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Morning began with something cold. Maya did not know what it was that was chilling her but she felt it was not something she could sleep through. The blanket of sleep had fallen heavily over her and it took effort to shake free, but once the world returned to fill her senses, a terrible realization was brought with. During the heat of the night she had fallen into slumber in the arms of the mighty admiral. She had expected to wake to him leaving, but instead she came to her senses with his arms still wrapped around her ... and he was dead.

Cold had replaced the heat that had loved her. Cold drew the warmth from her naked skin. Cold had drained the rose from his lips and left pale blue. Cold ... gripped her heart and throttled what should have been a terrified scream.

When Maya opened her mouth to cry, what came out was long and sorrowful. It was not fair ... the world had found her fit for a wondrous blessing only to change its mind and take it away. The wail of her agony brought the bouncers running and in a moment of confusion, strong hands pulled her free of the admiral's dead embrace.

"Oh, God," one of the men shouted as he realized what had happened. "Oh ... God," he said again as the adrenalin that had prepared him to fight robbed his body of its tight emotional control. "Madame Miranda!" His calls went out to his comrades, and a few moments later, the brothel's madam arrived in her bed cloths and a robe.

"What is it?" she demanded grumpily as she stormed upon the scene. "What has happened here?" The sleepy scowl of early morning faded slowly from her face as she stared at the corpse in the bed. Her eyes then moved to the bouncers whom offered no explanation, and then she settled upon the young woman who had been with him.

Maya was curled up in the fetal position, her back against the corner opposite the body of the admiral. She rocked back and forth as her emotions swirled in a hysterical mess. The sensation of their passion was still upon her and she still carried the warmth of his seed in her body. The purest essence of his life had not left her but he ... he was gone.

Maya did not react when the madam called her name, nor did she acknowledge the woman when she loomed over her and demanded answers. The shock had sent her deep inside of herself and there were the prayers of her homeland. On her lips whispered the prayers of her heathen gods, and though the woman whom had purchased her demand that she tell her what happened, she was unable to do anything but babble the prayer ... over ... and over ... and over.

The sudden sensation of cold water splashed upon Maya and she let out the scream she had been too terrified to unleash. When it finished, she sat in a trembling puddle, then her breathing stabilized and she looked up at the woman with the bucket.

"Are you quite finished?" the Madame Miranda asked in a harsh tone, and Maya sucked in a few more breaths as she struggled to pull herself under control. "What happened?"

"He," Maya whispered, her breath a ragged mess from the strain this short day had already brought, "he ... he's dead ... he was fine ... last night and now ... he ... he just died ..."

"Came and then went," the madam concluded in a cold business manner, and the younger woman nodded as her tears made it too hard to speak. "Damn," the woman whispered and she turned to the others in the room. "Ladies and gentlemen ... we're closed. Fiona, Megan, bring bathing supplies for the admiral. Tina, Lucy, wake our guests and send them home. Bruce, William, organize a guard detail, at least one at every door ... and breathe not one word of this to anyone. I want a full staff meeting in the main hall at the bottom of the hour. GO!" The final blast of her voice sent her people in all directions to carry out her orders. When she turned back to Maya, her face was troubled. "You poor girl," she said as she shook her head. "Poor poor girl ..."

A flurry of commotion spread through the building as customers were roused and their money refunded. While most were compliant enough, there were two whom the bouncers needed to throw into the street, followed soon after by an untidy pile of clothing. Madame Miranda's people had been a dysfunctional family for many years, and though they regularly squabbled among themselves, they functioned as well as any family when tragedy struck them.

By the time Lady Fedola appeared at their doorstep, her husband's body had been washed, dressed in his uniform, and moved into the main hall upon a flat cart. The lady's regal face was stone, with eyes of fiery rage that moved along the crowd of gathered brothel workers in an accusatory manner. They all had their eyes to the ground, heads hung in respect for the departed. A priest, whom had been pressed into service by his mistress, stood beside the cart and spoke blessings over the departed. Everything that could be done to mitigate the damage had been considered ... but there was one detail that none of them could do anything about.

Maya's dark features shone like a blot of spilled coffee upon a white table cloth, and the lady's gaze locked steadily upon her. The shattered guilt in the young woman's face told the tale and Lady Fedola walked briskly toward her.

"My, Lady," Madame Miranda said quickly as she recognized the danger and put herself into the woman's path.

"Don't touch me, harlot!" spat the fine lady, and two of her five bodyguards stepped quickly toward her.

"Stop!" The madam's order halted the charge of three of her own bouncers, and Lady Fedola's men noticed the danger and took up a defensive posture. A moment later their lady pushed them aside and took several more steps toward Maya.

"You," the lady growled and the poor girl's eyes looked up in horror towards the hostile voice. "You were the one!" Lady Fedola lunged at Maya with her fingers flexed sharply like claws. Bodyguards and bouncers all moved at once. A blur of sweaty muscle and bludgeoning knuckles all crashed together into a noisy brawl.

Maya was tossed to one side by a few of her friends while Madam Miranda knocked Lady Fedola to the ground with a sharp cross-hook to the jaw. Furniture cracked over thick skulls as the feet of the working-girls shuffled backward and they fell back into the safer parts of the building.

"Fall back on me!" Madame Miranda shouted and her bouncers drew back and formed a battle line. A few of the bodyguards took the opportunity to seize the screaming and sputtering Lady Fedola who was briskly carried out of the front door as she screamed and raged in her grief. The din of battle hushed as the screaming of Admiral Fedola's wife faded into the background. Then the bodyguards and the bouncers all nodded respectfully to one another and back away from the other's personal space.

A few minutes later two of the bodyguards returned and they assisted the priest in his escorting of the admiral's body to the church. There he could be officially tended to and properly laid to rest.

In the fallout of the skirmish, the workers all turned to find something to do with their nervous energy, and Maya was left to her sorrow. Part of her wished the wife of her admiral had reached her. The rest of her wished she could simply forget the warmth of the night she had spent with him. But the clock ticked on, and her breath drew as it always had ... and the world demanded she move on.

*****

"Maya ... Maya!" The door to her room burst open and a harried brunette girl named Jenny rushed inside and began to look around the room. Maya stood frozen, looked incredulously at the panting girl whom threw several bundles upon the bed and began closing the distance between them. "Oh my God, Maya ... they're coming ... you ... you gotta get out of here!"

Maya tried to ask what was going on, but the door opened and her madam entered the room.

"The inquisition is coming for you, Maya," Madame Miranda said in the tone of business. "Here's your contract and some coin. Take them and go." She shoved a roll of partchment into one of Maya's hands and a purse of coins in the other. The woman who had been Maya's owner for almost ten years then gave the young woman a hug, kissed her on the forehead, and closed the door behind her as she left.

The women still inside of the room exchanged stunned glances and then Maya looked at the contract in her hand. She trembled a bit as she unrolled it and let her eyes fall upon the Spanish script that declared her the property of Madame Miranda. Beneath the contract was an amendment scratched with a quill by the madam's own hand. The words set her free of all bonds of ownership and gave her the right to choose her own fate.

Tears began to form in Maya's eyes, but she sniffed them back, rolled up the parchment, and then turned back to her dresser. "How long do we have?" she asked Jenny as she began to undress herself.

"Uhm ... a few minutes?"

"Do the others know?" Maya asked.

"Uhm ... they will in a moment."

"Alright," Maya said as she drew out an outfit and then gathered up a few items and packed them into a travel bag. "That's when I'll escape."

"Where are you going?" Jenny asked, as her eyes grew huge and then stayed that way.

"To the harbor," Maya said as she grabbed a few more things.

"Then ... where?"

"Jenny, I don't know," Maya said firmly, her own nerves treading dangerously along the line of panic that her co-worker was currently floundering in. "I'm sure I'll figure out something once I get there."

"Maybe ... maybe you could run to the church and claim sanctuary?" Jenny asked, but Maya's look caused her to flinch. "Oh yeah ... right."

"The inquisition! The inquisition! They're coming!" The shout from the hallway set off a rumble of movement and thunder began to roll through the building. Maya and Jenny exchanged a hug and Maya told the girl to stay behind. Maya knew there was no way the girl could travel with her and the dark skin of a Mayan Princess would make travel difficult enough. It would be a challenge to find men willing to take her to sea and even more difficult to find men whom would not rob her of coin and dignity before throwing her overboard. She would need to rely on God to guide her ... or maybe the old gods would see her home.

The hall was filled with highly motivated patrons whom were making their escape out the back. A few of the working girls were also gathering scraps of clothing to themselves, in an effort to flee, and Maya used the confusion to hide her movements. Pulling a hood up over her features hid the most incriminating parts of her appearance and then she shuffled along with the herd, out into the early morning light.

Though she did not often leave the brothel, she had been briefed many times about what to do if there was a fire, and the routes through the city were exactly as the maps had shown her. The only main difference was the clutter ... the noise ... and the smells that swirled around her. In the relative luxury of the brothel, Maya did not need to contend with these unpleasant obstacles, but out here she was out of her element. What made it all worse was that there were people looking to make her disappear into a dungeon. She would need to move forward through the crowd as if it were something she did every day.

Keeping one hand on her money pouch, Maya moved at a brisk but steady pace towards the docks. An alley allowed her to cut through some of the busier sections of town but once she arrived at the docks, they stretched out before her in a mess of business and crowds. This was where her instructions ran out. The next step was her own ... she needed to catch a ship ... she needed to look into the eyes of the captains and then she could make her choice.

The first dock had a pair of ships that looked large and full of cargo. The dock workers all paused to give her the types of looks that she was used to receiving, and she spotted the group leader with ease.

"May I speak to your captain, please?" she asked as politely as she could, but the man only leered at her.

"Sorry, he don't got time for whores."

Maya blinked at him ... and then she realized that this was the most likely reaction to every ship she approached. Taking a breath, she leaned in close to the big man and spoke softly. "Actually, I was looking for passage," she told him.

"Heh ... no one's gonna take a woman to sea," he sneered and the men around them laughed.

"The Greek might," said one of the men and the rest all laughed.

"Who's ... the Greek?" Maya asked when the roar of the men died down a bit.

"Oh, he's a real lady's man," one of the other sailors said in a cruel manner.

"Yup," said another dock worker as he tossed a sack of something heavy over his shoulder, "he's got a good eye and plenty of room in his hold."

The others continued their laughter and Maya clenched her teeth. "Is he an unfortunate sort?"

"Oh he's plenty ... unfortunate," one of the men said mockingly. "A girl like you would cause him to lose all of his senses."

"And where might this unfortunate man be?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

"His ship is the Theodotos," the leader of the group said as his grin began to fade, "though I'd stay away, if I was you. He's not a good sort. You might get hurt."

Maya thought for a moment as she tried to recall her Greek. She finally translated Theodotos as Death, and though it was a frightening title, she was certain that was where she would need to go.

"I can handle violent men," Maya finally said with a fearless grin. "Thank you, sir."