Ira snorted. “That Ty sure knows how to have fun.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
“And yet you want me to choose again.”
“Thought you might do better this time.”
“Doubtful. Farming is still in my blood. Why don’t you ever ask Dekar for his opinion?”
Ira laughed louder. “He’s worse than you. We’d probably end up at some local merchant’s stand looking through books or something.”
Dekar shrugged.
I sighed. “Just pick the whorehouse that best suits your interest since I know that’s what you and Hamath want anyway. My only stipulation is that it has to have a decent tavern attached so Dekar and I have something to do to pass the time.”
“Why Ty,” said Ira, exaggerating his words. “that sounds like a marvelous idea.” He wore a big smile. “Don’t you agree, Hamath?”
“I do agree,” Hamath said, mimicking Ira’s tone. “I wish I had thought of it myself actually. I guess that’s why he’s Sergeant and not us.”
I rolled my eyes, refusing to encourage them.
Hamath and Ira took the lead as we continued our trek, looking for the ideal place to spend their coin.
Damanhur wasn’t as large as some of the cities near the center of Turine, or as grand as Hol or Edema in its majesty. However, it did dwarf my hometown in both size and appearance. Denu Creek boasted over a hundred people if you included those who made their home in the land around it which most people did.
The largest building in Denu Creek was the house on a plantation owned by the Jareb family, an eclectic bunch who had named every one of their first sons Jareb for as far back as anyone could remember. The family boasted many things that others could not. Originality wasn’t among them.
The Jareb nearest my age had been a real piece of work growing up. He made life miserable for Ava until her talents manifested. That got him off her back fast. Most everyone in town saw the younger Jareb through the reputation of his father who had a heart of gold. Just goes to prove the saying ‘like father, like son’ isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.
In Damanhur, the largest building, a circular tower, made the Jareb plantation look like a butcher’s shop. It stood at the town’s center, seven stories high, and housed the City Watch. Seeing that the artisans were capable of constructing something of substantial size made me wonder even more why the local government hadn’t employed those same workers to raise the height of the city’s walls.
I guess our army’s relative success over the last couple of years made them feel safe enough.
Inns three and four stories high took up residence near the tower. I imagined it was pretty convenient to have the watch next door whenever rowdy customers refused to pay their bills or start trouble.
Ira and Hamath passed the inns without a second look. None of the places they sought would be located so close to the watch.
Though every city, town, and hamlet boasted whorehouses of their own, most residents liked to pretend they didn’t exist. These were the same citizens who hated to admit that the bulk of their community’s taxes came from those same appalling establishments, without which they wouldn’t have the funds necessary to keep the town running.
I had seen a similar attitude before in a town bordering Denu Creek.
Ifrane had been experiencing a major population influx, growing at an unheard of rate in the area I’m from. Most linked the surge in growth to the quality of women brought in from foreign lands to populate their bathhouses. The exotic nature of such women made the town attractive to many young men from the surrounding areas.
Things were looking up for Ifrane until a priest of Quan showed up.
Quan was a minor god in Turine’s pantheon, one that’s known for his hard line on pleasure. The details of what the followers of Quan believed were long and often contradictory. From my understanding, if something brought you pleasure, it probably displeased Quan.
The priest somehow managed to make that miserable life of restraint appealing, and converted a slew of people to his faith. As a result, the town passed an ordinance that made prostitution illegal. Within a year, Ifrane existed only in people’s memories. Those who converted to Quan grew alienated with him after seeing the lack of benefits from their commitment. People moved away in droves. Denu Creek’s population grew a fifth in size because of the exodus.
A smile formed on my face as I recalled the day that priest tried spreading his philosophy in our town.
The mayor didn’t even have to get involved. A dozen of the town’s more prosperous business owners turned him away half a mile outside the city’s limits. No one wanted to be the next Ifrane.
“Hey, Tyrus,” whispered Dekar.
I blinked. We had been walking through the city, but I was too lost in myself to even realize where we were. I needed to be more careful. That sort of thing could get a stranger in trouble. “Hmm?”
“You notice anything funny about the people on the streets, or am I just imagining things?”
“What do you mean?”
“None of them seem too happy about us being here. I swear that old woman we just passed gave me the Panesh.”
The Panesh was a curse used by the cult of Raza out of Vanak. It’s pretty heavy stuff according to the cult’s followers and therefore used sparingly, only against those they truly hate. Not only do they believe the curse caused anyone who received it the worst kind of harm, but their misfortunes followed them into the next life.
Boils, sores, and loss of bodily functions are rumored to be just a few of the curse’s tamer symptoms.
I looked back over my shoulder at the woman in question. The bent figure had stopped under an eave lit by torchlight. On her toes she probably stood five feet, but the glare she cast made her seem much larger. I gave her a wink just to see what she would do. She raised thumb, middle finger, and pinky on her left hand, then turned and shuffled off.
“Well, you were right about the old woman,” I said to Dekar. “She gave the Panesh to me too.”
“I guess we’ll both be damned together then.”
I chuckled. “It’s good to know I’ll have company.”
“That it is.”
I eyed another passerby, an old man walking with a cane in one hand, a brown package in the other. His look matched that of the old woman. They almost looked related. If his hands hadn’t been full I bet he also would have thrown the Panesh our way. “I think you might be on to something, Dekar.”
“Why though?” he asked. “I’d expect those looks if we were still in Genesha, but not in Turine.”
“You got me.”
“It’s likely they just haven’t seen anyone as ugly as you walk their streets before,” said Ira up ahead, chuckling. “Wondering if they’re experiencing a sudden infestation of ogres.”
Dekar glared daggers at his brother’s back. He was ready to say something when Hamath stopped at the intersection.
“Here we go, fellas.”
“Bout time,” said Ira. “Who ever thought of making their whorehouses so hard to find?”
I came up behind them and peered down the side street. It bustled with life we hadn’t seen down the main road. “Seems the locals know where to find it.”
“Probably hiding all the women for themselves,” mumbled Ira.
Dekar grunted. “Or it could be the two people leading us had no idea where they were going.” He pointed toward a couple of men from the army as they exited one of the establishments and entered another.
Ira opened his mouth to respond but Hamath cuffed him on the arm. “C’mon. The important thing is we’re here now.”
As much of a hurry as those two had seemed to be in, I thought they would have entered the first place they came upon. Nope. They were adamant in choosing the right place to spend their money.
We walked up and down the street twice, admiring the women at each business’ entrance. The women wore low cut gowns with skirts up high, exposing all but the bottom half of their breasts and the top few inches of leg. They called out every seduction imaginable to entice us to spend our coin with them.