Heavens, even her usually conservative aunts had raptures over their visits, delighting over gifts of flowers and scarves and candies. The two men were very disarming and entertaining, and everyone in the clan loved and respected them. Karigan realized hers might not be the prevailing attitude of Sacoridia toward such pairings, but so long as the couples lived as productive and law-abiding citizens, their presence appeared to be more or less tolerated, if not welcomed, by the larger community.
The difference with Trudy was that Karigan had never been approached—propositioned—before. Even just thinking about it caused warmth to creep into her cheeks.
As if Trudy knew how she disconcerted Karigan, she laughed softly. “You should see your expression.”
“I’d rather not, thank you.” Karigan could only guess. Did she look like a deer staring down a hunter’s arrow?
“If anything,” Trudy said, more soberly, “be glad of your life and your wonderful father. You know, it could’ve been you on the streets as easily as me had the gods allotted us different fates. But they didn’t, and here we are crossing paths anyway.”
The two left room thirteen, and paused in the corridor.
“Remember,” Trudy said, “if you want me, you know where to find me. The king’s gold is always welcome.”
As Trudy strode down the corridor, laughter trickled back to Karigan. In some wicked way, Trudy enjoyed making her squirm. That aside, the young woman had given her much to consider. She headed for her own room wondering about the gods and how different her life was from those who worked in the Golden Rudder, and it made her thankful for her father—truly thankful for the kind of man he was despite his taste for brothels, and even thankful she was a Green Rider when she could have been destined for a far less savory existence.
She did not blame the ladies for the lives they led if their backgrounds, like Trudy’s, had forced them into the “trade.” She decided the blame lay on those who used brothels. After all, without demand, there’d be no brothels. It was one of the first tenants of merchanting Karigan learned from her father.
Ironically, her father was one who helped create demand. No matter how much she loved him, she resolved to give him her opinion on the matter just as soon as she could manage it.
The next morning, Silva, Rona, and Zem stood in the courtyard between the stable and the inn for Karigan’s and Fergal’s leave-taking. Fergal said little to Karigan over breakfast, but she assumed he intended to continue the journey west with her and not return to Sacor City. As they led their horses from the stable, Silva stepped forward.
“Remember, Karigan dear, you are always welcome beneath my roof.”
“Thank you,” she replied in a subdued tone, though she knew she would never willingly find herself this close to the Golden Rudder again. But Silva had been very generous and kind, expecting nothing in return for room and board. “I…I appreciate your help.”
Silva smiled and nodded. Good-byes were exchanged and the Riders were leading their horses out of the courtyard when an upstairs gable window flung open. It was Trudy, and she waved a handkerchief at them.
“Good-bye, Karigan! Thank you for the wonderful time!” And she blew a kiss. Laughter issued from behind her and she slammed the window shut.
Karigan’s mouth dropped open. “N-no,” she started to explain. “N–nothing—nothing happened.”
Silva, Rona, and Zem simply regarded her with pleasant expressions. Fergal’s was a cock-eyed gaze of reassessment.
She’d let Trudy have her little joke. Trying to deny anything happened to the madam and her servants would only make her sound defensive. And guilty. She pulled on Condor’s reins and hurriedly led him out of the courtyard and onto the street. When Fergal caught up, he asked, “Did you—?”
“NO.”
A moment passed as he digested her response. “Well, I did.”
When she turned her glare on him, his step faltered and his cheeks turned the color of ripe tomatoes.
“You did what?” Fire flickered around the coolness of her words. When he opened his mouth to answer, she cut him off. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Fergal shrugged, his expression one of contentment. He started to whistle, but stopped when she glowered at him.
This was the last time, Karigan decided, anyone accompanied her on an errand. Captain Mapstone would have a complete report about Fergal on her desk when she returned. Though the whole brothel episode might be difficult to explain, especially if she included the revelation about her father. Well, she wouldn’t worry about it for now.
They led the horses to the ferry landing where Cetchum and his oarsmen awaited them.
“Good morning, sirs!” the ferry master said. “I hear ye were real well taken care of at the Rudder.” He gave them each knowing winks and Karigan just wanted to die.
Fergal thought it was very funny and he exchanged mock blows with Cetchum.
“You know,” Karigan mused, “I’ve been thinking that maybe we ought to tie Fergal down to the deck this time to make sure he doesn’t fall into the river again.”
Fergal sobered immediately.
They loaded the horses onto the ferry and shoved off. It had rained during the night and the sky was still dull, leaving the river a slate blue. The farther the oarsmen rowed them out onto the river, the more relieved Karigan became that the Golden Rudder was being left far behind.
When the ferry scraped bottom on the west bank landing, Karigan gave Cetchum four coppers and a silver. “For both crossings,” she explained, “and for your efforts to aid us.” She had thought this over hard, and when she decided that not everyone would have helped her in her rescue attempt of Fergal, she saw it was the right thing to do. If nothing else, it might encourage the ferry master to help others in need, as well.