After a while she closed her eyes, secure in her comer with stout redfrescoed walls against her back, certain she'd get through this whole night unnoticed. As much trouble as that might cause with Myrtis, she knew she could handle that. Other girls must have failed to make conquests on their first night here. Most of those who'd gone upstairs already, went with men they obviously knew quite well, men who took them boldly in strong arms and crushed silken bodies against armored chests with no preamble.
Shawme didn't know anyone like those soldiers, any more than she knew the sort of brocaded nobles who came in groups of twos and threes, smelling of perfume like the women, and gathered up giggling ladies by the armload.
The only man who noticed her was the musician, a youngster with barely a beard and naked, sweaty arms. Her son. From undistinguished beginnings Eking out a living among his betters and here to please. The more he watched her, the more Shawme felt a kinship. She began wondering if, when his music was done, the youth would come toward her.
But it didn't work out that way.
She was studying the frescoes in the saloon through a growing fog of smoke, finally realizing how instructive they were to an ignorant girl. On them men were portrayed doing what she'd seen dogs do in the street. And women knelt before them, doing mysterious things that involved kissing. Shawme was trying to guess at what that would be like, feeling her mouth grow dry and her heart pound as each successive man took someone else and the crowd of women thinned while she tried not to notice and prayed that Myrtis wouldn't come down tonight to find Shawme the only unclaimed girl, the only one who hadn't made a copper's worth of profit for the house ...
So she didn't notice the newcomers until the beaded curtain rattled, and then she quickly lowered her eyes.
Three men had come in together, laughing, arm in arm, with a fourth behind them, taciturn. The three were military men, highly ranked since they'd been allowed to wear their weapons in here. The fourth was armed as well, and unsmiling. His glance caught hers before she looked away.
In front of Shawme's corner was a couch on which three older girls reclined, each showing thigh or bare perfumed shoulder or a hint of rosy breast. The three jolly soldiers, unmistakably a little drunk, came their way. The tallest one was blond with braids in his hair and a goblet in his hand.
He stared directly at Shawme for three heartbeats, and on the fourth her heart threatened to stop entirely. That look was a look of recognition, but she couldn't remember ever meeting such a soldier. She was sure he was coming for her.
She shrank back in the corner, trying to push her way through the frescoed walls; trying to get breath into her lungs, enough breath for flight if he held out a hand to her as she'd seen men do here.
She would run right past him, duck under his arm and fly out through the curtained doorway, into the street, back to Ratfall. She'd run and run until her heart burst.
But the blond man looked away then, at the girls on the couch between Shawme and his soldier friends, and held out a hand to one of them, who squealed, "Oh, Walegrin, you're looking fit tonight," and giggled.
In relief, Shawme squeezed her eyes shut. In that solitary darkness, her relief was eaten up by chagrin. Then came embarrassment and mortification, shame and despair. No man was going to choose her. She was going to fail. All the other girls would laugh at her.
She thought to herself, Perhaps it's the mandrake. Perhaps it's ugly.
Perhaps it's working too well and keeping the men away So she reached up behind her neck, eyes still shut, and undid the thong that held it there
When the thong came undone, she opened her eyes and surreptitiously pulled the mandrake from between her breasts, hiding it behind her, under the cushions of the bench against the wall
When she straightened up, a shadow fell on her She looked up And up Standing directly in front of her was the fourth man, the one who'd come in alone.
She thought wildly. He's not here for me, he's going to ask one of the girls on the couch. But all of them were gone While she'd had her eyes shut, they'd left with the blond soldier and his friends
There was no one else in this comer, darkened by the big man's shadow, but Shawme She craned her neck, unable to nse as a girl should, her knees like water
He seemed gigantic, all dark cloth and leather She looked up past his weapons belt at eye level, and could hardly see his face, just the dark shadow of new beard and a hand that came suddenly toward her.
"Young lady," his deep voice said, "what's your name9"
"Sh-Shawme," she quavered and hated herself His hand was waiting Somehow, she lifted hers. Then, with his help, she was standing
"Your room, if you please," said the voice and still she had no clear impression of his face Her gaze was level with his broad chest, and his eyes beat down on her with such fire in them-as only those of Dika the peregnne had ever done before
Too late to run, the deed all but done, she remembered her training "A dnnk, kind sir, or something stronger9" Drugs were purveyed at Myrtis's-drugs to embolden, drugs to give stamina, drugs to make up for whatever needed making up for, so Myrtis had told her
"I'm known as Shepherd, little lamb," he said and she knew from that he wanted no dnnk or anything at all but her
At the last minute, while his hand inexorably drew her from the corner toward the stairs, she remembered the charm that Merncat had given her, her mandrake root, without which this man was soon going to know she was a virgin.
Anguished, she halted, their arms stretched out between them, without the strength to pull away His big head turned questioningly and she saw his profile for the first time a grown man's profile, hard and seasoned, a bold nose and lips trying hard not to laugh above a stubbled chin This was a stark man, a man from whom you ran on the streets because such men took what they wanted There was no fooling such a man as he
"I-I forgot something, left something on the bench "
"You don't need that, not with me," he said with such authority that Shawme could do nothing but obey the pressure of his tug, which pulled her in and under the circle of his arm
Up the stairs they went the big man's right arm crooked around her neck, her right hand pressed against her collarbone by his grip, his fingers against her throat She hadn't remembered the stairs being so many, or the trek to her backroom bed so long His breath in her hair was hot and the things he said were a matter of tone, not words
The tone said. You're mine, I'm in control Relax and you'll be fine. The words said whatever Shepherd thought she should hear, but she heard only an end to her childhood in them
It didn't matter what the words were, it didn't matter that she took moisture from his lips to wet her own It didn't matter that he wasn't Zip, even It only mattered that she not fail, that he not be angry when her virgin blood was spilled, when her lack of expertise was on display
When they got to her room, Shepherd wanted no help with his leathers or his weapons Help with his boots was something any fool could give And then he helped her, wordless and with a strange look on a face that seemed unaccustomed to humor or kindness but displayed both in redbrown, fiery eyes, eyes so much like Dika's
When it became clear to him that she was unworthy of the job she held, ignorant and ill-prepared, an imposter, she was sure he'd leave her, go straight to Myrtis and complain. But he did none of those
He treated her like fragile glass, like the musicians below m the saloon treated their instruments And soon enough she was learning, under his hands, why the other girls went to work smiling each evening.
She learned enough so that, when the moment came for her skirts to come off, she was forgetful of everything what he must soon find out, how disappointment and disgust would oversweep him, even of what form his wrath might take.
And then it happened Shepherd sat back on her bed, his diaphragm with its line of dark hair quivering, and said, "Take that off" His voice was very harsh "Put it on the table Now'"