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?”
Without a word Royce paused at a fence that blocked the entrance to the alley running behind The Hideous Head. He kicked it hard, breaking two slats. He kicked again, popping off the crossbeam.
“Easy, Royce,” Hadrian said, stunned. In all the time they’d been together he’d never seen Royce lose control like that.
Royce picked up the crossbeam and entered the alley.
“Does this mean no tailor?” Albert asked as they chased after him.
Grabbing Albert by the chest of his nightshirt, Royce shoved him behind a stack of crates set against the side of a storage barn.
“Sorry!” the viscount said. “I was just asking.”
“Shut up,” Royce ordered. He wasn’t looking at Albert. He peered back toward the street.
Royce tilted his head slightly toward the mouth of the alley and then ducked in alongside Albert. Seeing this, Hadrian did the same. No one moved or said a word.
A minute later a man walked past. He was thin, dressed in a beat-up jacket with the collar raised, and his hands were stuffed in his sleeves. He could have been anyone, a weaver, a messenger, a dyer, or a baker. Startled upon seeing them, the man tried to hurry past. Royce walked out and hit him hard from behind with the board.
“Royce!” Hadrian yelled.
The man collapsed with a grunt and before he could recover his wind, Royce leapt on his back and used the crossbeam under the man’s neck for a choke hold.
“What are you doing?” Albert asked, shocked.
“He’s been watching us since we tried to see Gwen.” Royce slammed the man’s head against the stones, hard enough for it to bounce. Grabbing him by the hair, he pulled his head back and placed his white dagger against the prone man’s throat. “I’m not a patient person in general, and today is a bad one. You’re only going to get one shot at this. Tell me why you’re following us to my satisfaction or I’m going to open your neck and let your blood drain. You’re leaning downhill, so I won’t even get my boots wet. Got it?”
The man gasped out a yes.
“Okay, go ahead.”
“I’m supposed to check out anyone who visits the brothel.”
“Why?”
“To see where they go, who they talk to.”
“Why?”
“We’re trying to find a girl.”
“Gwen?”
“No. Her name is Rose.” The man coughed.
Royce ignored it and kept the pressure tight. “She’s a girl from the House?”
“Yes. Disappeared last night.”
“And who is this we that’s looking for her?”
The man hesitated and Royce began to cut.
“The Crimson Hand,” he blurted out.
“Thieves’ guild?”
“Yes.”
“And why are you looking for Rose?”
“I don’t know—honest I don’t. I just know everyone’s looking for her. I’m only supposed to watch and follow. That’s all I can tell you.”