Erik sipped his ale. He studied the girl. When she had first been captured, she had stripped before Bobby and the men who had captured her, partly in defiance, partly in resignation. She was pretty - a lithe body, long neck, and big blue eyes that any man would notice - but hard. There was an element of toughness in her which took nothing away from her features but which underlined them, as if life had forged her in a hotter fire than most. Erik found it attractive in a way he couldn’t articulate. She wasn’t remotely provocative, like the girls he slept with at the Sign of the White Wing, or playful and mildly taunting, like the whores who worked this inn. She was guarded, thoughtful, and, Erik had decided, very smart.
‘What are you staring at?’ she asked.
Erik lowered his eyes. He hadn’t realized he had been staring at her. ‘You, I guess.’
‘There are plenty of girls around here to scratch your itch, Erik. Or there’s the White Wing if you want something special.’
Erik blushed. Suddenly Kitty laughed. ‘You’re a child, I swear.’
Erik said, ‘I’m not in the mood . . . for that. Just thought I’d have a drink or two and . . . talk.’
Kitty raised an inquiring eyebrow, but said nothing for a moment. Finally she said, ‘Talk?’
Erik sighed. ‘I’m spending so much time shouting at men, watching them fall all over themselves trying to anticipate my next order, or in meetings with the Captain and the other court officers, I just wanted to talk about anything that doesn’t have something to do with’ - he almost found himself saying ‘the invasion’ but caught himself - ‘being a soldier.’
If Kitty noticed his slight hesitation, she said nothing. ‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ she asked, putting away her bar rag.
‘How are you doing?’
‘Me?’ she asked. ‘Well, I’m eating better than I evei have. I’ve gotten used to not having to hold a dagger ir my hand when I sleep - I just keep it under my pillow. That’s another thing I’m getting used to: sleeping in a real bed.
‘And not having lice and fleas is good.’
Suddenly Erik laughed. Kitty joined in. Erik said, ‘I know what you mean. The pests on the march can be as maddening as anything.’
One of the two strangers approached. ‘From your garb I take you for a soldier,’ he said.
Erik nodded. ‘I am.’
With a friendly manner the fellow spoke. ‘It’s kind of quiet here tonight. I’ve been in a lot of inns, and this isn’t exactly what I’d call lively.’
Erik shrugged. ‘Sometimes it is. Depends on what’s going on at the palace.’
The man said, ‘Really?’
Erik glanced at Kitty, who nodded slightly, said, ‘Got to check some inventory,’ and left through the rear door.
‘We’ve got a big parade coming up soon,’ said Erik. ‘Some embassy or another from Kesh is coming for one of those state visits. The Master of Ceremonies has the Captain of the Prince’s Household Guards half-crazy with all the nonsense the garrison’s going to go through to get ready for this. I’m in for a quick ale and a chat with my friend, then I’ve got to head back.’
The man glanced at his empty ale mug. ‘I need another.’ He turned and shouted, ‘Girl!’
When Kitty didn’t answer, he turned back to Erik. ‘Think she’d mind if I fill my own?’
Erik shook his head. ‘If you leave your coins on the bar, she won’t.’
‘Buy you one?’ asked the man as he moved behind the bar.
‘What about your friend?’ asked Erik, indicating the other man at the table, the darker stranger Kitty had referred to as the quieter of the pair.
‘He’ll keep. He’s a business associate of mine.’ The man lowered his voice and in a conspiratorial tone said, ‘Truth to tell, he’s a terrible bore. All he talks about is trade and his children.’
Erik nodded, as if agreeing with the man.
‘I’m unmarried myself,’ said the stranger, coming around the bar, handing a foaming mug to Erik. ‘Name’s Pierre Rubideaux. From Bas-Tyra.’
‘Erik.’ He took the mug.
‘Your health,’ said Pierre, hoisting his own mug.
Erik took a drink. ‘What brings you to Krondor?’
‘Business. In particular, we’re looking to set up some trading with the Far Coast through the port.’
Erik smiled. ‘You’ll be wanting to talk to a friend of mine, I think.’
‘Who’s that?’ asked Rubideaux.
‘Rupert Avery. Owns the Bitter Sea Company. You trade in Krondor, you do business with either Roo or Jacob Esterbrook. If you’re talking about Kesh, that’s Esterbrook. If you’re talking the Far Coast, that’s Roo.’ Erik took another long drink from his mug. Something slightly bitter lingered after the ale, and he frowned. He didn’t remember his first mug being off.
‘As a matter of fact, I am looking for Rupert Avery,’ said the man.
The other man stood, nodding to Pierre. ‘It’s time,’ he said. ‘We must leave.’
‘Well, Erik von Darkmoor, it’s been more of a pleasure than you know.’
Erik started to say good-bye, then frowned. ‘I never told you my full name-’ he began. Suddenly a pain ripped through his stomach, as if someone had plunged a fiery knife in his gut. He reached out and grabbed the stranger by his tunic front.