Bertrice Small - A Distant Tomorrow

She laughed up at him. “And you will not object if I must defend us?”

“I have yet to hear Andraste sing,” he said with a small grin.

“I hope you never have to,” Lara told him. “Sleep well tonight, my lord Dominus. Tomorrow I will take us to Hetar. Neither of us will sleep well there.”

THE AIR IN THE CITY was foul. She had not remembered such a stench. There was garbage in the streets. She did not remember the streets being so dirty. There seemed to be more people, and the noise was unending. There were beggars everywhere, on corners and in doorways. Had it always been like this? Had she not noticed because it was all so familiar then? Lara had been curious to see the City again, but now she wished she were anywhere but here.

She had brought them to a secluded area outside of the City, and they had walked the remainder of the way. They were joined as they walked by others going to the City, some on foot, others driving carts that held produce.

Arriving at the main gates they waited patiently amid the growing crowd until the sun crept over the horizon signaling dawn. The gates creaked slowly open, and they entered with the others, looking for all the world like simple travelers.

“We must find an inn so we will have a place to stay tonight,” Lara said low.

“Do you know where to go?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said. “There will be an inn outside of the Council Quarter gates. Come, it is this way.” Lara moved quickly through the streets, which were growing more crowded as the day advanced. Finally she saw the open but guarded gates to the Council Quarter ahead of her, and directly opposite, the inn she sought. She turned to Magnus. “You must speak for us or it will seem odd. You will be asked to show your travel papers. They are inside your cloak in a pocket by your heart. You are Master Magnus, a silk merchant from the Coastal Kingdom, and I am your wife. They will not question you. They simply wish to see the papers, but if they ask why we are here say we are newly married, and have come to see the wonders of the City.”

“We are newly married,” he said with a little smile, “and we have indeed come to see the wonders of this place.”

“Be cautious, Magnus,” she advised him. “This is not Terah. There are spies everywhere looking for information to sell. We cannot draw attention to ourselves. You wished to see this place, and so we have come. But we must not remain more than two or three days. I can already see much has changed, and it frightens me.”

They entered the inn, which was called simply The Traveler’s Rest, and the innkeeper hurried up to them, smiling toothily.

“How may I serve you, sir?” he asked.

“A room for my wife and myself,” Magnus said. He drew a small purse from his cloak, and hefted it in his hand suggestively.

“You have come far, sir?” the innkeeper inquired.

“The Coastal Province,” Magnus replied, and then he added, “we were caught outside your gates last night. Have things gotten so bad that a late traveler cannot be admitted by that small door in the gates after they have been closed for the night? My wife has probably caught a chill.”

“There are new rules in place since the emperor was elected,” the innkeeper said. And then he lowered his voice. “It has made it far more difficult to do business, but once we have taken the Outlands back from the barbarians who stole them, it will be easier for us all, sir. If I may see your travel papers, please.”

Magnus reached into the cloak and withdrew the packet from the pocket over his heart, handing it to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper scanned the papers, and then obviously satisfied said, “I have a fine chamber on the upper floor overlooking the garden. I am sure it will suit, sir. For how long will you need it?” He handed the papers back to Magnus Hauk.

“We will remain with you three days,” Magnus said. “It is our wedding trip, and I promised my wife a visit to the City before she must settle down to the business of giving me sons.” He chuckled. “But I must admit I enjoy the making of those sons with my bride.”

The innkeeper grinned knowingly. “Then you will not be interested in one of our fine Pleasure Houses, sir. Very good. If you will follow me, please, I will take you to your chamber. You will not have eaten yet if you spent the night outside the gates. I shall send a serving woman to you with some food to break your fast.” He led them up a staircase and down a hallway to a door at the corridor’s end. Opening it, the innkeeper ushered the couple inside. “Will this be satisfactory, sir?”

Lara flicked an eyelash at Magnus.

“It will suit,” Magnus replied. He took two coins from the bag he carried. “Is this enough?” he asked.

“For today, indeed sir, most acceptable. You may settle the rest of your bill when you depart in three days’ time.” The innkeeper bowed obsequiously, and backed from the room. “I will have your food sent right up, sir.” Then he was gone.

Lara put a warning finger to her lips, and then she said in a deceptively girlish voice, “Oh, Magnus, I never expected anything this grand!” Moving across the room she put her ear to the door. “He’s gone,” she said. “He waited just long enough to hear me, and then hurried off. After we eat I shall show you some of the City.”

“From what I have seen so far it isn’t a place I particularly like,” Magnus admitted. “Nor is this sudden mistrust you have developed.”

“Hetar is not like Terah, my lord husband,” Lara answered him. “Be skeptical of everything here, and do not put your faith in anyone you meet or anything they tell you. In Hetar, and particularly in the City, your status depends upon what you have. We travel as middle-class citizens of the Coastal Kingdom. Respectable, able to pay our way, but of no great importance. Therefore little attention will be paid to us. This is the best course for us to follow.”

“You do not like being here,” he said quietly.

“Nay, I do not,” Lara admitted. “I sense danger as I have never before sensed it. If we should be separated, or anything untoward should occur go through the gates across the way. That is the Council Quarter. Seek out one of the Shadow Princes. They can protect you, Magnus, if I cannot.”

“This is beginning to seem like a bad idea,” he said wryly.

“You wanted to see Hetar and meet Hetarians, husband. It is a wise thing to know your enemy. I only caution you, for you are an innocent where Hetar is concerned. And did you hear what the innkeeper said about the Outlands?”

“Aye, that they were planning to take back from barbarians what was theirs,” he answered her. “Was that land once a part of Hetar?”

“Never! But that is the story they will have put about for some time in order to whip up public sentiment against the Outlanders,” she explained. “The barbarians have stolen our lands. They have killed our people. Only savages would send seven cartloads of our dead, cruelly slaughtered innocents, into the City to mock us.” She laughed softly. “Oh, yes, that is what they would say. We have been attacked. Proud Hetar has been defied. They would drum up a swell of nationalistic outrage, and use it to recruit men into the Mercenaries. In Hetar, Mercenaries are but fodder to be killed while the Crusader Knights direct and lead a battle. But the Knights are on horseback and armored. Few of them are killed, but then what are the extra sons of the Midlands good for if not to be exterminated in fighting? Fewer mouths to be fed. Fewer children born. In a society like Hetar peace becomes a dangerous opiate, Magnus. Too much prosperity is not good for the masses.” She bit her lip in frustration, surprised by her own outburst.

A sudden knock on the door startled them both. He opened it, and a young girl, bowed down with the weight of the tray she carried, stumbled into the room. “The master said you needed a meal,” the girl said setting the tray upon a small table. Then, not even looking at them, she scampered out down the corridor. Magnus shut the door behind her.

“She seemed frightened,” he noted.

“Perhaps, but perhaps she just has a lot of work to do, and this was but an extra chore thrust upon her,” Lara said. “Had I been plainer her fate might have been mine.” She lifted the napkin from the tray to reveal fresh bread, fruit, cheese, two hard-boiled eggs and two small cups of liquid. Picking up one of the cups she tasted it. “Frine,” she pronounced.

“What is frine?” he asked her.

“A mixture of fruit juice and wine, watered,” she told him. “It is refreshing. The meal is simple enough, but there is no meat. You must ask the innkeeper why there is no meat with the meal. You are a big man, and should have meat.”

“You are being very deferential publicly,” he said.

“It is the custom in Hetar for women to be deferential to their men,” Lara explained. “And all women must have men for protectors. A woman without a male is considered the lowest of creatures. A father, a brother, an uncle, a husband, a son. But there must be someone masculine to defend and safeguard her, or she can become prey for the unscrupulous. She could be forced into one of the less desirable Pleasure Houses as a slave, and worked to death.”

“Tell me about these Pleasure Houses?” he asked her.

“As I have told you, I was meant for one,” Lara said. “The Pleasure Houses are owned by men, except for a rare few – women are not usually entrusted with property. Pleasure Mistresses are the ones with the responsibility of managing the houses. They see to every aspect of them. Food. Repairs. Supplies. The training of the young girls. Keeping the women in order. Knowing the desires and foibles of the men who visit regularly. They receive a generous remuneration for their talents. But it is the owner of the Pleasure House who takes the lion’s share of the profits, of course,” she explained. “The Pleasure Women have but one duty in life. To give and receive pleasure. Those who do it very well are much in demand. Some have even become famous in Hetar, unusual for a female. A few of the Pleasure Houses specialize in the more deviant forms of passion, but only two or three of them. Some of the Pleasure Houses service the ordinary man. Most, however, are for the wealthy whose tastes are more refined. There is more profit in serving the wealthy than the simple man.” She divided the food, giving him more bread, and both eggs.

“Pleasure is not really a commodity in Terah,” he observed.

“Terah,” Lara said to him, “does not worship the Celestial Actuary, but rather the Great Creator. The world of Hetar is driven by profit, Magnus. Everything is judged by that standard.” She began to eat. The bread was good, the cheese mediocre and the fruit had seen better days. She wondered why a respectable inn across from the Council Quarters would offer its guests such scanty fare. She would speak to the little servant girl about it.

He gulped his portion, and Lara knew it wasn’t enough for him. He was a big man, and used to good meals.

“There are usually vendors on the street selling food,” she said.

“Good! Master Innkeeper will have to do better than this,” Magnus said grimly.

“You cannot fuss, my lord,” she advised again. “Remember, we are simple folk.”

“Let us hope the bed is not infested,” he grumbled at her.

“Come, and I will show you the City,” Lara invited.

They departed the inn, and began to move through the crowded streets. She brought him through the gates of the Quarter where she had grown up, and showed him the hovel that had once belonged to her father. There was no one now who would recognize Lara, daughter of Swiftsword, and she was plainly dressed, a dark veil over her golden hair, which she had braided and hidden beneath a dark snood. They noted how overcrowded the Quarter was.

“It was always full, but never like this,” Lara noted. “Gaius Prospero has built himself up a great army.”

“To no avail,” Magnus murmured low.

Lara smiled. “He has promised them the spoils of war, and there will be none. I am certain he intended to divide the land up for himself and his friends. Now he will have to give some of it away to satisfy the Guild of Mercenaries. If there is no enemy there is no need for a large force, and many of these men are sons of Midland farmers. To be given land to farm will well satisfy them even if it does not satisfy Gaius Prospero.” A small chuckle escaped her. “I must admit I do enjoy seeing that man thwarted in his grandiose schemes. Ah, here is the Golden District where only the most wealthy are permitted to reside.”

“Can we go in?” he asked her.

Lara shook her head. “Not unless you wish me to have the guardsmen at the gates announce me to Gaius Prospero. I’m quite certain he would be delighted to receive me, my lord, and to learn of your fine kingdom, which he would begin to consider conquering. Especially after he faces disappointment in the Outlands.”