A sudden knock on the door startled them both. He opened it, and a young girl, bowed down with the weight of the tray she carried, stumbled into the room. “The master said you needed a meal,” the girl said setting the tray upon a small table. Then, not even looking at them, she scampered out down the corridor. Magnus shut the door behind her.

“She seemed frightened,” he noted.

“Perhaps, but perhaps she just has a lot of work to do, and this was but an extra chore thrust upon her,” Lara said. “Had I been plainer her fate might have been mine.” She lifted the napkin from the tray to reveal fresh bread, fruit, cheese, two hard-boiled eggs and two small cups of liquid. Picking up one of the cups she tasted it. “Frine,” she pronounced.

“What is frine?” he asked her.

“A mixture of fruit juice and wine, watered,” she told him. “It is refreshing. The meal is simple enough, but there is no meat. You must ask the innkeeper why there is no meat with the meal. You are a big man, and should have meat.”

“You are being very deferential publicly,” he said.

“It is the custom in Hetar for women to be deferential to their men,” Lara explained. “And all women must have men for protectors. A woman without a male is considered the lowest of creatures. A father, a brother, an uncle, a husband, a son. But there must be someone masculine to defend and safeguard her, or she can become prey for the unscrupulous. She could be forced into one of the less desirable Pleasure Houses as a slave, and worked to death.”

“Tell me about these Pleasure Houses?” he asked her.

“As I have told you, I was meant for one,” Lara said. “The Pleasure Houses are owned by men, except for a rare few – women are not usually entrusted with property. Pleasure Mistresses are the ones with the responsibility of managing the houses. They see to every aspect of them. Food. Repairs. Supplies. The training of the young girls. Keeping the women in order. Knowing the desires and foibles of the men who visit regularly. They receive a generous remuneration for their talents. But it is the owner of the Pleasure House who takes the lion’s share of the profits, of course,” she explained. “The Pleasure Women have but one duty in life. To give and receive pleasure. Those who do it very well are much in demand. Some have even become famous in Hetar, unusual for a female. A few of the Pleasure Houses specialize in the more deviant forms of passion, but only two or three of them. Some of the Pleasure Houses service the ordinary man. Most, however, are for the wealthy whose tastes are more refined. There is more profit in serving the wealthy than the simple man.” She divided the food, giving him more bread, and both eggs.

“Pleasure is not really a commodity in Terah,” he observed.

“Terah,” Lara said to him, “does not worship the Celestial Actuary, but rather the Great Creator. The world of Hetar is driven by profit, Magnus. Everything is judged by that standard.” She began to eat. The bread was good, the cheese mediocre and the fruit had seen better days. She wondered why a respectable inn across from the Council Quarters would offer its guests such scanty fare. She would speak to the little servant girl about it.

He gulped his portion, and Lara knew it wasn’t enough for him. He was a big man, and used to good meals.

“There are usually vendors on the street selling food,” she said.

“Good! Master Innkeeper will have to do better than this,” Magnus said grimly.

“You cannot fuss, my lord,” she advised again. “Remember, we are simple folk.”

“Let us hope the bed is not infested,” he grumbled at her.

“Come, and I will show you the City,” Lara invited.

They departed the inn, and began to move through the crowded streets. She brought him through the gates of the Quarter where she had grown up, and showed him the hovel that had once belonged to her father. There was no one now who would recognize Lara, daughter of Swiftsword, and she was plainly dressed, a dark veil over her golden hair, which she had braided and hidden beneath a dark snood. They noted how overcrowded the Quarter was.

“It was always full, but never like this,” Lara noted. “Gaius Prospero has built himself up a great army.”

“To no avail,” Magnus murmured low.

Lara smiled. “He has promised them the spoils of war, and there will be none. I am certain he intended to divide the land up for himself and his friends. Now he will have to give some of it away to satisfy the Guild of Mercenaries. If there is no enemy there is no need for a large force, and many of these men are sons of Midland farmers. To be given land to farm will well satisfy them even if it does not satisfy Gaius Prospero.” A small chuckle escaped her. “I must admit I do enjoy seeing that man thwarted in his grandiose schemes. Ah, here is the Golden District where only the most wealthy are permitted to reside.”

“Can we go in?” he asked her.

Lara shook her head. “Not unless you wish me to have the guardsmen at the gates announce me to Gaius Prospero. I’m quite certain he would be delighted to receive me, my lord, and to learn of your fine kingdom, which he would begin to consider conquering. Especially after he faces disappointment in the Outlands.”

“Let us find a market and buy something to eat,” he said. “I am ravenous, and those two little eggs, a bad slice of cheese, bread and a few grapes are not enough for a man of my appetites.” He gazed through the open gates into the Golden District. It was almost pastoral in appearance with great trees and green lawns.

“Move along!” snapped a guardsman seeing his interest.

“Your pardon, sir,” Magnus Hauk said politely. “My wife and I are from the coast, and we have never before been to the City. Who lives here?”

“The emperor and his court,” the guardsman said, his tone a touch more friendly. “Come closer, and take a real look,” he invited them.

Lara’s reluctant hand in his, Magnus stepped nearer and gawked, as he knew he would be expected to do. He could see several fine marble mansions. “’Tis grand, sir,” he said to the guardsman. “I have never seen its like before. Thank you.” He bowed.

The guardsman nodded in return as they moved off.

“You have a flair for the dramatic,” Lara noted amused.

“It is difficult to resist,” Magnus replied. “Everyone here seems to be a cock on his own dung hill. I could tell his position was important to him. I will wager if I had talked more with him we could have gotten in to the Golden District to walk around.”

“And run smack into Gaius Prospero, or his toady Jonah, who I suspect is a truly dangerous man,” Lara said.

“And Gaius Prospero is not?” Magnus was curious.

“The Master of the Merchants, or I suppose I should now say, the emperor, is more interested in acquisition and pleasure than anything else. But Jonah, I believe, seeks power.”

“Look, up ahead the avenue opens into a square, and I see kiosks and awnings. It is a market!” Magnus said, well pleased.

“I must buy a basket if we are to make other purchases,” Lara said, and with one or two queries they found their way to a basket weaver’s awning. Looking carefully Lara finally selected an open container woven from willow wands. She bargained with the basket weaver until a suitable price was agreed upon by them both. Then she turned to her husband who wordlessly brought forth the proper coin. They walked onward.

“I see here in the marketplace you are free to speak up,” he noted.

“Yes, this is a woman’s province. It is not odd for her man to accompany her here, but she is the one who makes the purchases, and bargains where suitable,” Lara explained. She next purchased a small fresh loaf of bread, some cooked meat, a wedge of cheese that she first tasted and approved. It was all more expensive than she had remembered, and it had been Lara who marketed for her family. An old woman vendor was displaying apples, pears and grapes of a much better quality than they had been offered at the inn this morning. Lara was further shocked by the price the old lady asked.

“Why are they so expensive?” she asked.

“The spring was wet, and the blossoms did not set properly. The harvest has been a poor one,” the fruit seller explained. “The trees and the vines are all old now. But when we take back the land the barbarians stole from us it will be different. We will plant new trees and vines. Food is scarce this year. It is the same all over Hetar.”

“Not quite so much in the Coastal province where we come from,” Lara told her. Then turning the subject she said, “I will take two apples, two pears and a small bunch of your lovely green grapes. As it is my husband will complain at me for the cost.” She held out her hand to Magnus who, glowering as he was supposed to, counted out the coins for the fruit, grumbling beneath his breath as he did so. Lara handed the fruit seller the coins, and received in return the fruit she had requested. Seeing a third apple she looked at the woman questioningly.

“It’s small,” the old lady said. “I won’t be able to sell it anyway. You might as well have it.”

“Thank you,” Lara said, and gave the vendor a smile.

“Well,” Magnus said as the moved away, “there is one person in Hetar not interested in a great profit.”

“The people are good, my lord,” Lara told him. “It is those in power who are overcome by their greed.” And then she stopped suddenly, for directly in her path was her stepmother, and she was staring with shock and surprise directly at Lara.

Sensing something wrong Magnus asked, “What is it, Lara?”

Lara drew a long breath, and then she said, “Susanna. You are looking well.”

Her stepmother swallowed hard, and then she practically whispered, “What are you doing here, Lara?” There was a young boy at her side.