Tunio closed his door and slumped down to the floor.

Why did I do that? I also turned down Aquillia when she asked. Should I go back? No, that would make me look uncertain. It’s been a while … but it hasn’t. It’s only been sixteen days. Maybe I need a little wrong in my life? I should do it, do them.

Tunio stood and turned to face the door. When Tunio pulled the door open, Aquillia stood outside, her face solemn as she waved him out. She turned and moved onto the next door. Tunio followed her out of the room and watched her knock on the door.

A gasp from the next room was followed by a giggle and the door opened wide. Metilia stood in the doorway, her body glistening with a fine layer of sweat, her hair matted and clinging to her head.

“Mother,” she gasped, “what are you doing here?”

“I must talk with all three of you,” Aquillia said, “let me in.”

Metilia stepped aside and let in her mother, her face downcast.

Tunio followed her into the room. The room was much like his own, with a bed against one wall and a small bedside table near the head of the bed. Two bags that contained various items of clothing sat at the foot of the bed. Gazali’s naval uniform was crumpled in a corner, with Metilia’s dress lying on top of it.

Aquillia sat on the bedside table and motioned for Metilia to take a seat next to Gazali on the bed. Tunio went to the far wall and leant against the wall.

“I have something to tell you,” Aquillia said.

“Could it have waited until tomorrow?” Metilia asked.

“Considering the affection the two of you are showing each other it appears not,” Aquillia replied. “I didn’t notice it until I saw Anatoli and heard that he had the same father.”

“What do you mean?” Tunio asked.

“Anatoli and you are half-brothers,” Aquillia said.

“What does that have to do with us?” Gazali said, stroking Metilia’s leg.

“Working that out,” Aquillia said, “made me realise that the two of you have the same father also.”

Metilia stood up sharply. “Please leave,” she demanded, her eyes moist.

Aquillia walked out the door. Tunio stood to go with her.

“Not you,” Metilia said. Her hand extended to Tunio.

As the door closed behind Aquillia, Metilia began pacing the room.

“She does know who my father is,” Metilia said, “why won’t she tell me?”

“If she is right,” Tunio said, “then your father was my father.”

“Is there any way we can be certain?” Gazali asked from the bed.

“I know who my father was,” Tunio said, “did your mothers tell you who yours were?”

“My mother never did,” Metilia said, continuing to pace the room.

“I never asked my mother,” Gazali said, “I am not certain that I want to know.”

“Why?” asked Metilia.

“If it does turn out that we do have the same father,” Gazali stated, “what will that do to us?”

Metilia turned and looked Gazali. She clasped her hands on her chest. Water gathered at her eyes. She ran forward and hugged Gazali.

“You’re too sweet,” she murmured into his neck, “thinking that there is an us.”

“Tomorrow I am going to try and solve the riddle of the Belt of Veritas,” Tunio said. “I will try to take Aquillia with me. That should give you guys some time to work out what you want to do.”

“Thank you, Tunio,” Metilia said. She dried her eyes and turned to face him. “Without my mother looking over my shoulder all the time I might be able to think clearly.”

“Great,” Tunio said, “glad I can help the two of you; I hope I will be able to ask for your help if I need it.”

“Sure,” they both said together, followed by a giggle from Metilia.

Tunio stood, strode out of the door, walked to his door, and stepped back into his room. The room seems hollow after all the people in the other room. I am glad I made the effort to go, but I am glad that I didn’t make love with them. Making love with my half-sister would just be weird for me. I wonder how they do it? I guess their love is greater than their truth. I don’t think I could do that.

Lying down on the mattress, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

***

After Tunio left the room, Gazali collapsed on to the bed. Metilia sat down beside him.

“Do you think it can be true?” she asked. “Can we really be related?”

“If what your mother says is true then our father was certainly not a nice man,” Gazali said, “leaving all those women with children and not supporting them.”

“What makes you think that it was his fault?” she asked, rising and striking out across the small bedroom.

“It has to be his fault,” Gazali said. “He fathered four children that we know of: your mother, mine, Tunio’s mother, and Anatoli’s mother we met today. How many more are scattered around that we don’t know of?”

“How exactly could it be only his fault?” Metilia demanded, folding her hands across her chest and glaring at Gazali.

“You are defending him?” Gazali asked, “Until just a moment ago you didn’t even know who your father was.”

She placed her hands on her narrow hips and drew in a deep breath. Gazali stood and struck his hands through her arms and hugged her. She slumped into his embrace.

“If he was your father, he has some questions to answer to,” Gazali soothed, “but he is dead now and can’t confirm nor deny your mother’s story.”

“Then how do we find out?” she asked.

“I am not certain,” he replied, pulling back to look her in the eye, “we might be able to ask my mother.”

“Will your mother tell you?”

“I am not certain,” he admitted. “I have never really worried about who my father was. I always considered that the sea was my father.”

She smiled and leant into his chest.

“Let’s go to bed and deal with all this in the morning,” he suggested.

“Okay,” she sighed.

***

28th day of the 7th month 610 thyear of the 8th era

Anatoli stood in the predawn light. A lark was singing outside the window. I think I will like living here. He opened the wardrobe and searched through the clothes hanging inside. Umeji had a nice collection of clothes. Anatoli pulled out a blue tunic and pressed it against his body. The fabric was soft and sent tingles through his body. I think I can get used to wearing clothes.He put the tunic back and pulled out a green one. He pressed it up against his chest and looked down at his chest.

“That one will look good on you,” came a voice from the bed behind him.

Anatoli turned and showed Ingirid the tunic he was holding against his bare body.

She smiled, stretched, and rose up off the bed they had shared that night. The morning light through the opened window caught her nude body as she sauntered over to Anatoli.

“I think you look better without the clothes,” she said, kissing him on the mouth and pulling the green tunic aside.

Anatoli returned the kiss hungrily, grasping her bottom with one hand and pulling her in with another hand around her waist. He broke the kiss and pressed himself up against her body.

“I want to move up in the world,” he murmured to her. “I was the son of a prostitute, but not anymore.”

“True,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now you’re the pimp.”

“Good.” He smiled down at her and placed a gentle kiss on her pouting lips. “I want you to keep the girls in line and working. Make sure they are happy.”

“A productive worker is a happy worker,” she smiled at him. “What should we do with the body?”

“Also, profitable,” he said. “Take the body and dump it down the sewer drain in the courtyard outside; make sure no one sees you.”

“Do you think I am stupid?” she asked. “What about the smell?”

“Burn some incense and have a day outside.”

He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her off the floor and marched back to the bed and placed her down on it. She squealed with delight and let go of him. He stood and began to sort through the clothes.

“What will be good to wear today?” he asked.

She pouted at him and sighed and stood next to him. She reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of black tights and thrust them at him.

“These, with the green tunic,” she said.

He smiled at her and began to dress in the black tights and green tunic. The black tights sculpted his body.

Ingirid placed her finger in her mouth as she appraised him and then turned and looked back into the wardrobe coming, out with a brown belt and a pair of brown felt shoes.

Anatoli looked at the items in Ingirid’s hands. He frowned and sighed before donning them. The belt pinched the tunic at his waist and the brown shoes complemented the whole ensemble. Ingirid opened a few of the buttons at the top of the tunic to reveal a firm chest and a fine working of his black chest hair.

“You look amazing,” she complimented. She pulled on a black silk robe and tied the belt around her waist, leaving a plunging neckline that went all the way to her navel.

“Good,” he said as they stepped out of the room. “I have some work to do around the city. I don’t know when I will be back, but I will be back tonight.”

“Don’t be too tired,” she flirted, squeezing his bum. “I will expect you to have plenty of energy for me again tonight.”

He danced out of the range of her hand and went crimson. She laughed as she went down the steps into the brothel proper.

He followed her and then left by the front door, as the other girls were beginning to stir. All were dressed in silk robes, some held together with the rope, others remaining open at the front, allowing him a view of their stomachs and crotches. A few clasped their dresses together with their hands.

Closing the door behind him, he started to walk through the city in the early morning light.

The sun was peeking through the buildings, casting long shadows between the buildings and down the alleyways. Many people were beginning to come out of their houses and to go about their business. None even gave him a second glance. A rich, well-dressed man coming out of the brothel first thing in the morning was not out of the ordinary.