Prince of Thorns

I’d tired her out. You can wear even whores out when you’re that young. The combination of a woman and time on my hands wasn’t one I’d tried before. I found the mix to my liking. There’s a lot to be said for not being in a queue, or not having to finish up before the flames take hold of the building. And the willingness! That was new too, albeit paid for. In the dark I could imagine it was free.

“Now if I know my ancient Greek, and I do, a leucrota is a monster that speaks with a human voice to lure its prey.” I bent my neck to bite at the back of her thigh. “And in my experience, any monster that talks in a human voice, is human. Or was.”

My feet hung over the end of the bed. I wiggled my toes. Sometimes that helps.

I reached for the oldest of the three books I’d stolen. A Builder text on plasteek sheets, wrinkled by some ancient fire. Scholars in the east would pay a hundred in gold for Builder texts, but I hoped for more profit than that.

I’d been taught the Builder speech by Tutor Lundist. I learned it in a month and he’d gone bragging to anyone who’d listen, until Father shut his mouth with one of those dark looks he’s famed for. Old Lundist said I knew the Builder speech as well as any in the Broken Empire, but I couldn’t make sense of more than half the words in the little book I’d stolen.

I could read the “Top Secret” at the head and foot of every page, but “Neurotoxicology,” “Carcinogen,” “Mutogen”? Maybe they were old styles of hat. To this day I don’t know. The words I did recognize were interesting enough though. “Weapons,” “Stockpile,” “Mass Destruction.” The last but one page even had a shiny map, all contours and elevations. Tutor Lundist taught me a little geography as well. Enough to match that small map to the “Views from Castle Red” painstakingly executed in the large but dull A History of Gelleth whose leather-bound spine nestled in the cleft of dear Sally’s oh-so-biteable backside.

Even when I understood the Builder words, the sentences didn’t make sense. “Binary weapon leakage is now endemic. The lighter than air unary compounds show little toxic effect, though rosiosis is a common topological exposure symptom.”

Or, from the same page: “Mutagenic effects are common downstream of binary spills.” I could stretch my Greek to guess the meaning, but it hardly seemed reasonable. Perhaps I’d stolen an old storybook?

“Jorg!” Makin hollered through the door. “The escort’s here to take you to the Forest Watch.”

Sally started up at that, but I pressed her down.

“Tell them to wait,” I called.

The Forest Watch weren’t going to be much use to me. Not unless they had ten thousand friends that wanted to come along.

“Sweet Jesu I’m sore.” Sally tried to get up again. “Oh! It’s morning already. Sammeth will kill me.”

“I said still, damn it.” I found a coin from my purse on the table and tossed it up to her. “That for your damn Sammeth.”

She slumped back with a comfortable protest.

“Binary weapon leakage . . .” As if speaking the words would add meaning.

“You’re going to the Castle Red then?” Sally said. She stifled a yawn.

I raised a hand to slap her into silence. Of course she didn’t see it and A History of Gelleth blocked the best target.

“Say hello to all those little red people for me,” she said.

Rosiosis.

I lowered my hand to her hip. “Little red people?”

“Uh huh.”

I felt her wiggle under my palm. I gripped harder. “Little red people?”

“Yes.” A whine of irritation tinged her voice. “Why do you think they call it the Castle Red?”

I pulled myself to a sitting position. “Makin! Get in here!” I shouted it loud enough for the whole inn to hear. He came in sharp enough, one hand on his sword. A smile found its way to his lips when he saw Sally sprawled out naked, but he kept his hand where it was.

“My prince?”

Sally really did try to get up at that. She almost made it to all fours and A History went flying.

“Prince? Nobody said nothing about a prince! He ain’t no bleedin’ prince!”

I pushed her down again.

“That conversation we had yesterday, Makin,” I said.

“Yes?”

“Anything you’d like to add to the description? Anything about those nine hundred veterans?” I asked.

For a moment he looked as blank as idiot Maical.

“Something about the colour scheme?” I gave him a prompt.

“Oh.” He grinned. “The Blushers? Yes. They’re red as a cooked lobster, every one of them. Something in the water they say. I thought everyone knew that.”

Rosiosis.

“I never knew it,” I said.

“Sounds like your father should have hanged Tutor Lundist then,” Makin said. “Everyone knows that.”

Monsters down below.

“He’s never a prince!” Sally sounded outraged.

“You’ve been royally fucked.” Makin gave her a little bow.

Castle Red and all its red soldiers up above.

I got off the bed.

Weapons stockpile.

Leakage.

“So,” Makin said. “Are we ready to go?”