The docks were utter mayhem and the noise of yelling sailors frightened Donkey into rearing up. I tightened my grip on his neck until the smell of him was a raspy taste in my mouth. We proceeded more carefully, avoiding going too close to the sailors with big arms and nasty eyes. I thought hard about my pass in my pocket. But that wasn’t a real guarantee for survival. My eyes sweeped the street as we slowed. I sped up as I saw two men trailing me.

There!

The mistress’s cart was at the entrance of the largest warehouse on the docks, the one with a tulip sigil. The warehouse was so big it doubled as an auction house. All the other traders had to pay a fee to use it. I had only ever come here once, when the mistress needed an emergency slave because three of the girls were about to give birth and no man would take them. The tulips were painted every side of the wooden block: the brand of our local princess. Elise’s father was the richest merchant in town and we all knew the highest quality imports had those horrible tulips on them. 

Some people stood on piles of corpses and still stamped their foot down and pointed their snooty nose up to heaven with entitlement. Others had to take the trampling and make do with hell on earth. 

Anger was already beating at my temples when I attached donkey to the mistress’s horse cart. The two men were gone and my breathing eased. The mistress was well known and sailers would certainly not want to cross her. But they weren’t the only ones gone.

No sailors were in sight at all. No one was around the warehouse loading anything. The unusual calm got me turning on my heels, looking for any movement. The sea lapped at the pier, seagulls screaming above anchored fishing boats. On the decks a few men repaired nets, but on the dock people were far, busy for other merchants. My heart was in my throat as I raced inside the tulip warehouse. Something was very wrong.

On tiptoes I reached the window and peered through. The two guards of the mistress were there, Split-face Willy and Silver-tongue Sam sipping a tall glass, squatting over wooden chairs. They threw a handful of dice around the bookkeeping table and looked bored. Of Baas, not a trace could be seen. Neither was the warehouse master. 

I stormed in with all the authority of the mistress's permission in my pocket. The guards jumped to alertness. Sneered and caught my arm. Split-face Willy’s hands were big enough to wrap around both my wrist and hand. Admittedly I was tiny. I tried to yank out of the grip.

“You know what happens to runaways?” He barked, pickled liver breath warming my face.

I stopped breathing not to get overwhelmed by the sickly sweetness of it. 

“They get burned at the stake with miscreants.” Silver-tongue Sam smiled.

“But not before a flogging.”

“And the salting of the wounds.” Silver-tongue tipped his hat as they took turns threatening me.

But I wasn't afraid, well not too much, I was doing nothing wrong. Those were the mistress’s man. They knew my worth. They knew the mistress sent me on errands sometimes, I was too young to have the bad reputation of the other girls and never came back with egg in my hair or a rolling pin concussion. And they especially knew the mistress would never allow anything that could lower our beauty to happen to us, that would kill the quality reputation of the bawdy house.

“Mistress sent me to get Baas right away. Lord Gomond is borrowing slaves and needs our talent now.” 

Embellishing the truth was not a crime. This was an emergency. The two guards looked at each other and back down at the dice. They threw them around some more, barely keeping track of their bets.

“He’ll be finished soon.” Silver-tongue mumbled, so unlike himself. 

“Right away!” I panicked, feeling the clock ticking.

This was a chance in a lifetime and we couldn’t miss it. 

“Lord Gomond cannot wait. Load the bottles yourselves! You’re triple the size of Baas. What are you doing twiddling your thumbs? I’m sure the Mistress wouldn’t-”

Split-face Willy’s smack snapped my neck back and stars dances in front of my eyes. I grabbed the side of the table not to fall. It took a second before I remembered to breath. It stung enough to have moistened my eyes. And I’d bitten my tongue and tasted the salty tang of blood. I opened my mouth and a scream broke through the air. 

It wasn’t mine.

It was Baas. 

I ran to it, trembling just a little. Legs pumping all the way to the back of the warehouse. Mucky footprints imprinted the floor and the screaming never stopped.

There was a staircase at the back, leading to an office overlooking the warehouse. In several leaps I was at the top, face glued to the curtained window, twisting my head to see through the fabric gap. I recoiled in horror when I understood what I was looking at. Tears pricked my eyes as I muffled my breath. So this was what the mistress needed my brother for. 

I’d been so stupid. Of course Baas hadn’t fallen down the cellar stairs… Like a confirmation of my thoughts, my brother collapsed to the floor, unable to stand. Rubbing his fists, the warehouse master kicked him one last time, for good measure. Then he buckled himself back into his pants, tucked his shirt in and turned to the door. The pervert had taken payment.

I flattened against the wall when the door slammed over me. 

The warehouse master was in a fantastic mood as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms up going down the steps. I quietly slipped into his office, shutting the door behind me and padded to Baas shirt. I gently pulled it over his arms. He lifted his sweaty face from the floorboard, leaving a wet mark of drool laced with blood behind. A crown of tulips painted on the wall formed a halo around his head, my eyes prickled.

“You smell terrible.” He simply said.

“And you smell of rose, like always.” I softly touched my forehead to his and started pulling him up to a sitting position. 

He was heavy and that wasn’t good for us. There was no way I could carry him to Donkey. I wasn’t even sure he could ride. Baas rolled back to the floor as soon as I let go. I bit my inner cheek not to cry. This was the moment to be angry. The moment to fight. Because we might never get another chance. I handed him his trousers. 

“We’ve got to hurry. Can you walk?” 

“Give me a minute.” He winced as he flexed his arms and pulled his legs to his chest. 

His hands shook as he pulled on his breaches and I helped him tighten them properly. I wish he had told me what this whole thing had been about. I’d been so used to us usually working together. Twins were part of our charm. 

I was such an idiot. 

The mistress had never allowed violence against us, but any booze discount would make amazing profit for the brothel. In the end we were means to a very simple gold coin end. I didn't want Baas to protect me by keeping the most awful truth to himself. 

We had to get away.

“Lord Gomond wants slaves. He’s buying right now and if we hurry and play it right, we could get out of the mistress’s clutch.”

“What are you waiting around for?” Baas leaped up and swore under his breath. He swayed dangerously as his knees buckled. Only his arm locked in the crock of my elbow held him upright.

We rocked dangerously down the stairs and half collapsed at the bottom. The bootlegger’s laugh rang through the warehouse. My skin rose in goosebumps as we struggled towards the sound. I kept my eyes down so he wouldn’t see the hate in them as we limped past. There was no need to get wacked again for my insolence. I couldn't even look at Split-face and Silver-tongue as I unknotted donkey. My murderous dreams would have been too evident. Oh how I wish I could kill with my eyes.