‘No -‘
The girl narrowed her eyes in pity. ‘Is it then with you as Rabben said – that
your secret is that you have been deprived of manhood?’ But beyond the pity was
a delicious flicker of amusement – what a tidbit of gossip! A juicy bit for the
Street of Women.
‘Silence!’ Lythande’s glance was imperative. ‘Come.’
She followed, along the twisting streets that led into the Street of Red
Lanterns. Lythande strode with confidence, now, past the House of Mermaids,
where, it was said, delights as exotic as the name promised were to be found;
past the House of Whips, shunned by all except those who refused to go
elsewhere; and at last, beneath the face of the Green Lady as she was worshipped
far away and beyond Ranke, the Aphrodisia House.
Bercy looked around, eyes wide, at the pillared lobby, the brilliance of a
hundred lanterns, the exquisitely dressed women lounging on cushions till they
were summoned. They were finely dressed and bejewelled – Myrtis knew her trade,
and how to present her wares – and Lythande guessed that the ragged Bercy’s
glance was one of envy; she had probably sold herself in the bazaars for a few
coppers or for a loaf of bread, since she was old enough. Yet somehow, like
flowers covering a dungheap, she had kept an exquisite fresh beauty, all gold
and white, flowerlike. Even ragged and half-starved, she touched Lythande’s
heart.
‘Bercy, have you eaten today?’
‘No, master.’
Lythande summoned the huge eunuch Jiro, whose business it was to conduct the
favoured customers to the chambers of their chosen women, and throw out the