Demyst nodded. Puzzlement warred with curiosity on Erdyl’s face.
“I’d like to hear what people are saying.” Kharl paused. “We’ll walk, and I’ll need to find or borrow an old tunic. I will wear the truncheon.”
“You forgot this afternoon,” Demyst pointed out.
“You had your blade,” Kharl countered.
“Best one of us did, ser.”
“That’s true.” Kharl smiled and went back to finishing his cutlet.
Less than a glass later, the five walked toward the open door of the White Pony. Kharl mopped his brow with his sleeve. The sun had been down for over a glass, but the evening was still too warm for his liking, and harvest was a good three eightdays away, although some fruits were appearing in the market, according to Khelaya.
“Five of you …” said the red-faced man who greeted them. “You’ll not be making trouble, now?”
“We’re looking for a cool ale,” Kharl said. “It’s hot out.”
“That it is. Best you take the round table off the wall there.”
Kharl led the way. A third of the tables were empty. Most of those in the White Pony were men, and most of those were men older than Kharl, men with leather faces, rough-cut beards. There were a few women, but all three of those were graying or white-haired, and they were with older men. So were the handful or so of younger men.
Kharl and those with him had barely taken the wall table when the murmurs began, mumblings that Kharl could hear through his order-senses, despite the louder conversation and bustle. Still, he had to concentrate.
“ … who they are?”
“ … who cares … long as they got coins …”
“ … big fellow … follow him …”
“ … others … look like a clerk and three guards …”
“ … more like mercs …”
“ … all those Hamorians pissprick Egen’s got wouldn’t like that …”
“Careful … don’t know who’s listening …”
“Sides … what could four mercs do …”
“Fellows!” called an angular server, who had appeared at Demyst’sshoulder, “what you all want?” She brushed back a lock of short black hair, her eyes darting around the table before centering on Kharl.
“Pale ale,” Kharl said, recalling that lager in most taverns was merely watered ale.
“Lager’s a lot better. Doesn’t cost any more. Everything’s three coppers a mug. Wine’s five.”
“ … silver for bad wine?” murmured Erdyl.
“Look, fellows … times been hard … especially in the south.”
“Lager, then.” Kharl offered a smile.
“Make that two,” added Demyst.
“Four,” added Alynar.
Erdyl shrugged helplessly. “Five.”
“Any eats?” asked the server.
“Got any dark bread?” replied Kharl.
“Cost you. Rye’s one for a loaf, two for a basket. Dark’s two and four.”
“Basket of dark,” Kharl said, showing a pair of silvers.
“You got it. Five lagers and a basket of dark.”
The lower murmurs continued.
“ … got coins …”
“ … all of ‘em got blades, and the two big ‘uns’d break you in half …”
“ … always that way …”
“ … right it is … why they got coins and you don’t …“
The server returned with five brown crockery mugs, setting them quickly on the battered wooden tabletop, so deftly that despite her speed, not a drop slopped onto the wood. “Lagers.” Then she set down the basket of bread. “Be three silvers and four.”
Kharl handed over four silvers, as well as two more coppers.
“Thanks.” The broad smile was both warm and professional.
Before she could step away, Kharl spoke. “There used to be armsmen in here all the time, didn’t there?”
“Haven’t been any since spring. Say they all went south to get the brigands out of the hills. Said that was the reason we didn’t get no produce and stuff from there.” The server shrugged, tossing her head to flip the errant lock of black hair back. “Miss the coins. Don’t miss the rest of it.”
“Looks slow, even for mideightday.”
“Slow all the time now, except when the patrollers get off.” She glanced toward the door.
“They’re as bad as the armsmen?” suggested Kharl.
The server just shook her head. “Check on you fellows later.” She moved to another table, where three white-haired men and a woman sat. “Need a refill, gramps?”
“Hain’t finished what I got, Selda.”
“Way you’re drinkin”, gramps, you never will …“
Kharl smiled.
“She didn’t want to talk about the patrollers,” observed Erdyl.
“Seemed that way,” added Demyst.
Kharl said nothing, but studied the lager with his order-senses. There was no obvious chaos in it. He took a sip. He’d had better. He’d seldom had worse. After a second sip, he broke off a chunk of the bread and chewed off some. Warm, crusty, and flavorful, it was far better than the lager. He hated to think what the ale tasted like. He held the mug as though he would continue to sip, but concentrated on hearing what was being said at the other tables.
“ … sent Gorot home last fiveday … said wasn’t enough work for two …”
“ … Melanya … thinks her Fradol’s got eyes for Jaela …”
“ … knocks her up and looks elsewhere … Ought to knock him up …”
“She’d come home then, and your coppers’d be flowing then …”
“ … have children … always keep paying … they never notice … good times and bad …”
“ … seen better times …”
“Haven’t we all?”
Kharl had been slowly studying the servers as they passed, but he hadn′t seen Enelya, from whom Kharl and Jeka had wheedled, begged, and bought food. The long-faced blond server handing the tables in the far corner was familiar-but he couldn’t recall her name. He gestured to her, holding up a silver.
“Yes, ser?” She glanced toward the kitchen nervously. “Selda’s your server …”
“Not about servers,” Kharl replied. “A silver for you, if you can answer a question or two. Nothing more.’
“A silver?” Clearly, she didn’t believe him.
He beckoned for her to lean down. “When I was here, a year ago, therewas a dark-haired girl, very friendly. Enelya, I think her name was. She had a sister, too, except something terrible happened to her.”
“Right awful it was. She drowned in the harbor. The sister, I mean. Poor thing.”
“Does Enelya …?″
“Left here, not more ′n eightday ago. Couldn′t say where.”
Kharl could tell she was lying. He added a second silver to the first. “You might know where she went.”
“Couldn’t say, ser.” Her voice wavered.
“Is she in trouble?”
The server glanced to the door. “Please, ser.”
“Egen?” Kharl added another silver.
Her mouth opened. “She told him no.” Her eyes darted away. “Said she had to go. Knew a place to hole up, wasn’t bein’ used. Didn’t say where.”
“The urchin′s place?”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell.”
Kharl pressed the silvers into her hand. “I won’t. Tell the others that you’re meeting me later.” He smiled. “Then sneak away and get some sleep.”
“Ser …”
“Go …”
She darted away, but Kharl noted that she had kept the silvers-out of sight.
“Ser?” asked Erdyl.
“Later.” Kharl took another small swallow of the lager. He kept listening, but he heard nothing new.
After another half glass, he nodded to Demyst. “Time to go.” He stood and could feel eyes turning to watch him and the others as they walked from the White Pony.
Outside, Kharl walked to the first cross street, Second Cross, and turned westward.
“Ah, ser,” murmured Erdyl, “the residence is back that way.”
“I know,” Kharl said cheerfully. “We need to investigate something.”
“You know where the missing server is, don′t you?” Erdyl’s tone was almost accusatory. “What does she know?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. I’d also like to repay a favor, if Ican.” Kharl lengthened his stride. The air had cooled some while they had been in the White Pony, and a slight breeze blew out of the north, mixing the scent of harbor and dead fish with smoke, cooking oil, and other odors. A year before, he would not even have noticed the smell.