He continued through the castle and climbed the winding stairs alone. A pair of cleaning maids scurried from his path, slopping a single splash of water on the stairs. He noted their faces, their heights, hair, and other pertinent identifiers before he stepped over the puddle. Both would be reassigned by morning.
He reached Lord Egeslic’s meeting room and paused long enough to smooth his hair and his jacket. The door guard stepped aside without lifting his gaze from the floor.
“Is our liege still entertaining?” Shailer asked.
“No, milord.”
Shailer nodded to himself and opened the door. This should prove to be a cordial meeting.
On the far side of the massive room, Egeslic sprawled naked on a gilt throne and sipped a glass of brandy, his long, spare frame as angular as the chair he sat upon. A lantern burned nearby, flicking shadows across his narrow face and form, as well as the body at his feet. “You’re late.”
“You’re early.”
Egeslic grinned, downing the goblet in a gulp. “So I am. This afternoon’s entertainment, while enjoyable, didn’t last as long as I had intended.”
Shailer nodded without cutting his gaze to the naked girl sprawled dead on the floor. He had seen many such sights through the years and they had long since stopped being noteworthy. “Do you desire to hear a report or give orders, my liege?”
Egeslic poured another draught of brandy. “Both. What news have you from Faldorrah?”
“The anointing sword appears to have been granted to one Lars Hargrove, son of Castellan Hargrove of Haenpar.”
Egeslic barked a laugh and stood, walking around the corpse as he sipped. “Continue.”
“As a side note, my liege, Castellan Dubric sent young master Hargrove on an errand of sorts, presumably to spread their Royal ideas and filth. One of our associates travels with him and I have ordered the lad to deliver Hargrove’s son to us.”
“Splendid.” Egeslic poured brandy on the dead girl’s belly and knelt beside her.
“There is more, my liege. Jelke has been imprisoned. Presumably his accounting transgressions have been discovered.”
Egeslic sighed then licked the brandy from her belly. “He must be disposed of, wouldn’t you say?” He looked up at Shailer, spittle, blood and brandy dripping from his mouth. “Since she’s still warm, I believe we should have Jelke removed from the field. Permanently. There is no time to waste.”
“Already seen to it, my liege.”
Egeslic maneuvered the dead girl around to his liking. “Still warm” he muttered, opening her toothless mouth. “Still warm.”
“One last thing, my liege, before you resume your entertainment.”
“Certainly, certainly.” Egeslic sat astride her chest, caressing her cheeks and shaping her mouth. He tilted her head toward him and poured brandy between her lips.
“One of our remaining Faldorrahn spies informs me Dubric’s squire has fallen unto disgraceful times. Shall we utilize this to our benefit?”
Egeslic waved a hand, dismissing him. “Certainly. Now go. I do not want to be disturbed. She is still warm, after all. My orders can wait until a calmer moment.”
“Of course my liege.” Shailer bowed and walked away, leaving Egeslic to his cooling entertainment.
On the Road—village of Middern, province of Gattol
Lars glanced back at the others as he walked up to the whorehouse and refused to wipe at the sweat on his brow for fear the whore on the porch would think he sweated to more than the heat of the day. Oh, Dubric, I left Otlee in charge! The others —
“My, ain’t you a purty one!”
Lars blushed and stepped back, trying not to look at the half-naked woman leaning just inside the open door. Short, and with the loose skin of someone who had at one time been quite plump, the woman looked old enough to be his mother. If not his mother, then a mature aunt, at least. Her hair was brassy red-blond and piled in ringlets on top of her head, her lips, nails, and eyelids were painted vivid purple, and she smelled like Serian’s soiled sheets.
“I’m just here for information, ma’am,” he said, somehow meeting her knowing gaze.
“That’s what they all say,” she said, reaching for his arm. “What kind of information are you looking for?” she asked, settling his arm snugly against her breast as she led him forward. “We have information about experienced women, exotic locales, even innocent young things.” She stopped at an open room where dozens of women and girls waited, eagerly looking his way. Some had ebony skin or almond eyes, others came in all shades, ages, shapes, and sizes, even children. One had tattoos over her entire body and another’s skin had been dyed green. “Whatever information you desire, I’m certain we can provide the knowledge you seek.”
Several of the ladies giggled and jiggled their attributes at him.
Lars felt his face redden. “Um, thank you but no. I’m here to ask about a client.”
“Clients meet privately with our experts,” the short woman said, motioning to a pair of younger ladies.
Lars guessed their ages at fifteen summers, but with the flickering lighting and limited clothing he felt far from certain. One walked behind him, running a finger down his back, and the other ran her hand over his belly toward his belt. Ignoring the interested pleas from his groin, he batted her hand away and said, “I’m not here to sample your staff, I’m looking for someone.”
The short woman frowned and waved the two girls away. “You’re a tough customer. How about Leili? She comes from the far land of Astaria.” The girl with golden skin and almond eyes rose and dropped her robe at her feet, standing naked before him. “An unusual specimen she is, and still a virgin, or so she tells me.”
“I’m sure,” Lars remarked, dragging his gaze away. “You appear to have several of those here.”
The short woman frowned and with a flick of her hand, Leili knelt for her robe again. “Who are you looking for? Perhaps if you purchase his favorite, she will know something.”
Lars frowned. Never in his life did he think he’d ever purchase a woman for a bell or a few moments. “Kramoris the Wanderer. I understand he was here yesterday.”
The woman grinned. “That he was. One of my better customers.” She looked to the girls and chattered out a string of names. Five rose, all young, all blond. “That will be thirty five crown,” she said with a smile and held out her hand. “His selections yesterday. Perhaps they can give you the knowledge you seek.”
Sighing, Lars fished thirty five crown from his pocket and gave it to the woman. One girl winked at him and said, “It will be nice to have a young fellow for a change. This your first time, sweetie?”
“Not exactly,” Lars said. He stepped back to let the girls walk past him then followed them to a private room.
He stood, leaning in the corner, with his notebook in hand while the girls all sat on the bed. Once they realized he meant to follow his own business, not theirs, he found them compliant and talkative witnesses, even if they were barely dressed and sweating in the heat. “He did what?”
“He pissed on me!” one said, grimacing. “I hate that!”
The other girls nodded in agreement. “Kramoris likes to wiggle his thing around, make it out to be a bigger deal than it is,” another said. “Like we ain’t never seen nothin better.”