Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

FIVE

"Just who are you, boy, anyway?" The whore swathed in naught but flowing see-through silks studied me from head to heels, with her heavily jeweled hands on stocky hips and chin jerking upward. I tossed her a golden dragon, keeping my eyes low so as not to bear the sight of her heavy white breasts bouncing whilst catching the coin. "Let us not get into the habit of names. Making acquaintance with just my gold would be a wiser move, and less dangerous."

The whore compressed her slightly crooked nose and hummed something low enough so I didn't hear. She took a bite of the golden dragon, then slid it down her floppy sleeve. "You better be someone important." She warned, pointing a thumb at her enormous bosom. "I suck anyone's cock so long as they have a fat purse attached to their little round belly. The White Worm does not. She was no ordinary whore, that one, I tell you, all too clever lips and slippery tongue only ever for those of significance, the lords high and reliable for good information, you understand, lad?"

I only nodded as I followed her into the entry hall of the brothel, catching a thin glimpse of myself from a gilded mirror on the wall, draping and veiling in black with hair hidden beneath a cowl. I looked so little like I usually did, I almost needed not fear myself being recognized. Yet, fret and fright proved potent in plaguing my heart. The pleasure den was absolutely no place for maidens, highborn or low. I could not imagine what a malignant blow to my honor and reputation it would be if I was ever to be caught red-handed by someone long awaiting their chance to destroy me. The dreadful thought inflicted upon me a chill of foreboding, setting up every little hair on my body. And yet, I strode even faster, compromising my pride in exchange for answers I so pathetically longed for.

My anxiety made the dim corridor stretch out endlessly before me. I passed door by door, each and every bedchamber seemed to me no more than curtained alcoves. Peering unseen through the garish fabrics swishing in the unpleasantly perfumed air, I found to my horror naked young women and boys of varying complexions, sizes and ages performing acts that were unseemly to watch. The shadows of their entwined limbs on the wall roiled inside me a dizzying mixture of disgust, bewilderment and strange nosiness, all the more so the wet noises and throaty moans and vulgar swears they so brazenly produced. I forced myself to tear away my gaze otherwise I surmised that before I was in audience with the Lady Misery I would be heartily sick of observations.

Finally the whore led me to an ornately carved door. She knocked upon it with her knuckles three times in a quick rhythm, and I heard the door unlocked from the inside. "In you go, boy." The whore said, smacking her lips.

Once the door creaked back, the scent of some exotic spice hit me like a punch right in the face. I had to school my expression as I stepped inside. The room was awfully murky, colored glaze narghiles had been laid on thick patterned Myrish carpets, white smoke spiraling out of the pipes as if cobras dancing ecstatically for flute music. In the midst of the great heap of feather pillows and woolen blankets and shaggy furs sat cross-legged the fabled Lady Mysaria, dressed in milky white silk, with her hair a cascade of lustrous raven curls tumbling down, eyes twinkling mischief. There was something about this woman that puzzled me. Even the deep grooves along her coral stained cheeks looked like riddles to me.

I cautiously seated myself in a chaise by the window. Mysaria curved her lips in a smile, as if reading my mind, she said. "Be welcome, my gracious lord. I've heard from one of my little vermin that milord is most interested in a particular royal far far away, yes?"

"You already know me so well." I nodded. "And I've heard from one of your little vermin that you have the answers I come for, yes?"

"O yes." The White Worm maintained her enigmatic smile, running her fingers to smooth her shining dark hair. "But only if I could live to tell it. Surely milord understands the knowledge he so seeks involves high treason, punishable by death?"