It was Royce who had finally announced that they would be leaving. He hadn’t heard of any disagreement between the two and Gwen gave them both a tight hug, and Royce received a kiss when they left. That kiss had shocked Royce too. Maybe she did it because she liked spooking him. Royce often reminded Hadrian of a cat, a bit too self-assured and surefooted. It was entertaining to see him knocked off balance. They had left on good terms and that’s why her refusal to see them made no sense. She had seemed genuinely sad when they had gone away.
Albert sat with his back to the bar, his hands folded on the table, looking over his shoulder longingly.
“We’re here for a meal,” Hadrian reminded the viscount. “The nonliquid kind.”
Albert turned back, licking his lips. “Right … of course.”
Hadrian stared at the viscount. The man was the very picture of poverty, his face little more than a pair of eyes peering out of a wreath of grimy hair. “You know, it’s hard to imagine what you’d look like without that beard. Is there really a face under there?”
Albert sat up straight. “Of course, and a handsome one at that. I was a looker when I could afford it.”
“I just don’t understand,” Royce mumbled again.
“Understand what?” A man approached the table, wiping dirty hands on a dirtier rag.
The moment he saw him, Hadrian thought of the scarecrows that had dotted the farms along the country roads. There had been one in particular, with a pumpkin for a head and a straw-stuffed hat, that could have been this man’s twin. The main differences being that the man was far older and less attractive than the pumpkin.
“Why there is such a shortage of fetching barmaids,” Hadrian answered for him. Hadrian had meant it as a joke, but the man scowled back, causing Hadrian to rethink whether he had anything in common with a pumpkin at all.
“They’re all across the street,” he replied with a sour look at the wall, which if it had a window would look out on Medford House. His stare was so intense and sustained that all three followed his line of sight. “Had a whole passel working a year ago, but she made them all leave.”
“She?” Royce asked.
“Yeah,” the barman said with a sneer and a dismissive wave of his hand at the wall. “That Calian whore that runs the joint. She used to work here. Then the bitch betrayed me. She left and took the rest with her. Now look at the place. A man can hardly make a decent living with them across the street.”
“How about we get a round of ale?” Hadrian said quickly, causing Albert to brighten.
“I’d prefer rum,” Albert declared.
“No rum,” Hadrian said. “Oh yeah, and no ale for him either-just bring a small beer for him and a pint for me. How about some wine, Royce?”
“No.”
“Well, think on it while I get the others. Only got two hands anyway,” the man said. “Name’s Grue, by the way … Raynor Grue. I own this place.”
“Royce?” Hadrian asked after Grue left. “Whatcha thinking?”
He only smiled back.
For most people smiling was a good thing, but Hadrian couldn’t recall if he’d ever seen Royce smile from pleasure. Or maybe what gave Royce pleasure was different from most people. In any case, he’d learned that it was rarely a good sign, especially if accompanied by a raised hood and an eerie silence.
“Are you sure you want to eat here?” Albert asked. “I’ll bet it’s cheap, but we’ll need to check our pork chops for tails.”
“Maybe they have a good soup,” Hadrian suggested.
“Still gonna have to check for tails … and whiskers.”
Royce ignored them both and never took his eyes off Grue, who soon returned as promised.
“Make a decision yet?” Grue asked, dropping off the drinks, which made a healthy thud on the table.
“Still thinking,” Royce replied, wearing the same smile. “Why don’t you tell me more about the woman who runs that place across the street.”
“Gwen DeLancy? Not much to tell. She’s an ungrateful whore.”
Albert shot Hadrian a look of alarm.
“When she came to Medford, no one would hire her. Being the tolerant, understanding man I am, I looked past her being from Calis. Heck, I thought it might even be a benefit … you know, exotic and all. So I took her in, but she just wanted to serve drinks.” He gave a little snort that actually made Hadrian want to punch him. “I set her straight quick enough. A good thick belt will do that, you know?”
“You beat her?” Royce asked.
“Had to-she refused to make my customers happy. ’Course, nothing like what that other fella did last night. Right now I bet she was wishing she hadn’t run out on me. She has a hired man, but he didn’t do much. People around here respect me. They know there’s a high price to pay for damaging the merchandise, and I’ve not had much of that kind of trouble.”
Royce’s smile vanished as his eyes narrowed. “Gwen’s hurt? What happened?”
“I told you, she got the piss beat out of her last night by one of her customers. Rumor has it she can’t even walk. Might be true-I ain’t seen her today. I don’t think anyone has. From what I heard he messed her up bad. Maybe he cut her up and she’s too embarrassed to show her face-now that it ain’t so pretty no more.”
Royce began squeezing his hands into fists. “Who did it?”
Grue shrugged. “No idea. I was sleeping one off last night. Just heard about it from Willard, who said she was dragged out into the street by some fella he didn’t recognize-but Willard ain’t the shiniest pot on the shelf.”
“Did she tell the sheriff?” Hadrian asked.
Grue chuckled. “Ethan don’t care what happens to no stupid whore-less she dies. Then he’s required to see the body is removed from the city and make sure restitution is paid. I had that happen once. There’s this guy named Stane, a real ugly sort who works the docks and always smells of fish. He killed one of my girls.” Grue made a face like he tasted something awful. “It was bad. But there was nothing that could be done about it. Well Gwen, being crazy like she is, she went and got Ethan. I told him Stane’s a good customer and that he had agreed on a price for damages, pretty generous, I might add. And that should have been the end of it. But Gwen got mad and that’s when she left for good. She thought Stane might get her, too, but he and I had a real good talk and he wasn’t gonna do it again. Didn’t matter, though. Turns out she had money saved and leased the shack across the street.”
“You’re sitting here and call that a shack?” Albert asked.
“Oh yeah, it was a dump. They fixed it up some. Not sure how. She couldn’t have had that much coin. I’m guessing she serviced a whole lot of people along Artisan Row. All I know is she’s made it impossible to run a decent business anymore. I tried getting more girls, but they all go over there. I used to make a quarter of my coin from prostitution. Now I’m left with only the ale and gambling.”
“What about food?”
“I don’t sell no food.”
Hadrian glanced at Albert, who offered a smile.
“I guess I could’ve beat her again-probably should’ve, but I don’t suspect it would’ve done much good. She’s too willful, that one. She’ll end up dead because of it, believe me.” He turned to Royce. “Say, have you decided what ya want yet? There isn’t a lot of choices, to be honest.”
“You’re right about that. Right now all I want is to find out who hurt Gwen.”
Grue chuckled. “That sort of thing can get an idiot killed.”
Royce offered that cold smile of his again and said, “I’m thinking more than one.”
They stepped out of The Hideous Head, and Royce made a quick left, heading up Wayward Street in the direction of Artisan Row.
“You’re moving like you’ve got a purpose,” Hadrian said as he and Albert struggled to keep up.
“Heading to a tailor now I hope,” Albert mentioned. “For living in a barn this nightshirt is ample, but out in the wind it’s not up to the task.”
“And you’re aware that our horses are still back at the House, right?”