Page 139 of Between Soul and Vessel
Artemesia stopped. So did Sage.
The rope slackened as I walked up behind my wife.
“This is it,” Artemesia said, gesturing toward the shop to our right. Unlike the other buildings, it didn’t have large windows, but small oval ones, the dark stained glass making it impossible to see beyond them. Artemesia opened the door, a bell to chiming, and we all stepped inside.
Robed figures peppered the innards of the musty-smelling building. They stood with books in their hands, their faces covered by white porcelain masks. The wood floors were cluttered with stacks of books, leaving small paths to walk.
Sage leaned in to her sister and whispered, “I’m guessing they don’t serve food here.”
“No, they don’t. Come on,” Artemesia said as she started down one of the paths.
We followed behind her, winding our way toward the back of the building.
Sitting at a desk in front of a stairwell was a female whose face and body were covered in scales. Her slit pupils scanned each one of us as we approached. Her reptilian eyes landed on Artemesia. A thin, forked tongue flicked past her lips. “It’sss been a while,” she said, hissing everys.
“It has,” Artemesia acknowledged. “We’ve come for our meeting with the seer.”
“Whossse name isss the booking under?” the female asked.
“Mine,” Artemesia answered.
She looked down at the paper on her desk, running her finger from top to bottom. “I do not sssee your name on the lissst.”
“Check again.” Artemesia tossed a small cloth sack on the papers, the coins inside clattering in response.
“Ahh, here you are,” the female said as she tapped the page. She slid the cloth pouch off the table and then gestured to the stairwell. “She’sss waiting for you.”
A few minutes later, we were in the lower level, Folkoln and I standing at the back of the room. Sage and Artemesia knelt before an older woman, who sat crossed-legged on top of a small, elevated platform. Beads hung around her. Her eyelids were closed, a smear of black paint swept over her mouth. Her lips looked almost too big for her face, as if a lifetime of talking had made them that way. She looked incredibly pale, to the point one might think she hadn’t seen a day in the sun.
“What an interesting group we have here,” the seer said. She held out her hand toward Sage. “Come, child. The future summons you.”
“Drop the bullshit, Helga,” Artemesia cut in.
The seer’s eyelids flipped open, and she let out a cackle. “Ah, Artemesia, I should have realized it was you.” She looked at Sage, then me, then Folkoln. Her eyes started to twinkle, her lips curving. “Wherever did you find them?
“None of your concern,” Artemesia replied, not willingto part with any more information.
“Oh, come on now. Don’t be so secretive all the time. I won’t tell anyone.” She paused. One long, bony finger tapped her paint-smeared lips. “Say, I know you aren’t in the business of selling slaves, but what if you loaned one out for a little . . . ride? I like the one with the piercings. He looks positively wild!”
“They aren’t for sale,” Artemesia stated flatly, her expression like a slab of stone, cold and hard and unforgiving.
“That is a real pity,” Helga said. Reaching over to a small silver tray that sat beside her, she plucked a matching silver pot. She began to pour a cup of what I imagined to be tea for herself. “Every time I see you, you have different slaves. Whatever do you do with them all?”
“I take them to the arena,” Artemesia replied, shrugging a shoulder as if it meant nothing to her. “I find it rather amusing watching them scrap like dogs, fighting to the death.”
“As do we all,” Helga said as she blew on her cup, the steam swirling forward.
Folkoln eyed Artemesia, one pierced brow lifting ever so slightly.
I realized he didn’t know what Artemesia was up to. However, because Sage had shared her memories with me, I did. Artemesia wasn’t taking the men she rescued to the arena to be put down like animals—she was taking them to Veshameer, the Hidden City, where they could live freely.
It was all very . . . Sage of her.
It’s a charade, I spoke into Folkoln’s mind.
How so?he asked.
It’s not my place to say. You’ll have to talk to Artemesia about it.
