them with their gold while “respectable” people offer promises, they would
suffer even more than they do now.’
There was a gentle knocking on the door. Lythande stepped back into the shadows
of the room. Ambutta entered, a large bruise visible on the side of her face.
‘The men have begun to arrive, Madame Myrtis. Will you collect their money, or
shall I take the ledger downstairs?’
‘I shall attend to them. Send them up to me and, Ambutta -‘
She stopped the girl as she headed out of the parlour. ‘Go to the kitchen and
find out how many days we could go without buying anything from any of the
tradesmen.’
‘Yes, madame.’
The room was suddenly empty, except for Myrtis. Only a slight rippling of the
wall tapestries showed where Lythande had opened a concealed panel and
disappeared into the secret passages of the Aphrodisia House. Myrtis had not
expected the magician to stay, but despite all their years together, the
magician’s sudden comings and goings still unsettled her. Standing in front of a
full-length mirror, Myrtis rearranged the pearl-and-gold pins in her hair,
rubbed scented oils into her skin, and greeted the first gentleman-caller as if
the day had been no different from any other.
Word of the taxation campaign against the Street had spread through the city
much as Lythande had observed. The result was that many of their frequent guests
and visitors came to the house to pay their last respects to an entertainment
that they openly expected would be gone in a very short time. Myrtis smiled at
each of them as they arrived, accepted their money, and asked their second