Chapter 8: The Red Room — The Key of Oslov

Volume 15: Tales From the Sanctioned Brothel: Part 2: The Lure

Chapter 8 The Red Room

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The studio blinded Ceill at first. Emerging from the dark warehouse corridor, he stood dazzled by the lights that were everywhere, perched on stalks and hanging from rafters. They made the open, white-walled space look even bigger than it was, the ceiling high as an airplane hangar’s. In the center of the room, people hovered around a flimsy three-walled enclosure, adjusting mysterious equipment.Katya, the pinched-faced woman who had brought him from the underground city, raised a finger to her lips. Pointing to a handful of folding chairs, she said, “Sit in the third row, Fir, and don’t make a sound. They’re taping.”That was when Ceill realized the enclosure was actually a set, with a backdrop representing a nice bedroom like a Councillor’s. Just outside it stood Kai, bending over a big camera mounted on a tripod. He lifted his head and said in a commanding voice, “Go again!”Ceill tiptoed to the last row of folding chairs, holding his breath.He watched as Stefan and an older man acted out a scene, with frequent interruptions from Kai and a young woman who kept making a clapping sound and yelling, “Marker!” They repeated the scene at least eight times before Kai was satisfied, with long breaks in between. Sometimes Kai went and talked to the actors about saying things differently, and sometimes he fiddled with the camera’s controls and consulted with the people who moved the lights.It took Ceill three takes to figure out that the scene was set in the Sanctioned Brothel, where Darius was servicing his first patron. He watched in horrified fascination as the actors ran through their short interaction again, the patron lascivious and Darius practically daring him to do his worst.“I want to see the fear, Stefan,” Kai yelled. “You’re mouthing off, but underneath, you’re nervous. You don’t really want to do this.”Stefan scowled and made an obscene gesture behind Kai’s back, to the delight of the crew. But the next time they repeated the scene, his eyes glittered as he looked at the older man, and he fidgeted, his body taut as if he were tempted to run.Those tiny shifts, Ceill realized, were acting. He couldn’t imagine having that sort of control of his face and body.Four more takes later, he was no longer horrified or fascinated. He was finding this rather tiresome. But he was still brimming with questions when Kai said, “Okay, that’s a wrap,” and everybody started milling around and chatting.Feeling terribly out of place, Ceill stayed glued to the chair, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. When Stefan came over and flopped down in the neighboring seat, his breath caught hard.Stefan grinned. “Do I scare you, young Fir?”“No! I . . .” Ceill blinked. “It’s just weird being here. Seeing how you do it. And I didn’t know it was true about, uh, Darius going to the Sanctioned. Somebody at school said so, but I didn’t believe him.”“Does that scandalize you?” Stefan was getting his devilish look again. “Does it bother you that Darius would let himself fall so far?”“No!” Ceill reddened. Everybody said most actors were whores of some kind or another. “I mean, it’s an honorable posting, right? As long as it’s sanctioned.”“Sure, an ‘honorable posting.’” Stefan took a rice bar from his pocket and munched on it. “That must be why Kai’s Strutter parents still won’t speak to him.”“Is Kai . . .” Ceill wasn’t sure of the least offensive word to use. “Does he work at the Brothel?”“Not the way you’re thinking. But he used to, and he still lives there. So do I.” The dark eyes fixed on Ceill’s, daring him to disapprove. “I guess your folks’ve warned you about people like us. Bottom feeders, whores, scum of the city.”“No, actually.” Ceill thought of Tilrey, and blood flooded his cheeks again. “My, uh . . . my father’s secretary used to be his kettle boy. They’re not ashamed of it. They’ve been together my whole life.”He wished so badly he had better words to describe things. When they were alone with him, Dad and Tilrey often called each other “husband,” but he’d learned very early not to repeat the word outside the family. “Secretary” was completely inadequate; they were partners in every sense of the word.“How sweet,” Stefan said, rolling his eyes, and Ceill knew he didn’t understand. He was probably assuming, like everybody else, that Tilrey just had a cushy long-term arrangement with the Councillor.“Anyway,” the actor continued, “Kai says he has some script pages to show you. Wanna come see how the camera works?”Ceill did, very much. But after seeing Kai at work, he was more shy of him than he’d been last time. “If I’m not bothering him too much,” he said, ducking his head.“We’re done for the night anyway. C’mon.”When they came over, Kai broke off his conversation with a crew member, making Ceill blush yet again. “I wasn’t sure we’d see you!” he said, clasping Ceill’s hand as if the two of them were old friends. “Come over here and see how the magic happens.”Then there was no room in Ceill’s head for anything but the streammaker’s equipment. He watched, rapt, as Kai showed him how to focus, pan, and zoom and explained the rules of framing.Everything looked different on the camera’s viewfinder screen, and you controlled everything viewers saw. Imagine if he could do that in his own life—light himself in a way that made him look more confident; coax people’s attention away from everything embarrassing.He asked Kai questions, and Kai answered with more demonstrations. Before Ceill knew it, the crew had packed up for the night and departed, and they were nearly alone in the echoing studio.“Kai-ai,” Stefan complained from the two chairs he was sprawled across. “Everybody’s left without us.”“We’re not going to the café tonight. We need a quieter place for talking.” Kai lifted the camera off its tripod and zipped it into a bag, then turned to Ceill. “I still want to give you some pages and have a chat about Thurskein. Unless you have a curfew?”Ceill shook his head. His mom was in Thurskein for a few days, and he’d taken the opportunity to use her apartment, telling Gersha he was staying at school to study. “Nobody’s waiting up for me.”“Good!” Kai exchanged a swift glance with Stefan. “I thought we could have a nicer tea at our digs. My wife loves guests, and she makes an excellent butter tea.”Stefan tossed his rice-bar wrapper at Kai. “Stop trying to impress him! You two aren’t even married.”“We are in spirit.” A furrow had appeared between Kai’s brows. “Of course,” he added, turning to Ceill, “I understand if you’d rather not. Our digs are perfectly safe and comfortable, but they’re not what you’re used to.”Ceill realized all at once where they were talking about—the Sanctioned Brothel. Stefan had said, He still lives there. And so do I.He’d only seen the place from the outside: a squat black slab at the core of the city, right on the edge of the Sector. But he knew the crude jokes his classmates told about the Brothel. He’d just watched—eight times!—a scene in which a boy from a good family was sucked into its gaping maw.At least Tilrey was never one of those. Sanctioned or not, it’s a degrading way to live. Who had said that? His mother or grandmother, in some overheard conversation long ago.Stefan was on his feet, zipping up his fleece. “The kid’s scared,” he said. “Can’t blame him. First time I came through that door, I was petrified.”“He’s a guest, and we won’t use the front door, you dunce. We’ll use the service entrance, nice and discreet.” Kai looked at Ceill with obvious worry, despite his light tone. “Up to you, young Fir. I promise no harm will come to you. But if it unsettles you, being there—”“No!” Ceill’s cheeks burned. He’d heard boys in his dorm-pod spin elaborate fantasies about sneaking into the Brothel just for a glimpse of the Jewels. He couldn’t say no to a chance to have tea in that forbidden realm, even if it did fill him with a dread he couldn’t define.He was not Tilrey. No one would ever force him to do things he didn’t want to.“I’m not scared,” he said, shooting a defiant glance at Stefan. “I’m happy to accept your generous invitation.”The service entrance to the Brothel looked like any loading dock, cold and empty after hours. Kai pressed a buzzer beside a heavy metal door. After a moment, it opened to reveal a tall man with flame-red hair and something shiny dangling from one earlobe, which tinkled softly as he moved aside to let them pass.Ceill couldn’t help staring. He’d seen a few Northmen and –women wearing earrings, but no one in Redda did. And the man’s tidy gray jerkin and trousers indicated he was R-5, perhaps the steward of this place, far from any sort of outlaw.The redhead stared straight back. His kohl-lined eyes widened. “Do I know you, lad?”“Mind your manners, Ansha.” Kai led Ceill past the steward into a dim hallway. “And none of your off-color wit, either. Our guest is a fine lad from a very good family.”“I wasn’t trying to make a joke.” The steward just kept looking at Ceill. “What family, if I may ask?”“You mayn’t.” Kai grabbed Ceill’s arm and steered him onward, calling over his shoulder, “Where’s Einara set up?”“Red Room,” the steward said.They reached the Red Room through a labyrinth of corridors—first narrow, unadorned concrete, then wood-paneled with soft carpeting and lights tucked artfully above eye level. This part of the Brothel was as luxurious as any dwelling Ceill had ever known. But as the door of the Red Room swung open, he realized his standard of luxury needed resetting.This was no Oslov room. The walls were covered with textured paper, or perhaps even fabric, in florid shades of scarlet and amethyst. The lamps were draped with filmy scarves of the same colors. A thick carpet with an alien pattern covered the floor, and enormous ceramic vessels held an assortment of tropical plants like the ones at the Restaurant, their reptilian stalks capped by drooping flowers. The air had a sweet, smoky tinge that reminded Ceill of the forbidden pipes that Aleks and his friends smoked.As he stood gawking, a woman rose from the low table and came toward him, holding out her hands.She was dressed in a crimson robe with a long skirt and a sash that emphasized her narrow waist, and she took Ceill’s breath away. Women in general held no great sexual interest for him, and this was a woman closer to his mother’s age than his own, but he couldn’t help staring. The way she held her head and shoulders, the noble symmetry of her features, the piercing blue eyes—there was something savage and elevated about her at once. A Feudal lady might look this way.She inclined her head and said in perfect Reddan Oslov, “You honor us, young Fir.”Ceill flushed and forgot his manners. “I—I—what is this place?”“A room where we normally entertain patrons,” the woman said. Her voice was low and sweet, but with a tinge of irony that reminded him of Stefan. “It’s been adorned in the fashion of a Harbourer mansion. Do you like it?”“It’s beautiful.” He hastily offered her his hand. “Thank you so much for having me, Fir’n . . .”The woman clasped his hand like an equal without having to be asked to do so. Her eyes sized him up, neutral but intent. “Einara.”“Derán. Einara Derán. She’s the deputy director here.” Kai sounded flustered, as if Einara threw him off balance, too. He bustled around pulling out seats at the low table, ushering Ceill into one and Stefan into the other. Then he mumbled something about fetching the tea tray and disappeared through a tapestry-covered opening.“I’ve never seen this room before,” said Stefan, who seemed perfectly at his ease with Einara.“If you saw patrons, you would, and often.” Einara sat down between them, the skirts of her robe settling around her with a soft shiver. “Only R-11s can lawfully enjoy this sort of luxury—or decadence, if you will.”Was it decadence? Ceill felt lightheaded. Gersha had raised him on stories about Harbour, promising to take him there for a visit when he was of age. But until this moment he hadn’t understood just how different a place could be from Oslov. Imagine having all these colors around you, all the time.Even Einara seemed foreign and new, though perhaps that was an illusion created by her garments. Hadn’t Kai called her his wife? She couldn’t be foreign, then.“My father’s very fond of Harbour,” he said, reaching for the first thing that came to mind—then worried that he was showing off.“His father the Councillor,” Stefan drawled. “Do you know, Einara, we’re in the presence of a Linnett?”“Be decent, Stefan,” Einara said simply. To Ceill she said, “I apologize. People like us tend to be somewhat over-conscious of rank.”“It’s fine,” Ceill muttered. She gave him a strange feeling, itchy and off-kilter and excited at once, that reminded him of Aleks Snowblind.“Ah, but it’s not always fine. No one deserves to be treated with rudeness or resentment.” Einara rose to take the heavy tea tray from Kai, who’d gotten himself tangled in the door tapestry. “Let me pour, my love.”Ceill was grateful for the interval of pouring and serving, which gave him time to compose himself. On the way here, he hadn’t given a single thought to Kai’s “wife,” let alone expected her to dominate the gathering. Even Kai, who’d been so firmly in charge at the studio, was quietly handing around the rice cakes as if waiting to receive his cues from her.When they’d all had their first sips, Einara turned to Ceill again. “Kai tells me you’re something of an expert on Thurskein. Tell me, how does a Councillor’s son come to spend so much time in a Labourer city?”“I’m not an expert! I just have some experience.” Was she making fun of him, despite the cool respect in her tone?In as few words as possible, Ceill repeated what he’d told Kai and Stefan about his mother’s job and his unusual upbringing. With Einara’s eyes fixed attentively on him, he found himself admitting more: “When I was little, I even liked ’Skein better than Redda because we went outdoors during school hours and ran around in the fresh air, instead of just in the gym.”“Best of both worlds, eh, young Fir?” Kai said.Einara kept her eyes on Ceill. “You must have a much broader view of the world than your peers in Redda.”“I don’t know.” Was she trying to flatter him? “Whenever I came back from ’Skein to Redda, they made fun of me here. Called me Dak Drudgebound. I tried to tell them what they were missing, but I guess that made me stupid—in their minds, anyway.”“Strutter schoolboys are monsters,” Kai said airily. “It’s like a badge of honor not to be interested in anything but your Notification and your dream posting—eh, Stefan?”Stefan’s eyes flashed. “Speak for yourself. I was never a Strutter.”“Neither was I, technically.”Einara’s gaze hadn’t moved from Ceill, as if the other two weren’t even there. “But of course,” she said, “being the son of a Linnett and a Gádden, you must have provoked envy among your classmates. And then looking the way you do.”What did she mean? Oh. He blushed yet again. “Nobody’s jealous of me. Believe me. I’m not very technev. I’m nowhere near the top of my class.”“Always this obsession with being ‘technical,’” Einara said. “Kai has tried to explain it to me, but I fear I may never understand. I wasn’t born an Oslov, you see,” she added in the same placid tone. “I’m just a poor barbarian who was given the priceless gift of your citizenship.”An Outer? That explained the strange Feudal air about her, despite her Reddan accent. Ceill had never met an actual Outer before, though Aleks and the other Northmen claimed to be on good terms with some. “Do you worship the Spark, then?” he asked curiously. “Or that other thing—the fanning out of the light?” In the air, he traced one of the symbols the Northmen favored.A slow smile curved her lips. “In my tribe, we spoke of the Light Web. How would you know about any of that, young Fir?”“Ceill knows some Free Northmen,” Kai said. “Didn’t you say so in the café?”Oh, Ceill regretted that slip now. “I know of them,” he said tightly. “Everyone in Sector Six does. With the beards and hair, they’re hard to miss.”“I’m sure a Councillor’s son would never associate with such malcontents,” Einara said.Was she making fun of Ceill, the way Stefan sometimes did? He didn’t like it. “Actually,” he said, “when I was thirteen, I entered one of the Northmen’s athletic competitions and won—sort of. Their leader himself gave me a token.”Einara rested her chin on her palm. “Tell me.”Ceill told her the story, omitting the part where Aleks Snowblind inadvertently and momentously revealed to him that they were both misbirths. “I expected him to hate me for being from an Upstart family, but he was kind, even though I’d broken the rules of the contest and practically given myself a concussion. Some people say the Northmen hate Redda and want to bring it down, but I don’t think that’s true.”“No?” The gauzy lights reflected in Einara’s eyes. “What do you think the Northmen want?”“I don’t know.” Ceill gave himself a little shake. He couldn’t seem to be sensible tonight. “I think maybe they want . . . respect. People in ’Skein aren’t blank slates that people from Redda can come in and write on. They have their own culture, their own goals.”“That’s good.” Kai slipped a notebook from his fleece and scribbled in it. “Someone needs to tell Bronia that in the next episode. Before I forget—” He reached under the table and handed Ceill a folder. “That’s a new scene I just drafted—the Sector Supervisor giving Bronia what-for. Reminding her of the dignity of manual labor and all that. That’s part of the ‘culture’ of Thurskein, right?”“I guess.” There was a lot more to it than that, but if Ceill started talking again with Einara gazing at him, he might end up confessing to his ongoing secret meetings with Aleks Snowblind. “I should probably go,” he said, tucking the folder under his arm. “It’s way after midnight.”Einara raised a watch to her eyes in a languid movement. “So it is. Thank you for the conversation, Ceill. It was a pleasure to meet you.”“Thank you, too. Uh. You’re welcome.” Was she patronizing him the way adults sometimes did? But her expression had nothing overdone about it.“You’re always welcome here. If you come again, and you’re interested, I can tell you a bit about life in the Wastes.” She shot a wry glance at Kai. “Not everyone is interested, believe me.”“I would be,” Ceill said. “Very much.”Einara rose and smiled radiantly, making his chest swell with warmth as if he were standing directly in the sun. “Let me walk you out.”They accompanied Ceill to the door of the loading dock, Einara carrying the tea tray. When the outer door had closed behind the Linnett boy, Kai said, “Why didn’t you ask him about Tilrey Bronn? I thought that was the point—to get closer to him.”“Shh.” Einara cut a glance at the hovering Brothel steward. Thanks to her efforts, Ansha was more loyal to her than not—unlike his predecessor, Svesinov, who had retired some years ago. But there was always a remote possibility he might try to curry favor with Hulda by reporting what he’d seen tonight.“We need to move slowly with the boy,” she said as they stepped back into the overheated air of the Brothel. “He’ll be back here, believe me.”“How can you be sure? He seemed scared stiff.”“He was nervous at first, wasn’t he?” Ceill’s shyness had come as a surprise to her, given his uncanny resemblance to his father in other respects. Though Einara had never met Tilrey Bronn in the flesh, she imagined him as an older version of a Jewel, someone whose natural gifts made him headstrong and arrogant.Well, Ceill was a child still, and Oslovs sheltered their children to an outrageous degree. By the time she was seventeen, she already knew how to kill a man with her bare hands and had several times come close to doing so.Ceill Linnett would never know how close he’d come to drinking a dose of poison in his tea. She had seriously considered obtaining some fraction of her revenge immediately, but her pragmatism had won out.And she was lucky it had. Besides being a line to Tilrey, the boy appeared to be on cordial terms with Aleks Snowblind.As they reached the kitchen, the steward came up behind them. “Was that kid really a Strutter?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “He looks just like a kettle boy I knew when I was Lindahl’s.”Kai shot a glance at Einara, who said, “The boy’s mother is a Linnett.”“No kidding.” The steward’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Makes you wonder, though, don’t it? Tilrey never was happy with his station.”“Tilrey Bronn? You know him, Ansha?” The man was always name-dropping the politicians he’d serviced back when he was a kettle boy himself. Perhaps Einara should have listened better.“Knew him. Before Lindahl screwed me over and I ended up here.” Ansha grimaced. He was still fit and slender, and you could see what a glowingly handsome boy he’d been in his day. He insisted on wearing that ridiculous earring as a memento of his former occupation, given to him by a Councillor long ago.“I always thought Tilrey did a shit job as a whore,” he added, warming to his subject. “I mean, he was gorgeous, but he didn’t even try to make those crumbling Councillors think he wanted them. He couldn’t be bothered to crack a smile. Me, I made them happy.” He looked wistful. “But I guess the joke was on me, because Gersha Gádden fell madly in love with Tilrey and made him his secretary basically for life. Meanwhile Lindahl tossed me out and told me to fend for myself.”Kai looked more interested now. “I forgot you were with Lindahl.”“I’ve told you a hundred times.” Ansha lifted his chin. “I was Fir Councillor Lindahl’s trusted piece of currency for years.”“The bastard didn’t reward you for all those years of service? What was his excuse?”Ansha’s face hardened at the memory. “I wasn’t smart enough.” He imitated a high-named Upstart’s drawl: “You’re not qualified to be my secretary, and it would go against meritocracy for me to give you the posting. Fucking prig. When I heard what he did to Stefan, I wasn’t a bit surprised.”“The man has a lot to answer for.” Kai glanced at Einara as he said it, and she realized he was silently asking permission to pursue his own ends.She arched a brow—be careful, run everything by me—before giving him the smallest nod. Why not let him and Stefan have a little revenge plot of their own?“Not like we can do much about it, though,” Ansha said. “Lindahl’s tight with Lindblom, and she’s head of this new Peninsula Coalition. They say she could be GM soon.”Kai leaned toward the steward conspiratorially. “You, me, and Stefan should talk.”They fell behind, whispering together, while Einara went into the kitchen to wash up the tea things, trusting Kai to keep her goals in mind, too. Ansha was a gossip. While Kai was plotting how to give Lindahl a comeuppance, he would also pump the steward for any info about Bronn she’d missed.But now she had something much better than second-hand knowledge. From the way Ceill Linnett had listened to her, the way he’d gazed at her in that tacky faux-Harbourer room, and most importantly the way he’d stared at Stefan, she knew he’d be back.She would reel him in artfully, as Hulda had taught her, figuring out what he wanted and giving it to him. She would bide her time before she brought up Aleks Snowblind again, or Tilrey Bronn at all.The Brothel was where fantasies came to life. And even a young Linnett had fantasies, didn’t he?

Katya, the pinched-faced woman who had brought him from the underground city, raised a finger to her lips. Pointing to a handful of folding chairs, she said, “Sit in the third row, Fir, and don’t make a sound. They’re taping.”

That was when Ceill realized the enclosure was actually a set, with a backdrop representing a nice bedroom like a Councillor’s. Just outside it stood Kai, bending over a big camera mounted on a tripod. He lifted his head and said in a commanding voice, “Go again!”

Ceill tiptoed to the last row of folding chairs, holding his breath.

He watched as Stefan and an older man acted out a scene, with frequent interruptions from Kai and a young woman who kept making a clapping sound and yelling, “Marker!” They repeated the scene at least eight times before Kai was satisfied, with long breaks in between. Sometimes Kai went and talked to the actors about saying things differently, and sometimes he fiddled with the camera’s controls and consulted with the people who moved the lights.

It took Ceill three takes to figure out that the scene was set in the Sanctioned Brothel, where Darius was servicing his first patron. He watched in horrified fascination as the actors ran through their short interaction again, the patron lascivious and Darius practically daring him to do his worst.

“I want to see the fear, Stefan,” Kai yelled. “You’re mouthing off, but underneath, you’re nervous. You don’t really want to do this.”

Stefan scowled and made an obscene gesture behind Kai’s back, to the delight of the crew. But the next time they repeated the scene, his eyes glittered as he looked at the older man, and he fidgeted, his body taut as if he were tempted to run.

Those tiny shifts, Ceill realized, were acting. He couldn’t imagine having that sort of control of his face and body.

Four more takes later, he was no longer horrified or fascinated. He was finding this rather tiresome. But he was still brimming with questions when Kai said, “Okay, that’s a wrap,” and everybody started milling around and chatting.

Feeling terribly out of place, Ceill stayed glued to the chair, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. When Stefan came over and flopped down in the neighboring seat, his breath caught hard.

Stefan grinned. “Do I scare you, young Fir?”

“No! I . . .” Ceill blinked. “It’s just weird being here. Seeing how you do it. And I didn’t know it was true about, uh, Darius going to the Sanctioned. Somebody at school said so, but I didn’t believe him.”

“Does that scandalize you?” Stefan was getting his devilish look again. “Does it bother you that Darius would let himself fall so far?”

“No!” Ceill reddened. Everybody said most actors were whores of some kind or another. “I mean, it’s an honorable posting, right? As long as it’s sanctioned.”

“Sure, an ‘honorable posting.’” Stefan took a rice bar from his pocket and munched on it. “That must be why Kai’s Strutter parents still won’t speak to him.”

“Is Kai . . .” Ceill wasn’t sure of the least offensive word to use. “Does he work at the Brothel?”

“Not the way you’re thinking. But he used to, and he still lives there. So do I.” The dark eyes fixed on Ceill’s, daring him to disapprove. “I guess your folks’ve warned you about people like us. Bottom feeders, whores, scum of the city.”

“No, actually.” Ceill thought of Tilrey, and blood flooded his cheeks again. “My, uh . . . my father’s secretary used to be his kettle boy. They’re not ashamed of it. They’ve been together my whole life.”

He wished so badly he had better words to describe things. When they were alone with him, Dad and Tilrey often called each other “husband,” but he’d learned very early not to repeat the word outside the family. “Secretary” was completely inadequate; they were partners in every sense of the word.

“How sweet,” Stefan said, rolling his eyes, and Ceill knew he didn’t understand. He was probably assuming, like everybody else, that Tilrey just had a cushy long-term arrangement with the Councillor.

“Anyway,” the actor continued, “Kai says he has some script pages to show you. Wanna come see how the camera works?”

Ceill did, very much. But after seeing Kai at work, he was more shy of him than he’d been last time. “If I’m not bothering him too much,” he said, ducking his head.

“We’re done for the night anyway. C’mon.”

When they came over, Kai broke off his conversation with a crew member, making Ceill blush yet again. “I wasn’t sure we’d see you!” he said, clasping Ceill’s hand as if the two of them were old friends. “Come over here and see how the magic happens.”

Then there was no room in Ceill’s head for anything but the streammaker’s equipment. He watched, rapt, as Kai showed him how to focus, pan, and zoom and explained the rules of framing.

Everything looked different on the camera’s viewfinder screen, and you controlled everything viewers saw. Imagine if he could do that in his own life—light himself in a way that made him look more confident; coax people’s attention away from everything embarrassing.

He asked Kai questions, and Kai answered with more demonstrations. Before Ceill knew it, the crew had packed up for the night and departed, and they were nearly alone in the echoing studio.

“Kai-ai,” Stefan complained from the two chairs he was sprawled across. “Everybody’s left without us.”

“We’re not going to the café tonight. We need a quieter place for talking.” Kai lifted the camera off its tripod and zipped it into a bag, then turned to Ceill. “I still want to give you some pages and have a chat about Thurskein. Unless you have a curfew?”

Ceill shook his head. His mom was in Thurskein for a few days, and he’d taken the opportunity to use her apartment, telling Gersha he was staying at school to study. “Nobody’s waiting up for me.”

“Good!” Kai exchanged a swift glance with Stefan. “I thought we could have a nicer tea at our digs. My wife loves guests, and she makes an excellent butter tea.”

Stefan tossed his rice-bar wrapper at Kai. “Stop trying to impress him! You two aren’t even married.”

“We are in spirit.” A furrow had appeared between Kai’s brows. “Of course,” he added, turning to Ceill, “I understand if you’d rather not. Our digs are perfectly safe and comfortable, but they’re not what you’re used to.”

Ceill realized all at once where they were talking about—the Sanctioned Brothel. Stefan had said, He still lives there. And so do I.

He’d only seen the place from the outside: a squat black slab at the core of the city, right on the edge of the Sector. But he knew the crude jokes his classmates told about the Brothel. He’d just watched—eight times!—a scene in which a boy from a good family was sucked into its gaping maw.

At least Tilrey was never one of those. Sanctioned or not, it’s a degrading way to live. Who had said that? His mother or grandmother, in some overheard conversation long ago.

Stefan was on his feet, zipping up his fleece. “The kid’s scared,” he said. “Can’t blame him. First time I came through that door, I was petrified.”

“He’s a guest, and we won’t use the front door, you dunce. We’ll use the service entrance, nice and discreet.” Kai looked at Ceill with obvious worry, despite his light tone. “Up to you, young Fir. I promise no harm will come to you. But if it unsettles you, being there—”

“No!” Ceill’s cheeks burned. He’d heard boys in his dorm-pod spin elaborate fantasies about sneaking into the Brothel just for a glimpse of the Jewels. He couldn’t say no to a chance to have tea in that forbidden realm, even if it did fill him with a dread he couldn’t define.

He was not Tilrey. No one would ever force him to do things he didn’t want to.

“I’m not scared,” he said, shooting a defiant glance at Stefan. “I’m happy to accept your generous invitation.”

The service entrance to the Brothel looked like any loading dock, cold and empty after hours. Kai pressed a buzzer beside a heavy metal door. After a moment, it opened to reveal a tall man with flame-red hair and something shiny dangling from one earlobe, which tinkled softly as he moved aside to let them pass.

Ceill couldn’t help staring. He’d seen a few Northmen and –women wearing earrings, but no one in Redda did. And the man’s tidy gray jerkin and trousers indicated he was R-5, perhaps the steward of this place, far from any sort of outlaw.

The redhead stared straight back. His kohl-lined eyes widened. “Do I know you, lad?”

“Mind your manners, Ansha.” Kai led Ceill past the steward into a dim hallway. “And none of your off-color wit, either. Our guest is a fine lad from a very good family.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a joke.” The steward just kept looking at Ceill. “What family, if I may ask?”

“You mayn’t.” Kai grabbed Ceill’s arm and steered him onward, calling over his shoulder, “Where’s Einara set up?”

“Red Room,” the steward said.

They reached the Red Room through a labyrinth of corridors—first narrow, unadorned concrete, then wood-paneled with soft carpeting and lights tucked artfully above eye level. This part of the Brothel was as luxurious as any dwelling Ceill had ever known. But as the door of the Red Room swung open, he realized his standard of luxury needed resetting.

This was no Oslov room. The walls were covered with textured paper, or perhaps even fabric, in florid shades of scarlet and amethyst. The lamps were draped with filmy scarves of the same colors. A thick carpet with an alien pattern covered the floor, and enormous ceramic vessels held an assortment of tropical plants like the ones at the Restaurant, their reptilian stalks capped by drooping flowers. The air had a sweet, smoky tinge that reminded Ceill of the forbidden pipes that Aleks and his friends smoked.

As he stood gawking, a woman rose from the low table and came toward him, holding out her hands.

She was dressed in a crimson robe with a long skirt and a sash that emphasized her narrow waist, and she took Ceill’s breath away. Women in general held no great sexual interest for him, and this was a woman closer to his mother’s age than his own, but he couldn’t help staring. The way she held her head and shoulders, the noble symmetry of her features, the piercing blue eyes—there was something savage and elevated about her at once. A Feudal lady might look this way.

She inclined her head and said in perfect Reddan Oslov, “You honor us, young Fir.”

Ceill flushed and forgot his manners. “I—I—what is this place?”

“A room where we normally entertain patrons,” the woman said. Her voice was low and sweet, but with a tinge of irony that reminded him of Stefan. “It’s been adorned in the fashion of a Harbourer mansion. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” He hastily offered her his hand. “Thank you so much for having me, Fir’n . . .”

The woman clasped his hand like an equal without having to be asked to do so. Her eyes sized him up, neutral but intent. “Einara.”

“Derán. Einara Derán. She’s the deputy director here.” Kai sounded flustered, as if Einara threw him off balance, too. He bustled around pulling out seats at the low table, ushering Ceill into one and Stefan into the other. Then he mumbled something about fetching the tea tray and disappeared through a tapestry-covered opening.

“I’ve never seen this room before,” said Stefan, who seemed perfectly at his ease with Einara.

“If you saw patrons, you would, and often.” Einara sat down between them, the skirts of her robe settling around her with a soft shiver. “Only R-11s can lawfully enjoy this sort of luxury—or decadence, if you will.”

Was it decadence? Ceill felt lightheaded. Gersha had raised him on stories about Harbour, promising to take him there for a visit when he was of age. But until this moment he hadn’t understood just how different a place could be from Oslov. Imagine having all these colors around you, all the time.

Even Einara seemed foreign and new, though perhaps that was an illusion created by her garments. Hadn’t Kai called her his wife? She couldn’t be foreign, then.

“My father’s very fond of Harbour,” he said, reaching for the first thing that came to mind—then worried that he was showing off.

“His father the Councillor,” Stefan drawled. “Do you know, Einara, we’re in the presence of a Linnett?”

“Be decent, Stefan,” Einara said simply. To Ceill she said, “I apologize. People like us tend to be somewhat over-conscious of rank.”

“It’s fine,” Ceill muttered. She gave him a strange feeling, itchy and off-kilter and excited at once, that reminded him of Aleks Snowblind.

“Ah, but it’s not always fine. No one deserves to be treated with rudeness or resentment.” Einara rose to take the heavy tea tray from Kai, who’d gotten himself tangled in the door tapestry. “Let me pour, my love.”

Ceill was grateful for the interval of pouring and serving, which gave him time to compose himself. On the way here, he hadn’t given a single thought to Kai’s “wife,” let alone expected her to dominate the gathering. Even Kai, who’d been so firmly in charge at the studio, was quietly handing around the rice cakes as if waiting to receive his cues from her.

When they’d all had their first sips, Einara turned to Ceill again. “Kai tells me you’re something of an expert on Thurskein. Tell me, how does a Councillor’s son come to spend so much time in a Labourer city?”

“I’m not an expert! I just have some experience.” Was she making fun of him, despite the cool respect in her tone?

In as few words as possible, Ceill repeated what he’d told Kai and Stefan about his mother’s job and his unusual upbringing. With Einara’s eyes fixed attentively on him, he found himself admitting more: “When I was little, I even liked ’Skein better than Redda because we went outdoors during school hours and ran around in the fresh air, instead of just in the gym.”

“Best of both worlds, eh, young Fir?” Kai said.

Einara kept her eyes on Ceill. “You must have a much broader view of the world than your peers in Redda.”

“I don’t know.” Was she trying to flatter him? “Whenever I came back from ’Skein to Redda, they made fun of me here. Called me Dak Drudgebound. I tried to tell them what they were missing, but I guess that made me stupid—in their minds, anyway.”

“Strutter schoolboys are monsters,” Kai said airily. “It’s like a badge of honor not to be interested in anything but your Notification and your dream posting—eh, Stefan?”

Stefan’s eyes flashed. “Speak for yourself. I was never a Strutter.”

“Neither was I, technically.”

Einara’s gaze hadn’t moved from Ceill, as if the other two weren’t even there. “But of course,” she said, “being the son of a Linnett and a Gádden, you must have provoked envy among your classmates. And then looking the way you do.”

What did she mean? Oh. He blushed yet again. “Nobody’s jealous of me. Believe me. I’m not very technev. I’m nowhere near the top of my class.”

“Always this obsession with being ‘technical,’” Einara said. “Kai has tried to explain it to me, but I fear I may never understand. I wasn’t born an Oslov, you see,” she added in the same placid tone. “I’m just a poor barbarian who was given the priceless gift of your citizenship.”

An Outer? That explained the strange Feudal air about her, despite her Reddan accent. Ceill had never met an actual Outer before, though Aleks and the other Northmen claimed to be on good terms with some. “Do you worship the Spark, then?” he asked curiously. “Or that other thing—the fanning out of the light?” In the air, he traced one of the symbols the Northmen favored.

A slow smile curved her lips. “In my tribe, we spoke of the Light Web. How would you know about any of that, young Fir?”

“Ceill knows some Free Northmen,” Kai said. “Didn’t you say so in the café?”

Oh, Ceill regretted that slip now. “I know of them,” he said tightly. “Everyone in Sector Six does. With the beards and hair, they’re hard to miss.”

“I’m sure a Councillor’s son would never associate with such malcontents,” Einara said.

Was she making fun of Ceill, the way Stefan sometimes did? He didn’t like it. “Actually,” he said, “when I was thirteen, I entered one of the Northmen’s athletic competitions and won—sort of. Their leader himself gave me a token.”

Einara rested her chin on her palm. “Tell me.”

Ceill told her the story, omitting the part where Aleks Snowblind inadvertently and momentously revealed to him that they were both misbirths. “I expected him to hate me for being from an Upstart family, but he was kind, even though I’d broken the rules of the contest and practically given myself a concussion. Some people say the Northmen hate Redda and want to bring it down, but I don’t think that’s true.”

“No?” The gauzy lights reflected in Einara’s eyes. “What do you think the Northmen want?”

“I don’t know.” Ceill gave himself a little shake. He couldn’t seem to be sensible tonight. “I think maybe they want . . . respect. People in ’Skein aren’t blank slates that people from Redda can come in and write on. They have their own culture, their own goals.”

“That’s good.” Kai slipped a notebook from his fleece and scribbled in it. “Someone needs to tell Bronia that in the next episode. Before I forget—” He reached under the table and handed Ceill a folder. “That’s a new scene I just drafted—the Sector Supervisor giving Bronia what-for. Reminding her of the dignity of manual labor and all that. That’s part of the ‘culture’ of Thurskein, right?”

“I guess.” There was a lot more to it than that, but if Ceill started talking again with Einara gazing at him, he might end up confessing to his ongoing secret meetings with Aleks Snowblind. “I should probably go,” he said, tucking the folder under his arm. “It’s way after midnight.”

Einara raised a watch to her eyes in a languid movement. “So it is. Thank you for the conversation, Ceill. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, too. Uh. You’re welcome.” Was she patronizing him the way adults sometimes did? But her expression had nothing overdone about it.

“You’re always welcome here. If you come again, and you’re interested, I can tell you a bit about life in the Wastes.” She shot a wry glance at Kai. “Not everyone is interested, believe me.”

“I would be,” Ceill said. “Very much.”

Einara rose and smiled radiantly, making his chest swell with warmth as if he were standing directly in the sun. “Let me walk you out.”

They accompanied Ceill to the door of the loading dock, Einara carrying the tea tray. When the outer door had closed behind the Linnett boy, Kai said, “Why didn’t you ask him about Tilrey Bronn? I thought that was the point—to get closer to him.”

“Shh.” Einara cut a glance at the hovering Brothel steward. Thanks to her efforts, Ansha was more loyal to her than not—unlike his predecessor, Svesinov, who had retired some years ago. But there was always a remote possibility he might try to curry favor with Hulda by reporting what he’d seen tonight.

“We need to move slowly with the boy,” she said as they stepped back into the overheated air of the Brothel. “He’ll be back here, believe me.”

“How can you be sure? He seemed scared stiff.”

“He was nervous at first, wasn’t he?” Ceill’s shyness had come as a surprise to her, given his uncanny resemblance to his father in other respects. Though Einara had never met Tilrey Bronn in the flesh, she imagined him as an older version of a Jewel, someone whose natural gifts made him headstrong and arrogant.

Well, Ceill was a child still, and Oslovs sheltered their children to an outrageous degree. By the time she was seventeen, she already knew how to kill a man with her bare hands and had several times come close to doing so.

Ceill Linnett would never know how close he’d come to drinking a dose of poison in his tea. She had seriously considered obtaining some fraction of her revenge immediately, but her pragmatism had won out.

And she was lucky it had. Besides being a line to Tilrey, the boy appeared to be on cordial terms with Aleks Snowblind.

As they reached the kitchen, the steward came up behind them. “Was that kid really a Strutter?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “He looks just like a kettle boy I knew when I was Lindahl’s.”

Kai shot a glance at Einara, who said, “The boy’s mother is a Linnett.”

“No kidding.” The steward’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Makes you wonder, though, don’t it? Tilrey never was happy with his station.”

“Tilrey Bronn? You know him, Ansha?” The man was always name-dropping the politicians he’d serviced back when he was a kettle boy himself. Perhaps Einara should have listened better.

“Knew him. Before Lindahl screwed me over and I ended up here.” Ansha grimaced. He was still fit and slender, and you could see what a glowingly handsome boy he’d been in his day. He insisted on wearing that ridiculous earring as a memento of his former occupation, given to him by a Councillor long ago.

“I always thought Tilrey did a shit job as a whore,” he added, warming to his subject. “I mean, he was gorgeous, but he didn’t even try to make those crumbling Councillors think he wanted them. He couldn’t be bothered to crack a smile. Me, I made them happy.” He looked wistful. “But I guess the joke was on me, because Gersha Gádden fell madly in love with Tilrey and made him his secretary basically for life. Meanwhile Lindahl tossed me out and told me to fend for myself.”

Kai looked more interested now. “I forgot you were with Lindahl.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times.” Ansha lifted his chin. “I was Fir Councillor Lindahl’s trusted piece of currency for years.”

“The bastard didn’t reward you for all those years of service? What was his excuse?”

Ansha’s face hardened at the memory. “I wasn’t smart enough.” He imitated a high-named Upstart’s drawl: “You’re not qualified to be my secretary, and it would go against meritocracy for me to give you the posting. Fucking prig. When I heard what he did to Stefan, I wasn’t a bit surprised.”

“The man has a lot to answer for.” Kai glanced at Einara as he said it, and she realized he was silently asking permission to pursue his own ends.

She arched a brow—be careful, run everything by me—before giving him the smallest nod. Why not let him and Stefan have a little revenge plot of their own?

“Not like we can do much about it, though,” Ansha said. “Lindahl’s tight with Lindblom, and she’s head of this new Peninsula Coalition. They say she could be GM soon.”

Kai leaned toward the steward conspiratorially. “You, me, and Stefan should talk.”

They fell behind, whispering together, while Einara went into the kitchen to wash up the tea things, trusting Kai to keep her goals in mind, too. Ansha was a gossip. While Kai was plotting how to give Lindahl a comeuppance, he would also pump the steward for any info about Bronn she’d missed.

But now she had something much better than second-hand knowledge. From the way Ceill Linnett had listened to her, the way he’d gazed at her in that tacky faux-Harbourer room, and most importantly the way he’d stared at Stefan, she knew he’d be back.

She would reel him in artfully, as Hulda had taught her, figuring out what he wanted and giving it to him. She would bide her time before she brought up Aleks Snowblind again, or Tilrey Bronn at all.

The Brothel was where fantasies came to life. And even a young Linnett had fantasies, didn’t he?

Chapter End Notes

I have a short chapter after this, so I’ll probably just post that later this week. Thanks for reading! <3

Chapter End Notes

I have a short chapter after this, so I’ll probably just post that later this week. Thanks for reading! <3