Void's Tale Christopher Nuttall (poetry books to read .txt) 📖

He would take most of what she earned, leaving her almost nothing; he’d beat her if she failed to bring in enough to satisfy him.  I felt a sudden surge of anger.  It would be easy, so easy, to turn him into a slug and step on him, but where would that leave her?  She needed protection, or she’d be robbed.  She’d need to find another pimp, quickly.  My heart clenched.  In a just world, someone would protect the weak from the strong.  But the strong did as they liked and the weak had to bend over and take it.

“No, thank you.” I held out a coin.  “But I would like to ask you some questions.”

She gaped at me, then took the coin.  I had to smile.  Questions were the last thing a whore would expect to hear from a client.  But whores did have eyes and they tended to be good judges of men ... I leaned forward, casting a privacy charm.  The pimp kept his distance.  I was relieved.  I didn’t want to scare the poor girl by openly using magic.

“What’s been going on?”  The question hung in the air.  “Why have so many shops been closed?”

“They’re leaving,” the whore said.  She sounded too tired and old to be scared.  “Things are just ... creepy.”

“How so?”  I sensed the pimp moving forward and cursed under my breath.  Perhaps I’d misread him.  The whore could be the bait, drawing me in so he could knock me out, cut my throat and steal my possessions.  He was in for a nasty surprise if he tried.  My wards were strong.  He’d be a toad - or dead - before he realised what happened.  “What’s been happening?”

“The guardsmen,” the whore said.  “They don’t come demanding freebies any longer.”

“What do you mean?”  It meant nothing to me.  “Freebies?”

The whore gestured at her breasts, then laughed bitterly.  “They want free samples, or else.  We have to give them what they want.  But now ... now they’re just patrolling the streets.  It’s like they’ve been unmanned.”

I had to smile.  “Is that a bad thing?”

“They’re driving us off it,” the whore said.  “There are fewer customers, fewer chances to earn money” - she looked towards the pimp, a shadow of fear on her face - “and better odds of ending up in the workhouse.  So yes, it is a bad thing.”

“I suppose,” I agreed.  I’d never been a guardsman, but I’d heard stories.  They were poorly paid, poorly led and almost completely unmotivated to do much of anything.  The only competent guardsmen were the ones in towns and cities that ran themselves, rather than taking orders from the nearest aristocrat.  The remainder enjoyed the perks of their job and did as little actual crime-fighting as possible.  “That’s an interesting point.”

I asked her a handful of other questions - it seemed that no whores had vanished, although it was impossible to be sure - and then gave her a second coin, before casting a brief stasis spell.  She froze, thoughts locked in place.  She would be unaware of the passage of time, unaware that anything had happened between the moment I cast the spell and the moment it finally snapped.

I turned and walked straight towards the pimp.  He was a weaselly little man, holding a small club in one hand.  My anger boiled over.  It was bad enough that the bastard was exploiting the poor girl, working her to death just so he could have a few more coins, but ... he was trying to rob her customers, too.  He must have seen death in my eyes, because he started to scramble back.  It was too late.  Far too late.  Magic boiled around me.  He shrank, melting into a slug.  I raised my foot and held it over him, ready to bring it down.  He had to be scared out of his mind.

I stepped back, then squatted in front of his tiny form.  “Understand this,” I growled.  “You’ll be human again soon, but the spell will linger.  If you hit her or steal from her or abandon her or do anything to her she doesn’t want, you’ll become a slug again.  And that transformation will be permanent.  You will take good care of her, and you will find her a place to stay that will actually give her a proper life.  You will not leave her unsupported.  This is your only chance.”

My anger threatened to boil over.  I twisted the spells, making sure he’d be his normal self quickly, then stood and walked away.  It wasn’t much, but it was all I could do.  The poor girl wouldn’t have much hope of finding a better life before her body finally collapsed, yet ... maybe she’d have a chance.  She could become a servant or a seamstress or something - anything - that might give her a hope of actually making a reasonable living.  And if the pimp ever lifted a hand to her again, it would be the end.  She could stomp on him, like I’d threatened to do, or simply walk away.  I doubted he’d last long, as a slug.  He certainly wouldn’t be doing anyone anymore harm.

I calmed down as I walked.  The taverns were emptying now.  I saw hundreds of men making their ways back home, no doubt fearing the worst.  The guardsmen kept their distance.  The whore was right, I decided.  There was something creepy about their professionalism.  The prince might be a good leader, but ... he hadn’t had any real opportunity to prove himself.  His kingdom wasn’t going to attack any of its neighbours.  They barely had the resources to protect themselves.

And I’ve wasted enough time, I thought, as I turned and walked deeper into the magical quarter.  It’s time to take a look at that shop.

Chapter Four

 

Mistress Layla had clearly been successful, I decided, as I cloaked myself in shadow