Amusingly enough, all the masters, heads, and aides that ran the charity were called Fane's Ladies. The headmistress was herself called Lady Fane, unless her Ladyship was in-as she spoke as law for the Aelfine's wishes. Esme found herself almost giggling in fear. The one who met her by the door was not one to laugh over. This one was called Bacculuch, when she was not a Fane's Lady-that is, every time she left the estate for her own business. She was well known to bully other master's servants. Being placed in this woman's care didn't bode well for her choice of goods to sell.

"You're a right mess, child. What is your name?"

"Esme, Fane's Lady." She managed a bow before the large woman dragged her off to a side-room.

"Well, Esme, there's two outfits we'll give to you. The first is a proper mid-class working dress with my emblem emblazoned on it, so you can blend in-and for your protection. And the other? A Tufakoft-a rag dress-to tell everyone you're a rags-and-bones maid. All such trash will be from us at first, off of kills our people shouldn't have made. You will be given a set price for the whole lot, and can keep anything you make over it. But the first thing you're going to do-once I stuff you in the first gown-is go lose that virginity of yours down at the Tattered Folds. Your walk gives it away and people won't believe you're old enough to negotiate if you look and act too young. Now, anyone told you your ways out?" Bacculuch managed to get all this out while measuring her for the clothes, rather roughly.

Esme tried not to shrug-that would earn her a stick with a pin, she was sure. "Death and up the Merchants chain?"

Bacculuch stopped and stared hard at her for a moment before moving back to rummaging through piles of appropriate goods. "There's more options than that, girl. You marry too high or too low for us and we'll leave you be, unless you rat on us before we've had time to change."

"I understand too high, though I doubt I'll see that in a Tufakoft. What's the low route?"

She tossed two dresses at Esme, before explaining. "The knackers, girl! Men who collect dead things that would be rude to feed a pig. He renders them for tallow and oils, tans skins with piss and shit. Most knackers will take a dead man-for the right price-and render them so a guard couldn't place them as human. One of ours? You wouldn't need to hide who you are from those types. The knacker's stench warns all girls to stay away from them if they aren't the sturdiest of things. You would come in with more than you have if you were that kind of tough, so I wouldn't bother if I were you. Now, go, get the rings out your ears and change into the nice dress. I expect you to be in that tavern playing the 'skirt within the hour."

~~~

The guardsman had not been nursing this drink for long when she walked in-he would nurse it for it was worse than the previous bar's swill. Althalos had expected to see her as she had been that morning: leathers meant for a boy, hair hidden, a little more ill looking than the pale should look. She had changed, but not truly for the better. Now she could pass as any woman on the street-a face that could blend in with any of the colorless poor, hair a shade or two too dull to be a honey gold, too waved to be straight or curled, modest but thin curves, nose too sharp, lips too thin, no telling how long her legs were with that cut. She had nothing that spoke of the cold chills that coursed over his skin by merely glancing at her. While this wasn't a beguiling or indolent dress of a woman of his station, it did relieve him to know that something small in his response to her promised that there would be enjoyment beyond duty. He found her...pleasing. He doubted he would get further than that mild response.

The poor thing looked timidly around all the tables, searching for something until she caught a glance of him. She cocked her head to the side for a moment before she strode purposefully over to his table to sit down. Quite aggressive for the image she presented. "Do I know you?"

Althalos' voice was rough with lack of use. "We met once in passing."

He was surprised by the lack of recognition he got from her, considering just being near her was alighting his skin with fire. But then, they had a bare glance of each other in uniform and had to find that sufficient. Some part of her had to know him to come sit and ask-but not for certain.

She looked almost sad for a second then braced herself, before turning back to face him. "Well, I was sent here to gain a man for the night."

Althalos nearly spit into his fouled drink, after he accidentally inhaled his intended sip. "What?!"

"My next job is to not look and act like a virgin." The woman at least had the grace to blush for how blunt she was being. "I had hoped to see a familiar face, someone I knew, anything but make a cold transaction of my innocence. But even then, I'm not going back a failure-not this time."

"I really don't understand what you're talking about," Althalos protested.

The exasperated woman stood, held out her hand to him and growled out."Damn it all, bring me upstairs and fuck me."

This was the first time Althalos bedded his betrothed-by-rite. She had so confused him that he forgot to exchange names with the woman before he touched her.