Luminous

92 - The Dolls

The hallway which led to Dizadh's quarters was a stark contrast to the one housing the Dolls. High-ceilinged enough to accommodate Gillian's height and a chandelier with plenty of wriggle room in between, and wide enough for a man of Gillian's breadth to spread his arms and just about touch his fingertips to the walls, and interspersed by sliding doors made of panels of smooth, polished wood, which let out not a whisper nor a glimpse of the private affairs going on behind them. The doors were identical save for the golden letters emblazoned upon them, spelling out the name of the courtesan who resided within.

The man in the gold-trimmed blue toga halted before the door bearing the name Dizadh, bowed deeply to Gillian, then scurried soundlessly away. Gillian followed him out of the corner of his eye until he had disappeared round the corner with a flutter of his robe, before pushing aside the door.

The room was brightly lit with paper lamps set along the curtained walls and hanging from the ceiling. Dizadh was right across from him, reclining against a long triangular cushion. His black eyes widened at the sight of his visitor, and he rose to his feet with a swish of his crimson toga and much jangling from his rows of bangles. Golden and silver threads were still entwined in his river of black hair. If he had entertained another client after his canceled session with Lady Hyacinth, it was impossible to tell.

"You've come in place of the Lady Hadrian?" He asked, his voice soft and fearful. He'd probably recognized Gillian as one of the Greeneye girl's entourage. The man was sharp. Very well. It saved him trouble.

"She would've come personally, if not for the danger." Gillian thrust the door back against its frame with a slam then marched into the light, glaring down at Dizadh from his towering height, his grip tight around the hilt of his curved blade, "Where are those Greeneyes? What have you done to them?"

Dizadh shrank under his shadow, trembling hands raised in surrender.

"Please. I'm your ally." He whispered, shaking his head side to side, "I answered Lord Hadrian's letter in Healer Hasif's place. To warn you. She called me to the palace for a session a few days ago."

As Gillian froze, frowning, Dizadh swept towards the red floor-to-ceiling curtains draping over the wall and tugged them aside, revealing the sliding screens once concealed behind them.

"I was beginning to fear you'd never come for them. I can't keep them for much longer."

He rambled, his voice bursting with sobs, then slid back the screen. The lamplight flooded the once pitch-black cupboard, illuminating its occupants—a teenage girl with long golden-brown hair whom Gillian recognized as one of Baroness Hadrian's maids-of-honor, a stocky brown-haired man in his prime, and a middle-aged man with chestnut hair and mustache.

There they sat in a row, hunched in the cramped space, limbs akimbo like resting marionettes, lifeless but for the slow rise and fall of their chests. They had been stripped down to their undergarments. Their signature eerie, glowing green eyes had been replaced by blue human eyes, perfect but for their lack of a soul, and their glass-like gleam when touched by the light. The stale stench of piss and shite billowed out and inundated his nostrils, faint yet pronounced against the perfumed air of the room. Dizadh must have been feeding and cleaning them to the best of his ability over the past few days.

As the pieces fall into place, Gillian clenched his trembling hands, hissing through gritted teeth,

"Where are their eyes?"

Dizadh had just scurried off and returned with fresh towels and a water basin. Streams of clear liquid were flowing down Lady Persephia's bare legs, yet she appeared not in the least aware.