Sex and Vengeance Pt. 03

"I do, Sir Anton, and I should love to have the privilege of seeing them sometime. I confess, I have a weakness for whist..."

"As do we all, I fear! It may yet be the undoing of the entire upper class, but at least it'll be a damned good time."

Dreya smiled and took a small sip of her drink. It was a delight - they used good gin here, the tonic was cloudy but bitter without any sweetness, and the barman had delicately bruised the lower rosemary needles to allow their oils to mix with the drink. Another small victory she'd concede to the Locks: They could, it seemed, make a decent drink.

"The very best. I'm afraid my hostess couldn't join me - she sent me on with an introduction but that's all. Lady Seawhisper, I'm sure you know her."

"Seawhisper? Oh, yes, she's an utter delight - but she'll take you clean at the tables if you're not careful. Is she quite well?"

"Oh, yes, quite well. It's just that with her new child she's too caught up at home to come out, and probably will be for some time."

"How silly of me to forget! Such good news for them - they'd been trying so long, and finally blessed. Did you have a chance to see the boy at all?"

"No, sadly, but I hear he's hale and hearty." Her stomach clenched in irritation. It was all anyone could talk about in their circles of the last few weeks, and the thought of that wretched brat was inextricably bound up with Adrene's betrayal at the ball in his honour.

"I'm very glad indeed to hear it, and gladder still to have made your acquaintance, Lady Sunbough. A guest with good news is a welcome guest indeed!" Pausing, he looked over his shoulder, waving at the barman for his attention and calling for coffee. "After I've woken myself up a little, would you perhaps care to view the grand salon with me? I enjoy seeing people when they first lay eyes on it - reawakens me to the splendour."

"Yes, I should like that very much." Dreya smiled back at him. He was, she briefly considered, more handsome than she'd initially thought, at least in motion. There was a certain genuine charm to his smile - the way it touched his eyes - that stole attention away from his brow.

"Splendid!" Sir Anton positively beamed at her over the rim of his cup before taking a sip of the rich, dark brew within. The scent of it lingered as the oils swirled into the air, slowly fading away.

"Now, Lady Sunbough... Tell me, if you were to bet on whether this year's wheat harvest would be any good, what way would you go?"

They passed the time over their drinks with that and similar inane questions and odd betting issues, and by the time her glass was empty and the familiar gin glow was in her cheeks, Dreya knew that Seawhisper's boast that you could bet on anything at all in the Locks was not only right - it was probably an underestimation.

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Upstairs, as Karandreya was discussing the bettability of frosts on an autumn morning, a liveried footman discreetly leant over the shoulder of the Lady Starshadow, whispering to her.

"Is she now? Well, I don't see any reason not to let her come up. If Sir Anton wishes to show her around, let him. At worst she makes a scene and provides the night's entertainment."

"I'll bet you five crowns she tries to fight you." One of her companions offered across the table, where they were observing a heated game of baiduk being played.

"You're on."

"I'll put in five that she breaks down crying before the night is through." Said another, a diminutive lady scoundrel in a man's coat two sizes too large.

"I'll take that as well. And I'll bet fifty that by the end of the night, I've had her." Hainora replied, raising her voice for the entire room to hear.

The first companion whistled, shaking his head. "What happened to the betting limit?"

"Shareena's hardly going to cause trouble over this one. Right?" Hainora asked, looking to the one-eyed woman losing the game they were observing.

"Hm? Oh, no. Not at all." Shareena mumbled back, trying to find her way out of a tricky corner on the board.

"Why's that, Shareena?" Asked the lady scoundrel.

"Because only an idiot would bet against Hainora on that one." She replied, matching Hainora's volume, and the room roared with laughter.

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The grand salon was every bit as grand as she'd imagined, a tremendous open space that began on the second floor and stretched to the roof, and for the briefest moment, Karandreya forgot she was here to get revenge as they entered. It stole her breath and made her feel as insignificant as could be. The great arching skylight above was as clear as crystal but caught the light of the gas lamps that clustered in floral sconces along the walls and in pedestal lamps at steady intervals, mixing the reflection of the delicate yellow lotus-shaped hoods in with the silvery carpet of the stars like so many suns. Giltwork and faience trapped the light into gleaming rainbow striations where the supports of the glass flowed into the balconies of the top floor.

"My god..." She whispered under her breath, breaking from Sir Anton's arm to take a few steps into the space. Her heels echoed on the polished marble tiling of the floor. Everywhere around her was beauty - artworks that defied convention with bold splashes of colour and shapes, or that insisted on the starkness of negative space; statuary that merged the erotic with the profound in naked bodies that flowed effortlessly into one another - even the couches scattered around the space were works of art in their bold white cushions and black, angular frames.

"It really is a sight, isn't it?" Sir Anton remarked behind her, a genuine reverence in his voice. "It was designed by Marchion - the last design he completed before the stroke. The culmination of a career."

"Marchion? But there's so many bold lines - he didn't..." The lintels alone defied his style, mixing bold angular shapes with smooth curves and simplified geometic shapes.

"Yes. But he was trying something new... He called it 'the modern art'. I had the privilege of speaking to him on it before he passed."

"I'm... Thank you for showing me." She said, and despite herself, she meant it. Marchion had hidden his experiments inside - the outside bore his touch, now she knew, with his characteristic window profiles and sprays of fern-like glazed terracotta inlay, but he'd kept these final efforts to the inside. They were locked away like treasures, and suddenly the club's name seemed appropriate. A plain panel of wood stood out on the opposing wall from the entrance, conspicuous by its lack of embellishment. Dozens of small objects hung from it, and she moved for a closer look.

They were padlocks, the hasp placed through simple hooks. It was unornamented besides them, and she tilted her head with some confusion. They were plain steel and iron affairs, and she supposed it could be modern art, but it didn't seem like art to her at all.

"The namesake of the place." Sir Anton spoke from behind her, where he'd quietly followed. "A lock for every club that refused Lady Starshadow admission."

"Oh." She whispered, leaning closer to read the inscription on one. It was a vaguely familiar name, the Foresters, and a number - 1571. Glancing up and down the line, she saw several had numbers as well, while some lacked them. "What do the numbers mean?"

"Ah. Those are the clubs that went bust because they wouldn't let her in. She starved them out, bought the lands and the goods at auction. Half the paintings are from them."

"They collapsed?" She asked, breathlessly, stomach tightening.

"Yes. Clubs thrive on luxury and gambling, and she bought up the debts of their members, stopped them being able to buy the wine and tobacco they liked, that sort of thing. She started with the Union club - blockaded it, so to speak, until it went under. She bought their things, found a lock they'd used, and engraved it with the date they went under. That started the tradition, but she'd planned it all along - hence the name."

"What about the ones that don't have numbers?"

"Clubs that sent her one and invited her to join, to save themselves the indignity of being destroyed by a woman. It was all rather silly, now that I think back on it, the way we were all at a sort of war for a while. There were those who wouldn't let her in, and there was us, and we did our best to tear each other down. In the end, we won, and to the victor go the spoils. Still, that was years ago now."

"It's... A very big wall." Dreya stepped back again to take the entirety in. Her attempt at a quick count was foiled by the haphazard placement of the locks - no neat and orderly columns to rely on - but there had to be at least three dozen locks hanging in mute testament to her quarry's influence.

"Yes, I suppose so." Sir Anton agreed amiably. "And if you were to ask her I'm sure Lady Starshadow could give you the story of each. But I've always preferred the view from the windows, myself."

With a hand at her elbow, he delicately guided her away from the display of power to the enormously tall window. It stretched from near their feet to just below the recessed balconies of the top floor, and through it the city's skyline was silhouetted perfectly against the coastal mountains in the distance, a sea of yellow gas lights and teeming life. She nodded her appreciation of the view, peering about, and with no small regret, tore herself from beauty to the matter at hand.

"Do you think we might join the tables? It's my first time and I'd hate to lose the first timer's luck."

"Certainly!" He smiled again, leading her along to one of the open archways recessed in the great hall. It opened into a small antechamber, and when he opened the door set in its far wall for her, the flood of noise and smoke told her why. Within was a veritable den of sin, and she braced herself as she entered the chaos. Dozens of people sat around the tables, smoking and drinking and laughing and making conversation over cards, baiduk, chess, and even, she saw, the flipping of coins. A pair of liveried waiters scurried between tables, desperately overworked, and there was the unmistakeable scent not only of tobacco smoke but a distinctly floral, musky aroma.

"Rather overwhelming, I know." Sir Antony said over her shoulder with wry amusement as he followed her in.

"Just a little... Are they betting on heads or tails?"

"Oh yes, very popular here. No skill at all, pure fortune, you see. Some people like it!"

Dreya nodded, scanning the room. Her quarry was hard to miss, and she froze when she saw her, seated at the central table. She and her companions were a queer bunch assembled. Two giant blonde women dominated the table, both of them in well-fitted suits that did nothing at all to disguise the breadth of their shoulders and the power of their frames. One had to be Lady Starshadow - that was certain. They were joined by a bald man draped in scarves, a willowy thing in a coat far too large that had to be either a child or the smallest elf Dreya had ever seen, and an androgyne with slicked hair, pouty lips, and a pair of small round spectacles with amber lenses.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, Lady Sunbough? I've just seen my cousin - he's just back from the southern prospects and I've not yet had a chance to welcome him home."

"Oh, certainly, Sir Anton. I'm sure I'll find some way to amuse myself in the interim."

Sir Anton made his excuses, and Dreya lingered in the doorway for a long moment. She could strut right over, but that might be too transparent. Playing it coy might work better, but there were too many other women around in revealing dresses to rely on that. As a waiter passed she caught him with a clearing of her throat and asked for a glass of whatever passed for a shiraz, and plotted a course to an empty baiduk table near the central one, where she settled herself down at an angle to watch the two colossal elves and size them up. They both had facial scars, and she wasn't entirely sure which was her prey from afar.

She watched them closely, turning a black stone from the board over in her fingers, paying it only the briefest mind. There - the moment of deference from them all to the one with both eyes. That was her, she was sure of it, and when the drink arrived she took a deep sip for courage. It was a well-balanced example of its kind, to her shock - peppery with a smooth leathery finish that went down easy.

Her first opponent appeared, and she almost absently laid a bet - twenty crowns, sizeable but not a fortune - and began to play. Her opening was weak, as she surreptitiously watched the central table, trying to make eye contact with the Lady Starshadow, and she mumbled something about a secret strategy when her opponent commented. Only midway through the game did she realize the pieces were carved from a deep green jade for the black and milk jade for the white. The game turned swiftly into a sound defeat, but she played it out until an opportunity presented itself. Lady Starshadow rose to head to the unattended bar along one wall, and she surrendered the game, cheerfully passed over a note of credit, and drained the rest of her wine.

With her empty glass as an excuse, she sauntered through the din to the bar. It was exceptionally well stocked, but by now she expected nothing less. That provided a fresh opportunity of its own, and she searched for the bottle of wine with a deliberate, exaggerated puzzlement, before turning to the Lady Starshadow. Up close, she was a veritable giant, towering over Dreya's five foot four frame, and the scars caught the light in a most repugnant way.

"Excuse me... Do you happen to know where the shiraz is? I'm new here, and... Well. I'm still getting my bearings."

The Lady Starshadow responded with a faint sound of recognition, turning her head infinitesimally to regard her, and Dreya felt herself blanch. There was a cruel and predatory intellect in those eyes, and she was sure they saw through her ruse perfectly. To her relief, the giant plucked up a crystal decanter and turned to face her, refilling her glass.

"Lady Sunbough." She offered, with a slight nod. Her voice was slightly raspy from the smoke, but rich and sweet though somewhat deeper than might be desired. No doubt a product of her sheer size.

"Lady Starshadow." She replied, offering a slight curtsy.

"I hear you had a run-in with my wife."

"Yes, a small misunderstanding... It's nothing, please, don't concern yourself with it."

"You call fucking your husband a small matter?"

"I... Well, no, I..." She stammered. She hadn't expected to be confronted so, and her plans evaporated before her like the morning mist with the coming sun. The Lady Starshadow's piercing gaze rooted her to the spot, but her muscles tensed, expecting to run.

"Perhaps your husband has a small matter."

"...I..."

"Calm down, I'm teasing." The Lady Starshadow offered her a playful grin, twisted most unpleasantly by her scars, and replaced the decanter. "But I do want to know why you're in my club just weeks after what happened. Have you come to kill me? Did you smuggle a gun in in your little purse?"

"No, no, I would never... I came to get away from my husband, that's all, and Lady Seawhisper is a friend and she said this was the best place she knew..." She stammered, trying to use her nervousness to disguise the lie. She wasn't even sure it was a lie, now she said it again. Wasn't it true, at least a little?

"Yes, I know Violetta. Sweet woman, genuinely. She owes me a small fortune at the tables, of course, but that's alright. I can let that debt rest a while - I'm not exactly in dire need."

"No... No, of course not." She raised her glass, cursing the tremble in her fingers, and tried to calm her nerves, to push her chest out, to carry out the plan. But her body wouldn't answer, and her heart was in her throat.

"That's a very nice shawl you're wearing."

"Oh, thank you... I had it made for me in Gallia."

"I can tell from the lacework. The little trefoil knot patterns... May I?" The Lady Starshadow asked, reaching to touch it, and Dreya nodded. The giant elf was surprisingly delicate when she pinched the fabric between her fingers to feel its fineness, but her rough digits grazed over bare skin as she stared her in the face. Up this close, Starshadow smelled of tobacco and hashish and rum, with the incongruent but complementary notes of the woman's perfume - vanilla and aniseed - lurking beneath.

"I think I'd prefer to see it with nothing underneath, though." Starshadow said, as casually as if she was ordering another drink, her predatory eyes drifting down to linger on Dreya's cleavage. A chill ran down her back and she leant into Starshadow's hand. It couldn't possibly be this easy? Her plan was working, even though she'd been reduced to stammering like a schoolgirl.

"If... If you say so, Lady Starshadow." She whispered softly, staring up at the much larger woman.

"I have a few more bets to settle tonight. Enjoy the place. Wander, if you like. I'll come find you when I'm ready. And please - call me Hainora, Karandreya."

"I will... Thank you for the gracious invitation." Dreya replied, struggling to regain her composure. When Hainora pulled away, she managed to breathe again, fresh air dispelling the intoxicating combination of the giant's presence and her entrancing scent. She leaned back against the bar, blinking and breathing deeply for a long moment, stunned. It had worked, despite going to pieces in front of her quarry. All she'd had to do was show some skin, and it was that easy to seduce her! A smug grin crept onto her lips as she took a deep sip of her wine, and thought, this'll show that cunt, Bliss...

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Yes, shockingly enough, an installment sans sex! Don't worry - it's coming. You'll just have to tune in next time to find out if Dreya's bitten off more than she can chew. While the club here may seem a little odd, I take tremendous inspiration from the Victorian and Edwardian eras, and lavish gentlemen's clubs of this sort were a commonplace fixture of the period. Bets were made on the most absurd things, and a rare few allowed women some participation. The Locks, of course, is a most atypical club regardless - if only in how the servants address visitors - but then, it was founded by a most atypical person.