And it made me wonder what he knew that I didn’t.
The house where my mom grew up shocked me more than I thought possible given everything else I’d seen. Mostly because it wasn’t really a house. It was a brothel.
Half naked ladies lounged on a sagging front porch while a few others escorted random men in or out of the sad, two-story home. The ladies reminded me of harem girls from the Arabian nights with their swishy, transparent outfits.
I turned to Sin. “My mother was a sex worker?”
He laughed and tugged me toward the cluster of ladies. “No, Rain. Your mother just lived here. She was taken in by the Madame who runs this place and kept hidden. Come on. If Yanda is around, she can tell you more about your mother than I can.”
I let Sin drag me past the scantily clad females, and I regretted that I could now understand the sordid propositions theyshouted at him. I almost smacked one who offered to show Sin what a real female could do.
It was only thanks to his strong arm materializing around my waist that we made it inside without any violence.
A bored-looking female lay on a sofa in the front room but perked up as Sin approached. My fists clenched at the seductive smile she gave him.
The female pouted a bit when all he did was ask if Yanda was around, then she left to go find her.
Sin took a spot on the sofa while I wandered around the parlor, observing their interesting taste in art. A particularly lewd painting of a female servicing two males drew my attention, and I barely heard the soft steps descending the stairs. I turned just as an elegant middle-aged woman with a hint of gray in her short, sandy brown hair reached the bottom step and threw her arms around Sin.
“Dreisin!” she cried out happily, crushing him against her ample bosom. “It has been decades. I thought you had forgotten all about me.”
I blinked at the two of them embracing. “Dreisin?” I asked, whirling on Sin and switching to English. “Care to explain how you know this lady so well?” I honestly had no issues with sex workers, but I didn’t love hearing that Sin had apparently been a frequent flyer at the local brothel.
The Madame released Sin and faced me, the long skirts of her classy scarlet dress swishing with the motion. Her thin hazel eyes scanned my body, and she smiled.
“And who is this beautiful creature who does not speak our language? Have you brought me a present, Dreisin?”
Sin laughed, though I didn’t find her comment that amusing. Before he could speak, I stepped up to her and said in Rivellan, “I’m Rain, and I speak your language fine. Mostly. And I’m not a prostitute.” I had to admit the Rivellan word for a sex workerwas much prettier than the English options.Melatricejust felt a bit more elegant.
Sin gestured to each of us and said, “Rain, meet Yanda. Yanda, Rain. Please don’t kill each other. Yanda was a good friend of my mother’s before she died, so she visited our house often. My mother never let me come here despite begging her when I was young.”
Yanda casually slung an arm around Sin’s neck. “Your mother always said I was a bad influence on you.”
Sin gave her a dubious grin. “That’s because you kept trying to hire me once I was old enough, saying the females of Civi Obsura deserved just as much attention as the males.”
“A statement that is as true today as it was sixty years ago.”
They both laughed, and once again I failed to see the humor. “Uh, Sin,” I said, waving my hand in front of my face. “I don’t actually have all day.”
“Yes, sorry. Yanda, I was hoping you would be willing to talk to Rain about Leeara. You remember her, don’t you?”
At the mention of my mother’s name, Yanda’s smile faded, and she turned to analyze me. She ran a finger over the spot where my silver hair was just starting to grow out at the roots. “Raynella,” she whispered, more to herself than me.
“I go by Rain now,” I said pointedly before anyone else could take up the Raynella crap.
“I see,” she replied quietly. “Come with me, Rain.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this Madame, but I wanted to learn about my mother so I followed her up the stairs and down a hall to a tiny room with peeling white paint at the back of the house. It was empty, save for a small bed set beneath a single window, an old brown sofa torn in three spots, and a scratched up dresser with crooked drawers.
Sin plopped onto the sofa while Yanda sat on the bed. I opted for leaning against the broken dresser, determining it was likely to be the least disgusting piece of furniture in here.
Yanda observed me, her shrewd eyes taking in my discomfort. “This room isn’t used for entertaining, Raynella. You can sit if you’d like,” she said.
“Rain,” I corrected her, “and I’m good here.”
“Whatever you prefer. This was actually your mother’s room, you know. I haven’t taken in another stray since her, so little has changed.”
I glanced around at the empty room. “That’s not saying much.”
