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“What do you mean?” she asked.
He inclined his head at the palace and gave her a knowing look. “You think they built a monstrosity like that out of goodwill and fairy kisses? Royalty bleeds their subjects dry. Now, pirates? We’re democratic. Aren’t we, Fletch?” He did not even look at Fletch. “We vote for our leaders. And if we’re bad leaders, we’ll be ousted without ceremony. Not like these crooks. They prop up that sentient corpse, King Leonid, and expect the rest of us to kiss their feet.”
“I’m sure it’s no concern of mine,” replied the siren.
“Ha. The goings-on of the palace have a way of affecting us all, sooner or later, whether we like it or not.” He wiped his brow with the back of his massive arm. “Come on. Nearly there.”
He pulled open the gate at an opulent house constructed on a city block of its own. Set well back from the street, the house had two levels. It was made of stone, and stained-glass windows glimmered purple and pink and orange in the afternoon sun. The yard was populated by olive trees and hedges. There was no signage.
“Who is Madame Quaan?” she asked Artus as he led her down the gravel path.
Fletch followed Riella more closely than ever, making her want to elbow him in the face.
“I told you,” he replied with a shrug. “She’ll help you out. Couldn’t very well stay on the ship, could you? This is the best place for you.”
His answer, as innocuous as it sounded, made her feel like a dark shadow had crossed over her, even though the sun still blazed.
The door opened as they approached, without needing to knock. An unsmiling man dressed in black robes held the doorknob. He surveyed the three with cool detachment, his gaze lingering on Riella.
“Welcome to Madame Quaan’s,” he said, stepping aside.
CHAPTER 8
The inside of the house was tranquil and cool, setting Riella at ease.
The robed man led them to a plush bar area, where three young and beautiful women sat at a table. The women stared at Riella and her companions, one of them even rising in her seat to get a better view. The siren automatically gravitated toward them. She yearned for female company after a long, hard day being around men.
Emerald and sapphire tones decorated the salon and a peculiar brass contraption played music from the corner. Small circular tables dotted the room and a demure young woman polished glasses behind the gilded bar.
“Do you seek an introduction?” asked the robed man of Artus.
“I do,” he replied. “But first, I’ll need an audience with Madame Quaan. In private.”
The robed man nodded, glancing at Riella. “Follow me.”
He disappeared down a hallway and the captain followed, along with Fletch.
Left alone at last, Riella approached the women. Their faces were painted prettily and they wore elaborate hairstyles and luxurious dresses. She was relieved that none of them seemed to fear her, unlike the woman on the street.
“Look at you!” exclaimed a girl with golden-blonde curls. “Are you . . . a siren? You look like the ones I met on my sea voyage from Stathgate. You have the same otherworldly beauty. But how on earth do you have legs?”
She grasped Riella’s hand and urged her to sit at the table. The siren shifted on the seat in an attempt to get comfortable. She’d never sat in one before and it was an odd sensation.
“I am a siren,” she said in confirmation. “Or at least, I think I still am. It’s a long story. But what is this place? Can anyone here perform magic?”
The women giggled.
“Oh, all of us can,” said a woman with long red braids. “We’re true magicians.”
She winked at the siren.
Riella frowned, and took another look around the room, an awful suspicion dawning on her.
The woman with red hair touched Riella’s elbow. “Listen, we’ll take good care of you, okay? That’s what we do at Madame Quaan’s. We look out for each other. Life here isn’t perfect, but if you’re being brought in by the captain—” She inclined her head where Artus went with the robed man. The other women scowled at the mention of him. “—then I’m sure it’ll be an improvement on whatever the pirates were doing to you. Are you injured?”
Riella tugged at the sleeve of her oversized shirt. “No, but I’m quite dirty. I was in a brig.”
“We’ll get you cleaned up,” the woman continued. “We’ve got an hour or so before the first of them arrive. Apparently, we’re getting a visitor from the palace today, which means lots of gold. So, your timing is sublime in that regard.”
