Baralt moved forward to talk to Saka. She was relieved to notice that Saka made no attempt to be seductive. She had been a little afraid that the other female would fall back into the only interaction she understood.
“You need to stop worrying about everyone else,” Varga said softly, and she shot him a rueful smile.
“I know. I don’t mean to be the managing sort.”
“You have a kind heart and you wish to take care of others. But sometimes, you have to let them go their own way. Isn’t that what you were trying to tell me?”
“Touché,” she muttered.
“I don’t understand.”
“It means you’re right. Dammit.”
He laughed and tucked her under his arm as they continued down the street. She snuggled closer, grateful for his warmth. The clothes Baralt had provided helped but the temperature was well below freezing. But it wasn’t cold enough to prevent her from looking around with interest.
Now that they were actually in the town, she realized it wasn’t quite as idyllic as it had appeared from the air. There were several interesting shops, but they were easily outnumbered by bars. And when they turned a corner, she realized they were also outnumbered by what appeared to be sex shops. It reminded her of pictures she had seen of the red-light district in Amsterdam, except the females—and males—occupying the windows were an astonishing array of species. The acts they were performing were equally as varied. Her footsteps ground to a halt as she stared.
“This is terrible. How can this possibly be legal?”
Varga sighed and urged her on. “There’s nothing illegal about sex, and for some of these workers, it’s an easy way to make a lot of credits.”
“Easy?” she asked incredulously.
“Compared to some of the alternatives, yes.”
“You mean they want to be here?”
“Some of them do.”
He hadn’t exactly answered her question, but as they continued down the street, she tried to focus on the faces rather than the actions of the sex workers. Most of them simply appeared to be bored. A few actually looked enthusiastic, or at least managed to fake it. She still wasn’t happy about it, but she was resigned, until they turned another corner.
This was a smaller, darker street. Colder as well, with few of the braziers that had heated the main road. She heard a sharp crack and turned in time to see a large furry male standing over an ivory-scaled female who was clutching her cheek. It was all too obvious that he had just hit her.
“I don’t care if you are cold. Attract a male to heat you up, you worthless bitch,” the male snarled.
Joan started forward with an outraged cry, but Varga clamped his hand over her mouth and pulled her back against him. When she started to struggle, he bent down and whispered in her ear, “Hush, little bird. Let Baralt take care of this.”
Baralt stepped forward, and she suddenly noticed that long black claws extended from his fingers.
“Under Imperial law, you are required to provide adequate heating for your slave.” Baralt’s voice was colder than the surrounding air, and she shivered as she realized just how intimidating he could be.
The male scowled at him and gestured at a small metal pot that had perhaps one ember glowing within it. “She’s got a heater.”
“It is inadequate. If you cannot afford additional
