Ladyboys Moving to Thailand and my first Ladyboy
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The Boy DownbelowChapter 8 free porn video
That woman was certainly brave; to call me incompetent to my face right after I had torn three armed man apart with no more than a thought. If it wasn’t for me, she’d be sleeping around some fire out there, exposed to the elements and at the mercy of anyone who wanted to fuck or kill her. I was the one that secured this ... ship, I was the one that took care of those thugs. Now, she dared tell me I needed practice?
I didn’t even ask her to sleep with me. Ungrateful wretch.
My internal rant was interrupted by Cat’s entrance. She looked like she’d had a good night’s sleep. “Atsa, will we stay here?”
That was a good question. Staying put seemed the safest option. There was no reason for anyone to look for me inside this whorehouse, and my current goal was to simply survive the backlash of my escape. On the other hand, there’d been multiple murders performed here during the past couple of days. The lack of traffic would surely be seen as suspicious and perhaps reported to the soldiers looking for us. Who knew, maybe Qoura could somehow sense my magic...
“Have you found any food? I haven’t eaten anything in two days.” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes. What do you want?”
“Anything.”
She left me to my thoughts.
Leaving would be extremely dangerous, staying could or could not lead to a world of pain. Encountering danger outside this ship would leave me defenceless, while remaining here would mean no escape if the danger was too much for the ship’s spirit to handle. I had no idea what the ship could or could not do. Making a choice without knowing all the facts was idiotic.
Catherine returned carrying a sheet of thin, flat bread, as well as a small, square-shaped block of cheese, both sitting on a wooden tray. I took it from her as she sat down and started eating. The bread was stale and too hard, the cheese smellier than what I was used to and salty. Neither was what I would’ve chosen to eat under perfect conditions though I was hungry enough to not care. The food disappeared with unnatural speed.
“Would you like some ale with your food?” She asked.
“Water, please.”
She shook her head. “They have fifty casks of ale and not a single cask full of water. I don’t dare go to the top deck to check for rain nets.”
“Rain nets?”
“There isn’t much fresh water to drink in Braka, or the rest of Karanas for that matter,” she explained, “In Braka, people oil their roof cloth and use it to catch rainwater.”
“But what if it doesn’t rain for a week?”
“It always does.”
“Always? Even in the height of summer?”
“Yes.”
That was new. Karanas, being in the middle of the high seas, saw a lot of rain. But I’d never heard of rain every week being a certainty anywhere in the world. Perhaps Cat was exaggerating, though I doubted it.”
“Have you decided?” Cat suddenly asked.
“I will. Soon.”
She left the room, taking the wooden tray with her.
Meditation was as calming as ever. It took me a while to kick away this world and open my inner eye onto dreamscape. This time, the spirit of the ship was not asleep. It was awake and aware, feeling everything within its realm. It noticed my entry instantaneously.
A connection was established. And I asked it abruptly, “Can you stand against Quora?”
I didn’t know whether the thing would recognize the sorceress by name, so I thought of the power she wielded, of the magnificent tsunami she’d called to kill me, and her ability to quell to sea and keep Karanas safe.
The thing recognized her. Its response was pure terror. A scene unfolded in my mind, of magnificent ships, an entire fleet of red galleons, traversing the high seas in the calm of summer. In the distance the island of Karanas was visible. A feeling invaded me, betrayal, loss of guidance and purpose. Then the sea went mad. Massive, unnatural waves scattered the magnificent vessels, crushed them by the dozen. Furious monsters of water rose, tearing apart the any remaining ships. Finally, the fleet was no more. The scene vanished; leaving the faint memory of a single face in my mind. An olive-skinned woman with lush black hair and ageless eyes, sweet power rolling off her.
The ship’s fear came close to overwhelming me before I broke the connection.
Both Hanna and Cat were in the room when I opened my eyes. They were sitting opposite me, arguing in low tones. Hanna’s face was twisted with anger. Cat, the one currently speaking, her index finger in the other woman’s face, looked simply determined. They noticed my opened eyes as Cat’s whispered tirade was ending; the finger wagging trailed off, the twist in Hanna’s face disappeared and a kind-looking smile replaced it. She spoke. “Are we leaving then?”
“Yes. I have to. We’ve already drawn too much attention as it is. I only came here to find out about the ship’s ... spirit.”
“Where to?” she asked.
“You two will have to tell me. I don’t know the city.”
They looked at each other with hateful eyes. Each reluctant to start first. The silence dragged on, and I finally lost my patience. “Cat, tell me.”
She was hesitant. “I thought to find my father in Braka and stay with him, but he was a man who sold his daughter for a dozen darics. We can’t go to him now.”
“Where else?”
She shrugged.
Hanna snorted, eyeing Cat with contempt. “I have a few ideas ... but I need a few questions answered first.”
“Keep your ideas to yourself, then. I do not care for them.” I said, trying to ignore her. I already regretted accepting her request to accompany me. Not only was her demanding manner annoying, I also didn’t want to be between two feuding women while evading a sorceress and five thousand soldiers at the same time. But she was pretty, and I wanted to fuck her again, despite any comments she might’ve made after our last encounter. There was nothing to do but put up with her attitude. For now. I would make her answer my questions though, without capitulating to her demands. The damned woman had no right.
I knew the major neighbourhoods in Karanas; Logger’s District to the north west, where the shipwrights practiced their trade alongside the lumber mills; South Harbour and all its warehouses and granaries; the New Docks to the north, which had been built by Orvit when the flow of traders to the city became too thick for South Harbour alone to handle; Midcity, where most people with jobs lived; the Pens, the home of merchant slavers, housing most of slaves that had been imported or where to be exported; and Noble’s Way, the crescent shaped road separating the rest parts of the city from Thieve’ s Hill, which held the eight palaces belonging to the Lord-Merchants on its western slope and the Prince’s castle on its crest. I knew where they were relative to each other, I knew what was made and sold in each district. But that information was absolutely useless for finding a place to hide.
I suspected Cat wouldn’t be anymore help in this regard, she’d been cooped up with me for the last eighteen years of her life and a slave before that. She knew no one in the city.
I needed Hanna’s help, but I’d be damned if I asked for it. I wouldn’t need to ask anyway; she didn’t know anything about Cat and me. Right now, she’d be thinking about my threats, about how easily I could kill. I just had to wait until her resolve broke and receive her surrender.
Seconds passed, then minutes. I sat against one wall, Hanna against the other. We stared at each other, eyes locked. Her face was serene, too serene by half for someone who had a death threat hanging over her head. Half my attention was on her, the other half on what I’d have to do to take revenge; I sampled different strategies, nibbled at various tactics, all aimed at killing or disabling the Guardians. I doubted the Prince would keep tearing through the city for me if my jailer and the other sorcerers were dead. He wouldn’t know why I was important; I’d wager Qoura was keeping my significance from him even now; just as she’d kept my secret for the past two decades. Qoura’s apprentice, the Second, and the Third knew about me though. I’d guessed it was those three, alongside Qoura, who had witnessed me as I instinctively channelled three men’s life force – possibly through my own body, based on the certainty of my death had I held on the power for too long – to call for assistance. Four people whose death would mean I’d be free. But I didn’t truly want them dead; no, I wanted to hurt them and take away the years of their life as they’d taken away mine. I wanted them alive as I used their puppet prince’s finger bones to gouge out their eyes and –”
No times for fantasies now. I needed Hanna’s help and had to somehow break her spirit before she’d give it to me.
As I idly waited, it occurred to me how easy it would be for Qoura to crush me under hundreds of stones worth of water. The ship had shown me the frightful power of sorcerers, in fact, it was entirely possible the ship had shown me Qoura’s power. By all accounts, six centuries ago, Qoura herself had crushed an Ashkan fleet off the coast of Karanas single-handed. She’d eradicated the Imperial Junto in the process, ending their legend. I had my own thoughts on the single-handed part of the tale – credible evidence pointed to the existence of a traitor inside the Junto. But the rest of the story was fact. The First Guardian was one scary creature; beautiful too, if the visage I’d seen had been hers.
The possibility didn’t worry me. If I was so invaluable as to kill, then why imprison me underground for fourteen years? why have a trusted slave raise me? why offer a king’s ransom for my live capture and nothing for my dead body? No, Qoura wanted me alive. The wave must’ve been a panicked reaction.
A ghastly notion cast its belligerent shadow over my mind as I put myself in Qoura’s shoes, trying to understand why she’d done as she had.
Qoura, the First, is woken up by the thumps of running boots in the hallways outside her chambers. She calls her slave, and commands her to find out the reason for all the commotion. The slave leaves, and a few minutes later returns with news that the great library is on fire. Fear runs its cold hands down Qoura’s spine, her breath freezes in her lungs. Hoping the flames, their heat, or the smoke hasn’t yet killed the precious thing she’d stowed there years ago, she does the only thing in her power to stop the fire. She calls on the sea. Because a great sorceress’s power is almost impossible to wield with any finesse, the wave she calls wreaks havoc on the merchant fleet parked in the harbour, and it seems to the escaped boy that Qoura is trying to destroy him.
I hated my mind for thinking of the possibility, hated that it made sense. It explained so many things. For example, why would the sorceress assume I’d escaped and try to kill me when she sees the library on fire? Why would she assume I’m on a boat coming towards the city rather than safely burning to death in the raging flames? Stupid cannot survive long enough to be routinely called immortal. Qoura wouldn’t make any such assumption.
The thought, despite its unpleasantness, had useful implications too. One being the fact that Qoura wanted me alive rather than dead.
But if Qoura had been trying to save me by calling on her power that night, there was the slightest possibility that my imprisonment hadn’t been done merely to torture me. She might’ve had a good reason for doing so.
The realization soured the salty aftertaste of cheese in my mouth, and my patience came to an end. I opened my eyes and made to rise up, my face deformed into a snarl of rage, but stopped before rising completely. In the split second it’d taken me to rise halfway, Hanna had bolted upright and pressed her back against the cabin wall, and she was stammering quickly. “Please, forgive me, I’ll answer your questions. I know my place, please, mercy.”
I fell for the act completely, believing for a few short seconds both her apologies and her fear. But then my eyes slid over to where Cat frowning at Hanna, her face exactly as it was when she knew I was lying to her. I stopped myself from uttering the words of comfort I’d been about to speak and settled down again, doing my best to make her believe she’d succeeded. My nonchalance slowed the slew of words, and a gesture brought her to sit opposite me again.
I didn’t have time to cow the woman now. Getting to somewhere safe was all that mattered.
Hanna started speaking, a false tremor in her voice. “We ... we can’t go anywhere in Braka ... I’ve been thinking ... and I’m sure that by now, Yayim ... he’ll be having all his men searching for you.” Her voice steadied as she went on, “I don’t think he’s connected what’s happened here with you yet – it’s normal for gang wars in Braka to begin with a take over of major hideouts – But the thought of a gang war while the Guard is trawling through Braka day and night ... he’ll want you found and gone. Most people won’t notice you if you don’t look like the ten-thousand-daric description, but some of Yayim’s men are different. One-eye Vasha’s eyes and ears are sharp enough to look past appearances.”
She ran one hand over her shoulder and down her back, over the scars I’d seen. “But there’s this place I know, a tavern where edges of Braka meet the boundary between Logger’s District and the Pens. I know it has rooms with windows opening onto its neighbouring houses’ roofs, windows a grown man can step out of, and neighbours who’d take you inside their home and lead you through the tunnels underneath to safety.”
I bared my teeth at her. “That inn sounds like the kind of place this ... Yayim ... would operate. Didn’t you just say he’ll be searching for me?”
She shook her head. “I know he doesn’t know of it. The place is used by Emeran, one of Yayim’s lieutenants, and he’s kept it hidden from Vasha. If Vasha doesn’t know about something, then Yayim doesn’t either.
“You can lead me there?”
“Yes.”
“You betray me and I’ll tear your soul from your body and feed to the this ship if it’s the last thing I do.” I warned her, continuing when she didn’t say anything, “We’ll go to this place you know.”
How did she know so much about Yayim and his men?
She considered me. “Will you hear a suggestion first?”
II
It wasn’t just one suggestion, but a whole horde of them. First, she wanted to drape me in a dress found in the room containing one of the whores’ corpses, to hide that I was a boy. As I was stuffing my waist-long, black hair into the back of the dress, to keep it out of my way as I walked, she stopped me, pulled it out of the dress, and used a hairbrush to arrange my hair in a certain way. She claimed it framed my face and concealed the masculine features, making me look like a young woman rather than the boy everyone was searching for. Finally, she had me put on a woman’s embroidered cloak and pull its hood over my face, just to make sure no one would look at me twice.
I thought about the way she’d been acting through her administrations. I didn’t understand why she’d begged to come with me with greed in her eyes yesterday, neither did I know why she’d defied me for so long today, or given up the defiance at the first sign of confrontation. What was she doing?
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