The Face of Chaos

'I told you that I'd tried to work on the Street of Red Lanterns and that I couldn't. Don't look at me like that; it's not that unreasonable. Don't I have my own quarters now, and no one who'd dare to bother me there? A woman who lives with the garrison is safe from all other men, and a woman who is part of that garrison is safe from her cohorts as well.'

'Then you've got more courage than I thought,' he replied, shaking his head, 'or you're an utter fool. You'd better let Myrtis know when you get there; she'll know how to turn it to our advantage.'

Cythen grimaced and tried not to think of that evening, or the next evening. She left her sword in Walegrin's care and made her way to the Street. It was nearing dusk by the time she got there and some of the poorer, more worn women, who did not dwell in any of the major establishments, were already on the prowl, though the Aphrodisia was not yet open for business. One of them jeered at her as she climbed the steps to the carved doors: 'They won't take your type there, soldier-girl.'

She stood there uncomfortably, ignoring the comments from the street below and remembering why she always came in the morning. The doorman recognized her, however, and at length the doors swung open to her. The downstairs was begi

'I had not expected to see you again,' Myrtis said softly, rising from her dressing table and discreetly closing the account book, which crowded out the cosmetic bottles. 'Your note said your meeting did not go well. You had not mentioned returning here.'

'The meeting didn't go well.' Cythen eyed Myrtis's smooth, clenched white hands as she spoke. There was a barely perceptible nervousness in the madam's voice and a barely perceptible rippling to the edge of the table rug beneath the account books. Both could have any number of benign explanations, but Cythen had brought Bekin here expecting, and paying for, her sister's safety. Myrtis had not provided the services she had been paid for and Cythen's vengeance could be expected in several different ways.

'I've seen the priest, Molin Torchholder, and he's made a plan; a way to snare the one he suspects. I thought he would have sent you a message by now,' Cythen said quickly.

Myrtis shrugged, but without unclenching her fists. 'Since Bekin there have been other deaths: gruesome murders, many of them Beysib women. All the reliable couriers have been kept busy. There isn't time for the death of a Sanctuary girl. Perhaps you can tell me who Molin Torchholder suspects of using beynit venom when the Harka Bey denies all knowledge of it?'

'He suspects a man, a Beysib man. He suspects that the death of my sister is not so different from the Beysib deaths.'

'Has he given you a name?'

'Yes, Turghurt Burek.'

'The son of the prime minister?'

'Yes, but the Torch suspects him anyway. He comes here, doesn't he?'

'That man has spies everywhere!' Myrtis grimaced as she relaxed and raised her fist towards the smouldering hearth. Cythen heard a small click; then watched as the flames leapt high and crimson. 'Once primed, it must be shot,' Myrtis explained, while Cythen shuddered. 'We called him Voyce here; and he was always a gentleman - for all that he's fish-folk. Bekin was special to him; such childlike i

'But he was also the second person to suggest the Harka Bey to us.' Myrtis paused, and just when Cythen despaired of being believed at all, the starkly beautiful woman continued: 'I like him very much; he reminds me of a love I once had. I was blinded. I have hiot been blinded for ... for a long time. The signs were there; my suspicions should have been roused. Does Molin Torchholder have some notion of how we're to bring the son of the Beysib prime minister to justice before there is war in the town and we turn to Ranke for help?'

'Molin believes that since Bekin was the only Sanctuary woman who has been slain, she must have learned something dangerous to him. Molin thinks that Turghurt will make the same mistake again, now that he's convinced his father to see everything his way. But I will be less easy to kill than she was, and snare him instead.'

'You play a dangerous game between the priest and this Beysib, Cythen. Molin is no less ruthless than the fish-folk. And, here Burek is Voyce; none of my women knows the true names of the men here, and if you value your life you'll remember that. The Aphrodisia is a place apart; a man need not be himself here - and they expect me to protect them. '

'Now Voyce is clever, strong and cruel, yet it would be a simple matter to be rid of him, if that would serve our purposes. The Harka Bey are not the only women who understand killing. But he must be exposed, not slain, and that will be all the more dangerous.'

'I've come for my vengeance,' Cythen warned.

'He will not expose himself to a garrison soldier, my dear, neither figuratively nor literally.' Myrtis gave Cythen a slightly condescending smile. 'His tastes do not run towards strong-willed women, such as he was raised with and his father serves. You do not have the yielding nature that madness gave your sister.'

'I'll become whatever I must be to trap him.'

As she spoke, Cythen yanked loose the cord that bound her hair, shaking her head until the brown strands rose like an untidy aura around her face.

'Good intentions will not deceive him, either.' Myrtis had become kind-voiced again. 'Your need for vengeance will not make you a courtesan. There are others here who can bell our cat.'

'No,' Cythen protested. 'He'll come here again and make his mistake again, and he might kill another of your courtesans. Isn't it to your advantage to let me risk my life rather than sacrificing one of those who belong to you?'

'Of course it would be to my advantage, child, if I owned anyone. But just because I keep account books on love a.nd pleasure, do not think I am completely without conscience. If Voyce is all he is suspected of being, I would be as guilty of your death, or anyone's death, as he would be.'

Cythen shook her head and took a step closer to Myrtis, resting her fists on the table. 'Don't lecture me about death or guilt. For five years since those bandits swept down and attacked us, I travelled with Bekin, protecting her, bringing her men, and killing them if I had to. It would have been better if she had died that first night. I'm not sorry she's dead, only sorry that she was murdered by a man she trusted, as she trusted all men. I don't blame you, or me, but I can't get her out of my memory until I've avenged her. Do you understand that? Do you understand that I must close the circle completely, myself, if I'm to have peace, if I'm to be free of her?'

Myrtis met Cythen's rabid stare and, whether she understood the dark emotions and memories that drove the younger woman or not, she finally nodded. 'Still, if you are to have a chance at all, you must abide by what I tell you to do, Cythen. If he does not find you attractive, he will search elsewhere. I will give you her chambers and her clothes; that will give you an advantage. I will send Ambutta to bathe you, to help you dress and to arrange your hair.

'When he returns again, if he returns again, he will be yours. You may stay as long as you please, but he is not to be harmed in this house! Now then, you must also seem to belong here, and it will rouse suspicion if you take no others while you wait. I will set aside your portion -'