Grantville Gazette, Volume 92 by Bjorn Hasseler

Author:Bjorn Hasseler [Hasseler, Bjorn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-24T04:00:00+00:00

His movement was so fast, it caught Margeet off guard, even though she thought she was prepared. He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, pulling her back and off balance, his other hand held his dagger, and it flashed close to her face, the tip touching her cheek, just below her left eye. She froze, bent backward, one leg against the shabby couch, one arm gripping his for balance.

"Please," she gasped. "I am trying to help you. I want to help you."

He laughed sharply. “You? Help me?" He leaned close, pulling her towards him, and she felt the tip of the dagger prick her skin at the bottom of her eye. She whimpered involuntarily. "I was wondering when you were going to try something like this, Margeet. I have had girls like you before, smart girls, girls who don’t want to stay a whore, who think they can scheme their way out of their situation. Sometimes it will work. They can move up, move on to something better." His eyes glinted, all trace of false friendliness gone. "Let me tell you a little secret, Margeet. Madame G is good at what she does, not because she is smart, but because she is broken. She feels nothing except cruelty and ice. She is not smart. Not like you. I doubt she knows what an asset is." She felt the pressure on the dagger increase, and she thought she might be bleeding.

He suddenly released her, and she started to fall back, but he shoved her down onto the couch before she could land. She snatched her shift and held it in front of her.

He laughed. "Oh, now you cover up." He shook his head. "It never changes." He stood and unexpectedly sheathed the dagger. "Margeet, this is your lucky day. I actually need a smart whore. There is something you can do, and it might be enough to buy your freedom and that of your sister."

"What is that?" She wiped a small spot of blood from beneath her eye. The knife had been terrifyingly cold against her skin.

He turned to his desk and grabbed a quill and inkpot. "I need you to write a note to Marcus Hoch. You are a smart whore. You can write, can't you?"

"Yes."

"Write him a note, convince him it is you, and you are in trouble."

"I don’t understand."

His hand rested on the dagger. "Can you do that?"

"Yes." She nodded "Of course."

"Good. He must meet you. Near the docks, the old docks by the naval yard. Tonight. He must come alone, and have him bring some money. It must be convincing. It can't be so much that he has to involve others, but enough to know that you are in serious trouble. He must perceive it to be a real request. Say something about having to leave Magdeburg. Lie to him. Make it convincing. It's what you are good at."

"Am I?"

"Are you a good liar? Of course, you are. You are a whore. It is what you do.

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