Duncan nodded, knowing full well whom Roo meant. They were in an area of the city unknown to Duncan, who had been to Krondor a number of times over the years, and from the wares displayed in the shop windows as they passed, not a terribly prosperous one. Roo said, “Let’s go around the block and head back the way we came. I think we’re leaving prosperity behind if we continue on this way.”
Duncan nodded and watched as Roo headed his team out into the traffic of the road. The street was full of travelers as those finished with the day’s work headed home, or to a local tavern or shop. Some shops were being shuttered, while others were lighting lanterns, indicating their proprietors were staying open past dark for those customers who could only shop in the evening.
They moved slowly through the press and Roo turned right into another street, and Duncan followed. It took them almost an hour to find an inn with a stable area big enough to accommodate their wagons behind locked gates. Roo made arrangements with the stable boy, took his sample cask, and led Duncan inside.
The inn was known as the Seven Flowers, and it was a modest establishment, catering to merchants and workers equally. Roo found a table near the bar and indicated Duncan should take a seat. He spied an interesting-looking bar maid, a little long in the face but with an ample spread of bosom and hip, and he said, “When you have a minute, if you’d bring us both a tankard of ale and dinner.” He indicated the table where Duncan sat. The woman looked at the handsome Duncan and her smile betrayed her interest. Roo found his eyes fixed upon the woman’s bosom where it strained against the fabric of her dress and said, “And if you’re free at the end of the evening, join us.” He tried his best to look charming, and the remark got him a neutral expression and a noncommittal noise. “Where’s the owner?” asked Roo.
She indicated a heavyset man at the far end of the bar, and Roo made his way through a half-dozen customers and started his pitch. After providing samples of his wine and arguing price, Roo arrived at a price with the owner of the inn, including a night’s lodging and food, and returned to the table.
The food was average but ample and after weeks on the trail tasted wonderful. The ale was also average, but cold and plentiful. After the meal, when business had thinned, Duncan started working his charms on the serving girl, a woman of middle years named Jean. Another barmaid, a thin young woman named Betsy, joined them and somehow ended up sitting in Roo’s lap. Either Duncan was terribly funny in his storytelling or the ale gave everyone a more forgiving sense of humor. A couple of times the innkeeper had had to come over and order his barmaids back to work, but as the evening wore on, the two women had found their way back to Roo and Duncan’s company.
The pairing was obvious: Duncan had captured the attention of both women, but Jean, the more attractive of the two, had staked her claim early on, while Betsy was content to spend her time with Roo’s hand fondling her. Roo didn’t know if the girl really liked him or expected recompense, but he didn’t care. The soft heat of flesh under cloth had him aroused, and after a while he said, “Let’s go upstairs.”
The girl said nothing but rose and took his hand and led him upstairs. In his drunken state he didn’t remember hearing Duncan and Jean entering the room with them, but soon he was lost in the feel, smell, taste, and heat of being with a woman.
He was vaguely aware of Duncan and Jean on the pallet next to the one he shared with Betsy, but he ignored them. He had been with whores in camp less than a hand’s breadth from other soldiers, so he thought nothing of it.
He got out of his clothing and got Betsy out of hers in quick order, and was lost in passion when a shout came from outside followed by the sound of cracking wood. He almost didn’t notice it at first, but another crack followed, and suddenly, before thought was his, he was on his feet, pulling his sword from the scabbard, yelling, “Duncan!”
Naked, Roo raced down the stairs and into the common room. Deserted and dark, the room was an obstacle course as Roo tried to get to the inn’s courtyard door without laming himself on a chair or table. Duncan’s oaths from behind told Roo he wasn’t alone in his drunken difficulties.
Roo found the door, pulled it open, and hurried toward the stable where his horses were being cared for and his wagons were housed. His feet encountered wetness as his nose greeted him with a familiar aroma: wine.
He entered the dark barn cautiously, his intoxication gone with the rush of battle readiness. Duncan overtook him and Roo gripped his cousin by the arm, signaling in the dark to move to the side of the barn aisle. Something was wrong and Roo couldn’t put his finger on what that was until he saw the first horse. The animal lay on the ground, blood pooling from its neck. Quickly he took an inventory and found all four of his horses had been killed, their necks cut in exactly the right place to bleed them as fast as possible.