The Free Company

I

The knock came sooner than expected. Nika's brush paused mid-stroke as she glanced across her room at the door. Tarek had told her already that an important client was coming this evening, but it was far too early for that; that was barely an hour ago, and in all her years he had always given her at least two to prepare in even the direst circumstances. It was probably one of the other girls, wanting to borrow a brush or some highlights or a handful of tea leaves. She huffed and turned her eyes back to her vanity mirror to continue her brushing.

Even two hours of advance time was pushing it, for a creature like her. She didn't have it in her to be boastful, but there was a good reason why she was one of Tarek's most lucrative girls, and she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride when she caught eye of herself in the mirror. But natural beauty must be carefully nurtured and constantly maintained, and she spent no small amount of time ensuring that she looked her best for each and every client--barring those who specifically requested a more natural appearance, of course. But the majority of her clients expected perfection, and she was pleased to give it to them.

The other girls would be content with giving their hair a few good brushes, but for Nika, her luxuriously long mane demanded greater attention: its pure, bright white glittered with natural iridescence, and upon being thoroughly brushed out to its richest volume, her hair practically sparkled like a cascade of diamonds over her back and shoulders. She was not yet there tonight, having only given herself one complete brushing so far. And after that, she would need to polish the scales on her cheeks to bring out their aquamarine sparkle. Once, a client had compared her to a rolling ocean wave, a metaphor that secretly tickled her; ever since then she had made sure to buff her scales everywhere she could reach them. If she had time, she would even recruit one of the other girls to polish her back; she supposed she might not have the time for that this evening.

The door knocked again, and she exhaled sharply. Everyone knew better than to interrupt her preparations. But she mustn't allow her annoyance to mar her appearance; carefully she smoothed out her brief irritation into a calm and inviting smile. It was good practice. That gentle cervine smile would be the first thing a client would see, brilliant golden horn rising from her forehead, flanked by waterfalls of pearlescent mane crashing upon lustrous aqua shoulders. Often that alone was enough to arrest them, even those accustomed to beauty--and that was before they had even looked at the rest of her.

She set her brush down on the vanity and rose to cross the room, plucking her gown from the edge of her bed as she went and draping it around her insouciantly. The dark purple fabric was designed to contrast her white fur, drawing more attention to those few places that would be bared to view and enticing the viewer to desire yet more. Tarek claimed that purple was a royal color, too, and would subtly encourage clients to imagine they were consorting with a queen, a fantasy many would pay well to see convincingly executed. She tied the robe off roughly in front with a gold sash, intending only to shoo away her interruptions and finish her own tasks. She still had to polish her scales and her hooves, brush out the fluff of hair at the tip of her tail, comb down her feathering, apply a hint of kohl to her eyes, make her bed, fluff the pillows... so much to do. She hurried to the door, half-dressed, and pulled it open.

Tarek stood on the other side, hand lifted as if about to knock. He wore a curious expression, impatient and worried. Next to him stood a man she didn't recognize--a man whom she had to crane her head up to even look at. She'd have called him a wolf, if that wolf were the size of a tank. He was easily a head taller than Tarek, who, as an equine, was almost a foot taller than her. The wolf's shoulders were broad enough that he'd have to turn himself sideways to step into her room. Suddenly she felt very small, standing there before the two of them.

The unfamiliar man was painted in the blackest fur she'd ever seen in her life. The only interruption in that color was in his eyes, a hard-edged yellow like molten gold. Compared to the void around them, they looked practically glowing, like some nightmare come to life. Only his clothes gave him any semblance of normalcy, but even they were unusual: a set of loose military-style fatigues in an olive drab camouflage pattern and a pair of heavy combat boots. Some men liked to dress in costume or affect certain roles, but looking at this monster, she didn't get the impression that he was playing dress-up.

"Ah, Nika. I'm pleased to see you." Tarek sounded upbeat, but she could feel something like nervousness in him. With the hulking black beast next to him, she could understand. "This is our guest, Captain Stelian. Captain, this is Nika. A lovely girl, as you can see." Lovely, and completely unprepared; with her robe thrown about her and her mane half-brushed, she looked more like she'd just awakened than like she was prepared to receive a client. But oddly, Tarek didn't seem to notice. Nor did the wolf.

"Not particularly punctual, is she." It was not meant as a question. Stelian's voice was as rough as his fur was black, and though he spoke quietly, Nika almost thought she could feel his words in her bones. His effortlessly neutral expression, unmoving as a block of granite, nonetheless gave her the distinct impression of being judged. Her smile did not falter, but she found herself unable to meet his eyes.

"This is a bit of an unusual circumstance, I'm sure you'd agree," Tarek said. Captain Stelian's unflattering appraisal had left him anxious for reasons she could not fathom. Unusual circumstance? If he was concerned about losing her fee, that would be one thing, but even with as much money as she commanded, one lost client is hardly the end of the world. And Tarek was always smooth with clients--it was his business to be--but she knew him well enough to recognize when he was flustered. Would the wolf recognize it? "Nika, if you will?"

"Of course. Gentlemen." She folded her hands demurely before her and bowed her head before stepping back with a sweep of her arm. "Do come in and make yourself comfortable, Captain." She tried to make up for her relatively disheveled appearance by flourishing with a sweep of her tail as she turned to lead the pair within; concealed beneath the lay of her gown, the long and expressive limb made the fabric dance and flutter suggestively. At her invitation, Stelian followed her into her room, ducking and turning in order to do so, but his expression did not shift and he did not seat himself as she expected. She had already turned out a pair of plush seats around a dark oak table set with cups and plates, though she hadn't had any time to brew tea or place any refreshments. Perhaps it was better that he didn't test the integrity of the chair.

To her greater surprise, Tarek followed Stelian inside, and closed the door behind him. This was unusual, and a sense of creeping dread began to burble up from the pit of her stomach. Something was amiss, but she did not know what. She glanced sidelong at Tarek for guidance, but he was more focused on the wolf than on her. An awkward two seconds of silence descended upon the room after the door clicked shut, and then her instincts kicked in despite her unease. "Would the gentlemen like tea? I have a variety of..."

She trailed off as Stelian stepped in front of her and lifted a hand to grip her jaw impassively, as if he hadn't even noticed that she was speaking. He tilted her head this way and that, like he were examining her for defects. She hardly knew what to say; of all the odd reactions she'd gotten from clients, she'd never experienced anything quite like this. He released her jaw, then curled that massive paw around her horn; his grip covered all but a few inches of its entire length. A chill ran down her spine and she found herself holding her breath as he rubbed the pad of his thumb up and down the smooth surface.

"Are you familiar with kirin, Captain?" Tarek said into the silence. "Most noble creatures, and Nika is among the loveliest examples I've seen."

"You've seen many?" Stelian didn't take his eyes off of her; judging from the tone, the wolf wouldn't have cared if Tarek didn't respond. He tilted her horn abruptly, moving it an inch to the left like a lever and taking the rest of her head with it. She felt her cheeks flush, but carefully maintained her smile. Was this some kind of prearranged scenario to satisfy a particularly specific client?

"Ah--not as such, no. A few, in my travels. They're exceptionally rare, Captain. Exceptionally. I count myself quite fortunate to have even the one, and our guests more fortunate still. Nika is the loveliest, as you can see." Tarek had enough discipline not to wring his hands, at least.

"Yes, very lovely." Stelian released her horn and took up one of her arms in his hands; she went along with the gesture, not knowing what else to do. This was beyond her training, and all she had to fall back upon was a certain demure compliance. She wished that she could ask, but she knew better. He pushed the wide sleeve of her gown all the way back to her shoulder, and holding her wrist in one hand, pressed his other up and down the length of her arm, hard enough to make her smile waver. "Good musculature. Not as fat as the other ones. But I expected more."

Nika wasn't sure whether to count that as a complement or an offense. Some of the other girls could be a little pudgy, certainly--idleness would do that--and she was proud to have maintained a figure in spite of her own. But to judge from his words, the wolf thought her scrawny! "Delicacy is considered an attractive trait among men of refinement, sir," she said, painting her words in dulcet tones.

Tarek's nostrils flared and he practically hissed. "Nika. Dear."

Stelian ignored him, and while his expression remained largely unchanged--she could not even be certain if he understood what she meant to convey--one brow lifted. Slightly. He released her arm, and she neatly smoothed her sleeve back out before folding her hands again. "Is it. Doctors, too, I imagine."

Tarek cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "As it happens, Captain, our lovely kirin has not only the pleasing grace and delicacy of the deer, but the strength of the ox and the resilience of the dragon. Why, did you know that they cannot catch a disease? Just like a unicorn!"

"Hnn." Stelian stepped around her to the side, and despite herself, she found her turning her head to track him. He thumped the root of her tail with one big hand, like he was testing its durability, causing the very tip to tense into a half-hearted curl. "Have you ever been sick?"

"Sir?"

"Is he telling the truth? Have you ever been sick?"

Nika glanced over to Tarek, then back to Stelian. "No, sir."

"Not even a cold?"

"No, not that I ever remember, sir."

"Fevers, headaches, nausea?"

"A headache now and again, sir. Never for long."

Stelian folded his arms. Did he not believe her? For all of his other exaggerations and creative interpretations of the truth, that was a fact that Tarek had no need to embellish: she really had never gotten sick for her entire life. Whether it was really was because she was a kirin, or because of some other factor, she couldn't say for sure.

"All right. Have you ever had any broken bones?"

The question startled her back into focus, and she furrowed her brows up at her interrogator. "No, sir." Broken bones?

"Any major trauma?"

"Trauma, sir?"

Stelian shrugged. "Shot. Stabbed. Burned."

Nika blinked. What was he getting at? "N-no, sir. Not so much as a chipped hoof. I assure you, I've never been in any such unpleasant circumstance. My clients have all been faultlessly polite. Never have any of them mistreated me. Nor good Lord Tarek, nor any of the other girls."

Stelian snorted. "A charmed life, I'm sure." He turned back to Tarek and unfolded his arms. "She's skinny, but she's got enough potential. And she's honest, at least. I'm satisfied that the rest of your claims will prove equally as accurate."

Tarek's sense of relief was palpable from across the room. "Yes, Captain, I assure you. Of course. Our girl Nika is a great treasure, make no mistake."

"Good." Somehow, without changing his expression or tone of voice, the wolf managed to sound threatening. Tarek responded appropriately, with too-big smiles and the bows he saved for the most difficult guests from the great houses. Nika felt another chill. "I'll prepare the paperwork, then. You'll be ready by midnight?"

Tarek's smile wavered. "So soon! Are you sure you don't wish to further, ah, examine--"

"No." Stelian cut him off, then returned to the door. "I'll be waiting, whenever you're ready."

The chill clinging to Nika's spine began to spread. "Gentlemen--"

"Y-yes, of course, Captain. Thank you. We won't keep you waiting. Most assuredly."

Nika cleared her throat. "Gentlemen, if I may ask--"

Stelian turned back to her, brow raised again. He snorted. "He didn't tell you, did he."

Nika looked back and forth between Stelian and Tarek. Her tail twitched behind her, restless. Tarek looked to be somewhere half between abashed and triumphant. "Tell me what? Sir."

"I'm buying your contract out. Effective immediately. You should give your girls more warning, Tarek." And then the wolf was gone, and the door closed behind him.

Nika felt light-headed; instinctively, she reached out to steady herself against the post of her bed. "Buying... my contract? But that doesn't--Tarek?"

With Stelian gone, Tarek's anxiety melted away, replaced with naked relief--and, to his credit, some small measure of apology. "You don't know how much money he put up, Nika. I don't know how he managed it. Or why. And I don't care."

With the "client" gone, Nika allowed herself a grimace. "You should. I care!" Her mind was racing. Selling her contract was--it wasn't unprecedented, but it was something she never expected to have happen to her. Not now, not so young, when she still had forty or fifty years of potential. Other girls had their contracts bought by clients on occasion. Sometimes by great houses looking for courtesans, sometimes by wealthy individuals who had taken a shine to a particular girl. But they were common, replaceable. She was Tarek's only kirin, and he wasn't going to find another one any time soon. "How much?"

"Forty million."

Nika slowly seated herself on the edge of her bed. "That can't be right. No one would pay that much. Even Estelle only went for three million. And that was to a great house. People talked about it for years!" She felt ill, suddenly--a bitter irony, given her interrogation from only a few moments ago.

"I don't know how or why. But it checked out. Believe me, girl, I looked into it. The funds are already in escrow."

"How could you do this to me?" She wasn't sure whether to cry or rage. She wanted to do both. She thought she was secure. She thought she'd made something of herself, a name for herself at least. The girls respected her. Her clients were awed by her, even the ones who were difficult with the other girls. She never wanted, she had a warm bed, she was fed and clothed... and now in the space of a few hours a terrifying nasty rude beast of a dog was going to drag her away to who-knows-where and do gods-know-what to her. "You should have told me, at least!"

Tarek's expression fell, and he dared to venture to seat himself on the bed next to her. "This was... unusually sudden for everyone involved. I was only contacted a week ago. I verified the account two days ago. I had no way of knowing if he would even go through with it, before or after seeing you."

Nika rubbed at her nose. Her eyes felt wet. "He could kill me. Or... or lock me in a cage."

"He's not going to kill you, Nika. Or lock you in a cage."

She looked sidelong at Tarek. He was blurry until she blinked. "How do you know?"

"Not even an insane person would spend forty million just to kill or cage someone. Not even a kirin. Listen, Nika. You're a strong, smart girl. And whatever it is that you'll be doing with him, I know you'll thrive."

She didn't think he cared about her, not really. He was good at showing concern when it was necessary, though. She wished it didn't work on her as well as it did. Was he being honest this time? He had never mistreated her. He expected her to do as he said, and "no" wasn't a word he understood, but he fed her, clothed her. Was it all just because she made him money? Was there nothing more genuine beneath that?

"And, listen, girl. Once I get the funds, I'm going to set aside an account for you. You deserve some of this. It should be enough to keep you well."

"It's--that's--thank you." She paused, rubbed at her nose again. "Is it just the money? If he didn't offer so much..."

"I'm as sentimental as they come, Nika. But I have a business to take care of. I have lots of girls and they all need to be taken care of, too. You can't imagine how much this will help them. I can barely imagine it, and I look at ledgers all day."

"I'm just a thing." She was being obstinately pouty. She knew it. But she didn't care.

Tarek sighed. "You were always just a thing, girl. From the day you were born. But you've always been my thing, and I take care of my things."

"Not for much longer."

Tarek shook his head and stood. "No, not for much longer. But until I sign those papers, you still belong to me. You've been a good girl for twenty years. I appreciate that. But you're going to stay a good girl for as long as you're under this roof. Understood?"

She wiped away her eyes again and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. The deal is done. I'm sure it won't be as catastrophic as you're afraid it will be."

"Yes, sir."

Tarek crossed the room and turned the latch. "It's a few hours to midnight yet. Get undressed."

Nika stood reflexively, hands on the sash of her robe; it was half-loosed before she thought to question it. "Do you want to keep the... the client waiting?"

"He can wait. You're still mine, and I'm not going to see you again for a long time. And don't pout. You want to give me something nice to remember you by, don't you?"

"Of course. Yes." She pulled her sash apart and let her robe fall to the floor in a puddle around her hooves, though her eyes remained downcast. Only damp, now. Tarek passed her and cut the lamp beside her bed, plunging the room into darkness; a moment later, his hands were on her bared breasts. His lips found hers, and instinct and long practice took over, guiding her hands in the way they should go regardless of how she felt about it at the moment. Soon his hands lifted to her shoulders, pushed her back onto the bed; he followed after her with the raw enthusiasm of a man assured of his grand new place in the world.

She held nothing back, not when he entered her, and not when he finished inside her. She belonged to him, at least for a few hours yet--it was her duty, the task she was born to perform. He would never have cause to say she did not fulfill it, and she would not have him speak ill of her last night beneath the roof of his house. She would be a good example to the other girls. They would speak of her dedication and loyalty for years.

When he was finished, he gave her time to clean herself up and pack her things for her departure. He let her keep her jewelry, her powders and highlights, a few good dresses and gowns, and some sentimental things she'd picked up over the years. It wasn't much, only enough for two suitcases. Everything that had ever belonged to her, even remotely, enough to be held in two hands. There was no guarantee her new contract owner would even let her keep any of it. By law, anything she owned was the property of her contract owner. And the wolf didn't seem the sentimental sort.

She sat quietly on her bed, dressed in a warm outdoor robe tied with a wide sash, until the knock on her door came. It was Tarek. The papers had been signed; he was no longer her owner, but he was a man forty million royals richer. The wolf, Captain Stelian, was waiting in the vestibule wearing the same expression he had when she first saw him. He neither smiled nor frowned when she appeared, nor gave her suitcases the slightest attention. He only gestured for her to follow, and stepped out into the night.

Outside, the air was icy cold, but a utilitarian truck with a closed cab idled in the plaza just outside the building, warm inside from the heater. She tucked her luggage behind her seat and awkwardly took her place within it; riding in a vehicle was uncommon for her. She rarely had cause to ever leave the grounds, and machines in general, dirty and inelegant, made her ill at ease. Stelian took his place in the driver's seat, locked the doors, and pulled out onto the road without a word or a glance. She didn't look back.