Chapter 50: Home

“So right here we have the easiest of your options,” said Linda, opening the door to a dilapidated tavern halfway between the Boulevard and North River Row. The door groaned as it swung open. Light trickled in from the midday sun, illuminating dancing motes of dust. It was a large building, nestled in between a tailor’s shop and a small grocer, and had seen better days. Linda stepped inside, sweeping her arm out at the room.

Quentin and Razia followed behind her. Quentin took off his shaded spectacles to better see, once again grateful for the gift. He looked around the building and honestly…Wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be seeing. Potential, maybe? It looked like a generic watering hole. A quarter of the ground floor was the bar and the doors leading to the kitchens. Tables in various states of disrepair filled out most of the rest of the room, with the odd chair here and there. Some of them even had all their legs.

“Not very promising,” Razia said, wrinkling her nose and waving dust out of her face.

“You get what you pay for,” Linda replied, clicking her tongue. “This one’s only 2800 and it’s in the best location out of the three I can show you today.”

Quentin went up to one of the tables and ran his finger along the dusty wood. The table collapsed to the ground, legs falling off and over. He somehow managed not to jump out of his skin. He turned an unimpressed frown towards Linda.

“Look,” she sighed. “You get this place and you’re gonna make up the cost in renovations. But that’s not a bad thing. You’re gonna want a mason and a carpenter to give the place a once over anyway.”

Razia shook her head. “It’s roomy and the location is fine, but it’s not especially suited to our needs. Too much of the space is used for storage or cooking. Where are we going to have rooms for people to go back to? Some people might like to perform, but others prefer their privacy.”

Linda had an answer for that. “If you’re gonna get work done, might as well fully remodel. You could convert this whole space into rooms if you’re willing to put the work in, and maybe transform some of the storage rooms into bedrooms. How many people you got working for you?” To her credit, whatever her feelings were about their business, she was professional about it.

“Six of us,” Razia said.

“Well,” Linda shrugged. “You could easily fit four small rooms down here, and use the upstairs storage for another couple. Maybe bigger suites upstairs, I don’t know how you plan on running it. The important thing is this will get you plenty of customers, the area is generally as safe as Orchrisus gets, and I could have the deed in your hands by the end of the day.”

Quentin stepped away from the broken table. Thinking about it, he could see what Linda meant about the place. The tavern was a blank slate, easily adapted to their needs. He and Razia had discussed a lot of what they would need to entertain lonely Orchrisans night after night, and a decent kitchen was a good start. Behind the bar would be the perfect place for guests to check their weapons before finding a seat where the girls would be waiting. Turning to Razia, he quirked a brow.

Razia slowly spun in place, looking up and considering it. She headed for the stairs and made her way up. Three steps later and the step collapsed on her, sending Razia sprawling backwards. Quentin ran after her in a flash, unable to get there in time to catch her. She landed hard on her ass, yelping. Quentin carefully pulled her foot out of the hole, wincing as he saw blood.

“So that one didn’t pan out,” Linda said as they walked north after pulling the splinters out of Razia’s ankle. “But that was just the first place on the list. If we can’t find you a place that satisfies, I’ll resign.”

That probably wouldn’t be necessary. Other than surprise and a little bit of pain, Razia was none the worse for wear. Her steps were a little lopsided now as she favored her other foot, but mostly she just looked embarrassed. After a few seconds she caught Quentin staring and flashed him a crooked smile. She took his hand in hers and they followed Linda to the next property.

Immediately, Quentin understood Linda’s point about location. The tavern had been between two major thoroughfares, easily accessible from all directions and in a good neighborhood. The same couldn’t be said of the inn they were looking at. It wasn’t that the area around it was bad, per se. It was just tucked away right next to a neighborhood of dozens of short, cramped houses.

“As you can see, this is in a heavy residential area,” Linda said, pointing to the long winding road with house after house on it. “The inn was here first, and when they started building more houses it stopped being necessary. It closed down and has passed hands about half a dozen times over the past fifteen years. It’s not as visible, but you got a built-in clientele right next door.” Linda opened the door and led them in.

This place, at least, wasn’t covered in three inches of dust everywhere. It wasn’t completely falling apart and there were no obvious hazards Quentin could see. The worst he could say about it was the stillness inside was eerie. It would be a different matter when they had the girls in there and maybe music and laughter. There was none of it there, making the place feel a little like a tomb. And if it really had passed hands so many times, who’s to say it wasn’t a resting place for failed businesses?

Razia wasted no time in going upstairs, very slowly testing the stairs before she climbed them. Linda remained downstairs, leaning against the door as they checked out the second story. To Quentin’s complete lack of surprise, it was an ordinary, run down inn. There were a dozen rooms upstairs, none of them especially big or small. The only life to be found was bugs and the occasional rat.

“What are you thinking?” Quentin asked as Razia opened the third room and closed the door within seconds.

“I’m thinking that either this is a sales play to make us really want the third property,” she said, “or else she really doesn’t want us to buy anything at all. There’s no way we’re going for this one.”

“Okay,” said Quentin, “why not? Walk me through your logic.”

Razia considered it and gestured to the line of rooms. “Honestly, an inn would be perfect if we had a decent sized operation. Something like this would be a good way to grow into, get more girls and a couple guys working for us. Twelve rooms, we could easily have eighteen or twenty people working at any given time.”

“But,” Quentin prodded, trying not to imagine their group getting that outrageously large.

“But the location is about as bad as it can get.” Razia led him to the window at the top of the stairs. She wiped away some dust and it was easier to see the line of houses. “We’d either have a built-in clientele right there, or we’d have a group of pissed off husbands and wives who don’t want their partners straying and make life difficult for us.

“Let’s say they did appreciate us being here. We’d be right here at all times.” She made a face. “We want a place that’s handy and accessible, but out of the way enough to make it a conscious choice to go to us. I’d give it a few months before they got bored with us. Those that don’t get too attached and fall in love and make trouble for us that way.”

Quentin found himself smiling. “How often does that happen? Falling in love with a whore?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and immediately he felt self conscious and silly. “Often enough that some girls rely on it as their retirement plan. Work while their looks are still good and they’re not too bitter to deal with it, and eventually find a decent enough guy and switch to being a homemaker. Or they die young and don’t need to worry about it.”

He couldn’t help but make a face. “Well, that’s depressing.”

“It can be. It’s why we’re going to do it better. Right?”

“Right.” Quentin smiled.

“What do you think?” Linda asked them when they came back downstairs. She had a hungry gleam in her eyes. Privately, Quentin was beginning to think there wasn’t any special sales cunning at work here. Linda was as straightforward as they came, and she wanted to get paid at least as badly as they wanted a place to work.

“I think we’d like to see the last place on your list,” said Razia.

There was a distinct slump in Linda’s shoulders as she led them around the city. She’d been clear that it wasn’t a buyer’s market, but still had a few places she thought might work. Maybe she’d been spoiled by how easy it had been to find Quentin a house with the shards he had on hand for a good down payment. His only requirement had been big and classy, and she’d found him the best option for someone who wasn’t highborn and had generational wealth at his disposal. It had taken her all of three days to find and acquire it. It made sense that this could and probably would take longer, but Quentin shared in her frustration.

The last leg of their journey wasn’t too far from there, and was in a much easier location to find. It was a corner building at a four way intersection in a mediocre neighborhood. It was neither an inn or a tavern, but an insula instead. Three stories of cramped identical homes, with a common room and kitchens at the bottom. There was more than enough room, but seeing it made Quentin’s stomach turn.

“This’ll give you all the room you need,” Linda said, as if reading Quentin’s mind. She sounded a bit annoyed and insistent now. “Room after room for girls to work in, and it’s all neatly organized. Mostly furnished too, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

Razia looked at it, frown widening by the second. “You mean to tell me that there’s big, cheap housing in the middle of the world’s largest city and it’s empty and ready to be sold?”

“Of course not,” Linda scoffed. “There are people living there right now, but the owner wants to part with the property and he’s willing to sell it for under market value. Going price is 4000, but I can probably talk him down to 3500. You buy this and evict a few people, you’ll have income from the whores and from the tenants you don’t kick out.”

Quentin didn’t need to confer with Razia over this one. The place reminded him of where he and his father ended up after Quentin’s mother died. A tiny, shitty place to live filled with hateful, nosy bastards who couldn’t leave well enough alone. And having to evict people for their business? Quentin was a damned soul and he knew it, but he wasn’t a bastard. “I’m not nearly scummy enough to be a landlord,” he said.

Linda let out a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m glad you alone have the moral backbone to make a stand,” she said flatly. “Still, you’re in a location with lots of foot traffic, you’d have built in clientele and a place for your whores to live when they’re not working, it’s got everything you need.”

“She’s not wrong,” Razia said, looking about as repulsed as Quentin felt. “Plenty of room for growth when we need it. All it would cost is making people homeless whenever it’s convenient for us.”

“Alright, okay, message received,” Linda grumbled, definitely annoyed now. “These were the places I could show you today. Did none of them strike your fancy?”

He and Razia shared a look and a silent conversation. They were getting better and better at that. It helped that her face was plenty expressive and she could read him like a book. It took less than ten seconds for them to come to a consensus. Turning to Linda, Quentin said, “The tavern was the best one, but that’d need a lot of work. We’d be practically better off knocking it over and building something new.”

“I know some masons I could hook you up with,” Linda offered helpfully.

Quentin almost laughed. “So do I. I think we’ll wait until the next batch of properties you can show us. Another week roaming around won’t hurt us, will it Razia?” Though he wasn’t entirely convinced that just paying them to stay home while they licked their wounds wasn’t a better option.

Razia shook her head. “It’s mostly worked out for us this long. We can afford to be patient, but not wait until summer patient.”

Linda shrugged her shoulders. “Then I’ll gather info on what properties are available and try to find you something by this time next week. Considering your reactions, I’ll limit it to inns and taverns only. Shall I send a fleetfoot to you when I have them?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Yes,” Quentin nodded. He fished around in his pocket and drew out a castura piece and handed it to her. “For your time. You’ve given us a lot to think about and a better understanding of what we need.”

Linda took it, expression brightening immediately. “Next week, then. I’ll have a place you can’t say no to, Quintius. I guarantee it.” She inclined her head respectfully and left them there, taking the long way around to a bigger, friendlier street.

Quentin and Razia remained standing at the corner, staring up at the insula. “Never liked these places,” Quentin muttered. “Even if we didn’t have to kick people out to make it work. I lived in one like this once. Most miserable period of my life. I went from a shithole like this to my current home, and I could never go back.”

Razia hmm’d her agreement. “Hard to imagine you coming home from a hard night of fighting, tired and battered, to a place like this. Your home’s a bit empty and could use some decoration, but it suits you. It’s peaceful and quiet.”

That made him snort. “My life is anything other than peaceful and quiet. Especially since meeting you.”

“Ahh, your life might not be peaceful or quiet, but you yourself are, when no one is bothering you. Those first few days staying with you, I wasn’t sure if you were extra quiet because I was there and you were uncomfortable or if it’s just how you were. Even knowing you probably just weren’t used to having company.”

A thought struck him. “Does it bother you?” Quentin asked. “I know I’m not all that sociable. I prefer keeping to myself. I’m probably not the best company you’ve ever had.”

Razia rolled her eyes at him. “Quit being down on yourself. If I want your attention, I have it and we both know it.” He could hardly argue with that. “I like it here with you. I…” She shrugged, looking away. “I’ve gotten into a bad habit of thinking of it as my home now, instead of just staying with you. I have to remind myself that I’m there only as long as you want me.”

Tentatively, Quentin put his arm around Razia’s shoulder. “I’ve got no plans to kick you out anytime soon. You’d have to fuck me over pretty badly for that to change. Let’s…Let’s go home,” he said, “It’s your home too, but I’m a bit nervous leaving the rest of the girls there alone. If one of them goes into my room…”

“Then we’ll kill her and throw her body in the river,” Razia said cheerfully. She let out an unhinged laugh at the look on his face.

Despite his words, there was no real hurry to get home. They wound their way back towards the Boulevard, keeping close to one another. For the thousandth time since they got together, Quentin was struck by what an odd sight they must’ve been together. Her with her shaved head and brightly colorful dress against dark skin, him with his impossible pallor and great height. But Quentin found he was getting used to the stares, and they slid off him easier now. It was hard to care about what others thought when he was too focused on enjoying getting out of the house and being able to see in the middle of the day.

As they passed the street side of his home, Razia stopped them. “That’s ours, right?” At Quentin’s nod, she asked, “Why don’t we ever go inside from here? There’s a door right there, but we always go in through the courtyard.”

Quentin led them up to the window, which was boarded shut. Still, the shutters opened a crack and he motioned for Razia to get a peek through it. “All of these houses have an office facing the street. Most of my neighbors work out of their homes, taking a few rooms for their businesses and the rest for their families. I live here but have never had a reason to use the front, so I closed it up and used it for storage. I just made it a habit of going in through the courtyard like everyone else who lives here and never thought about it.”

Razia nodded in understanding. They went around and used their normal entrance, Razia waving at the guards at their post. One of them had a big doofy grin on his face and waved back at her in a way that made his superior clear his throat. Razia shook with silent laughter as the heavyset guard forced his face into neutrality and looked past them.

“How long did it take to get them eating out of your palm?” Quentin said.

“I’ve only got half of them, I think,” said Razia brightly. “Some of them still haven’t forgiven me for bringing bandits to their doorstep, and some seem determined to hate me. But that’s always how it goes. C’mon, let’s check on Lucy.”

Most of the girls, Lucy included, were there in the atrium waiting for them. Lucy, Samantha, and Tricia were sitting on the lounger while Jenna and Lynne sat with their feet in the pool under the skylight. A garbled, mixed up greeting erupted from them when they stepped in from the garden. Lucy was looking worse now than she did the day before, her face one giant bruise, but she wasn’t stuck in bed. No doubt Samantha got her the better painkillers from Quentin’s stash.

“Hey Bossman,” Jenna called out, giving him a lopsided grin. “You find us a good place to work?”

“Not yet,” Razia answered for them. “We saw a few places, and we’re gonna check out more in a week.”

“What’re we gonna do until then?” Samantha asked. “Should we take a few days off, maybe spend them with family?”

“How long does your offer to…You know, cover us last?” Lynne asked.

Quentin should’ve expected questions as soon as they got back, but a part of him was still surprised by it. Of course they were curious, and he wished he had better news for them. This wasn’t something Razia could answer, this was all on him to make the call. “We’ll take a week, paid. You can go home if you want to, or you can stay here. I’ll see about getting another bed or two, since my home is apparently an inn now.” There was no venom in his words or his crooked smile.

“Are you sure we can just work here?” Jenna asked, face turning red. “I’m not trying to push, I swear,” she quickly added. “This just seems perfect.”

“If you like it so much,” Razia said, crossing her arms over her chest, “Buy your own. I have it on good authority that next door is still for sale.”

It was like a lightning flash, or being dunked in cold water. As soon as the words left Razia’s mouth, time crawled to a standstill, and Quentin felt very stupid. It was staring them right in the face, and had been since they walked into Linda’s office. Razia looked up at him and he could see she had the same realization that he had.

“On second thought,” Razia said, “maybe we do have a place after all…”