Probably both.
Six
Lierick
Doend was nothing like Ozryn, or even Eaglehoth. It was large enough, set among the thick cover of the Darkwoods that curved in around it on all sides like a fortress, but it was a ramshackle city that could have been great if it hadmore.More money, more citizens willing to stay at the far reaches of Ebrus, morelight. Instead, the roads were still compacted dirt, the buildings still rough-sawn wooden structures, the timber sourced from the darkwood forest itself.
It also seemed to be devoid of women, though there were dozens of dirty-faced men on the walk toward the well-lit inn near the center of the city. None of them seemed to be vagrants, but all of them looked at us suspiciously. It all added up to be slightly disconcerting.
“Have you ever been to Doend before?” I asked Vox quietly.
“Not as anything but the First Line envoy. We never saw this side of Doend.”
I bet he hadn’t. I didn’t doubt he’d ever traveled anywhere without an entire brass band announcing his arrival.
We had Avalon right in the middle of our group, with the large hounds baring teeth to the staring citizens of Doend. Theatmosphere here was off, and I got the impression they didn’t like outsiders all that much.
The inn was lit up like a beacon in the darkness, and I moved toward it quickly as possible without looking like I was hurrying. I had no doubt that I could incapacitate everyone within three hundred feet without breaking a sweat, and that Iker could probably clear out the rest. That was without the disconcerting magic of Vox and Hayle. We were easily the most magical people here, but there was still power in numbers.
As we made it to the door, Iker peeled off. “I’ll go get us some rooms.” With that, he disappeared into the crowd. We stepped into the general noise of the bar area, but it quietly cut off as people began to notice us.
I double-checked Vox’s disguise, but it was holding strong. If I didn’t know it was him, I would never guess that the man beside me was an illustrious Heir to the First Line. He looked like a pig farmer.
Hayle moved closer to Avalon, his hand on her back like he was waiting for someone to make a wrong move. I led us toward a table in the back corner, far from the bar and probably a little too far from the fire, but it would be quieter and out of the way. It also didn’t hurt that our backs would be to the wall, and that there was a rear entrance a few feet to the left. I didn’t trust anyone with Avalon’s safety. On that, Hayle and I agreed completely.
We put Avalon between us all once again, watchful but trying not to be overt about it. We didn’t want the locals to think we were hostile. I needed these people onside.
I could hear Avalon’s stomach rumbling from here. The idea of her being hungry was too much for Hayle. He stood, shuffling me in closer to his Soul Tie, so I could protect her properly. “I’m going to order Avie some food, then see if the tavern has arunner who can take a message to the Baron of the Sixth Line for a meeting.”
Nodding, I wrapped my arm across the back of Avalon’s chair, but my senses were scanning the people in the bar. I could feel their eyes on my skin, and our group was in more than a few thoughts. Mostly, they recognized Hayle and his hounds; the Third Line was generally respected among most Lines. They didn’t recognize Vox, which was a relief, though there were more than a few lewd thoughts about Avalon that made me clench my fists.
I couldn’t let it get to me, as showing my hand now would be a mistake. Ignoring them, I focused on our little group. Avalon looked exhausted, already resting her head on Vox’s shoulder. In return, he was looking at her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.
He could never go home. It would be interesting to see how long it would take for Feodore Vylan to publicly denounce his son, or if he’d hide it away, since it would look like a failure on his behalf. If he could lose control of his second-born son, then how could he keep control of the Lines of Ebrus?
Hayle reappeared with a jug of beer and a large glass of something red with slices of orange in it. A grizzled-looking man followed behind Hayle, carrying four thick wooden steins. Hayle gave him a cocky grin and slapped him on the back. “Thanks, Rupert.”
The man grunted. “I’ll send the runner over when he returns. Linus will be out with your food when it’s bloody well ready.” Then he left. No fanfare. No calling him Heir Taeme and kissing ass. Hayle was still smirking as he watched the old man go.
“He seems nice,” Avalon teased, taking a sip of her drink.
“I asked him to make a mocktail. You’d think I asked him to amputate a limb with no numbing.” Hayle laughed. “If it makes you feel better, it’s just blood orange juice and sugar water.”
“It’s delicious. My compliments to Rupert.”
I’d thought Hayle would kick me from my place beside her, but he just sat down opposite us, his back to the crowd. The hounds sat either side of him, their eyes watching the citizens of Doend for any sign of aggression. He trusted those hounds with his life, and given their devotion, I didn’t blame him.
“Rupert sent the tavern runner to the Baron’s manor with my request for an audience, so hopefully, he won’t make us wait too long for an answer. I doubt it will be tonight, though, so we may as well enjoy the tavern and all it has to offer.”
As if summoned by his words, a group of women sashayed down the stairs from the second floor. They had big hair and barely any clothes, and I realized we hadn’t walked into a normal tavern.
We’d walked into a fucking whorehouse.
I watched Avie’s eyes go wide as the women wove through the tables. There were four of them all in all, and the goo-goo eyes that the locals in the room gave them told me that they weren’t here under duress. The thoughts of the bar’s inhabitants confirmed it. They all looked upon the women like shining stars in the darkness.
Somehow, these prostitutes had taken this tavern filled with shady men and made it their glittering court. I skimmed the minds of the men in here again, trying to find anything that would suggest any kind of malice directed toward them, but all I could find was a nauseating amount of lust and absolute devotion.
The women themselves were like the four corners of a compass—completely different, even though they were dressed in a similar manner. They were obviously not all from the Sixth Line; one had the soft, golden skin of someone from the Twelfth Line, and another, the long, willowy body of the women from Cyne. One of the other women’s origins I couldn’t pick, but theone that I somehow knew was the leader was definitely from Doend. She was beautiful in a way that spoke of dark promises and even darker secrets.
