“But it is there, at the hall's end. The soon-to-be greatest offering of Opulence Mansion.” He studied her reaction closely. “The Room of Desire.”
“Room of Desire,” she repeated, returning his intense stare. “What sort of desires does it promise?” Her thoughts whirled from more accepted forms, such as money, to the more clandestine, such as—
At the blush having risen to the apples of her cheeks, Master Merridon chuckled. “That is the wondrous thing about desires. They are particular to everyone, and so long as a member can recall theirs distinctly, they might experience it. Perhaps even leave herewithit.”
Alora frowned. “How can that be possible?”
“The impossible thrives here, haven’t you noticed?”
It was a non-answer, of course, but when she frowned deeper, he only winked at her, unbothered. It was a well-practiced wink, she could tell. One that probably charmed others into giving him precisely what he wanted. In this particular moment, his desire was clear:silence.“Enter it now if you like. Take your time, take notes, or whatever your process may be. As far as the remainder of the terms, you will be allotted one month to design the room to its fullest potential, a generous expense account, naturally, and payment of 100,000 evergolds by the end.” Alora choked on a gasp. “Oh, and a membership. Paid in full for one year. Are you all right?”
Alora could only continue to blink rapidly, her brain a delirious whirlwind amassing around one central thought.100,000 evergolds!Well over twice what she earned in a year, all in a single job. She was most certainlynot‘all right’.
“I think so. I’m only— A month?”
“Once I have my mind set on something, I like to see it to fruition as quickly as possible. I'll await your answer.”
Yes!Alora wanted to exclaim. A hundred times over. But she pulled herself together at last, brushing back the pieces of hair having escaped from the top of her head during heroverextended tour, and turned toward the dark corridor. “I won’t be long.”
It wasn’t far before even the vestiges of light remaining from the main hall’s chandeliers could no longer mark her way. Alora walked in total darkness, and in a slight downhill, too, if she wasn’t mistaken. The flooring hadn’t changed, however, as her short heels continued to clack against it as before, and the air smelled no different, though the temperature might have dropped a fraction. But that could be nerves. She wasn’t in the habit of wandering into dark spaces without a light source and was surprised Master Merridon hadn’t offered one. A note for her refurbishment of this space, to be sure.
“Is there even a Door Twenty-five? Maybe this tunnel burrows on forever,” she grumbled, moments before her outstretched fingers touched wood. Her rushed breath of relief was loud in the dark—too loud—and before she could help it, a bout of nerves overtook her. She didn’t know what might be down here: spiders or snakes or someone lurking who might hurt her. As minds were prone to do, an unwelcome memory of the running man surfaced. Did many attempt to break into this place? Had any succeeded? And where might the hairy-armed giant have gotten off to with their quarry?
She needed light and she needed itnow, and when the flickering candle materialized in her hand, she couldn’t be upset by her lack of discipline. All she felt was quick relief. Door Twenty-five. There it was, marked as all the others, and the doorknob was the same—gold and ornate. She turned it quickly and sent it inward.
At first glance, she noted the bare floors; no marble or rugs or furs as she’d seen prior. She stepped slowly in, careful, so as not to disturb anything that may be lurking. But there was nothing. Aside from an unlit lamp sitting alone on the floor, there wasn’t so much as a window, furthering her suspicions she was indeedbelow ground. The walls were bare white plaster, and the ceiling held no adornment either. It was a plain, average-sized room with nothing to mark it but her imagination.
A dangerous thing.
Moving toward the lamp, she used the nearby matches to light it, snuffing her imagined candle and placing it in her satchel once the other flared. “A room of desires. Hmm. What to do with you?” She pulled out her notepad and a pencil, tapping its length. Master Merridon had said desires were unique to an individual. An obvious statement, but it was one she’d latched onto. She couldn’t very well decorate a room to call upon every natural desire. Love, money, long life, health— No, what a nightmare. If a person sought out this room, they must already have an idea of what they wished for, and so needn’t be swayed. Simple furnishings, then. No—inviting. Some people, not her, but some people, were skittish over admitting their desires for a host of reasons. This room should entice them to do so.
Pulling a measuring tape from the bag’s depths, Alora moved about the room, jotting notes and lengths and ideas, everything else forgotten. She could picture it clearly: a thick wool rug, a chaise lounge, and soft lamplight rather than an overwhelming chandelier. The chaise would be crimson, a nod to Master Merridon of course, with thick cushions, and perhaps gold, but not much—
Alora cut off the image not a moment too soon. What a disaster it would be for an unexplained piece of furniture to materialize with no way to be rid of it or to explain it. She’d lived twenty-four years with the secret, and she wouldn't let it free now. 100,000 evergolds were on the line.100,000!
Stashing the notebook and dousing the lamplight, she left.
“I accept,” she announced upon her return. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Master Merridon turned toward her as the stranger did. Though Master Merridon’s face revealed his pleasure, the stranger’s revealed nothing, as it was hidden beneath a dark cowl.Alora appreciated the tall height of the newcomer. How his broad shoulders rivaled that of the proprietor’s, how he was entirely enshrouded by a high-collared black coat that brushed his knees. It didn’t take any particular skill to ascertain that this was a person not meant to be seen, though Master Merridon didn’t seem too put out about it. If anything, given her announcement, the shadowy man ceased to require his attention.
Alora was an unfortunate sap for mystery, especially when said mystery involved tall, darkly dressed gentlemen.Intrigue,hammered her heart.He must be very hot beneath all that black.
“Excellent, Miss Pennigrim!” Master Merridon raised two fingers in a dismissive gesture to the man beside him, who then promptly turned away. As he left, Alora caught a fascinating glimpse of a masked jaw in the chandelier light before giving her attention once more to Master Merridon.
“Before I begin, I will ask if there is anything particular you request for the room? I’ll admit I’m curious as to how it’s all meant to work. Take the Room of Forgotten Memories, for example. Am I to accommodate for plumbing?” Two birds with one stone, this question was, and Alora waited, her bones vibrating.
Master Merridon’s mouth took on that pinched expression again. “No plumbing. I suppose seating would be my only contribution. A chair, a sofa, or perhaps a bed. Something of that nature.”
A bed?What a conundrum this project is turning out to be. And so soon.She’d never had so little to go on.
“Use your imagination, Miss Pennigrim. Design it to your exquisite tastes. I’m certain it will not disappoint.”
“I will do my very best, Master Merridon.”
“I’m sure of it. Now, last matter of business.” Master Merridon reached within his luxurious waistcoat, pulling forth a folded bit of parchment and a pen. “Your signature, please. For our agreement.”
“Of course.” Alora didn’t always have to sign such things, but for well-established businesses such as this, it was to be expected. When he handed both to her, she unfolded it, reading quickly. She swallowed. “A confidentiality clause?”
