‘Morcha. This is Casensis.’ Both men seemed uneasy. Skilgannon guessed they had been told to follow at a distance and not be seen.
‘I am about to enjoy a bath and a massage,’ Skilgannon told them.
‘Nothing like it after a warming run.’
‘We’re not members,’ said the burly Casensis, his eyes narrowing. ‘These places are for the rich.’
‘And for the sons of soldiers who have served the nation,’ said Skilgannon smoothly. ‘My father was given honorary membership, which has passed to me. I am also allowed to bring guests. Will you join me?’
He led the surprised men inside. The marble hallway was cool and scented. Skilgannon signed the register and the three men were led through to a cedar-panelled changing room, where they were given soft white robes and towels. Then, having stripped off their clothing and donned their robes, they made their way through two archways and into a huge area with a vaulted ceiling. Enormous windows had been set into the walls, many with stained glass. Trees were growing here, and hot water gushed over rocks to fill a series of artificial pools that had been created on different levels. Rose petals floated on the water, and the air was rich with scent. Only two of the pools were being used. Skilgannon laid his robe and towels on a stone bench and walked down the marble steps, wading into the upper pool, close to the gushing water. Stretching out, he floated on the surface, closing his eyes. The two spies followed him.
Skilgannon swam across the centre of the pool, away from the waterfall, and sat back with his arms on the stone lip. The sandy-haired Morcha swam to join him, while Casensis waded across. Two serving women, bare- breasted but wearing long, clinging skirts, moved from the shadows bearing goblets of cold spring water. Both women had the traditional dyed yellow hair, streaked with red at the temples, that marked them as pleasure servants. They also sported gold torques upon their necks, signifying they were several ranks above the cheaper whores who worked the streets and the marketplaces.
Casensis stared up at them, unable to tear his gaze from their naked breasts. One of them smiled at him. Then they moved away.
‘Are they free also?’ asked Casensis.
‘For massage, yes,’ said Skilgannon. ‘All other services are negotiable.’
‘What do they charge?’
‘Ten silver pieces.’
That’s three months’ wages!’ said Casensis, outraged.
‘And for what do you earn these wages?’ Skilgannon asked.
‘We are soldiers of the King,’ said Morcha swiftly.
‘Ah, I see why you were running today. It is important to stay strong and able. I too am hoping to join the King’s army soon.’
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the cool drinks and the warm water. Morcha turned towards Skilgannon. ‘This has been good of you, sir.
It will be something to remember.’
‘My pleasure, my friend. But you must enjoy a massage before you go.
The girls here are highly skilled. They will soothe away all aches and pains, and you will doze and dream beautiful dreams. It is my favourite part of the day. Then perhaps you will join me for a meal in the dining area.’
‘That is most kind of you,’ said Morcha.
With the bath finished the three men climbed out. Immediately blonde women moved forward, leading each of them into a separate candlelit room.
Once Skilgannon was clear of the men he thanked the girl and declined a massage. ‘I shall leave a handsome tip for you,’ he told the surprised masseuse. ‘When my friends have been suitably relaxed tell them I was called away, but that I have arranged for them to dine at my expense.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
He dressed swiftly in the changing room and then left the building.
Leaving the park, he moved quickly through the streets, pausing once more at shops and stalls, just in case there were other followers. Satisfied at last that he was alone, Skilgannon followed the directions Sperian had given and headed into the north of the city.
The house he was seeking was new, built on the outskirts, and close to an army barracks. It was a small three-roomed property, with a roof of roughcast red tiles. There were some twenty similar buildings constructed for the wives and children of workers at the barracks: cooks, carpenters and blacksmiths. Sperian had described the house, saying that a bougainvillaea bush was growing on the western wall alongside the front door. There was something about the location that spoke of Greavas. Only a man with his keen sense of irony would hide the most wanted pair in the capital within a stone’s throw of one of the largest barracks. And yet even as the thought occurred Skilgannon realized there was also great intelligence in the decision. All the buildings in the city’s richest quarter had been searched, as well as outlying estates. No-one would dream of seeking the Empress and her daughter in a hastily built dwelling so close to a centre for the new King’s loyal troops.
Skilgannon tapped at the door, but there was no reply. Moving around to the back of the house he tried the small gate leading to the tiny patch of garden. This was locked. Glancing round to see if he was observed from any of the other houses, Skilgannon scaled the wall and leapt down into the garden.
As he landed he caught a glimpse of movement to his left. Something flashed for his head. Ducking, he hurled himself to his right, landed on his shoulder and rolled to his feet. Even as he came upright a sandal-shod foot thudded against his temple. He rolled with the blow, throwing up his arm to prevent a second high kick exploding against his head. His assailant was blonde and female, her dyed hair streaked red at the temples. She launched another attack, her left hand slashing towards his face. Grabbing her wrist he twisted it savagely, trying to turn her. Instead of resisting she threw herself forward, aiming a head butt at his face. It thudded painfully against his collar bone. Angry now, he threw her to the ground. She rolled expertly to her feet and advanced on him again, her pretty face masked by fury, her eyes narrowed.
‘Enough! Enough!’ yelled Greavas, running from the doorway, and grabbing the girl by the waist. ‘This is a friend — though a stupid one.
What are you doing here?’ he demanded of Skilgannon.
‘Not a subject I think we should discuss in the presence of a whore,’ he snapped.
‘A whore you cannot afford,’ she responded. ‘And if you could you still wouldn’t be man enough.’
The venom in her voice stunned him. Never had a pleasure girl spoken so to him. Always they were deferential, never making eye contact. Added to which this girl had used moves that Malanek had taught
‘Everything is fine,’ said Greavas. ‘Unless of course you were followed here,’ he added, swinging to Skilgannon. ‘Then we are all dead.’
‘I was not followed — though two men were assigned to the task. I left them at the bathhouse.’
‘Let us hope there were no others.’
‘There were no others,’ said Skilgannon, his temper flaring. ‘I came to warn you not to return to the house. Boranius is seeking you.’
‘No more than I expected. I had not intended to return. If that is all you have to tell me, Olek, then you had best leave now.’
‘I thought you would need help.’
‘Aye, I do need help,’ said Greavas. ‘But this is not a boy’s game. This is not some schoolboy adventure. The stakes here are high. Torture and death await failure.’
Skilgannon said nothing for a moment, calming himself. He looked again at the yellow-haired girl he had taken for a prostitute, then back at the fearful woman in the doorway. ‘The disguise is a good one,’ he said. ‘It still leaves you with the problem of smuggling a mother and her daughter from the city, when soldiers have been given your description.’
‘I intend to cut my hair and dye it black,’ said Greavas, ‘but you are right. They are searching for a woman and her young daughter. Nothing I can do about that.’
‘Of course there is. You can separate them. As a whore the princess can travel anywhere without suspicion.
