Sky Lord by Rowan Erlking (popular e readers TXT) 📖

Of all the lives she had borrowed, she had yet to take one that wore such shoes.

“There,” Lara said, shoving the bag into Tia’s arms. Then she looked up at her hair. “We need to fix this.”

She dragged Tia to a chair and sat her in it. It was strange, feeling this woman’s hands on her head and not feeling any fear. Lara was not beating her. Her fingers instead untangled her long brown braids, long neglected since her first capture. The caress of the brush on her scalp reminded her of more secure times when the Underlord had pampered her. Though knots in her curly hair jerked the process to a halt a few times, Lara was extra gentle in untangling them. The entire process was so soothing that Tia wished to fall asleep.

But the brush of Lara’s hand against the nape of her neck sent the woman’s fearful thoughts into Tia’s brain. The woman wanted to make sure Tia would not return. If she had a chance for it, she might even slit Tia’s throat out of fear. She had been eyeing Albid’s knife, which Tia had somehow forgotten among his clothes on the floor.

Tia lifted her eyes. “Can you hurry? I must go soon.”

She shifted in her seat, placing her spiked heel on the dagger, letting it tap once.

Chills ran through Lara, and then Tia as she heard her tremor of fear.

“Done,” Lara said, patting Tia’s shoulders as a gentle shove out of the chair.

Tia stood and turned. “Thank you.”

“A real female entertainer wears makeup, but as you said, you have to hurry.” Lara walked to the door to open it.

But Tia agreed with Lara’s first desires that she should have no reason to return. “We should do it right, then.”

Tia bent over and picked up the knife from out of the clothes. She stuffed it into her bag. Lara gave a visible shudder, going white again. Ignoring her, Tia walked over to Lara’s vanity and opened the makeup case. She glanced once at Lara with one closed eye and then proceeded to put the eyeliner on. Lara waited, clutching the doorknob until Tia finished.

“Now you look the part,” Lara said with earnestness, twisting the knob.

Taking that as the last hint to leave, Tia closed the makeup box, hefted her bag, and wrapped the fur around her shoulders. She glanced at herself in the mirror once with a slight smirk. “This is the first disguise I’ve taken on that won’t vanish after three hours, but heavens it took that long to put on.”

“Hurry and go,” Lara insisted.

Tia walked through the door, stopping just where Lara could not shut it. “I suggest you hide or burn the rest of my things. If Albid comes this way, you don’t want him to see that you have helped me.”

“What did you do to him?” Lara asked.

“Borrowed his life for a while,” Tia said. And then she lowered her head. “It is a crime to do, I know. But—”

“You should have killed him,” Lara replied with a snap. “Albid is a terror to the ghettos. I’ve known good female entertainers that have died under his hands. Why did you let him live? You killed that other man.”

Tia pulled out of the doorway. “I am not a killer.”

 

Chapter Eight: The Fortuneteller

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tia’s feet hurt by the time she had reached Culver’s Street. From the rapist’s memory she knew that the Hotel Harda was to the right and down a ways. He liked to gamble there with the big wigs once in a while, using that as a setup for dirtier extortion. Tia tried to shake his memory of his conquests there out of her head, focusing instead on getting there, but images of his murders, his rapes and his gloating flashed in and out as she saw familiar sights.

The Hotel Harda was a glittering façade of brass and purple carpets. Black and purple velvet covered the loveseats in the foyer. In the corner, a harpist dressed in white silk stroked out a melody to entertain foreign guests and local stuffed shirts. Above them hung a glass chandelier. Tia gazed on all of it with blinking eyes, trying to keep the slippery silk backing to the fur from slipping off her shoulders. The guests looked up at Tia, some smirking while others shook their heads in disgust, guessing that a man had ordered a female entertainer for the night.

No one seemed to notice that she was a Sky Child here. Dressed for the job, Tia realized that perhaps many Sky Children had been taken into the flesh service.

She walked over to the concierge desk, leaning a little to rest her pinched toes. She sighed, looked around until she spotted the concierge standing there. The stiff looking man lifted his nose, peering at her but said nothing.

Clearing her throat, Tia asked just above a whisper, “I am looking for Tior Dalos. Is he in?”

The man snuffed, lifting his nose higher. He answered in a nasal tone, “Gentleman Seer Tior Dalos is in his shop. Now leave.”

“Well, where is his shop?” Tia asked, blinking at him.

He lowered is nose, peering at her with surprise. “If you knew he lived here but did not know where he does business, then what are you here for? Mr. Dalos is a married man of dignity.”

Tia lowered her head and stepped back. “I understand. But I do not know the location of his shop, and I want to solicit his business—”

“I said he was a married man, you wench! Now get out!” The concierge gave her a forceful shove to the doors.

Staggering back on her stilettos over the carpet, Tia took a breath. “No, I wanted my fortune told. Nothing more.”

“Out! Out! Out!” He shoved her entirely out of the hotel doors.

Tia stood on the walk.

Kicking the curb, she peered down the road, looking for a sign that might advertise his business. All she saw were cars, pedestrians and fancy dressed people staring at her with either contempt or lust. There was no middle ground. For a moment, Tia really started to feel sorry for Lara. No respect and no help would come to her—ever.

“I know where the fortuneteller is,” a voice said from behind, coming from the hotel.

Tia turned then blinked, immediately proven wrong.

A woman from Minor Gull dressed to the nines smiled at her. She pointed with her handbag. “Go down that way two blocks. His shop is the on right with the red writing on the window. You cannot miss it.”

She smiled at Tia then turned to go back in to the building.

“Wait!” Tia called out to her. “Do you know if he is real? Can he really see into the future?”

The woman smiled still, nodding slowly. “He is real, all right. I had him tell my future to me, and all happened as he had said.”

Tia shrugged. “Ok. I just wondered, because, well, it sounds a little kooky paying upfront before the fortune is told.”

She saw the woman glance once at her, maintaining her smile as if it were rote rather than real. “Go and see for yourself. What is it to be short fifteen pieces to find out for yourself?”

The door swung shut after her.

Standing on the street, Tia listened to the bustle, thinking hard about what she had to do. If she was to find out what was in store for her, maybe have some direction in her quest, then life might just get easier. Tia spun on the balls of her feet and walked back the way she had come.

The shop the woman described was simple and plain. In fact, it was not too different from the other shops around it. The window was painted in red writing, however it still looked fresh. It was done in a fancy script, advertising fortunes and love futures. Tia merely wanted answers. If he was a real seer, he could answer the many questions she had in her mind. And just maybe she did not need to go as far as the islands to get the truth. She opened the shop door, stepping in.

Inside the front room were two benches. Beyond that was a door with a curtain hanging over it. There were no pictures on the walls, but there were fancy red scrolls hanging with calligraphy writing on them. The words were about love and fortune. Unimpressive and prosaic so far. Several ladies sat in the room, chatting on the benches as they waited their turns with giggling excited gossip. They looked up when she entered and then lowered their heads to whisper whore to one another. Tia paid no attention it as she took a seat at the end of the line.

Mostly they ignored her. Their gossip went back to what they were hoping for. Love mostly. Many of the women were young. They came in groups. Some showed off their engagement bands as they waited to find out about their new married futures.

One woman turned to Tia and smothered a very indecorous smirk. “What fortune are you hoping for? Whose man you are going to steal?”

Tia blinked at her, shocked that she had been spoken to at all. She said, “I want to know the way out of this life. I never wanted it.”

It was what Lara would have said.

The sound in the room hushed. They stared at her.

“I hope my fortune to be better than it is now,” Tia added. It was something that Lara had actually hoped. Tia heard it in her back thoughts when Lara was brushing her hair. The woman wanted a better life. She felt no better than the dirt, hated herself. Lara’s self-hate had transferred with several of her memories. Tia felt the shame also.

The curtain doorway stirred. A hand pushed it aside, and a young woman from the south stepped through. Her dress was a more modest version of what Tia wore. Simple red and with more room to walk—lower slits and not so tight. She blinked at Tia, turned immediately around, and then walked back inside with a hiss to someone else.

Tia did not hear what she said, but the woman returned with smiles, reaching out her hands. “Tior has been expecting you.”

Tia blinked, rising to her feet. “He has?”

The other women gasped, whispering among themselves more with awe.

“You have traveled a long distance, and you are weary with questions,” the assistant said.

Tia’s mouth had gone dry. There was no mistake about it now. She could not be misunderstood as a foreigner. Sky Children slaves were everywhere. Though she looked the part of a local whore, the woman had said she had traveled a long distance. Tior was legit.

“Yes, I have lots of questions,” Tia said, crossing the floor quickly, still struggling with the balance of her shoes. “I was hoping he would have answers.”

“Do you have the money to fit the bill?” the assistant asked with curiosity.

Blushing, Tia dug into her bag and handed over the fifteen silver pieces. “A friend lent it to me. I suppose the fortuneteller knows I don’t have much.”

“He said you would not have any.” The assistant replied closing her hand on the coins. “But he said you were resourceful. Come this way.”

Several women protested at once, rising from their seats with indignation. They