Palimpsest

You leave your shoes on.

You keep your back to the wall.

You watch his hands, not his face,

because the face lies

and the hands don't.

Some nights you read him right.

Some nights you read him wrong.

There is no pattern.

There was never a pattern.

You just told yourself there was

so you could walk through the door.

The city has laws.

The guilds have rules.

The Wardens have a headquarters

three streets away.

None of it is in the room

with you…

— S.V. (Submitted anonymously to the Marialis Warden captaincy as part of a petition regarding the safety of sex workers in the harbor district. Filed. No action was taken.)

---

Chapter 9 A Safety Problem

The Night Forge was one of the largest taverns in the blacksmiths’ district. Its three-story structure was built of thick, dark bricks leaning toward black, solid and imposing. Its main door was always kept closed, yet light never ceased to glow from the tall windows that rose higher than a man. Above the entrance hung a sign bearing the silhouette of an anvil forged from iron, with a piece of coal engraved inside it like a crescent.

When the door opened, the scent of warm, spiced drink and the sound of stringed instruments spilled out. The noise helped people forget their troubles and allowed certain important conversations to disappear within it.

The ground floor consisted of long wooden tables, heavy benches, and a small stage in the corner reserved for musicians. Directly across stood the bar. Smiling women danced between the tables while servers—usually carrying mugs of beer—moved constantly through the crowd. The women’s clothes were neither particularly clean nor refined, yet Kaelin found them strangely attractive. This place of entertainment was very different from what she was used to, and she felt an odd sense of safety.

While Vaelra and the others walked toward the bar as if unaffected by the revelry around them, Kaelin looked everywhere but ahead, taking in the hall where a different sound seemed to rise from every corner.

The large man behind the bar—broad-shouldered, slightly graying, with a mustache—was drying glasses with a cloth when he noticed them. He set the glass down, slung the cloth over his shoulder, and whispered something to the girl beside him. When he locked eyes with Vaelra, he nodded toward the corner where the stairs were and stepped out from behind the bar.

As Vaelra and the others moved between the serving girls, Tivver’s eyes fixed on one of them and he nearly followed her, mouth slightly open. Vaelra caught him by the back of his collar and steered him back onto the path. Tivver swallowed, closed his mouth, and refocused. A small smile appeared on Kaelin’s face as she watched.

When they reached the corner, the man was waiting by the stairs.

“I hope the chaos in the city isn’t your doing,” he said, speaking first to Vaelra before suddenly turning his head toward Tivver.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, old man,” Tivver replied, scanning the hall again.

The man exhaled with a low growl and returned his gaze to Vaelra.

“I’m not sure,” Vaelra began, pausing briefly before continuing, “but that doesn’t change the fact that we need a place to stay for now.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Did you get the papers?” he asked in a lower voice.

Vaelra gave a faint, sly smile and nodded without speaking.

“I suppose there are several ways I could thank you,” the man said, relaxing his arms; the tension in his brow eased somewhat.

“What a gentleman,” Vaelra replied. “For now, we only need somewhere to stay.”

“That’s easy,” the man said. “Will the stiff one and the mountain of muscle be joining you?” he asked, though his eyes were studying Kaelin.

“Not immediately, but perhaps later,” Vaelra answered, knowing whom he meant.

“In that case, the two empty rooms at the end of the corridor on the third floor should suit you,” he said, then winked. “You know where the keys are.”

“Got anything open on the second floor, old man?” Tivver cut in, still watching the girls in the hall.

“This is one of the last places you’d want to test your luck, son,” the man replied in a low but calm voice.

“Well, you can’t blame a man for trying,” Tivver sighed.

“Shut up, Tivver,” Vaelra interrupted. “We need to disappear.” She gestured toward the stairs and slipped her arm through Kaelin’s.

Kaelin was caught off guard by the unexpected closeness and felt herself flush slightly.

Vaelra headed toward the stairs with Kaelin at her side, Tivver following behind. Darian, who had remained still until then, turned to the man.

“Thank you for your help, Harrik,” he said quietly. The two of them watched the others go.

“Who’s the girl?” Harrik asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Another traveler in need of help,” Darian replied.

“So she’s one of you now.”

“Not yet.”

“Vaelra hasn’t given up on any of you so far, has she?”

Darian exhaled softly. “You know her.” Then he followed the others.

◈◈◈

Tarr’en and Rhoren returned to the Red Lantern through the passage in the storage room without speaking. After sealing the passage behind them, they passed through the cleaners and climbed the stairs toward the ground floor.

Without taking his eyes off the path ahead, Tarr’en said coldly, “Inform your men and send them to the blacksmiths’ district. I’ll try to keep the exits as sealed as possible.”

“And the ships leaving the harbor?” Rhoren asked. He knew how difficult it would be to control them. If he were escaping, one of the first things he would do would be to pay smugglers and hide inside cargo.

“Ships cannot depart without document approval, Captain,” Tarr’en answered confidently. Then he sighed. “However, even using my authority within the Ledger, I can halt the harbor for no more than half a day.”

Rhoren climbed the stairs behind him with a growl. “I don’t think they’re foolish enough to try to flee immediately. They’ll hide,” he said, exhaling, “until things calm down.”

As they passed through the corridor of rooms, they saw doors still open—women and guests sitting inside, some already asleep. When they stepped into the main hall from the end of the corridor, Tarr’en noticed Mistress Vahl seated at a table to the side, going through documents.

“Perhaps we have some leverage,” he said, and walked toward her.

◈◈◈

When they reached the second floor, Kaelin was surprised to see rooms lining both sides of a long hall—but instead of doors, there were red curtains. During a brief lull in the music below, she heard sounds coming from behind some of the curtains and finally understood.

In many taverns, the upper floor served this purpose. Officially, the women were guests paying to stay there. Unofficially, they left a portion of the money they earned from visitors in their rooms as a tip to the tavern. In return, the tavern provided a measure of protection. Kaelin had heard of this often; not everyone had enough income to pay the taxes demanded by the King and the Ledger, as places like the Red Lantern could.

But what surprised her were the curtains.

“For the women’s safety,” Vaelra said, still holding her arm, having noticed the way Kaelin was looking at them.

“I don’t understand,” Kaelin replied as they turned toward the stairs leading to the third floor.

“Places that serve the upper ranks, like the Red Lantern, prioritize the privacy of their guests,” Vaelra explained. “The wealthy and influential come there—people who already hold power but seek discretion for certain pleasures. So for the Red Lantern, secrecy and the occasional political leverage gained from secrets are the priority. The safety of the workers comes much later, since that kind of guest rarely poses much threat to the women.”

As she spoke, Vaelra glanced at Kaelin, then turned her eyes back toward the corridor lined with red curtains.

“But in brothels and taverns frequented by ordinary folk, it’s very different. The men who come here have no reputation or political power to consider. It’s normal for a man who works all day to spend time with a woman at night. But for a man who spends his days serving others or forced into work he despises, the desire for power becomes the real danger here.”

She paused.

“For a man who is crushed by life all day, the urge to assert dominance over a woman lying beneath him at night is not uncommon.” Her expression dimmed slightly as she looked down at the steps and exhaled.

“Unlike large establishments, small taverns don’t prioritize secrecy or political influence—they prioritize the safety of the women trying to make a living there. Though most do so not out of compassion, but because they don’t want trouble, and don’t want to deal with the Wardens.”

They had reached the midpoint of the stairs to the third floor, Tivver and Darian three or four steps behind them.

“But here,” Vaelra continued, “I feel somewhat safer than in other taverns. Harrik is also the leader of the blacksmiths’ guild. Troublemakers aren’t welcome here, and he rarely lets problematic types through the door a second time.”

“You seem to know him well,” Kaelin remarked, her tone lightly suggestive. Vaelra immediately recognized the slight discomfort behind the comment and understood she was trying to change the subject.

With a faint smile, she leaned closer and whispered into Kaelin’s ear, “I must admit, he’s quite an attractive old man.”

Then she pulled back. “But no. He’s saved us from trouble many times. Occasionally, we’ve tried to repay our debts.”

They had reached the third floor—a long corridor again, but this time lined with proper doors.

“In fact,” Vaelra added, “when we ran into trouble in the tunnel earlier, we were in the middle of repaying another debt.”

A loud cough came from Tivver behind them.

“Relax,” Vaelra replied without turning. “Do you really think this girl is going to bring us trouble?”

“She could talk,” Tivver said seriously.

“Trust me,” Vaelra answered calmly. “Besides, we’re accomplices now.” She winked at Kaelin.

Kaelin couldn’t tell whether Vaelra was acting, teasing her, or flirting. After a brief hesitation, she managed to say, “I owe you. I don’t know what you did—but even if I did, you can trust that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“We just stole something from the Ledger vault, darling,” Vaelra said suddenly, smiling.

“Fucking insane woman!” Tivver muttered. Darian, walking beside him, looked visibly tense from the conversation.

Kaelin drew a deep breath but said nothing.

When they reached the end of the corridor, Vaelra said playfully, “You gentlemen take the room on the left. I’ll put this young lady in the one on the right.”

Kaelin tried to hide the faint embarrassment she felt.

Tivver and Darian moved toward the left room without a word, though Tivver was clearly still irritated by Vaelra’s behavior, muttering under his breath.

Vaelra opened the door and waited for Kaelin to step inside first. “Good night, gentlemen,” she said before entering and closing the door behind them.

With a deep growl, Veylith slammed his fist against the wall as he stared out from the dark upper floor window of a dilapidated, seemingly abandoned building. Beyond three small buildings outside the window, the city’s small eastern gate—almost like a back door—was visible, guarded by half a dozen sentries.

“That was our last exit option,” Ravah said, standing beside him and looking out as well.

Veylith stepped back from the window and leaned against the wall, trying to think.

“We only have one alternative left, boss,” Ravah continued. “I know you don’t like it, but hiding and waiting will be far riskier than that.”

“Trusting someone, handing over control, and believing they won’t betray you isn’t a strategy,” Veylith replied.

“I’m sorry, boss, but I don’t think we have any escape chance other than the harbor,” Ravah said, meeting her gaze seriously.

Veylith swallowed angrily, glanced outside again, and gave a reluctant nod. “We’ll return to the others and wait for dawn,” she whispered. “In daylight we can use the crowd, split up, and reach the harbor by different routes.”

As they descended the stairs of the decrepit building, Veylith was already constructing the next day’s escape plan in her mind. The front door opened onto the street, and patrols were present there. That meant they had to leave the way they came—through the broken rear window.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the back, they heard two Warden patrols passing directly in front of the building. Veylith immediately raised a hand, signaling Ravah to stop. Ravah obeyed, freezing at the edge of the final step, just before stepping onto the broken wood and shattered glass scattered across the floor.

“Fucking Ledger thinks everyone belongs to them,” a voice outside said. “I can’t believe they gathered every Warden unit in the city for a simple theft.”

Ravah turned her head toward Veylith and gave her a pointed look, lips pressed in displeasure.

“I don’t think theft is the real reason,” another voice replied. Ravah’s expression shifted from annoyance to mild curiosity. Veylith unconsciously lifted an eyebrow and listened.

“When they assembled us, they said we were searching this district for a female fugitive,” the voice continued. “Red-haired. Probably wearing a dress. Late twenties.”

Ravah and Veylith looked at each other at the same time.

“Are you serious? Waking every unit at this hour to chase a whore—exactly the kind of filth you’d expect from the Ledger!” the first voice said, raising his tone.

“Forget it,” the other guard replied. “It’ll be morning soon. We’ll patrol these streets a bit more and then head back to headquarters.”

Their voices faded, growing indistinct until they disappeared entirely.

Ravah stepped down from the stairs and followed Veylith, who had already started moving.

“She knew,” Ravah said. “I knew she was trouble.”

Veylith didn’t answer, but from her expression and the rough edge in her stride, it was clear she shared the same thoughts.

◈◈◈

In the grand hall of the Red Lantern, Tarr’en examined the plaque on the wall and whispered to Rhoren, who appeared inattentive, “We’re lifting the quarantine on this district at sunrise.”

Though mildly surprised, Rhoren did not respond immediately. He had no desire to waste energy arguing.

Tarr’en understood what he was thinking from his expression and continued. “Distribute your men to the city gates, but direct most of them to the harbor. If we keep swarming the streets, the rats won’t leave their holes. We need to leave just enough space for them to try to escape.” He paused, but when Rhoren remained silent, he went on. “The guards at the exits are for intimidation only. We both know the harbor is where they’ll try to run.”

Rhoren hadn’t been particularly surprised by this, but hearing Tarr’en voice the same thought made him visibly more curious. “Go on.”

“Eventually, we’ll corner them at the harbor,” Tarr’en said, lowering his voice slightly. “But there may be another way to make our fugitive come to us.”

He noticed Mistress Vahl approaching from behind and straightened his posture, cutting himself off. “Miss Vahl!” he said, fully aware of how irritating his tone was—and enjoying it. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Well, I hope you leave here as satisfied as our other guests,” Mistress replied evenly.

After a brief pause, Tarr’en answered, “Within a few hours we will remove the security measures and continue the investigation through normal channels. I imagine your guests will be pleased to return home.”

“That is good to hear,” Mistress said, her posture and expression unchanged.

“However, allow me one final question,” Tarr’en pressed. The mistress did not answer immediately; she merely looked into his eyes as if waiting. “The young woman who should have been here tonight but wasn’t—Kaelin. Does she have anyone here she’s close to? Perhaps a friend?”

Rhoren, understanding where this was going, turned away with a subtle, knowing smile, pretending disinterest.

“Kaelin usually comes alone and leaves alone,” Mistress replied. “I’ve rarely seen her speak to anyone here. Only…” Her gaze shifted past Tarr’en’s shoulder. “The young blonde girl speaking with the other women by the screens behind you—Mayra. I’ve seen them sitting together a few times. That’s all.”

Tarr’en turned and studied the girl carefully before replying, “Thank you, Miss Vahl.” He faced her again. “Once things return to normal, our units here will inform you. If you have no further questions…”

He left the sentence unfinished.

The mistress noticed the short-haired athletic woman stepping out from the corridor. Their eyes met briefly, and the woman quickly walked toward the other side of the hall. Without looking back at Tarr’en, she said, “Good day, gentlemen,” turned on the spot, and walked in the same direction as the woman.

Tarr’en returned to his expression of mild displeasure and watched her for a moment before stepping closer to Rhoren. Both of them were now observing Mayra, seated with the other girls in the small corner lounge beside the screen.

“I can rely on you for this, Captain, can’t I?” Tarr’en asked, his eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Do you think this is my first year in the profession?” Rhoren replied, heading toward the door. As he passed directly behind Tarr’en, he continued, “I’ll set the trap. You just hold the exits.”

He pushed open the large doors of the hall and stepped outside. Tarr’en watched the girl for a few seconds longer before moving toward the exit as well.

In the corner of the hall, the Mistress unlocked a small door with a key. Turning to the short-haired woman beside her, she asked, “Do you have something interesting for me?”

“Very much so,” the woman replied, following her through the door. After casting one last glance around, she closed it behind them.