“That's not really smelling. Much like sharks, sea dragons have a second set of nostrils beneath their snouts. They are not for breathing. Water flows through them, full of tiny particles shed by living things. These secondary nostrils sense the particles, and we interpret it as a type of smell.” He scowled. “Unlike this horrendous odor that I can smell right now.”
“We're passing the fish market. Fresh fish doesn't smell, but barrels of fish guts do. A lot.”
“Indeed.”
Then we came alongside the wharf. Off the wharf were the docks, and across the street from them were shops. Men were loading cargo into carts, merchants inspecting their shipments, and prostitutes strolled through it all.
I searched the ships for sloops with wolf figureheads. There were none. At least I'd tried. Now, we'd wait on the Talons. I leaned out the window again. “To the palace!”
“Yes, sir.”
As we turned up a street, Jucai asked, “Are those women so desperate for attention that they must come search the docks for lonely sailors?” Jucai frowned as we passed a couple of female prostitutes flirting with a group of sailors.
I snorted a laugh. “Those are prostitutes, Jucai.”
“I don't know that word.”
My eyes went wide. “You must have sex workers in Kansu.”
“You mean the men and women who perform sex for entertainment and offer to have sex with others for a fee?”
“Yes, that's called prostitution here.”
“Our prostitutes don't have to go looking for customers.”
“We have places where prostitutes wait for their clients to come to them as well. They're called brothels. But the docks and taverns are the only source of income for men and womenwhom the brothels won't take. As you said, the ships come in with lonely sailors.”
“Ah, I understand now. But wouldn't those men prefer to relax in a nice establishment and choose a partner from an assortment of prostitutes?”
“The merchants probably do, but the sailors can't afford it, Jucai.”
“Even our lowliest pleasure house is more inviting than this.”
“And even your lowliest pleasure house would be too costly for them.”
He grimaced. “And you disapprove of my slaves. At least they can afford a nice pleasure house.”
“You pay your slaves? Then they're not slaves.”
“We give them coins and other gifts in gratitude for their service when they leave. The amount they get depends on how well they served.”
It wasn't exactly employment, but it made me feel a little better about Jucai owning slaves.
“I'd wager these free men would rather live as they do than be your slave,” I said.
Jucai smirked. “That's only because they haven't been to my palace. There, they would never be lonely, worked to the point of exhaustion, or have to pay for sex.”
“But then, they would be prostitutes.”
“My slaves are not prostitutes! They serve out of gratitude for our protection.”
“And you pay them when they leave. So, are they paid workers or slaves?”
“They are slaves who we present with gifts out of gratitude.”
“So, they're paid when their service is over.”
“You keep saying that, but it's not payment. Payment implies an agreed-upon amount for a specified service. We give the slaves what we feel they deserve after they've provided a service that was not specified.”
