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5

They Quarrel Again

Aurienne

Aurienne had expected Kentigern to be a pretty sort of spa town, something like Bath or Brightbridge Wells. Instead, the waystone spat them into being in an alley that felt markedly seedy.

The sign for the Randy Unicorn swung overhead. Aurienne, peering at the creature in the twilight, could confirm that the unicorn was, indeed, randy. The artist had not been coy about it.

In front of them was the door to the Unicorn, lit on either side by red lanterns. This was not merely a public house, then—this was a brothel.

Two buxom women in low-cut dresses trotted out, and taught Aurienne the real meaning of titting about.

“I suppose we should ask where the hot springs are,” said Aurienne.

“I know exactly where they are,” said Mordaunt.

“Where?”

“In there,” said Mordaunt, pointing at the Randy Unicorn.

“What?”

“They’ve got really excellent baths. I suppose that’s what’s left of your long-ago hot springs.”

“You’ve been here?”

“A few times. Best brothel in Dyfed.”

Aurienne stared at the door with concern. Under the erect unicorn curled the wordsCome one, come all.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Mordaunt. “The ladies won’t bite, unless you pay them to.”

“I’m not frightened ofthe ladies,” said Aurienne, stiffening at the very suggestion. “I work withthe ladiesregularly.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and they’re lovely. My Order runs drop-ins for them. What frightens me is the possibility of being recognised in the company of a Fyren.”

“Well, then, put your hood up. Hide your dress. And—slouch a bit, or something. Stop looking so much like a hoity-toity Haelan.”

Aurienne (who was not hoity-toity and who found excellent posture to be a virtue) pulled her hood high and arranged her travelling cloak so that it covered her Haelan whites. “And you?”

Mordaunt’s answer was cut off by a group of figures exiting the Unicorn. They were all, like him, clad in black, and exuding a general air of villainy.

“Never mind,” said Aurienne, given that Mordaunt would fit right into the general miasma of disrepute.

Mordaunt held the door for Aurienne. They entered a foyer, at the front of which was a small shop selling sex toys, contraceptives, enema kits (on offer: a free jar of Laxadaisical, the Carefree Laxative), and novelty sweets (penis lollies, clitoris liquorice).

The foyer was crowded with counters, each of which served different…well, Aurienne would call them specialties, based on the signs above them. Behind each counter was a corridor, presumably leading to rooms where these activities took place.

Aurienne squinted at the raunchy signs in the penumbra: this way for women seeking women, this way for women seeking men, this way for whips and chains, this way for groups, this way for—inanimate objects?

Absorbed by a picture of a man vigorously penetrating a boot, Aurienne bumped into a counter. This one was adorned with a painting of a pie.

“Hiya,” said the naked, muscular man behind it. “How can we inseminate you today?”

“Erm,” said Aurienne, articulately.