“Kaul-jen,” said Mrs. Sugo, saluting him and showing him into a plush, rose-scented room with a sofa. “How good to see you again. Would you like me to send for Sumi? Or Vina?”
Hilo shook his head. “Someone else.”
Mrs. Sugo’s painted smile wavered but remained gamely in place. “If I might ask, Kaul-jen, in the interest of serving you better, is there anything objectionable about any of the women you’ve spent time with here?”
“They’re whores,” said Hilo, not with any kind of meanness, merely fatigue. He tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa and poured himself a glass of citrus-infused water from the jug on the table. “Just don’t send me any of the ones my brother used. I don’t like the idea of that.”
Mrs. Sugo pressed her lips together, hiding her discontent with a bow of acquiescence as she retreated from the room and closed the door behind her. Hilo flopped down onto the sofa and closed his eyes, rubbing the corners of them with his thumbs. He’d never understood why Lan used to come to this place and thought his brother must’ve been desperately lonely. Now he felt rather sorry for himself, to be in the same situation. He’d been Pillar of the clan for six years. Longer than Lan. He and his brother had not been much alike, but perhaps the position of Pillar did the same thing to every man—isolated him and wore him down before killing him, either quickly or slowly.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Ayt Mada, who’d murdered many people in her own clan, ever felt deeply disappointed or hurt the way he did, or if she was naturally coldhearted and able to act without feeling. He’d tried unsuccessfully to have Ayt assassinated by the Ven family in the Mountain, so it ought to be no surprise that his enemy would likewise try to exploit any discontent or weakness in No Peak. Still, Shae was right, as much as Hilo hated to admit it. Fuyin’s betrayal was not an isolated grievance, and his death would not solve the bigger, glaring problem: After having failed on multiple occasions to have Hilo killed, the Mountain was now waging a persistent campaign to destroy No Peak economically.
A gentle knock came. Hilo got off the sofa and opened the door to find a lovely woman, darker skinned and curvier than the one who’d attended him on his last visit some two or three months ago. She was carrying an ebony tray with a bottle of hoji, some date cakes arranged on a delicate clay plate, and two cups. “Kaul-jen,” she said solicitously, but with a tight undercurrent to her voice that suggested Mrs. Sugo and the other charm girls had prepared her for what to expect. “May I come in?”
Hilo held the door open for her. She placed the tray on the low table in front of the sofa, knelt next to it, and folded the draping hem of her sleeve back fastidiously as she opened the bottle of hoji and poured two servings into the small cups. The hoji was well aged, with a robust and complex scent.
Hilo drank it down, then said, “Get on the bed.”
“Kaul-jen,” the woman said, in a suggestive and soothing tone, “we’re in no rush at all. You can stay all night. Why not relax for a while and let me treat you to a more enjoyable experience? Surely you could use some time away from the demands of being the Pillar. Let’s have another drink and you can tell me about your day.”
Hilo lips quirked wryly. “I have a wife and children at home. I don’t need conversation.” He stood. “I won’t take long if you cooperate.”
The charm girl stared at him. She opened her mouth as if to try again to persuade him, before apparently coming to the indignant decision to not bother. Without any further attempt at pretense, she tipped back her shot of hoji in one quick gulp, then stood and unfastened the sash around her silk robe, letting it fall to the ground in a heap. She lay down naked on the bed, with a scowl of resignation that Hilo decided was more attractive than her practiced smile, on account of being genuine. She was smooth-skinned and had a mole on the flat of her stomach, near her navel.
Hilo undressed. The charm girl’s eyes widened at the bloodstains on his shirt cuffs as he unbuttoned them, and the talon knife he unbuckled and laid on the table next to the tray. They widened further at the sight of his bare torso—collarbone, chest, and nipples studded with glinting pieces of jade. “Don’t touch any of it, and it won’t do anything to you,” he said, reading the anxiety in her eyes. He took one of the complimentary condoms from the nightstand. “Turn around and get on your hands and knees.”
After he was done fucking her and she had gotten up to go to the bathroom, Hilo dressed, gathered his jacket and knife, and ate two of the date cakes on the tray. He left a generous tip on the bedside table. Charm girls made their real money from long-term clients, who often bought them gifts and paid extra for exclusive access. Since he didn’t expect to see the woman again, he thought it only right that he leave extra compensation for her wasted time.