Roo removed his travel bag and said, “Two ales.”
The man didn’t move, continuing to stare at Roo. After a moment, Roo dug into his belt pouch and pulled out a pair of copper coins. The man took the money, inspected it, and then put it in his own belt pouch. He reached under the bar and produced two empty flagons, which he carried halfway down the bar to a large tap. He pulled it twice, filling each flagon with a frothy brew. Returning to where Roo and Erik waited, he put them down before the two young men. “Anything else?”
Erik said, “Anything to eat?”
The man indicated a kettle hanging before the fireplace on the other side of the room. “Stew’s done. Two coppers a bowl, three if you want bread.”
The smell wasn’t promising, but Erik and Roo were both hungry, having had nothing to eat all day. Erik said, “We’ll take the stew and the bread.”
The man still didn’t move, until Roo put more money on the bar. Then he went and filled two wooden bowls with stew and carried them back. He produced a couple of small loaves of bread and set them down on the dirty bar next to the bowls, then produced two almost clean wooden spoons and put them in the bowls before Erik or Roo could intercept them.
Roo was too hungry to notice, and seeing his friend not suffering from eating the stew, Erik tried his own bowl. It was nothing like his mother’s, but it was hot and filling, and the bread was acceptable, if a little coarse.
As casually as he could, Roo said, “What’s all the fuss about?”
“What fuss?” asked the barkeep.
“Outside, at the gate,” replied Roo.
“Didn’t know there was a fuss.”
Erik said, “We just got to Krondor and didn’t feel like waiting in that long line to eat.”
The barkeep was silent until Roo put money on the bar and signaled for two more ales, even though the first were only half-drunk. The barkeep produced another set of flagons and said, “Prince of Krondor died.”
“We heard that,” said Roo.
“Well, his son is being installed in the office tomorrow. His brothers are here.”
“The King’s in Krondor?” said Erik, feigning surprise, even though he had heard that earlier.
“That’s why there’s so much security at the gates,” said the barkeep. “There’s a pair of murderers they’re looking for; did in some noble east of here, if you believe the story. Of course, everyone and his uncle’s pet dog is in town for the festival. Funeral parade was today, which is why everyone took the day off to gawk at the King. Tomorrow they have this ceremony, then another parade, so those that couldn’t see anything will get their chance. After that, the King will take his father back to Rillanon for burial in the family vault. And Prince Nicholas will come back as the new Prince of Krondor. Then we’ll have another festival, and everyone will drink too much and nothing will get done. Then all the visiting nobles will go home.”
“You don’t sound very impressed,” said Erik.
The front door opened and two more rough-looking men entered, sitting down at the table occupied by the first two.
The barman shrugged. “Why should I? Old Prince, new Prince, the taxes are the same.”
Roo continued to sound matter-of-fact. “Well, now that we’re getting some food in us, I guess we’ll just have to go stand in line like everyone else.”
The barkeep said, “Not, I should think.”
Roo tried to look uninterested and said, “You know another way into Krondor?”
At this the barkeep’s expression changed to one of surprise. “No, just that they close the gate in an hour and you won’t be able to get in tonight.”
“They close the gate?”
“With the King in the city, of course,” answered the barman, now interested. “You have a problem?”
Erik was about to say nothing at all was the matter, but Roo quickly said, “We have to find a ship and be on it at first light tomorrow.”
“Plan on taking another, then,” said the barkeep. “For many of those waiting to get into the city will simply sleep before the gate, so even were you to leave now and take a place outside, you’ll be hours getting through tomorrow. It will be like that every day until the King and his family leave next week.”
Narrowing his gaze, Roo said, “I don’t suppose you know of another way into the inner city? Say, perhaps, one used by locals and not widely talked about?”
The barman glanced around the room as if fearing being overheard—highly unlikely, given that the other four men in the room were lost in their own conversation—and said, “I might. But it would cost you.”
“How much?”
“How much do you have?”
Before Erik could plead poverty, Roo said, “My friend and I can pay ten gold pieces.”
The barman looked surprised at the amount, but only said, “Let’s see your gold.”