The Duchess of the Shallows (13 page)

He laughed. "That's a tall order, knowing Stephan, but I'll try. All right, I'll find him tonight and set it up. But I'd better make myself pretty first or else he'll have me in nothing more than tights and a kerchief." He got up and began sorting through the mess for clean clothing, and Duchess headed for the door. "Where are you going?" he asked, surprised.

"I need to see Minette about a job."

Chapter Eight:
Laying out the tiles

The Vermillion was, as always, a blaze of red: carpets, tapestries, couches, upholstery and throw-pillows all in rich crimson velvet, silk and satin. The first time she'd stepped into the wide receiving parlor, years ago with Noam, she'd thought someone had been killed here and left his blood all over the room, but of course she'd been only eight and ignorant of brothels. At the time she'd thought the ladies magnificent, and when she said someday she'd be just like them Noam had reddened and told her to hold her tongue. Then she'd been swept up in a vortex of powdered, perfumed women pinching her cheek, stroking her hair, and asking questions that the eight-year-old Duchess had taken very seriously while Noam stood aside and spoke quietly with Minette. Duchess had spent many an hour in the Vermillion's front parlor, or upstairs looking down through the diamond-shaped slots in the carved wooden bannister. She and Lorelei, of nearly an age at the time, would watch the arrival of the gentlemen in their finery and whisper of their favorites, of how they would have the custom of this one or that one when they were older. Of course Duchess never understood exactly what that custom was until much later, nor was she allowed to explore the building to find out.

Those days were long past, and while Duchess had remained dark and slender, the Lorelei who led her into that crimson parlor was blonde and buxom.
She wore a gown of deep green damask whose plunging neckline left little to the imagination, and a pale blue pendant on a silver chain that glittered almost as brightly as her smile. In preparation for the evening's traffic she went to a cabinet and busied herself with bottles of wine and other spirits.

Duchess was surprised to see that the parlor was not entirely empty. In a small alcove formed by hanging drapes, two people faced each other across a game of tiles. The first was a slender, silver-haired man dressed elegantly in a black waistcoat with gold buttons and expensive-looking gray breeches;
the second, a short, dark, curvy woman around Duchess' age. They seemed entirely absorbed in their game, and as she watched the man in black placed a wooden token on one of the tiles.

Duchess gestured at the pair. "What's that about?" She knew most of the Vermillion’s regulars by sight, but she did not recognize this man.

"You mean Lord Tiles?" Lorelei rolled her eyes. "I don't know his name, but since he smells of Garden we aren't allowed to ask. A new customer. He comes in...oh, twice a week or so, and never wants anything but a game. So we call him Lord Tiles, although not where he can hear." From the cabinet's depths she produced a square of cloth – red as anything else in the Vermillion – and carefully dusted the bottles, one by one, before taking them out.

Tiles was a noble's pastime, so Lorelei's guess was most likely accurate. Tiles was a game of high stakes, with bets on both the tiles and the pot increasing as the game went on. The lower classes satisfied themselves with dice or lesser games, or if they did imitate their betters they used stones and tokens rather than coin. The Vermillion might be located firmly in the Shallows, but a good deal of tile playing went on there nonetheless.

"So he just plays and that's all? What happens if he wins?"

Lorelei shrugged. "Same as if he loses; he just thanks whomever he's playing and leaves. He's always clean and polite, and he's not stingy with his coin. If I were better at tiles I'd play him myself; it would be the easiest sou I ever made. But you know the game's beyond me." She grinned. "Daphne's better than anyone at the Vermillion…except Minette of course. Or the new Domae boy."

"Who's that? I haven't heard of him before."

"Minette brought him in a few weeks ago, although I can't say where she found him." Lorelei loaded several of the bottles on a silver tray, then set it down on a side table. "You know she likes to cater to
all
her clients, although usually she keeps him out of sight unless someone asks for a Domae." Minette kept a few boys on staff, Duchess knew, but for some reason had never asked Lysander to join them. There was no understanding Minette.

"Turns out the boy's just as good as Daphne," Lorelei went on. "Took to the game right away, even though when he got here he hardly spoke a word of Rodaasi. I didn’t think that sort went in for civilized pastimes, but…"
She waved a hand, dismissing both the boy and the game. "But why are we talking about tiles when there's far more interesting gossip? Certainly you've heard about Dorian Eusbius?" Her green eyes twinkled with mischief.

"A bit here and there." That was an understatement. "He's been to the Vermillion?"

Lorelei, turned back to the cabinet, sighing with mock regret. "No, more's the pity. He probably can't spare the sou anyway, and you know Minette doesn't run a tab. But we've seen him slumming from time to time, and Daphne is positively
smitten
." Daphne was always swooning over one pretty face or another, so that was hardly news. Not that Dorian would give a second thought to a Shallows whore after he'd paid her. "I hear the new lord of his House isn't fond of his heir, and there's talk that Dorian may suffer an accident before too long." Lorelei was setting out crystal goblets for the evening's clients. "I hope he sends the boy down here before that happens, for Daphne's sake, at least."

Duchess would have helped with the goblets, but her hands weren't clean and Minette would bring down the wrath of Ventaris himself if she discovered dirty glassware in the parlor. Besides, Duchess wanted to be out of sight before the patrons arrived; she'd had enough of their disparaging glances at her boyish frame, plain face and even plainer clothing. "Is Minette in her office?"

"As usual. Why?"

"I heard Lysander romped her at tiles a few
days ago and I'm hoping to do the same." Lorelei smiled, but before she could reply there was a sudden clatter from across the room. They turned to see Lord Tiles lurching to his feet, his chair fallen back to the floor his face red, mustache quivering. Across the board, Daphne looked up at him, bewildered.

The lord's face was florid, but his voice was cold. "Why did you do that?"

"What did I do, my lord? You beat me fair as..."

"Fair as nothing," spat Tiles, his voice still disturbingly calm.

"My lord, I don't understand..."

"And now you lie. Deception upon villainy. You're just the same. All of you are the same!" Now his voice came closer to his expression, rising in tone and volume by the moment. He swept the game, tiles, tokens and all, to the floor with one hand and shook his cane with the other.

Daphne scrambled out of her seat and retreated to the parlor, all wide eyes and the scent of jasmine. Lorelei and Duchess were equally nonplussed, and could only stare as the dapper man vented his rage in their direction. "All of you the same. The same! Pretty faces and kind words, but in the end nothing but liars!" He picked up his wineglass, only half-full, and in a surfeit of rage flung it towards the hearth. Although droplets of red went everywhere, the glass flew directly into the fire like an arrow to the bullseye; the man’s aim was even more terrifying than his anger.

Duchess had decided to make a quick escape before the man picked a human target when a voice from behind interrupted. "I've always said that no evening can truly begin without the sound of breaking glass," Minette said, emerging from a doorway half-hidden behind a fringed curtain. She was a large woman, but she wore it well and moved with an elegance that belied her size. Her white powdered face and dark black eyes, darker even than the perfumed ringlets of her hair, were a stark contrast to the blood-red satin dress she threatened to overspill. She stepped languidly past the women and moved to Lord Tiles’ side, arms outstretched.

"My lord, your wine has spilled," she noted calmly. "Lorelei, be a dear and get his lordship a fresh glass. The Ulari red, I think." She turned back to Tiles. "The gold is for earlier in the day, wouldn’t you agree?" Lorelei got moving while Minette made a show of examining the man’s jacket. "And not one drop gotten on the fabric, Ventaris be thanked. Such a lovely jacket. The work of the Atropi, unless I miss my guess?" The Atropi were the finest seamstresses in the city, and every autumn the empress herself wore a dress they’d specially crafted. Their work was too expensive for any but the highest nobility.

Lord Tiles sputtered, caught between offense and flattery. "You have an eye for quality, madam, although this is from last season, I’m afraid." He tried to glare at Daphne, but it was clear Minette’s clever courtesy had disarmed him. He no longer seemed certain
why
he was angry.

"Then it is a classic, and the classics never go out of style," Minette assured him. She took the glass Lorelei offered and presented it to Tiles. "You should find this to your liking, although I hope you’ll finish the wine before you send another glass into the hearth." Her laughter was rich and lovely, and the man could not help but smile in response. "That was a mighty throw, my lord…surely you developed such accuracy throwing javelins?"

Tiles puffed up. "In my youth I was known to have outdistanced men twice my size," he said proudly, taking the proffered glass. "But that was many years ago…"

Minette slid her arm through his. "As it's been for us all. Yet the years have not diminished your accuracy." He chuckled modestly, the red in his face now from blushing and not anger. "I sense a story there I simply
must
hear. Perhaps you’d care to visit my office, where we can chat more comfortably." And just like that she escorted the man from the room towards the drape-hidden doorway that led to her private office. As she passed, she gave Daphne a look from her dark eyes that lacked any hint of the charm she’d employed against Lord Tiles. Even though she was not the target of that look Duchess had to restrain an urge to shrink back. Then the pair vanished through the doorway.

"What in Mayu’s hells did you
do
?" Lorelei hissed when she was certain they were out of earshot.

Daphne shrugged uneasily. "I let him win."

* * *

Duchess had to wait longer than she wanted. Apparently, Lord Tiles told quite a story. At some point Lorelei found her by the hearth where she was helping a contrite and slightly terrified Daphne sweep out glass shards. She said that Minette wanted Duchess to interrupt her and the lord in a few moments. It wasn't until Duchess was standing outside the office that she thought to wonder how Minette had made that wish known. Best not to think on it, really. Better to take care of business and get out. Minette was not done with Daphne, she was certain, and her wrath was fearsome…and cold.

The door to Minette's office was closed, but beneath it she could see light and hear laughter. She knocked twice, then waited. Minette was a stickler for etiquette and she knew better than to simply open the door. There was a further murmur, then the door opened to reveal Lord Tiles, all calm and courtesy. Duchess lowered her eyes, as was proper when greeting a man of Tiles' station, and stood aside. He gave her a slight nod and then was away down the corridor. Duchess slipped through the door and eased it shut behind her.

Minette sat at a small table, a pattern of white and black tiles shimmering in the lamplight before her. Although Duchess was no expert at tiles, she played well enough to see why Minette was in a good mood: from the pile of coins before her she'd beaten Lord Tiles handily. Minette's office was decorated in more soothing shades than the front parlor: there was a lavender settee, its pillows upholstered in cream, and thick rugs of purple and light blue. Duchess knew from long experience to slip off her shoes before setting foot on those rugs. The walls were whitewashed, and the lintel, baseboards and rafters were cedar, giving the room a comfortable feel and an aromatic scent. The desk that dominated the opposite wall, currently unoccupied, was real walnut.

Minette was running one red-gloved finger over her winnings when she lifted her eyes, and without smiling gestured imperiously for Duchess to approach. Duchess slipped across the room to Minette's side to kiss a powdered cheek. "Don't smear my makeup, dear," Minette murmured. "Can't have the riff-raff think I'm dabbling with dirty-faced urchins." She tweaked Duchess on the cheek and began clearing the tiles.

Duchess took the chair on the other side of the table. "And who, pray tell, did you fuck for that?" she asked gesturing to the small pile of money.

Minette smirked. "Our good friend Lord Tiles," she replied, without missing a beat. Duchess put her hand to her heart in mock horror and Minette laughed. "He may still have an accurate throwing arm, but his skill at tiles is impressive only when compared to some. There's always a better player,"

Duchess thought on that a moment. "After what happened with Daphne, he needed to be reminded of that."

Minette laughed and nodded, but for the briefest moment her eyes were cold. "Giving a man what he wants – or rather what he
thinks
he wants – is one thing. Having him
know
about it is quite another. And in any case, I needed to take a pot or two after a certain ganymede took me for everything I had."

"Well, I'm sure you were worth every penny."

"That's what they say."
Minette helped herself to a drink from the side table and gestured for Duchess to finish clearing the board. Duchess did so, placing the tiles to the side, upside down. She shuffled them carefully.

"My luck has been pretty good of late," Duchess said nonchalantly as Minette turned back to the table, drink in hand. "Care to try it?"

Minette looked at her for a moment, her dark eyes seeming to stare right into the back of her head. Minette had a voracious appetite for secrets that she required her employees to satiate. Between her girls (and boys) and the volume and variety of men who gave them custom, it was said that every rumor in the city eventually made its way to the Vermillion's crimson walls. Did she already know what had transpired between her and Hector?