Page 107 of Tempest

That seemed to intrigue the Key Keeper, who quickly shut her ledger. Again, she looked over Cat, this time with a softer eye.

“Is that so?” she murmured, tipping her head. Then her tanned fingers swept in a flicking gesture, dismissing her employee. “Back to the floor, Beth.”

To that, there was no argument. Elisabeth was back at the door in a second. “Good luck,” she said with a fleeting smile.

Cat offered the same. “Be safe.”

When the latch clicked, she took a hesitant step towards the desk and smoothed her dress. Cat did not know the Key Keeper personally but knew her reputation. Like the Duchess, she was the madam of the Paradise Quarter, managing a great number of folk with efficiency. But she also navigated within the bounds of Esperese law and bureaucracy. As a businesswoman herself, Cat knew to be impressed. And careful.

“I can cook and clean. Whatever you need,” she said, keeping up her ruse. “I just need—a place to land.”

In her chair, the Key Keeper sighed a little. With her iron-gray hair, still shot with strands of jet black, and the burnished bronze color of her skin, Cat guessed she was of Itziman descent, hailing from the Southern Continent.

“I can imagine,” the woman muttered, tsking. “I suppose it just isn’t worth operating in Meridian ports. Too much trouble, too much risk, even if they still pay for the pleasure of our company.”

Cat nodded along, her head bobbing in a desperate way that felt embarrassing. “It does seem that way.”

“Well, let me look at you.”

The Key Keeper was shorter than expected, groaning a little as she rose to her feet. Her maroon dress fell about her in intricate folds, the garment well-made despite the plain appearance. It set off her deep brown eyes so perfectly that, for a moment, Cat thought she could see back through time, to the younger years of the Key Keeper. When she had a different name, and likely served a different madam. Certainly, she was beautiful then, as she was regal now.

Then she stuck her hands in Cat’s mouth, forcing her to stifle a sharp yelp.

“Good teeth,” the Key Keeper muttered, inspecting Cat’s incisors. It took all her will not to bite down.

At least the madam was fast, releasing Cat’s jaw to study her eyes, then her hands, before squeezing around her bosom and even her bottom with sure, quick motions. Holding steady, Cat wondered if this was what animals felt like when driven to market and weighed for slaughter.

“Not as bad as I expected,” the madam said, patting her on the arm.

Cat worked fiercely to keep her face straight. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“I can keep you in the kitchens, and if a place opens in the main house, I suppose you could try your hand in the evenings. But I’m not running a charity. This is a business, and the collectors in town treat us like it,” the Key Keeper said and returned to her ledger. “I’ve taxes to pay, Sara.”

“I truly appreciate it,” Cat said, dipping into a curtsy. She was careful to make her movements clumsy, more suited to a common prostitute than a Meridian lady. Even a fallen one. “How often do places open?”

The madam shrugged. “Shouldn’t be long. There’s a great deal of movement with the Meridian navy returning to the Lyrian Sea. Girls like you, moving on, seeking new work. Chasing old work.”

Cat felt like a sail catching the wind, finally on course. “I see.”

“I suppose most of your lads died. Heard about that even here.”

The madam paused in her work, quill frozen in hand. “Sounded like a massacre.”

“It was,” Cat said, a real tremor in her voice. She did not have to act to summon the pain of such memories, and the fear of them too. Governor Osprin’s brutal reign was impossible to forget. But still a valuable card to play. “I don’t think your girls will be chasing long. The new governor in Archenport made himself very clear.

Behind her glasses, the Key Keeper’s eyes darkened. “Clear about what?”

“He’s hunting every pirate in the Lyrian Sea, and anyone still aligned with them,” Cat warned.

Sighing heavily, the Key Keeper nodded and pushed the glasses back up the bridge of her nose. She seemed already weary at the thought. “I’ll be here when my girls come scurrying back from Arcayo.”

The name of the island nation rang clear as a bell, resounding in Cat’s head. She suspected as much but still reveled in the confirmation. It was a heading. And proof beyond her gut instinct. Proof enough for Fell, at the very least.

“Certainly Nera can only hold so many skirts,” Cat mused, weighing the look on the madam’s face.

“If they stay on the island.”

Want rose up in Cat, gnawing at her insides, but she held fast to the ruse. “Where else would they go?”