A Whore's Business
Boy chased his tail, and then gave a first-warning yap at a bandit too close to his master. Blade put a hand on his head to still him, and then looked back at the man in front of her, "Don't worry 'bout him. More bark than bite."
"Mmhmm, sure. What d'you want."
"I'm looking for Reaver."
He nodded, casually, "Lotta folks are. He's a popular guy." His eyes skimmed over her, quickly, "Especially with the gals."
"Do you know where he lives?"
He shrugged, "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What's it worth."
She paused, looking at him, and then shook her head, "Twenty gold. Enough for your next hit, I'm sure." Her voice was perfect - casual, sharp, coolly indifferent.
But he shook his head, "Gold is all well and good, but it aint the only currency around here. What I was thinking was a bit more..." the eyes travelled down again, "...personal."
She actually laughed. She hadn't meant to, it was a gut reaction, and she immediately stopped herself, "Sorry, how impolite of me." She shook her head, "Nah. I don't think so."
"Suit yerself. No Reaver, then."
"Oh, I'm sure my efforts aren't completely spent." She replied, shaking her head again, "I mean, asking the first person I came to took a lot of brainpower, but I'm sure, given time, I can think of something else."
He bristled at her sarcasm, "Keep your attitude to yourself, darlin', you aint that hot."
"I'm sure I'm not. Now, come on, Boy, let's get moving."
She tapped her leg, and Boy, who had been glowering at the bandit, hackles raised, reluctantly returned to her side. She took once last glance at the man, and then turned, smiling, and started once again down the long sandy hill.
Next stop: first pub she came across. Blade glanced at the swinging sign, ignoring the stares of the men and women who hung around the place. The Leper's Arms.
As she walked closer the door burst open and a patron whose face was an interesting shade of green pushed past her and ran the short distance to the pier, falling to their knees and retching over the side into the river. Blade raised an eyebrow. How... charming. Having been brought up by gypsies this sort of display was hardly unknown to her, but, at midday, that was somewhat pushing it.
She turned away from the coughing drunk, back to the door. She had walked a few paces before a hand from an adjacent alleyway caught hold of her arm.
"Fancy a quick trip to paradise?"
She glanced at the whore in front of her, raising an eyebrow, a little surprised. The girl was young, her dirty blonde hair tied up on her head, her pale face hideously painted with a thick layer of dark makeup. Blade glanced down and then instantly wished she hadn't. The girl's dress wasn't exactly made for those with an imagination.
She shook her head again, "How old are you."
The whore paused, thinking quickly, "Twenty-one."
"No you're not. You're fifteen, if a day."
She blushed, hotly, "Does it matter?"
"Yes. Yes it matters. You're young enough to be my daughter, and you're out doing this?" the girl just shook her head, and Blade gave a low, weary sigh, "Go home, kid. Do something with your life. Before it's too late to."
She hesitated, and then nodded, slowly, and turned, moving away quickly. Blade knew she would just move away from the bar, pick another place to pull tricks. But there was nothing she could do about that.
She turned back to the Arms, gathering her willpower. She paused for a moment longer, and then shook her head, and pushed open the door.
Blade looked around her. The bar was an absolute cliché, crowded, dark, dank, blood and wine staining the walls. Men and woman all in various states of disarray sat and lounged at the bar, some sitting at tables, a dozen or so empty glasses cluttering the space in front of them, a woman in a bra and an open cropped jacket serving them yet more foul smelling alcohol.
She clocked everything in the crowded inn, easily, not stopping to catch the eyes of the few that had noticed her and turned round to see just what the hell she was doing there. She walked across the filthy floor to the bar, casually, and sat down on the first stool she saw, next to a man in something close to a bandit outfit. The bartender immediately spotted her, his type finding it easy to pick out fresh blood, and she glanced at him, holding up a finger, "Sandgoose. Neat." Then she looked at the guy beside her, calculatingly, whose eyes were fixed on her. She glanced up again, "Make it two."
The bartender didn't even raise an eyebrow; he was probably used to what he thought he was seeing in front of him. He placed in front of them two small glasses of Sandgoose rum and grunted the price. Blade didn't catch it, but she counted out four gold and slid it across the grimy table. In a bar like this it wouldn't be lacking, and she knew he sure as hell wouldn't complain if she was over.
She paused, one gloved hand on the side of the bar, taking some time before even acknowledging the eyes that still held her. She picked up her drink and downed it, easily. Then she placed the glass back on the table and moved her gaze onto the guy on the stool beside her. The man turned on his seat, facing her properly. His eyes made one full sweep of her body, and then moved back up to her face.
The bandit looked her over again, chewing on something black in his mouth, his true nature clear as his reprobate eyes showed appreciation at both her tight black shirt and the golden repeater crossbow slung over her shoulder. He shook his head, "What you afta, darlin'." He asked, his voice low and gravelly.
Blade didn't react to his wandering eyes, or his question. Her highwayman's coat was covered in dirt and blood, both hers and otherwise, her sparkling blade was strapped in a shoulder holster within easy reach, and her face showed no effect whatsoever to the very alcoholic beverage she had just so deftly knocked back.
She held him there for a moment, and then looked down, counting out another small mound of gold in her hand, shaping it neatly into one tower. She looked at him again, capturing his eyes, and then, slowly, placed the coins on the bar in front of them, "Reaver. If you please."
Looking up at Bloodstone Mansion, Blade was moderately surprised that she hadn't considered this building sooner. It was around six storeys high, thick wood and bricks with long, thin windows. The grounds behind it went on for some time, and the front of the house had a huge, elaborate flower bed, the path around it trim and neat. She should have guessed this would be where the Pirate King lived.
Neatly, she tapped her way up the short flight of steps to the front door, hesitated, and then knocked. The door swung open almost immediately, taking her back a little. The man was in his forties maybe, with a shaven head, wearing the same bandit-esq garb the men at the Arms were wearing.
She hesitated, looking at him, "Oh... Hello."
He raised an eyebrow. "Hello." He replied, looking at her strangely, like he thought she was a little odd. His accent was strange, something she had never heard before, very different from the Bloodstone drawl she was slowly getting used to.
She hesitated again, looking him over, confused, and then shook her head, "You're not...?"
He gave a small smirk, knowing exactly what she meant, "No."
"Oh. Alright."
"What do you want."
"I... I'm here to see Reaver."
He raised the brow again, "Yes…?" he asked at length, "That is... obvious, I would say, seeing as you're on his doorstep. What do you want."
Blade looked at him, steadily regaining her composure. She shook her head, "Is that any of your business?" she asked him, easily.
"Well, yes, actually. I'm Norman."
"A pleasure. I'm Blade."
"Blade?" his eyes flickered over her, taking in her highwayman's jacket and her weapons, and, even more intensely, her Will lines, "Never heard of you."
"Well. Tales of my exploits probably haven't travelled this far over the river." Her tone was sarcastic - she more than often got very irritated with her fame, and, on occasions, detested people asking about her many heroic acts.
The man clocked the bitterness in the words, and nodded, slowly, "I work for Reaver. What do you want with him."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't. He'll probably shoot you the second you set foot in the door anyway."
She looked at him, "Shoot me? Why would he shoot me?"
"Why wouldn't he shoot you?" he saw her raised eyebrow, and shook his head, returning to her question: "Maybe you'll say the wrong thing. Maybe he'll tire of you. Maybe you're seeking to kill him and he'll get there first. Or maybe he'll just do it for the hell of it. He does that."
Blade looked at him, stuck between disbelief, anger and grim resignation. And, also, a spark of frustration. She had come to this godforsaken hellhole expecting to find a Hero who happened to be a pirate. What she had found was a pirate who happened to be a Hero. And she hadn't even met the man yet.
"He's a pirate." She murmured, slowly.
He shot her a smile, "That's right, princess. He's a pirate. And what would a thing like you want with a pirate."
She gave a sigh, shaking her head, "I'm here to... to discuss a... mutually beneficial arrangement. I'm here on business."
He looked her over, "You're a whore? I should have guessed."
Blade raised an eyebrow, and then detected the slightest sense of humour in his words, and gave a small smile, "No. Sorry. Not... that sort of business. I'm a Hero."
"Is that right, princess. Well. However... heroic you might be, I'm afraid you're out of luck. He's not in."
"Not in?"
"Not in." He confirmed, simply.
She paused, "Then where is he."
Norman shrugged, "I don't know, I'm afraid. His ship's still docked, so he's still in Bloodstone. Take a look yourself."
She shook her head, stuck between frustration and amusement, "Bloodstone is a big town, sir. Where do you suggest I try?"
He shrugged again, "Try all the bars."
"And failing that?"
He smirked, "Try all the brothels."
She raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, what?"
"You heard me, princess. Try the brothels. Lord Reaver's quite fond of one down Bloodstone Hill, just down the road, you could try there."
"Lord Reaver?" She repeated, sceptically. The man just raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head, "You're saying that Reaver, Pirate King, is only ever here, in a bar, or in a... brothel?"
He smiled again, "Nope. He sometimes goes out to sea, too. He is a pirate, after all."
A pirate... Blade shook her head, distastefully. She'd never met a pirate she'd liked.
She gave a weary sigh, shaking her head again, "Brothels aren't exactly my speciality. Bars I can do. He's not in The Leper's Arms, I was there not half an hour ago."
"There are many bars in Bloodstone, princess. Same for the brothels. If you're gunna search them all, it will take you a few years of your pretty life."
"Then how do you suggest I find him?"
He paused, thinking about it, and then shook his head, "Try asking the whores. Those gals seem to know where Reaver is pretty much permanently. And likewise the other way round, probably."
"Try asking the whores... well, it's not the most obscene advice I've been given since ending up in this hole."
He gave a dry laugh, "I guess you're right there, princess. Travel safe, now. It'd be a shame to see another dead traveller around here. Especially one so..."
"So what." She asked, her voice low, echoing warning.
He smiled, slowly, "Never mind. Just travel safe, princess. Look out for that pretty little head of yours. Hate to see you losing it."
"I'll watch my back."
He looked at her, amused, "I think you'd be safer watching others'."
"You lookin' for a good time?"
Blade winced despite herself, "Actually, no. I'm looking for Reaver."
The whore raised her eyebrows, "Aren't we all?" she leant back against the wall she had been standing by and gave a satisfied smile, "What a man..."
She forced herself not to roll her eyes, "Yeah. Sure. Any idea where he is?"
"Not a clue, sweetheart. Hasn't been round my way for 'bout a week."
"Would that be because you're a sycophantic bint who spends her time selling herself outside of Fiendish Fashions?"
She wrinkled her brow, "Syco-what?"
Blade sighed, "Never mind. Anyway, considering what I've heard about him you're probably just his type..."
"And you're not? Just who are you? You're new, aint ya?"
"Yes, I'm... new. I just came in through Wraithmarsh, hence..." she made a vague gesture to her dishevelled appearance, the dirt so recently combed from her hair, the blood she hadn't managed to get out of her jacket.
Her eyes widened, "You made it outta Wraithmarsh? Nothing comes from there but ghosts!"
"Yeah, well, it was pretty close. Only just made it, as a matter of fact..."
"But you got through?" she shook her head, incredulously, "And you're talking about me being his type!"
Blade frowned, "Sorry?"
Her laugh pierced through the Hero's brain, and she gave a small, sly smile, "Reaver will take a right fancy to you. Lucky girl..."
She shook her head, firmly, "I don't think so. He is definitely not my type."
The whore was suddenly back to 'business', "Oh, so you're that way inclined... Good to know. So what d'ya say, treat - somewhere private?"
"Sorry, did you just call me treat?"
"Oh, come on! Let me show you the secrets of the universe."
She almost laughed, "No thanks. Really." Then she looked at her for a second, "What's your name."
"Roxa."
"Roxa. Interesting. And how much do you charge, Roxa."
"Ten gold." Roxa replied, smiling slightly, "No negotiations, mind."
"Sure." Blade dug in her pocket, taking out some change and counting it, quickly, "Here's... thirty-five. I need you to do me a favour."
"Anything." The tone of her voice made Jaina's stomach clench.
"Not that. I want you to look in Bloodstone's brothels. I want you to see if you can find Reaver."
"That would take hours!" she protested, immediately, "I can't leave here, my clients -"
"You will be well paid." Blade interrupted, firmly, "You get thirty-five now, come back to me after finding Reaver and I'll give you fifty more. That should cover your... business."
Roxa hesitated, looking at her. Then she nodded, reluctantly, "Okay. Fine. I'll do it."
"Thank you." She went into her holster and took out a short dagger, well-crafted and strong, passing her the handle end, "Give him this. Tell him Blade... hopes he enjoyed his entertainment. Tell him I'll call later today."
The prostitute nodded, quickly pushing the coins and the knife away in the fold of what could debatably be called a dress, "What else should I tell him?"
"What d'you mean."
"Well... he'll want to know your name."
She shook her head, "I've already told you. I'm Blade. We'll keep to that for now."
"And he'll want to know what you look like."
"Then tell him what I look like. I couldn't care less."
The woman looked at her for a moment, "You said Reaver wasn't your type. Are you gay or are you insane."
Jaina raised an eyebrow, and then shook her head, wearily, "Just because I don't want to get involved with a pirate doesn't make me insane. Or gay."
"You haven't met Reaver, have you."
"No, no I haven't. And don't give me any of that simpering rubbish. I've stopped before three prostitutes already and they just seemed content to rant on and on about him until they're blue in the face. Just, please, do as I've asked. When you're finished, I don't know this place very well, I'll be around here somewhere. Just find Reaver. Okay?"
"Okay."
She turned away, but, before she could leave, Blade called after her: "Do you really get any satisfaction out of doing what you do."
Roxa winked, smiling, "From Reaver I do. Catch you later... Blade."