"No, sir. "
"I've never been to a place like that. My father was a strict man who forbade me from going to places of pleasure."
O'Neill said this nervously, feeling his face grow hot, as if illusory wisps of heat were rising from the top of his head.
"Then tonight, let me take you there and broaden your horizons." Sifa patted his adjutant on the shoulder, looking very experienced. "We're going out to sea next. We'll be playing pirates. No matter how you look at it, you don't resemble a pirate at all. Let me give you a makeover."
O'Neill broke out in a cold sweat. "Sir, I don't think that's necessary."
Sifa said seriously, "The change starts with how you address me. Remember, below deck, you'll call me sir. On deck, you'll call me captain."
"And no matter where we are, unless we're back in Backlund, you can't call me 'sir.'"
O'Neill hurriedly said, "Yes, cap—sir!"
"Good. Go find a carriage."
The brothels, casinos, and bars in Bayam didn't open until very late, so Sifa wasn't worried about arriving early at all. He hadn't changed his outfit: a black wool coat, matching vest and trousers, and a half-high silk top hat. Like a gentleman from Loen, he took a hired carriage to the Red Theater.
Though he had passed by the Red Theater several times, Sifa had never set foot inside. He couldn't conceal his curiosity, wanting to know how the brothels in Bayam differed from those in Backlund.
When they arrived at the Red Theater, Sifa got out of the carriage. O'Neill had already cleverly paid the fare and given the driver a one-soli tip, prompting the coachman to thank him repeatedly in fragrant Loenese.
Sifa lifted his hat and looked ahead. Several burly men stood at