Didn't do me any good. My gut still felt like hell after Mask's punch. The only medicine I could think of was stuffing it full. So that's what I did.
Where did I suddenly get the money? I, uh, asked the boys for a couple of coins. Shameful, I know. But the stranger gave them a whole handful, so it's not like they'll miss a couple. I'll pay them back. Eventually.
My karmic debt to society was rising at alarming speed. And on top of that, the lunatic artist I live with might kick me out for wandering off and doing absolutely nothing productive.
I'll make something up later. Tell him I'm doing preliminary work and that I'm this close to starting.
Having soothed myself (not that I was especially anxious), I walked to the brothel. Thankfully (thank the God, thank Jesh!) it wasn't far.
The building looked ordinary enough — unless you knew what was inside. Definitely a place "for the chosen," designed to keep the moral authorities from grabbing someone by the collar and yelling: "Where's our cut, dumbass?!"
I froze at the door, realizing they probably wouldn't just let me in. There had to be some kind of password… Damn it! Why hadn't I asked the boys?
Oh well. Time to improvise.
I gave a short, discreet knock and whispered conspiratorially:
A friend of a friend said Matthew was I've got an appointment. The door flew open and I was yanked inside. Not gently, I might add.
I would've tolerated this kind of manhandling if I'd landed chin-first into the thighs of some voluptuous beauty — but no! This time, the universe decided to smack down not only my ego, but my lust as well.
I found myself face to face with a bald-headed woman, her eyes hidden behind a blindfold. And
that, oddly enough, intrigued me more than all the sultry stares I'd gotten lately.
I tried to say something, but she put a finger to her lips and led me toward the circle. It was definitely not the kind of circle I'd seen before — not a fight ring this time.
The entire room was covered with thick mats, animal hides, and cushions. People were lying or sitting on them in various stages of bliss and disarray. Some were even crouching — doggy-style, forgive the image — gazing at a tapestry.
The tapestry burned above the entrance, depicting a lioness embracing a grapevine. More heavy- handed symbolism I couldn't (and didn't want to) decipher.
Among the few scents I recognized were myrrh and cedarwood. The rest of the incense was unfamiliar — but clearly the star of this sensory circus.
Visitors were in a trance, each riding it their own way: some were moaning, some convulsing, one man was massaging his crotch with a clenched fist, while a woman nearby was chewing lazily on a fur rug.
Blindfolded women moved among them, swinging censers, trailing smoke, and placing strange plants on people's foreheads. They murmured or chanted, sometimes soothing, sometimes intensifying the experience.
The dream-conductor who'd let me in tugged gently at my elbow.
Alright, alright. — I raised my hands in — No sex, got it. I'm in for another round of religious enlightenment. Fine, take me to Matthew.
Next thing I knew, I was shoved—well, plopped—onto a cushion next to some girl. She was wrapped in a cloak (despite the heat. Seriously, what's with all the lanterns?!), and her head was shaved like the other priestesses. Unlike most of the women here, though, the bald look actually suited her.
Her lips kept whispering something, and I had to lean in so close my ear was nearly brushing them just to make out the words:
Who are you seeking? Who are you seeking?
I cleared my throat and fanned my sweaty face with a scrap of cloth.
I'm here for Matthew. Any idea where he is? Father has stepped away from worldly He lived a life not worthy of him, as a collector of taxes… A colleague! — I grunted with professional
He has retreated into himself and desires no He walks the path of spiritual seeking.
And I see you're clearly a chip off the old
Her eyes widened, and she nearly shouted, sweeping open her cloak like a deranged messiah:
Indeed! I am Mattathia, or if you like, just Mattia of the House of Levites! You may call me that if you I was born of tax, but raised by pain. You wish to know your fate? Then abandon yourself and your pride, and partake with me of the forbidden fruit!