The long-awaited announcement had been made. King Bracca of Denholm was granting a new license. Erya had saved just enough money to apply. Once she had paid the fee, even Vassilon himself could not prevent her from taking the test. Erya was just a slave and a whore, but this contest was only open to slaves and whores. Vassilon was a Duke in the Orithea Clan, a great-grandson of Orithea herself, and Erya had belonged to him for five years, but the king had set this contest in place and nobody had the right to interfere.
If her life had gone the way she had planned, Erya would be the wife of Celyan. Celyan was not a soldier or a poet or an administrator. He was a simple chronicler, a recorder of other people's deeds. But he belonged to the Northern Quill Clan.
A clan meant security in hard times. It meant a family beyond the household. It meant there was always someone to lend a hand. It meant belonging.
But Celyan had died in an unfortunate fire. Before the marriage. Erya was left without a husband, without a clan, and without a future. She was too old to be newly betrothed. Without Celyan, Erya would be doomed to be in her father's care until he died, and then she would starve to death.
But on Erya's eighteenth birthday, her father sold her to Vassilon, Duke of the Orithea Whore Clan. She was a slave, not a member, but it was the best future her father could arrange.
She'd started out as the lowest sort of whore. She walked the streets night after night, spent her mornings sharing a bed with three other girls, and had four hours to herself in the afternoon. A street whore generally has no freedom and no money of her own. But she did have rights. And one of those rights was rewards for service.
Now, she was twenty-six. She had earned a place in a true brothel. She had her own room with a fireplace and a window. Men put money directly in her offering bowl rather than paying a pimp or madam. She was allowed five refusals a month. And her name was printed on the sign outside. Men came to Hedded House Four just to see her.
But Erya was still frightened of the future. Unless she could arrange a better Someday for herself, once age made her less attractive and she was no longer able to bring any money into the brothel or clan, the very best she could hope for was a merciful knife across her throat as she slept.
She was allowed to save money in the brothel, and House Mother Orsit had helped her invest some of it. Two caravans to Adusal and a ship to the Cheythells were carrying some good luck ebony lions that she would earn a profit from. But she was a long way from retirement.
So when the announcement had gone out, that a new license was available, Erya wanted it. She paid the fee, and on the appointed day, the House Mother gave her the day off. All she had to do was pass the test.
Erya made her way to the palace, an intimidating edifice of black and gray stone. She had been there before, servicing various members of the staff, but this time, she was allowed to enter through the front gates.
She handed over her token, proof that she'd paid her fee, to Barpik, the Palace Constable. He scowled at her, clearly remembering the street whore he'd rousted from many a tap room and tavern. He eyed her clothes, fashionable in design, though made from mediocre fabrics. He examined her token carefully, a bronze coin used for various ceremonial purposes.
Finally, he nodded, handing back the token. Barpik was no longer patrolling the city and Erya was no longer a street whore. Times had changed and they both had higher status now. He directed his lieutenant to escort her to the garden, where she would be collected by the test makers.
Erya sat nervously on a bench under a tree, considering the odds of success. The bet makers had given her a one in nineteen chance. Teegall was the favorite in the city, but it was expected that a girl from the capital would get the prize. And there was always the chance that there would be no winner. The last contest had been nine years ago, and no prize had been awarded.
The wait seemed to take forever, but she knew in her head that only a few minutes had passed when her name was called. She stood, breathed deep, and entered the testing suite.
First came the shower. There were no instructions, but any respectable whore knew to shower before meeting a new client. Erya was well aware that her every move, every word, every choice would be analyzed and judged. So she carefully selected her scrubs and oils. Nothing with a heavy scent, nothing that smelled female. The clients should never be overwhelmed with odors, nor go home to their wives smelling of other women.
Clean and fresh, scented faintly with cinnamon and lemons, Erya chose her wardrobe. For one moment, she considered just going boldly nude. But it would be inappropriate. Some clients liked that. Others did not. She needed to present herself in a way that would charm everyone. That meant that some clothing was necessary, but the choice would be critical.
The robes seemed too formal. The tunics were too casual and workman-like. The trousers and blouses were like costumes and the hosiery was just too erotic. How she presented herself was going to have a major effect on how she did on this test. And the longer she took, the worse the impression.
Erya finally chose to wear the hosiery, but she wrapped one of the robes around herself. The elegance fought with the eroticism of the outfit, but Erya belted the robe like a common tunic, for a unique new distinctive look. Character and individuality were as important as knowledge and technique in these tests.
Feigning confidence in her choice, Erya moved to the next phase of the test. There was a client waiting for her. She didn't know who he was or what he liked. Erya couldn't even be sure the client was male. So a passive entrance was probably best.
Quietly and discreetly, she opened the door, slipped inside, and gentled it shut. She smiled serenely at the client, a young man of maybe twenty, but inside, she was trying hard to conceal her shock. The client was Prince Ragon. Erya had serviced royalty before, including Ragon's two older brothers, but those were simple matters of duty. This was her test. She couldn't screw up even one detail and royalty made the whole thing a thousand times more difficult. And if rumors were to be believed, Prince Ragon was a virgin. He was betrothed to Queen Elessa's twin daughters and evidently, his family wanted to make sure he didn't embarrass himself in the marriage bed. Her test was a royal virgin.
Nobody had promised Erya that the test would be easy. Moving gracefully to the table, she plucked the bag of coins from the offering bowl and counted them. It was a good payment, worth a generous service. Whores were an integral part of the Denholm economy. Their services had value and the pimps and brothels were taxed at fixed rates. A whore who forgot to take her payment was stealing from the brothel, the clan, and the kingdom. She would certainly fail this test if she neglected that now.
