The Lost Prophecy Read online

  “Don’t damage the merchandise,” one scavenger objected. “Get your mistress. She’ll want to see the treasures I have acquired for her.”

  The giant man grunted, released me and then disappeared through an entrance. Moments later, he reappeared.

  “Follow me.” He stepped inside.

  The scavenger prodded us through the doorway. We followed the giant into a room aglow with red light. Plush crimson velvet hung from the ceiling. Gold seats trimmed with scarlet tassels lined the walls. Exotic animal skins covered the floor. A pair of sleeping doves huddled in a gilded cage. In the center of the room, two naked figures frolicked in a fountain.

  I gasped and glanced at Trill. Her mouth gaped in astonishment at the fantastic scene.

  Unseen hands clapped twice; the figures jumped from the water and disappeared behind a curtain.

  “Approach.” The voice was low, husky and female.

  Our captors pushed us forward. We circled the fountain. On the opposite side of the room, a female sat on a red velvet dais, cushioned with spotted animal skins. She stood as we advanced toward her.

  The woman was equal in height to the giant at the door. As she moved, her golden gown skimmed her body like water over rock before pooling at her feet. A collar rose behind her head and cupped a face of slants and angles. Her indigo skin shone like a moonlit night. Like drops of burnt honey in milky pools, her eyes monitored our approach.

  “The last ones you brought me didn’t survive a month.” Her full red lips speared each syllable when she spoke.

  The scavengers stepped back as if cut by her words. Their hands lifted to their weapons.

  Ignoring them, she took my chin between thumb and forefinger. The prick of her pointed nails reminded me of a similar encounter with the Genetrix in Hypor City. My hair fell back as she lifted my face. Her eyes flared wide then narrowed.

  I held my breath. Was it possible she knew about the prophecy?

  She released me, scarcely glancing at petite Trill.

  “I’ll pay you for the tall one,” she told the scavengers as she signaled to the giant who tugged a heavy leather purse from his belt.

  “We’re together. You must take her too,” I insisted, fearing Trill’s fate if she was left with the scavengers.

  “Silence.” The woman glared at me before turning to address the men. “You’ll give me the other one as compensation for the inferior ones you sold me last time.”

  “That’s a cheat,” one man objected. “How could we have known?”

  The woman’s lips thinned as she signaled her protector. The giant offered several metal coins in one palm. His other hand rested on the grip of his curved dagger.

  The men cursed in disgust as they grabbed the coins. The big man ushered them from the room, leaving us alone with the woman.

  “I am Mistress Zora.” She looked at each of us in turn. “Follow me.” The train of her robe swished behind her as she walked slowly and gracefully toward an interior doorway. She didn’t wait to see if we obeyed. There was no escape, and she knew it.

  Trill and I walked side by side through a winding corridor. Exotic murals covered the rock-salt walls. Red doors appeared regularly on each side of the passageway. Some were open, exposing dark interiors. From behind closed doors came sounds of slapping, grunting and moaning. When a shrill scream struck my eardrums, I grabbed Trill’s hand and squeezed her trembling fingers.

  “We’ll find a way out,” I whispered.

  My bravado shrivelled when our new jailor turned to us with an evil smirk.

  4

  Sing For Your Supper

  Mistress Zora motioned us into a sparsely furnished room. It was a stark contrast to the red splendor of the brothel corridors. A tiny shaft of light from a tube in the ceiling created an eerie gloom. The gray walls were bare and rough. Two beds, a table and two chairs were the only furnishings. A small closet contained a sink, toilet and narrow shower.

  Zora entered and closed the door behind her. Ignoring Trill, she looked directly at me. “Do you have any talents? Can you sing or dance?”

  I hesitated, not wanting to reveal any ability.

  Trill nodded impulsively. “She can sing. We both can.” She started a tune.

  Zora’s hand cut through the air. Trill went silent. Golden eyes bored into mine. “Tell me your name.”

  I lifted my chin and kept my expression neutral. “Brynna.” I hoped that would satisfy her. I didn’t want to reveal my last name and my family connection.

  It was a relief when her face showed only mild curiosity. To her, I was nothing more than a chattel to be used or sold.

  “I'm Trill.” Her attempt at friendliness was ignored.

  Zora sniffed and curled her lip. “You both stink. Get cleaned up. You first, Brynna. I have something special in mind for you.” She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  “I wish you hadn’t told her about our singing.” I couldn’t conceal the annoyance in my voice.

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was a secret,” said Trill. “Are you okay? Your aura has shrunk and gone gray.”

  Her strange words distracted me. “What are you talking about?”

  “Remember, I told you I can see auras?”

  I shrugged and shook my head, thoroughly confused.

  “You know—the light around your body. Even though you were hurt when I met you, your aura was strong. Now it's thin, almost invisible.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is it something about the singing?”

  After years of guarding my secret, it was difficult to acknowledge the truth, but like Weyland, my synesthete friend on Hypor, I sensed that I could trust Trill. I had to. She was my only ally.

  I dropped onto a bed. “Have you heard of Femin?”

  She shook her head as she sat beside me.

  “Femin make up a sisterhood that my mother and I belong to. We can heal with our voices. Singing or humming.” I sighed deeply. “It's something I've always had to hide.”

  Trill put her hand on mine. “Why? Healing is something that has value in Nuvega. You'd make a fortune.”

  “All Femin sisters are confined to Prima Feminary. The Genetrix doesn't know that I'm a singer, let alone a healer. If she finds out, I’d lose my freedom and be forced to go to the feminary. Moreover, my mother's life would be in danger for teaching me the Femin ways.”

  Trill gave a long low whistle. “Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. At least on Nuvega, you're singing won't be suspect.” She tilted her head. “Now you've made me curious to hear you really sing. I only heard a little bit before.”

  She looked hopeful, but I didn't oblige. “Forget singing, what about escaping?”

  We were surprised by a knock on the door. Two young boys entered with platters of coarse bread, fruit and cheese. They quickly arranged the plates on the table and departed.

  I looked at Trill who returned an equally puzzled glance, then shrugged and inspected the food.

  Trill grabbed an apple and took a bite. “Might as well eat.” She threw me a piece of fruit. “We don't know when our next meal will be.”

  “Does that mean you have a plan?” I bit into a juicy pear.

  She nodded. “I’m certain my musician friends followed us. They’ll be planning a way to get me out. And you.”

  The lock clicked. Zora entered, followed by the giant.

  “I told you to clean yourselves.” She threw a red juba at Trill. The giant presented me with a sparkling gold one, trimmed in silver.

  “I hate red.” Trill wrinkled her nose. “It clashes with my pink hair.”

  Zora gave her a look that threatened violence. “You have ten minutes to get cleaned and dressed. Tonight you’ll earn your supper.” She turned on her heel and swished out the door.

  The giant snarled and sent us a warning glance before following his mistress.

  Trill grimaced at the juba and started to undress. “I don't like the way that sounded.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Her
aura is positively inky,” added Trill. “I've never seen one so dark.”

  “I wonder what her story is.” I yanked off my boots and discreetly slid the diary under them. Before heading to the shower, I piled my dirty garments over my boots, hoping the diary would be safe.

  I donned the gold juba while Trill washed. Despite her protests, she pulled the red juba over her head just as the door opened again. This time, the giant carried a whip.

  “Time to earn your keep.” His lips drew back revealing a row of silver stubs. “Move.” He snarled and flicked the whip toward the hallway.

  Silently we retraced our steps. I tried to memorize the twists and turns, to plot an escape route, but soon lost track.

  “We’re near the entrance,” Trill murmured, then grinned when I looked surprised at her superior mapping skills. They would come in useful in the maze of tunnels, if we ever escaped.

  At the entrance to the red salon we heard music.

  “Go,” commanded the giant, lifting his whip.

  Inside, a group of musicians entertained a dozen lavishly dressed patrons. I recoiled at the sight of scantily clad boys and girls, eyes glazed or barely open, sprawled on the floor. Their lethargy suggested they’d been drugged, and I suspected for debauched purposes. My instinct was to flee, but the hulking giant barred the exit and pushed us further into the room.

  Trill nudged my arm and winked. “Don’t worry, these are my friends. They’ll help us.”

  I scanned the group as they played, hoping they had a good plan.

  At an unseen signal, the musicians ceased playing. All eyes turned to Zora as she rose from her red throne.

  “Well, my friends. Tonight I have a special treat for you.” She glanced at us, her smile unfathomable. “Two singers for your enjoyment. Recent purchases.”

  “Let’s hope they’re better than the last ones,” shouted one guest.

  The other patrons burst into laughter.

  Zora resumed her seat, her face stony as she flicked her fingers toward us.

  Trill and I stepped over and between languid bodies toward the musicians huddled on the low stage.

  While Zora was distracted, the drum player leaned toward us and quickly sketched out the escape plan. “When the fire ignites we’ll blow the electrics. Wait until everyone rushes to leave and mix in with the crowd.”

  I wasn’t convinced the plan would work, but it was our only option.

  “When are they going to sing?” an impatient voice demanded. “I’m getting bored.”

  Others grumbled in agreement.

  “Sing,” commanded Zora.

  I whispered to the band. “Do you know Wings in the Mountain?” The song was soft and low, not requiring my high register. I was wary of accidentally hurting someone, especially the children.

  “Better something rowdy to add to the chaos,” murmured Trill. “Even if you don’t know it, you can fit in when you can.”

  The drummer announced a selection and hammered out a raging beat. String instruments thrummed wildly, horns belted out loudly and Trill gyrated in front of the band. When she started to sing, she danced over and grabbed my hand, encouraging me to follow her lead. I added my voice but kept my tones low.

  The guests seemed indifferent to the music. Several started to yawn and ignored our performance, preferring to gossip.

  Zora’s eyes narrowed to slits. She stood and pointed at me. One by one, the musicians went silent. “I want to hear her sing. By herself.”

  Suddenly, the guests grew animated, whispering excitedly. Their eyes flicked from Zora to me. As if sensing an unspoken drama, they lusted for the next line.

  When I remained silent, the giant manoeuvred toward me.

  Trill nudged me, her eyes pleading.

  I’d forgotten the plan.

  I started to hum, then sang the first verse of Wings in the Mountain. I closed my eyes and imagined Circe, soaring over the rocky peaks of home. The chorus had an option for a soaring soprano descant but I stayed with the alto melody. After three verses, I finished on a long, low note. The room was deathly quiet. When I opened my eyes, the guests burst into rowdy applause.

  “Something with more energy this time.” Zora’s command met with the crowd’s approval.

  My eyes locked with hers. Her lips twitched into a sly smile.

  The clamoring patrons chanted. “Sing. Sing. Sing.”

  “Do you know The Siren of Darby?” Trill asked.

  The song demanded strong voices. I feared my high notes would do harm.

  The band started the introduction to the song. Trill started to sing, but I remained mute.

  The music tapered off when Zora rose from her red throne. She flicked her hand toward the giant. He moved from his position by the door and eagerly pulled the whip from his belt. As he approached me, he slapped the leather against his palm. Within reach of me, he drew back his arm.

  Trill gasped as the giant drew back his arm. “Brynna,” she darted forward, but one of the musicians caught her and pulled her away.

  Anticipating the strike of the whip, I raised my arms over my head.

  “Fire! Fire!” A voice screamed.

  The room was dark except for a tiny glow. The velvet drape behind Zora started to shrivel and curl, finally exploding into flames. Reclining guests scrambled from their loungers, stomping heedlessly on the inert young bodies on the floor. The musicians seized their instruments. They encircled us and joined the frenzied crowd, sheltering our presence as we exited the fiery room.

  “The young ones!” My cry went unheeded as the panicked mass pushed us into the dark hallway.

  “Follow me.” Trill grabbed my arm and pulled me into a corner, away from the panic. “Let’s hide here a moment.”

  Despite the noise and confusion, we were still in danger. Zora was nearby with the giant. I heard her rallying people to look for us.

  “We have to ditch our jubas then get out of here.” I whispered after hearing Zora describe our garb.

  The scream of a high-pitched siren tore through the air.

  I covered my ears. “What’s that?”

  “Reinforcements and more chaos. Time to run!” Trill leapt forward through the exit and out into the market. I followed, thrusting aside all obstacles, including a few couples who swore loudly at being disturbed. We raced through the confusion toward the welcoming glow of the exit tunnel and the promise of freedom.

  “Got ya’! Both of you!” Strong hands grabbed our garments. The giant pulled us to a stop. My fingers clawed my throat as the juba tightened around my neck. I twisted to get a breath and saw Trill writhing from his other hand. He relaxed his hold and knuckled us from behind. “Get going.”

  Zora waited outside the brothel. She slapped our faces, raking Trill’s with her pointed fingernails. “Try to escape again and you won’t live to see another day.” She motioned to the giant. “Take them inside.”

  He nudged us into the smoky hallway. As we passed the red room, I glanced inside. Bodies moved through the sooty haze, removing charred velvet and furniture. Unfortunately, the fire hadn’t put Mistress Zora out of business.

  Exhausted from the long day and depressed at the outcome of our escape attempt, we trudged back to our holding room in silence.

  “Now what?” I asked when we were alone. “Will your friends try again?”

  Trill’s bottom lip trembled as she shook her head. “Too dangerous. Zora and her guards will be on the alert for anything suspicious. I don’t want my friends to get hurt.”

  “We have to find a way out.” The longer I was imprisoned, the greater the chance my mother would suffer.

  “I’m too tired to think about it tonight.” Trill collapsed onto a bed and curled up. Her shoulders shook as she wept silently.

  I shared her disappointment, but as I climbed into the other bed, I vowed not to give up hope.

  The next morning, I was awake when Trill suddenly sat up in her bed.

  “I’m hungry.” She rubbed her grumbling s
tomach and glanced at the table.

  It was bare. Yesterday’s leftover food was gone. I didn’t care. In my mind, food was secondary. Freedom was more important.

  “We have to work on another escape plan.”

  We were both startled when the door swung wide.

  The giant stood at the threshold. He pointed at me and held out a sparkling silver gown. “Put this on and come with me.” He didn’t leave, but stood watching.

  I ran into the shower stall for privacy and quickly changed.

  “What’s going on?” Trill demanded in a loud voice.

  The giant motioned to Trill as he pulled me toward the door. “You stay here.”

  “Wait, we're a team. You can't leave me behind.” Her voice faded and trembled on the last word.

  I wasn't thrilled to leave her either. I forced a weak smile trying to reassure her, but my heart was thumping when Trill’s scared expression disappeared behind the locked door. I preceded the giant down the hall we’d traversed before, but we stopped at a different doorway.

  The room we entered was more intimate than the salon where we had performed. Chatting with Zora like an old friend was a stout, bald-headed man.

  Dressed in too-tight clothes, he shuffled his feet as he waited. Rhinestones covered his shoes, winking as he tried to stay balanced on two-inch heels. He wore a pink spangled cape over one shoulder and carried a hat with three enormous feathers in his hand. Under his other arm, a miniature pink dog squirmed for freedom.

  Zora dismissed the giant and drew me forward. “This is the new one I was telling you about, Leptor. She can sing and dance and I’m sure she has many other talents. Plus something special you might be interested in.” She grabbed my chin and pushed back my hair, revealing my amber eye.

  I quickly dropped my lids.

  “Open your eyes,” she commanded through gritted teeth then her voice softened. “A unique addition to your collection, don’t you think? A rare specimen.”

  The man’s vacuous smile vanished. He gasped and recoiled, swaying precariously on his unsteady heels. “What is this?” He swiveled on one heel and toddled quickly to the doorway. “You misunderstand my desires. My collection is full of rare and beautiful objects. I have no interest in your devil-eyed woman. You have wasted my time and deceived me. You can be sure I’ll tell my friends.” After one final horrified glance at me, the collector hurried from the salon.