The Shadowy Path - 22. Chapter 22

"You Dimalis claim that the slave trade is a criminal activity. We Southerners call it a force that holds the states together.

Who else would harvest the crops from our sunny fields? Who would lay the cobblestones in place, clean the fish catches and toil in the mine tunnels? Or entertain the aristocrats in the brothels? We free citizens? Do not even imagine such a thing.

Saadda, Qoi-Tenqee and Mtuul would fall without slaves. You, in turn, would be deprived of our trade goods: dates, cocoa, spices, gold, ivory. Is that what you Dimalis want? Hardly. That's why you close your eyes and let the slave galleys sail.

For our compatriots, the arrangement is fine, because the slaves are Dimali - sometimes Afamatian and Malkanian too. A free Southerner could not even be a slave; the very thought amuses me.

Are the workers in Andiol happier than the slaves in the South? Those grey drudges in your industrial plants or thousands of farm labourers. I doubt it. Freedom is often relative".

- Letter from an elder of the Saadda Convention to an ambassador of Andiol Empire, undated

* * *
 

Jolanda
Ipalos, Andiol Empire

"How dare you bring the man here only now!" Jolanda Vargan shouted, pulling at her raven-black braid in a way that hurt. Jolanda was used to having her orders followed to the letter. At home, the servants would have jumped up and down at her command. Things had to be done her way. Always and everywhere.

Unfortunately, the Shadow Cross of Ipalos did not seem to realise that Jolanda had supreme authority in the city. At first, the locals had thought of her as just a girl, despite the letter of command from her father. Well, after she had sold some of the worst insubordinates to a slave trader travelling south along the river Frothy, things had changed for the better.

But now again! She had given the order upon her arrival, stressing its importance. And yet it had taken a whole day to bring the man before her. If she failed, as a result of such delay, the slavers would surely gain more merchandise.

"Miss Vargan, I brought the cook here as soon as I heard about it. The procurator who usually takes his reports was out of town...well, making arrangements for the project, so..."

Jolanda motioned for the commandant to stop. "Enough. I will find out if it is as you say, and if not, you know the consequences. You may leave."

The commandant walked away with his tail between his legs, failing to hide the fear on his face. The sight made Jolanda happy, she had watched her father treat his inferiors from a young age. The lesson had been learned.

Jolanda turned to the fat man who had silently witnessed the exchange of words. The cook wiped his sweating forehead with a stained shirt sleeve and looked everywhere but at Jolanda. Judging by his savage appearance, the potbelly might have been a tyrant in his kitchen, but here in the Main Hall of the Shadow Cross he trembled like an old grandmother when confronted by a shadow walker far superior to himself.

"What's your name?" Jolanda asked in a deliberately cold voice.

"Spodd...dear Miss Vargan, if you please. I didn't dawdle. I came straight over to tell you when..."

"Silence! I only asked your name."

The man was as stupid as he was ugly. Jolanda wondered what it would be like to stab him with a dagger and watch the blood splatter on the floor. In general, Jolanda was disgusted by ugly people, especially fat ones. How could anyone let themselves get into such a state? Well, supposedly you can't expect much more from an employee of a snotty pub. Jolanda suppressed the urge to spit in his direction.

"I've already heard your information, there's no need to repeat it. Instead, I want to hear if you are absolutely sure of what you know. At this point you can withdraw your statement and you won't get into trouble," Jolanda lied. She would throw the cook into the dungeons beneath the headquarters if he started to retract his speech. Even slave traders would not take such a hideous thing.

"Miss dear, I speak as my subordinate tells me," the cook stammered.

Jolanda could no longer remember his name. "So you stick to your story. You can go. Here's compensation for your trouble. The Shadow Cross always rewards those who are worthy of its trust."

She tossed him a purse, which he failed to catch in mid-air, of course. Jolanda watched with disdain as the cook picked up the coins from the floor and put them in his pockets. Now, instead of the fear he had just shown, the man's face shone with greed.

Jolanda scowled, she had never been interested in money herself. She had always got what she wanted. The pursuit of wealth was only a sign of boorishness and low civilization. She and her father aimed much higher, and while the others concentrated on gold, the Vargans reaped the rewards.

Power was the only thing worth pursuing for Isendar Vargan, and Jolanda pretty much shared her father's view. There was only one thing Jolanda wanted in the world besides power: Josel Sandkan.

When the guards had escorted the fat chef out of the hall, Jolanda called the commandant back in. "Concentrate all the troops from the project in the Merchants' Quarter. Without attracting attention. Have the shade commandos question and search every nook and cranny. Two boys can't disappear unnoticed."

"Miss, our best shade commandos are already searching the Merchants' Quarter. You can be sure that the results will come soon."

The commandant spoke confidently, the poor man had recovered too quickly from his recent grilling. Now it was time for Jolanda to shake off any illusions he might have had.

"Great," Jolanda said. "You have served the Shadow Cross well. If you bring the boys to me unharmed, I will give you a promotion and a large piece of land with property. If you fail again, I will see to it that you and your wife leave Ipalos on the next slave galley."

Jolanda watched with satisfaction as the confidence drained from the man's face. Stuttering, he asked for permission to leave.

The project mentioned by the commandant was, naturally, to overthrow the governor of Ipalos. Isendar Vargan had travelled to Dimalos, leaving the revolution in Ipalos to his daughter. It would be a good follow-up to the downfall of Paidos.

Jolanda knew that its success meant everything to her father, but she was less interested in the matter herself. Jolanda's thoughts were focused on a boy with golden hair, whose capture was her own secret project. Jolanda could hand over the governor's son to the Shadow Cross, but she would never let Josel out of her sight again.

* * *
 

Franz

His legs felt stiff after so many days in a prison cell, and Franz had to hurry his steps to keep up with the agile man. He did not want to return to his cell, so the mere thought of the shadow sentries pursuing them encouraged him to move his legs forward.

The stairs leading down from the cell block into the darkness had soon ended and continued as a narrow, sloping passageway. The man had grabbed the last burning torch from the top of the stairs and was carrying it into the pitch black corridor.

Franz could hear the water droplets dripping around him and he could smell the stale underground world. He was on his way to an unknown destination, with only a stranger for company. Even so, he knew no fear. Perhaps the man's relaxed demeanour had something to do with it.

The corridor had not branched off since the beginning, so there was no need to think twice about the direction. The underground tunnel was high enough, so they could walk with their backs straight. The man strode forward, his cap-covered head bobbing, humming a verse as he went.

Franz tried to catch the tune, but he could not get to the heart of it. The melody was too tricky to follow, so he gave up and concentrated on listening. There was something strangely soothing about the man's constant humming, as if it were meant to ward off fear.

Although one dark tunnel did not scare Franz, he was still glad when the corridor finally started to slope upwards. Or so it seemed. In the torchlight alone, it was difficult to perceive the ups and downs of the ground.

After perhaps a quarter of an hour, the path became steeper and the tunnel so shallow that they had to duck. At first there was only a faint glimmer around the torch's flame. But little by little, the impenetrable darkness began to give way to the light. Then, suddenly, the mouth of the tunnel appeared ahead.

At the border between light and shadow, the man slowed his pace to a crawl. For a moment they stood at the gateway to the underground and the outside world. The man listened, and Franz squinted his eyes, trying to get used to the light.

Soon, the man seemed pleased and asked Franz to step out. Blinking, the boy followed his rescuer up the last few steps of the sloping embankment and climbed out of the narrow opening into the daylight.

The place where the mouth of the tunnel was located was utterly strange to Franz. They had stumbled out of the ground into a forest of deciduous trees. The exit of the tunnel was hidden in the middle of a rocky outcrop. It was in such an inaccessible spot that it was doubtful that many people knew about the underground passage.

The long walk and the lack of food that had preceded it suddenly ached in his legs, and Franz sat down on the nearest moss-covered boulder. His companion looked around, as if to make sure they were not in danger, and then set about arranging twigs and branches torn from the bushes to protect the mouth of the tunnel. Franz watched the man as he worked, observing his appearance at the same time.

As in the cell corridor, the moustache was the first thing to catch Franz's eye. It was impressive without being crazy, and it was easy to believe that a lot of time had been spent tidying it up. The cap on the man's head, however, Franz thought was silly. It had turned out to be a forest green in the daylight, and Franz could not recall seeing a similar headwear in the streets of Paidos.

The man's other clothing also caught the eye. He was wearing a rather unusually cut dark blue coat, almost to his knees, with pockets in who knows how many places. The tip of a rapier could be seen under the lapel of the coat. On his back he wore an oblong case, which did not quite look like the sheath of a weapon.

All the same, something about the moustached man's appearance and manner of moving seemed strangely familiar to Franz, as if he had met him before. But where? There was an accent in the man's speech that Franz could not place. In any case, he was not from Paidos.

His thoughts were interrupted when the man told Franz to get up. "Where are we going now?" Franz asked uncertainly.

The only response was a nodding invitation to follow him into the thicket. Franz got up from his rock and rumbled down the cliff. The man carefully bent the branches of the nearest trees so that they would not fall on Franz's face. Still he said nothing.

They walked about fifty paces through a dense thicket. While Franz snapped dry twigs under his shoes with each step, the moustached man walked as quietly as a cat. He must be an experienced ranger, Franz thought, trying desperately to remember where he might have bumped into the man.

Soon the forest opened up into a small meadow, where two horses were grazing, tied up with tethers and already saddled: one grey, the other all white. The man ran up to pat the animals, who gave him a neighing greeting. As both horses seemed to be well-behaved, Franz also ventured closer.

"The mare is for you," the man said of the grey horse. "Her name is Sowthistle. And my white horse is the brave stallion Gingerbread."

As Franz took the mare's reins, he noticed that the horses' saddlebags were full to the brim. Everything suggested that the man had equipped them for a long journey. But what did Franz himself have to do with all this?

Sowthistle mare whinnied briefly at her new host and tried to reach for Franz's hand, as if to see if there was something tasty on offer. Franz stroked the horse's neck reassuringly, feeling the warmth of the large animal under his palm.

Questions were pouring inside his head like raindrops. Finally, Franz could no longer bear to be silent. "Who are you? Where are we going?" he demanded.

The man's answer was accompanied by an amused chuckle. "Later, later, my young friend. Now get some water so we can ride to the first stop," he said, pointing to the path that led from the meadow into the shade of the larger trees.

Franz found a canteen in Sowthistle's saddlebag and gratefully took a big gulp. As he drank, the man had jumped on his horse, named Gingerbread, and was now sitting upright and alert in the saddle. Franz realised it was time to go and lifted his shoe to the stirrup.

The effort must have looked clumsy, but Franz congratulated himself on getting on the horse at the first attempt. His only riding experience so far had been on the back of a mule from the Landez General Store, and the old drafter was certainly no racehorse. Still, he believed he could do it. After all, he was Franz Landez, born to survive.

* * *

Franz assumed that he had been on the horse for at least an hour. At first they had ridden slowly along the forest path, careful not to trip over the treacherous roots of the trees. Then the path had turned into a cart track and the man had picked up the pace.

Franz had not been able to pinpoint their exact location. He was unfamiliar with the forest east of Paidos, but he guessed they were somewhere in its depths. If so, they had gone further underground than he had imagined. They were now well outside Paidos, and if Franz could interpret the direction from the glowing sun in the sky, they were heading away from the town.

During the ride, the man had not stopped once, only occasionally slowing down as if to observe his surroundings. When they finally got onto the gravel road, the man urged his white stallion to run.

They passed several houses and farms. Franz was now convinced that they were riding through the hamlets east of Paidos. The road was too narrow and badly maintained to be the major Southern Trade Route. So they had to be on a side road heading northeast.

Was the man not planning to return to Paidos? Worry gripped Franz's heart, but he quickly suppressed it. The Shadow Cross was lurking in Paidos, and anything would be better than being locked in the dungeon again.

After riding a few more miles, the man pulled his stallion on the reins and beckoned Franz to ride beside him.

"There's time to ride and there's time to rest. Now let us indulge ourselves in a drop of drink with a crumb of food," the moustached man said somewhat poetically, jumping down from the saddle. "Let's get our brave horses out of the way. We don't want the other wayfarers to take too much interest in us."

What the man said made sense, despite his peculiar way of expressing it. Franz certainly did not want to be cross-examined by the shadow sentries riding past. Word of the escape would have spread by now, and search parties might well be on their way.

He led Sowthistle behind the man's horse into the middle of the bushes that lined the path. The horses began to eat the leaves from the trees, and Franz started to rummage his saddlebag. He was starving after days in captivity. Eventually, he found a paper wrapper that smelled like food. There were blood sausages inside, making his mouth water. Without bothering to check whether the sausages had been spoiled by the heat, Franz began to gobble them.

It was only after he had devoured the entire package when Franz remembered that his travelling companion might have also wanted some. A glance in his direction, however, revealed that he was not interested in eating at the moment. He held a flute in his hands and was silently strumming it, moving his fingers over the holes as if practising a melody. At his feet lay an empty case, the one he had carried on his back all the way. And Franz had thought that it contained at least a rifle.

Noticing his partner's stare, the man raised his head and smiled kindly. "It's a pity to be a musician without a tune, but I dare not play a single note until we are out of earshot of the shadow walkers," he said.

Franz smiled vaguely because he could not think of a witty enough reply. It would probably be wisest to stick with the eccentric fellow for the time being. After all, he could always break away from him later and go his own way.

The man put the flute back in its case. "Well, back on your horse, Franz Landez. Our overnight stop is a few miles down the road," he said cheerfully, leading Gingerbread back to the road.

Franz followed on Sowthistle's back because he had no choice. Perhaps there he would get the answers he needed.

* * *

The inn was a dingy grey building, slightly tilted, with a first floor made of stone and a second made of wood. It stood alone by the side of the road, far from the rest of the settlement. Franz found the place unattractive, but his companion had already made his choice.

Leaving their horses in the care of the hunchbacked stableman, they entered the house where someone had painted the words 'Pale Wanderer' in smeared letters on the front wall.

Franz had not been to many inns, so he was not sure what to expect. The walls of the main hall were panelled with light wood, long since ruined by soot and dirt. Actually, filthiness was the dominant feature wherever you looked. The place was far from first class, and made no attempt to pretend otherwise.

A dark-haired waitress sat on a high stool in front of the bar counter, tossing bits of food to a shaggy mutt spinning on her legs. Five or six older men were emptying pints at tables in the hall. Their heads turned curiously in the direction of the newcomers.

Franz cursed in his mind as his companion waved his hand in a wide arc and greeted everyone loudly in unison. Was the man crazy or drunk? A moment ago on the road they had been avoiding attention, and now they suddenly had to announce their existence to everybody.

The waitress wriggled lazily out of her chair, shoved the dog out of the way and, with a swift movement, swatted an old man's hand away from her hips. As the girl approached, Franz found her attractive, which made one wonder what she was doing in a miserable shithole like the Pale Wanderer.

The girl, who also worked as a porter, asked if the moustached man and Franz would be staying at the inn.

"Just for one night, my heart's desire, but for that time I will create a cheerful atmosphere in your establishment. Look, I am a musician - marvelous and invincible!" said the man, patting the flute on his back.

She looked at him with one eyebrow raised and pursed her full lips. "Be what you are, but you pay the same price as everyone else. And you'll pay for the boy, too," she said, measuring Franz with her gaze for a moment.

A boy, she said! The waitress was no more than five years older than Franz and had the nerve to call him a boy. Franz straightened his back and crossed his hands defiantly.

She raised her eyebrow irresistibly again, but Franz was not abashed. He was a man of the world and an adventurer, the kind of man who could not be fazed by a tavern wench.

Then the man spoke again, now with a blissful smile on his face. "You may take my coins, but I'll play and sing in the evening anyway."

The girl rolled her eyes and met Franz's gaze. He shook his head in response. His rescuer was indeed a madman, but undeniably a rather entertaining one.

The man pulled out a couple of banknotes with the image of Emperor Saveir on them, which the girl verified against the light. Then she scurried behind the counter and returned with a key in a leather thong.

"Your room is number four. Don't expect any fancy amenities. The privy is at the end of the courtyard." Having said that, she went back to entertain the men emptying their pints in the hall.

Franz watched as the girl's hips swayed and her short skirt swung.

"You'll have time to woo her later," he said, turning the key in his hand.

"Why would I?" Franz asked, annoyed that the man had noticed him watching.

"Because all great adventurers have a strong tendency to charm women. And I don't think I was wrong about you, Franz Landez."

Franz looked around. "You could stop shouting my name. I don't want to go back where we came from," he growled tightly.

"I think you're right, my dear comrade. How careless of me," the man said, slapping his forehead dramatically with his hand.

Crazy, crazy, Franz thought, wondering if it would be best to announce that he would continue the journey alone the next morning.

But the man calmed down and continued, whispering: "Caution is indeed called for, my young friend. This area is a solid Shadow Cross base."

The words almost made Franz jump. "Then why did we come here?" he groaned.

"Because a little excitement is always in order. We both like adventure, don't we?" the man said, winking and tapping his moustache with his finger.

Not just crazy, but completely insane. Franz did not say a word.

"And there is another reason! I'm waiting for a message from an old friend. When we hear from him, we'll be on our way again," the man added, leading Franz to the top floor of the inn.

The room turned out to be just as barren as you might have expected. The wallpaper on the walls was yellowed with dampness, and the cobwebs in the corners had not been swept for years.

Hopefully the spiders have eaten all the fleas and bedbugs, thought Franz as he sat down on the bed, which squeaked deafeningly.

But nothing could dampen the good mood of the moustached man. With a casual whistle, he threw his long coat onto the bed and unbuckled his sword belt. The sword leaning against the bedpost looked sharp, and Franz wondered if the man really knew how to use it.

Also the funny cap finally got to go. The lightness of the man's neatly trimmed hair made Franz wonder. Was his new and unusual acquaintance not a Dimali after all?

"I'm certainly going to play a song or two tonight," the man said to himself, tapping his flute.

"Are you sure those down there want to listen?" Franz muttered half-heartedly.

"Oh, absolutely. Even depraved souls crave the touch of art."

The moustached man seemed so serious that Franz did not bother to question him. Instead, he asked: "Why did you save me? And how do you know my name?"

The man's eyes brightened and he became more serious, at least for a moment. "Answers, that's what you need...I rescued you from prison because I will not abandon an innocent man. No great adventurer would. Unfortunately, I can't help everyone, but I decided to save you."

"Why me?"

"I have heard things about you," he said. "Some from a friend of your mother's, some from a market vendor, and the rest from a recruiter in the Imperial Army whom I helped escape from the Shadow Cross. He told me a story of an adventurous youth who had been captured by the Shadow Cross even though he was innocent. Your poor mother was so sad about your fate, and the recruiter mentioned you as an example of the kind of zeal he missed in his recruits. I was curious to see what this Franz-boy was like. Since I had my business in Paidos sorted out anyway, I decided that by releasing you I could teach the Shadow Cross a lesson. I guess I succeeded."

He finished with a broad grin, which Franz joined. So the people of Paidos had not failed to notice his thirst for adventure. Still, something seemed wrong. The man had only saved him out of the goodness of his heart. It sounded very strange, but Franz decided to swallow the explanation as it was. There would be time to think about it later.

"You seem to know a lot about me, but I don't know anything about you. Who are you?"

The question did not stun the man, but he ran a finger along his moustache and smiled enigmatically. "I am an incomparable player, an absolute adventurer. A veteran of a thousand roads, a knight of perilous paths."

"None of this chatter tells me anything."

"All in good time, my impatient young friend. Today we shall not worry about anything. Perhaps it is time to eat. I suppose dinner is served even in a hovel like this. And tonight I'll play in the hall, I promised the girl. The one you were watching so closely," he said, winking at Franz.

Franz rolled his head. The man was strange but friendly.

Actually, it was not so bad to see where this path would lead. Finally, there was a chance to explore at least a bit of the world outside Paidos. So the best thing to do was to relax and enjoy what lay ahead. Franz chuckled contentedly and followed the man back to the ground floor.

* * *

Franz ate in silence at a small round table in the corner of the inn's dining room. The food the girl had brought was neither bad nor good, but rather bland. Still hungry from his time in prison, Franz devoured his plate and asked for more.

The moustached man had already finished his meal and gone to the outhouse. He had asked Franz to remain at the table, so Franz had naturally thought of running away. That was unlikely to succeed: even if he could somehow get Sowthistle out of the stable, the man would catch him.

After giving up the idea of escaping, Franz had concentrated on his food, quietly watching the others in the hall. The girl was polishing dishes behind the bar counter, occasionally casting bored glances around the room. The men sat at tables with their wine glasses and beer tankards in front of them. There were four of them at that moment, all looking more or less like heavy drinkers. There was a slow conversation going on between them. It consisted mostly of gruff grunts.

None of the four looked the least bit dangerous. But could they have handed Franz to the Shadow Cross for a bottle of wine without blinking? Surely. That's why Franz kept his eyes on the door, waiting for the shadow sentries to march in at any moment.

However, only the moustached man entered the hall. He walked casually up to the bar and ordered. It was not long before a mug of mulled wine was in front of Franz. "If you're old enough to be an adventurer, you're old enough to drink," the man said with a smile, and Franz found himself liking his companion a little more.

The afternoon slowly turned to evening as they sat in the hall of the inn. The man chatted about everything between heaven and earth.

Franz learned the tricks a swordsman used to win a duel, how to fool bandits, and how to catch a hare with your bare hands. The stories were vivid and told as if the man had experienced them himself. Franz did not quite believe it, but he had always enjoyed listening to entertaining stories. The kind that dealt with the unknown wonders of the Inhabited World that an ordinary city boy could only dream of seeing.

As time went on, more people arrived at the Pale Wanderer. A cheerful group of farm workers returning from the fields filled a large table. Laughing heartily, they ordered drinks from the girl who was assisted by a waitress boy slightly younger than Franz.

The moustached man was not disturbed, although as the hall filled up, a couple of already tipsy ranchers sat down at the same table. On the contrary, Franz's travelling companion seemed delighted to have more listeners and began to concoct an implausible tale of a perilous escape from the clutches of murderers. The man was completely captivated by his own voice and did not notice as Franz sneaked away from the table and pushed his way out of the hall, dodging the noisy customers.

As he left, he glanced over his shoulder at the waitress and was surprised to see her looking back at him. For a moment, Franz wondered if he should follow the man's advice and start seducing the girl. But a tired yawn that escaped his lips soon changed his mind and he climbed up the stairs to bed. It had been a long and eventful day, which left the fledgling adventurer feeling exhausted.

* * *

Franz thought he had only just fallen asleep when there was a gentle knock at the door. Baffled and irritated by the disturbance, Franz cleared his throat. There was no answer, but the door opened. He was surprised to see the waitress pushing her way through the doorway. Sleep quickly slipped from his eyes.

"I came to check that you're alright," she said with a smile, raising an eyebrow in a way that Franz found increasingly tempting.

What does she really want? Franz tried to clear his sleep-addled head. "Is the service always this good here?" he chaffed to gain time.

"No, I only serve great adventurers this well," she said playfully, letting her eyes wander over Franz from head to toe.

"Uh-huh," the boy gasped, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"What shall it be?" she squeaked, putting a finger to her lips.

Franz could answer nothing. He knew his face was flaming red and he felt a strong urge in his groin.

The tavern girl had clearly seen the effect of her words and took a step closer. "Maybe I'll show you," she said, and in a moment she was in Franz's arms.

After that, it was all a blur. She sucked his lips, and he tried his best to suck back. Before Franz could do anything, she had already undone the laces of her dress and allowed him to help her take it off.

Franz would probably have fallen to the floor had she not graciously shifted her weight from his lap and pressed his head against her bosom instead. At some point, Franz realised he had lost his shirt and trousers, but by then he had no idea how much time had passed. They lay on the bed, one on top of the other. Then she guided Franz inside her.

The world around them lost its meaning. There was nothing but passion and gasps. Suddenly, Franz felt himself erupt with force into her warm depths. After a while, he withdrew a little reluctantly and sank down on the narrow bed beside her.

"Everything about you is long," she remarked flirtatiously, running her fingers along his still wet and throbbing member. Franz laughed happily, not knowing what to say, and the smiling girl raised an eyebrow in a familiar way.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?"

"Of course," Franz blurted out a hasty lie.

"I don't believe you," she replied, letting out a light-hearted laugh. "It was nice, but you were pretty quick," she continued.

"Do you want to do it again?" Franz asked, a little hurt.

"Are you up for it?"

"We great adventurers can take on any challenge," Franz declared, feeling just as confident as a true adventurer should. He adjusted his position and felt his cock harden again. She giggled and spread her legs wide.

* * *

When it was all over and the girl was dressed, Franz felt on top of the world. "Do you have to go already?" he asked.

"The customers are waiting," the girl said, as she tied her dress.

"Maybe you'll come back?" Franz said, letting his hope shine through.

"Maybe. It depends a bit..." the girl began vaguely.

"Depends on what?"

"On how much more your companion is prepared to pay me."

"Pay..." Franz repeated, realising at the same time what she had meant. It was as if all feeling had died inside him for a moment.

She must have noticed the frozen look on Franz's face, because she said: "You didn't...you didn't think I would just...for free..."

The words stabbed Franz in the heart. "Get out of here!" he roared and threw a pillow at her without hitting her.

A look of regret had crossed the girl's face, but neither that nor her apology had any effect on Franz.

As she slipped out the door into the corridor, Franz remained naked on the bed. A thousand different emotions buzzed around his heavy head, which he buried in a pillow he had picked up from the floor.

Franz felt betrayed. The moustached man had sensed his inexperience and his insatiable desire for the tavern girl. He had done Franz a favour without asking - at once humiliating and the best possible.

He had lost his virginity. Albeit to a prostitute whose name he had not even bothered to ask. It was hard to be both angry and elated at the same time. So Franz decided to choose the latter, at least until he saw the moustached man again.

* * *