Midnight Tides
Shurq raised a lifeless brow. ‘I am curious. How often is that question answered by your clients?’
Selush blinked. ‘Enter, if you must. So early!’
‘My dear,’ Tehol said reasonably, ‘it’s less than a couple of hundred heartbeats from the midnight bell.’
‘Precisely! See how flustered you’ve made me? Quickly, inside, I must close the door. There! Oh, the dark streets are so frightening. Now, sweetie, let me look more closely at you. My servant was unusually reticent, I’m afraid.’ She abruptly leaned close until her nose was almost touching Shurq’s lips.
Tehol flinched, but luckily neither woman noticed.
‘You drowned.’
‘Really.’
‘In Quillas Canal. Just downstream of Windlow’s Meatgrinders on the last day of a summer month. Which one? Wanderer’s Month? Watcher’s?’
‘Betrayer’s.’
‘Oh! Windlow must have had unusually good business that month, then. Tell me, do people scream when they see you?’
‘Me too.’
‘Do you,’ Shurq asked, ‘get compliments on your hair?’
‘Never.’
‘Well, that was pleasing small-talk,’ Tehol said hastily. ‘We haven’t got all night, alas-’
‘Why, yes we have, you silly man,’ Selush said.
‘Oh, right. Sorry. In any case. Shurq was a victim of the Drownings, and, it turned out, an abiding curse.’
‘Isn’t it always the way?’ Selush sighed, turning to walk to the long table along the back wall of the room.
‘Roses? Dear me, no. Cinnamon and patchouli, I would think. But first, we need to do something about all that mould, and the moss in your nostrils. And then there’s the ootooloo-’
‘Lives in hot springs in the Bluerose Mountains.’ She swung about and regarded Shurq with raised brows. ‘A secret among women. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of them.’
‘It would seem my education is lacking.’
‘Well, an ootooloo is a small soft-bodied creature that feeds through a crevice, a sort of vertical slit for a mouth. Its skin is covered in cilia with the unusual quality of transmitting sensation. These cilia can take root in membranous flesh-’
‘Hold on a moment,’ Tehol said, aghast, ‘you’re not suggesting-’
‘Most men can’t tell the difference, but it enhances pleasure many times… or so I am led to believe. I have never invited one inside, since the emplacement of an ootooloo is permanent, and it needs, uhm, constant feeding.’
‘How often?’ Shurq demanded, and Tehol heard suitable alarm in her tone.
‘Daily.’
‘But Shurq’s nerves are dead – how can she feel what this ottoolie thing feels?’
‘Not dead, Tehol Beddict, simply unawakened. Besides, before too long, the ootooloo’s cilia will have permeated her entire body, and the healthier the organism the brighter and more vigorous her glowing flesh!’
‘Well, we can’t have that, can we, lest you live out the remainder of existence drooling in a hot bath. No, we shall infuse your brain with a poison – well, not a true poison, but the exudation of a small creature that shares those hot springs with the ootooloo. Said exudation is unpalatable to the ootooloo. Isn’t nature wonderful?’
Grainy-eyed, Bugg staggered inside his master’s home. It was less than an hour before dawn. He felt drained, more by the blessing he had given than by preparing the old woman’s corpse for burial. Two strides into the single room and he halted.
Seated on the floor and leaning against the wall opposite was Shand. ‘Where is the bastard, Bugg?’
‘Working, although I imagine you are sceptical. I’ve not slept this night and so am unequal to conversation, Shand-’
‘And I care? What kind of work? What’s he doing that has to be done when the rest of the world’s asleep?’
‘Shand, I-’
‘Answer me!’
Bugg walked over to the pot sitting on a grille above the now cool hearth. He dipped a cup into the tepid, stewed tea. ‘Twelve lines of investment, like unseen streams beneath foundations, eating away but yet to reveal a tremor. There are essential trusses to every economy, Shand, upon which all else rests.’