Moth (25 page)

Koyee tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. All other buildings here were grand, their large windows proudly displaying their wares, be it jewels, dancers, singers, or wine. This place was different. Its windows were small and round, the glass smoky and green, hiding the insides. Aside from the bronze statue outside, nothing here denoted wealth or welcome. Had Nukari not been guiding her, Koyee would have walked past the building, not even seeing it through the shadows.

"Welcome," Nukari said, "to the Green Geode."

Koyee squinted at the squat building. "I don't even see a sign."

Nukari smiled thinly. "My patrons do not need a sign. We do not proclaim our wares in the light. My patrons prefer shadows. Come now, child. Enter your new home."

As she walked toward the door, Koyee tightened her lips.

This will not become my home,
she thought.
This will only be a place to stay until I earn enough money to leave Pahmey. My home is Oshy, and it always will be. I will return.

Nukari opened a bronze door, gestured into the shadows, and let her enter first. Koyee stepped into the Green Geode . . . and gasped.

She now understood the pleasure den's name. While the building's outward facade was craggy stone, its insides gleamed with crystals and green light. Koyee squinted, nearly blinded. Candles burned upon a score of stone tables. A hundred lanterns hung from the ceiling, glowing all shades of green. Crystals grew along the walls, ceilings, and floor.

But more than its lanterns and crystals, Koyee gasped to see the people who filled the Green Geode. Several young women stood upon stages, clad in flowing silks, their faces painted green and silver. Two women were dancing upon one stage, swaying like spirits of the sky, their scarves billowing like clouds. A tall, beautiful woman stood on a second stage, playing a harp and singing a sad tune; a tiara topped her head, shaped as Shenlai the dragon, and her eyes gleamed like molten gold. Upon a third stage, a short, slim woman was performing with marionettes; she had an impish face with large ears, winking green eyes, and a crooked smile, and as her puppets performed, she supplied voices in alternating falsetto and grumbles.

Koyee blushed to see these stages. She had never seen women like these, their faces painted, their jewels glowing blue and white, their flimsy outfits showing more skin than they hid. Even the impish puppeteer wore only scanty silks that Koyee would feel naked in.

"They're yezyani," she whispered to Eelani. "They're trained to pleasure—to sing, to dance, to giggle at jokes."

She had sometimes seen old, wealthy men wandering the streets of Pahmey, their hair thinning and their wrinkles deepening, while pure and young yezyani—beautiful spirits wearing jewels—accompanied them to theaters and balls. Koyee swallowed. Was this her fate now?

She lowered her gaze. While the yezyani made her blush, the patrons of the Green Geode made her heart sink. They lay upon beds, watching the performers and smoking hookahs. The spice bubbled inside the glass containers, a deep purple, while green smoke swirled from the pipes. The scents filled the air, thick as syrup. The smokers didn't even turn to see Koyee enter; they barely seemed able to focus on the yezyani. Their eyes were narrowed to crescent slits, and their mouths mimicked the shape, curved into half-smiles of pleasure and stupor.

I left the dregs of Pahmey,
Koyee thought,
and entered a den of debauchery and spice. These patrons are no better than Snaggletooth.

She turned to leave.

"This is not a place for me," she said. "Goodbye, Nukari."

She stepped toward the doorway, meaning to exit, but he blocked her way.

"Move!" she told him.

He only smiled pleasantly and bowed his head. "Forgive me, my child. I perhaps did not prepare you for the lights, the smoke, and the scents. Please. Stay with us here."

He closed the door behind him and locked it.

Koyee placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I will not wear those silks." She gestured at the dancing women. "I demand something more . . . proper."

He played with one of his many rings, spinning it around his finger. "I have closets full of robes and gowns. You may choose the dress you like."

She stared at the smoking, languorous men upon the beds. "And I will not serve
hintan
. I will not step near these men. I will not accompany them to balls, or giggle at their jokes, or flirt with them, or do anything else they might want. I will play my flute, same as I did on the street, and that is all." She narrowed her eyes and glared at Nukari. "If you refuse, you better move away from that door, or I will carve my way out with my sword."

For a heartbeat, his eyes narrowed and his lips twisted into a snarl. His expression softened so fast Koyee wondered if she'd imagined it, and again he smiled pleasantly.

"It will be as you wish. Now come upstairs; we will scrub you clean and dress you in whatever fashion you desire. Unless, of course, you wish to keep your fur tunic. That I must insist you change out of." He gave a short, brittle laugh.

He took her up a stone stairway, and they entered a hallway lined with doors. Candles burned on the walls, and those doors that were open revealed beds topped with fur.

"Every yezyana at the Green Geode has her own room," Nukari said. "No other pleasure den treats its yezyani so well. Here you will be as a princess."

He led her into a tiled chamber. A bath stood here upon clawed feet. Soaps, towels, and brushes stood on several tables. At the back of the room, a closet stood open, revealing a hundred silken gowns. Hot and cold water filled cauldrons, and a mirror hung from a wall.

"I will be downstairs entertaining my patrons," Nukari said. "Take your time here. Come downstairs a polished gem. Scrub your skin until it's red. Remove the smell of the dregs. Toss your fur tunic into the fire and choose a new dress. Brush all the tangles from your hair and splash perfume onto your body. When you come back down, if I can recognize you, I will send you back up. You walked upstairs a filthy urchin. Step downstairs a yezyana."

With that, he left her in the chamber.

As soon as he was gone, Koyee let out a groan, rolled her eyes, and raised her hands in exasperation.

"By the moonlight, Eelani! That man is like some . . . some garish cockroach. I don't trust him. Do you?" She shuddered. "And I don't trust those men downstairs. But then again . . . the dregs had Snaggletooth and other thieves. Here we'll get our own room." She looked around her and sighed. "What do you think, Eelani? Should we stay here? Just for a little bit? Or should we flee out the window and run back to our old corner?"

She looked at the window; it was ajar, revealing a view of the city towers. She looked back at the bath, the fine silks, and the soaps and brushes. A long sigh ran through her.

"Oh, all right, Eelani. We'll stay long enough to bathe and find new clothes." She covered her nose. "You stink and you need the bath. But once we're clean and fed and clothed, if Nukari tries anything funny, we run."

She reached out her hand, letting Eelani crawl down her arm and nestle in her palm. Biting her lip, she stripped off her tunic, stepped toward the tub, and placed a single toe in. The water was warm and soapy. Koyee placed one foot in, then the other, and finally sank into the tub. She let out a long sigh.

"Eelani, finally you'll smell nice," she said, the water turning gray around her.

She scrubbed herself until her skin turned red, leaving the tub a muddy mess, then stepped toward the closet. A few moments later, she looked into the mirror and barely recognized herself.

"Look at us, Eelani," she whispered.

For the first time in moons, no grime covered her and she could see her pale skin. Her hair flowed smooth, tangle free, and milky white. She had chosen a gown of black silk, fitted but not revealing, its fabric embroidered with silver fish; it reminded her of the river at home. She had cleaned her katana too and hung it across her back; its hilt peered over her shoulder, wrapped in blue silk.

"If not for the scars across my face, I'd think myself almost presentable." She bit her lip and raised her eyebrows. "You still look the same, Eelani." She blew out her breath, flapping her lips. "I guess we'll have to wear this disguise for a while. We'll have to be a yezyana just until we have enough money. I promise you: We will not forget our home."

She stepped downstairs, made her way through clouds of green smoke, and found Nukari mixing purple drinks at a bar. When he saw her, his face split into a grin that showed all his teeth—a crescent moon grin.

"My polished gem," he said and caressed her cheek—the scarred cheek. "My flawed jewel."

She glared at him. "My name is Koyee Mai."

He shook his head. "Koyee is the name of a fisherman's daughter from a backwater." He sniffed. "The name still stinks of fish. You will now be Madori Mai, a maiden of the Green Geode. Go, there, stand on that stage. Play your flute for our dear patrons. Play well and you shall have a warm bed, a warm meal, and safety."

"And coins," she reminded him. "Thirty copper coins every hourglass turn."

He stared at her blankly for a heartbeat, then smiled again and nodded. "And coins. Go, my Madori Mai. Play your beautiful music, my beautiful gem."

She rolled her eyes. But she played her flute. Green smoke flowed around her, men lay drooling as they inhaled the spice, and the other yezyani performed around her. Koyee closed her eyes as she played, pretending that she still stood on her old street corner, the bluefeathers coming and going and the old fortune teller snoring. Strangely, even in her silks, she missed that old place.

A long time later, when she laid down her flute and stepped off her stage, the other yezyani came rushing toward her. They touched her face, ran their hands through her hair, and caressed her gown.

"Madori Mai! Madori Mai!" they said. "Where are you from? Where did you learn how to play? Such pretty hair. Such purple eyes! Madori Mai, where did you get your sword?"

Nukari came trundling toward them, scowling, and waved them aside.

"Back, back, little devils!" he said. "Give my Madori her rest. She is weary. Back onto your stages, silly things! Move your little backsides. Dance and play for our patrons."

Still waving them back, he led Koyee upstairs and along the hallway.

"You made me proud, my Madori," he said and placed a copper coin in her palm. "Here is your reward."

She tilted her head. "Nukari! You said thirty coppers."

He smiled. "You have earned thirty! I kept twenty-nine to pay for your gown. But when you play again, all thirty coppers will be yours. Now come! Here is your chamber for the night."

He all but shoved her into a small room; it was barely six feet wide. A bed lay against a wall, taking up half the room. Koyee was so weary—she had not slept in so long—that she didn't even care. This chamber was no larger than a closet, but it was better than Bluefeather Corner in the dregs. And it was
safe
.

"Nukari, I will eat before bed," she said. "Can you bring—"

She turned around just in time to see Nukari leave, closing the door behind him. A key twisted in the lock. Koyee grabbed the knob and twisted. The door was sealed.

"That sneaky snake!" she said. "Eelani, can you believe him? I knew you shouldn't have trusted him. You . . ."

A yawn interrupted her words. It flowed across her body from fingertips to toes, stretching her like a silk scarf in the wind. Weariness tugged her eyelids.

"We'll show him after we rest for a bit," she mumbled, climbed into her bed, and fell asleep at once. She dreamed of green smoke, snaggletooth grins, and slamming doors.

 
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
THE DRUMS OF WAR

Bailey Berin stood upon the Watchtower, gripping the battlements.

"That stupid, stupid boy!" she said, eyes stinging. She gave her braids two vigorous tugs. "If he weren't already marching to his death, I'd kill him."

She stared east into the dusk, a land of barren trees, orange light, and shadows fading into the night. Jaw clenched, she spun around, marched across the tower top, and stared westward at the fields and pastures of Fairwool-by-Night. What she saw there scared her more than all the shadows of Eloria.

"Where has my village gone?" she whispered, her knuckles white as she clutched a merlon.

Five hundred people used to dwell here—tradesmen, shepherds, and farmers, working and living among fields, gardens, and swards. Looking down now, Bailey could no longer see grass or fields. She saw nothing but the might and wrath of Timandra. For two months the forces had been mustering here, and now they covered the land like a tapestry of hatred.

North of the river, the hosts of Arden spread, warriors of the raven. Tens of thousands marshaled here, standing in rows and rows, clad in breastplates and helmets. Archers, swordsmen, and pikemen all gathered around their lords. Their banners thudded in the wind, showing black ravens upon golden fields. The king stood at their lead upon a white courser, his armor pale and his sword bright in the sunlight. A thousand other horsemen stood behind him, each beast bedecked in steel and gold and black wool. Along the mile-wide river, the fleet of Arden swayed, a hundred ships bearing more soldiers, more weapons, and enough food to feed the hosts for a year.

When Bailey looked south of the Sern, she saw the troops of another kingdom. Naya mustered there, her neighbor to the south. Its warriors wore tiger skins and hoods. Each man clutched two spears and wore a necklace of teeth. Elephants trumpeted among them, their tusks ringed with gold, archers upon their backs. Hundreds of tigers stood leashed, clawing the air, their trainers clutching whips. Burly, bare-chested men beat war drums, each as large as a wagon wheel, and howled for victory against the devils of the dark. Naya's banners too fluttered, hiding and revealing a tiger upon a black field.

"All across Timandra, the other kingdoms rally too," Bailey whispered, hands trembling around the battlements. "I left my village as spring bloomed, trying to stop a war. Now autumn covers the land, and the armies of daylight muster."