Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
I don’t hesitate.
“No, I am from here. Well, I live in the suburbs now, but my family has roots in the city. But I’m trying to find Lily because she forgot something, and I’d like to return it to her.”
The old lady merely squints her eyes at me.
“Oh really? What?”
I hesitate for a moment because we’re in a questionable part of Old Town. I guess I was so busy with my chase that I didn’t notice we’d entered what’s euphemistically called “the Street of Pleasure.” Yes, you guessed it: it’s the Lysenian red-light district, and like any red-light district, there are all sorts of shady-looking people wandering about. There’s a prostitute dressed in a negligee, leaning against a wall smoking as she beckons to passing men. There’s a man trying to get gullible passerby to join him in a game of three card monte. And all around us, the crowd bubbles with activity: from stalls selling fried snacks to children begging for coin, to a juggler, tossing his pins high in the air before catching them in one fell swoop.
“Well, um,” I hem and haw, looking around. “Lily forgot a personal item, and I’d really like to return it myself.”
The crone merely spits onto the dirt again.
“Personal? Give it to me,” she commands. “I’ll see it delivered.”
I smile wanly because actually, I really want to find Lily and ask her about Haakon. If I hand over the lost pair of panties now, I may never be able to talk with the frightened girl, and my adventure will be over.
I take a deep breath.
“Well, I’d actually like to return it myself,” I say in a slow voice. “Do you know where she is? Do you think you could take me there?”
The old woman cocks her head at me again, looking like a babushka with a raggedy brown cloth wrapped around her head.
“No,” she snorts. “You’re not from here and we don’t trust strangers. Lily won’t see you.”
I sigh then, biting my lip. Should I pull out the lingerie? It seems so scandalous to proffer a pair of panties in public, but then again, this is the Street of Pleasure. They’re probably used to seeing this kind of thing, if not worse. With a reluctant sigh, I give in. I open my hand, and revealed in my fist is the scrap of purple lace.
“This is what I want to return,” I say in a low voice, stepping closer to the crone. “See? It’s a very personal item.”
The old woman cackles with laughter.
“Oh yeah, she’ll want those back alright,” the woman says. Then she throws me a speculative look. “You in her line of business?”
I cock my head at her.
“What line of business would that be?”
The old lady merely lets out a hoot of laughter while stomping her cane in the dirt with mirth. Then, she points down the street to a rickety two-story with a wooden sign that reads, “House of Silk.”
I stare. What is this? A silk store? A fabric shop? That seems unlikely, seeing that we’re currently on the Street of Pleasure, but I shrug and smile.
“Thanks,” I call while trotting away. “Appreciate your help!”
The woman merely cackles again, her beady eyes following me. A cold frisson runs down my spine, but I ignore the sense of disquiet as I stop in front of the wooden door. This is where Lily lives? It seems odd because it looks more like a tavern of sorts. But maybe she’s a bar wench, or a waitress. Who knows? With a confident shake of my head, I knock, and when the door swings open, my life changes forever.
3
Matilda
“So what do we have here?” a middle-aged woman with flaming red hair asks. She’s smoking a super-long cigarillo, like the kind Audrey Hepburn made famous in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I smile wanly. Doesn’t she know that smoking kills you? There are so many carcinogens that it’s shocking.
As if in answer, the woman blows a puff of smoke in my face, making me collapse into a coughing fit.
“Um, hi,” I manage through watery eyes. “Is Lily here?”
The woman leans against the door jamb, looking me up and down, before taking another puff.
“And who are you?”
I smile, my eyes still watery, as I wave my hand in front of my nose, hoping to dispel some of the smoke.
“I’m a friend,” I say. “Lily left something at the palace, and I wanted to return it.”
The woman’s red eyebrows go up. Does she dye those to match her hair? Upon close inspection, I see that the roots of both her eyebrows and her hair are a dull brown. Ah-ha! No doubt, all of her is fake, including that big bosom beneath the dress with its too-tight lacings.
“The palace, hmmm?” she says. “Well, why didn’t you say? Come on in.”
Then, she props the wooden door open with her back, allowing me to enter. I step into a dark space, and it certainly looks like a tavern. There are wooden tables and benches in the low-ceilinged room, reminiscent of a German beer hall, as well as a long wooden bar on the side with loads of alcohol carefully displayed on racks behind it. There isn’t much décor to speak of, except for some low-hanging lights of the rustic variety, as well as some weird looking trumpets on the walls.