Free House of Lust by Tony Roberts

duty and they noted the contact approaching.  “Lost, are we?” one of them challenged him, stepping into the middle of the corridor.
    “No – I have something you might like.”
    “Oh?  What’s that, then?”  The other guard peered with interest at the servant, a brown-haired man with bad skin.
    “Something to pass the evenings in pleasure.  See?” he held out his left hand and resting in the palm were a few dull coloured pieces of something.  The two guards eyed one another in puzzlement. 
    “What’s that?”
    “Ah, it’s a plant extract – makes you feel really good, you know.  Almost as good as sex.”
    The two guards chuckled.  “Oh, trying to sell us something like the leaf, eh?  That’s going to get you into deep trouble, friend.  Like to spend a few evenings in the dungeon explaining this to the interrogators?  They’d love to find out who gave you this, I’m sure.”
    The servant went to put the small stone-like objects away but dropped them over the floor.  He swore and went down on his hands and knees.  The two guards smiled and shook their heads.  As the contact scrabbled about, he slipped a letter he had in his tunic under the door.  Sighing, he stood up, the stones in his hand which he slipped into his pocket.  “I won’t bother you then.  You’ve missed out a treat, believe me.”
    “Go home and melt your mind, cretin,” the first guard growled.  “We prefer to retain ours and not become a mindless plant.  Now hoppit before I try out my volgar on you.”
    The servant bowed and backed away.
    “Well, he was as classy as a Turslenkan whore,” the second one commented.  “Think we ought to alert the captain?”
    “Yeah.  Dunno what was in that letter but think we should let him know else we get it in the neck.”
    The second guard grunted and walked off to find Lalaas.  Meanwhile, in the room, Benitia brought the sealed letter to Amne who, curious, opened it.
    It was from Dragan Purfin and it was a curt summons to his house in the affluent quarter of Kastan City.  Amne’s heart began to beat and she stood up, a slight flush to her features.  “I’m going to be gone for a while.  I should be back before dark.  Make sure the girls are changed and fed by the late afternoon watch.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Anne went to see Lalaas.  She showed him the letter.  “I must go, Lalaas, but I want you to come with me and escort me through the streets.”
    Lalaas was already dressed, having been forewarned by his guard.  “I agree, Amne, I wouldn’t have you wandering the streets alone.  You must be disguised, though.  Look at me, no insignia, no sign of who I am or where I come from.”
    Amne looked at his dark, nondescript apparel.  A cloak dropped from his wide shoulders.  His hair was uncovered and fell to his collar.  He had dark leggings and under the cloak a brown coloured tunic with iron studs, a poor standard of armour but often worn by those citizens on the lowest rung of the financial ladder.  “Are you armed?”
    Lalaas smiled and slipped his cloak aside.  Buckled to his wide leather waist belt was his sword.  He lifted his right leg and tucked into his calf-length boot was a dagger.  Another knife was snugly fitted to a sheath in his belt on the opposite side to his sword.
    “Ah, good,” Amne nodded.  “What of me?  I can’t roam Kastan’s streets in my best dress!”
    Lalaas rubbed his chin.  “Aye, you have a point.  You need a cloak, hood, rough type of dress, simple belt.  I think we might have something in our cloak room.  We get a regular supply of clothes from staff, families and so on.  I’m sure we have something to fit you.  Hold on.  Stay out of sight,” he nodded towards the back of the room.  He left, seeking out one of the staff responsible for the laundry.  A palace had to have an organised cleaning system, and Kastan’s was no different.
    In no time Lalaas was returning with a hooded cloak and a dress, and a