safe, and perhaps Ambutta no longer seemed as childlike to all eyes. There was
always an element of risk. Twice before girls had been lost in the streets, and
not even Lythande’s magic could find them again.
Myrtis put such thoughts aside and ate dinner alone in her parlour. She had
thought a bribe or offer of free privileges might still be the way out of her
problem with the taxes. Prince Kada-kithis was probably sincere, though, in his
determination to make Sanctuary the ideal city of his adviser’s philosophies
while the capital city of the empire displayed many of the same excesses that
Sanctuary did. The young prince had a wife and concubines with whom he was
supposedly well pleased. There had never been any suspicion that he might
partake of the delights of the Street himself. And as for the Hell Hounds, their
first visit had been to announce the taxes.
The elite guard were men made of a finer fibre than most of the soldiers or
fighters Sanctuary had known. On reflection, Myrtis doubted that they could be
bought or bribed, and knew for certain that they would never relent in their
persecution of the Street if the first offer did not succeed in converting them.
It was gathering dusk. The girls could be heard throughout the house, giggling
as they prepared for the evening. Myrtis kept no one who showed no aptitude or
enjoyment of the profession. Let the other houses bind their girls with poverty
or drugs; the Aphrodisia House was the pinnacle of ambition for the working
girls of the Street.
‘I got your message.’ A soft voice called from the drapery-hung doorway near her