with females. Yeah, I get it. I tell you what. You tell them what I said, and you send someone to remove those priests before I get back. Because otherwise, I’m going to be doing it myself. And I may be less than polite.”
He folded his hands and permitted himself half a smile, as though he’d be taxed on the rest.
“They are standing in the street. Such action is not illegal. Assault, however, is illegal.”
“Your lot should know.”
“I do not understand what you are implying.”
“The whore down in Ropemaker’s Row. The whore who got beaten up by someone wearing a Purity mask. That, Mr Denarven, was assault.”
“No member of the Order would ever behave in such a way,” he said, his jaw so rigid with distaste he could hardly get the words out.
“Really.”
“You have no comprehension of the Order.” His voice had gone very quiet, the way people’s voices do when it’s that, or shout. “However distasteful a Vessel might find the existence of this creature, they could never attack her in that way. Her attacker had to get close to her, to touch her. Impossible. A member of the Order could never again attain purity after touching such a woman.”
Well now I really wanted to go up to a Vessel and give him a big hug.
He remembered he was talking to ‘such a woman,’ I saw it on his face, and I wondered if he’d make some kind of half-arsed attempt at an apology, but no. He looked me right in the eye as though daring me to make something of it.
I realised I wasn’t going to get anywhere, and my temper was boiling up like a kettle.
“In any case,” I said, shoving back my chair, “get them out of there. I can do things legally and make your lives difficult if I choose...”
“I do hope that isn’t a threat,” said Denarven.
“That? No, that’s not a threat. But if I, or any other whore in Scalentine, get any more trouble from your lot, or connected with your lot in any way whatsoever, you will wish, fervently, that I’d gone to the militia with this. That’s a threat. Smooth?”
“I think we understand each other.”
“I do hope so.”
He bowed. We left.
Previous had even more trouble keeping up with me on the way back; it wasn’t until she put a hand on my arm that I realised I was damn near running. Not to mention gritting my teeth and using words, albeit under my breath, that even I don’t normally use. Like ‘priest,’ for example.
“Babylon!”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”
“So,” she said, “you want to tell me what that was about?”
“We do not need any more trouble. And I don’t care what that administrator said, I’ll eat my sword if the Vessels didn’t have something to do with that girl who got beaten up. What if they try it on one of the crew?”
“What, like Laney?” Previous said.
“They’re not all Fey.”
“They all know how to look after themselves, Babylon. Anyway, s’not what I meant.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“You seemed... upset. I mean, you know, the Vessels haven’t done anything, really.”
“Apart from destroy an evening’s business,” I said, “and who knows how many more, if we can’t get rid of ’em.” She was still giving me a quizzical look. I sighed. “Look, I just don’t like priests. Or gods. Or temples. I spent a lot of time in them.”
“You?”
“Me.”
TIRESANA
W E GIRLS, SPRAWLED on cushions in a silk-hung room. Shakanti seated in the corner, impatient. And our new trainer, a graceful and soft-voiced woman in linen the clean blue of a spring sky. She had assistants with her, two young men, two young women, in loose white robes.
“My name is Livaia,” she told us. “I am here to teach you how to give pleasure, and how to receive it. It is something that almost anyone can learn to do with some degree of craft, and that is well enough. However, it is the subtleties which transform craft into art. Subtlety, the capacity to take that extra care, is the mark of the true
He folded his hands and permitted himself half a smile, as though he’d be taxed on the rest.
“They are standing in the street. Such action is not illegal. Assault, however, is illegal.”
“Your lot should know.”
“I do not understand what you are implying.”
“The whore down in Ropemaker’s Row. The whore who got beaten up by someone wearing a Purity mask. That, Mr Denarven, was assault.”
“No member of the Order would ever behave in such a way,” he said, his jaw so rigid with distaste he could hardly get the words out.
“Really.”
“You have no comprehension of the Order.” His voice had gone very quiet, the way people’s voices do when it’s that, or shout. “However distasteful a Vessel might find the existence of this creature, they could never attack her in that way. Her attacker had to get close to her, to touch her. Impossible. A member of the Order could never again attain purity after touching such a woman.”
Well now I really wanted to go up to a Vessel and give him a big hug.
He remembered he was talking to ‘such a woman,’ I saw it on his face, and I wondered if he’d make some kind of half-arsed attempt at an apology, but no. He looked me right in the eye as though daring me to make something of it.
I realised I wasn’t going to get anywhere, and my temper was boiling up like a kettle.
“In any case,” I said, shoving back my chair, “get them out of there. I can do things legally and make your lives difficult if I choose...”
“I do hope that isn’t a threat,” said Denarven.
“That? No, that’s not a threat. But if I, or any other whore in Scalentine, get any more trouble from your lot, or connected with your lot in any way whatsoever, you will wish, fervently, that I’d gone to the militia with this. That’s a threat. Smooth?”
“I think we understand each other.”
“I do hope so.”
He bowed. We left.
Previous had even more trouble keeping up with me on the way back; it wasn’t until she put a hand on my arm that I realised I was damn near running. Not to mention gritting my teeth and using words, albeit under my breath, that even I don’t normally use. Like ‘priest,’ for example.
“Babylon!”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”
“So,” she said, “you want to tell me what that was about?”
“We do not need any more trouble. And I don’t care what that administrator said, I’ll eat my sword if the Vessels didn’t have something to do with that girl who got beaten up. What if they try it on one of the crew?”
“What, like Laney?” Previous said.
“They’re not all Fey.”
“They all know how to look after themselves, Babylon. Anyway, s’not what I meant.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“You seemed... upset. I mean, you know, the Vessels haven’t done anything, really.”
“Apart from destroy an evening’s business,” I said, “and who knows how many more, if we can’t get rid of ’em.” She was still giving me a quizzical look. I sighed. “Look, I just don’t like priests. Or gods. Or temples. I spent a lot of time in them.”
“You?”
“Me.”
TIRESANA
W E GIRLS, SPRAWLED on cushions in a silk-hung room. Shakanti seated in the corner, impatient. And our new trainer, a graceful and soft-voiced woman in linen the clean blue of a spring sky. She had assistants with her, two young men, two young women, in loose white robes.
“My name is Livaia,” she told us. “I am here to teach you how to give pleasure, and how to receive it. It is something that almost anyone can learn to do with some degree of craft, and that is well enough. However, it is the subtleties which transform craft into art. Subtlety, the capacity to take that extra care, is the mark of the true
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