“It has been pretty busy, and there are a few people I don’t recognize. There are four people right now in the main bar,” Gwen mentioned, “and there was a different party of five a few hours ago.”
“She’s right,” Emerald confirmed. “I waited on the five.”
“What were they like? Travelers?”
Gwen shook her head. “Soldiers, I think. They weren’t dressed like it, but I could tell.”
“Mercs?” Hadrian asked.
“I don’t think so. Mercenaries are usually troublesome, grabbing the girls, shouting, picking fights—you know the type. These guys were quiet, and one was a noble I think. At least some of the others referred to him as baron something—Trumbul I think it was.”
“I saw some like that up on Wayward Street yesterday,” Mason said. “Might’a been as many as twelve.”
“Anything going on in town?” Royce asked.
They looked at one another doubtfully.
“Do you think it has anything to do with those rumors about killings out near the Nidwalden River?” Hadrian asked. “Maybe the king is calling up support from other nobles.”
“Are you talking about the elves?” Mason asked. “I heard about that.”
“Me too,” Emerald said. “They say elves attacked a village or something. I heard they slaughtered everyone—some even while they slept.”
“Who said that? That doesn’t sound right,” Albert commented. “I’ve never known an elf to look a man in the eye, much less attack one.”
Royce grabbed his boots and cloak and headed for the door. “You’ve never known an elf, Albert,” he said as he abruptly left.
“What’d I say?” Albert asked staring at everyone with an innocent expression.
Emerald shrugged.
Hadrian took out Alenda’s purse and tossed it at the viscount. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Royce can be moody at times. Here, divvy out the profits.”
“Royce is right, though,” Emerald said. She appeared pleased that she knew something they did not. “The elves that attacked the village were wild elves, full-bloods. The half-breeds from around here are nothing but a bunch of lazy drunks.”
“A thousand years of slavery can do that to a person,” Gwen pointed out. “Can I have my cut, Albert? I have to get back to work. We’ve got a bishop, the magistrate, and the Brotherhood of Barons visiting The House tonight.”
-- 3 --
Hadrian was still sore from the previous day’s exertion when he took a seat at an empty table near the bar and observed the patrons of the Diamond Room. The name came from its odd, stretched rectangle shape, caused by how the addition fit into the space between the tavern and the brothel next door. Hadrian knew, or was familiar with, almost everyone in the room. Lamplighters, carriage drivers, tinkers, they were the usual late crowd who came in after work for a meal. They all had the same tired, worn-out, dirty look about them as they sat with their heads bowed over their plates. Each was dressed in a coarse work shirt and poor fitting britches gathered at the waist like the mouth of a sack. They chose this room because it was quieter, and they could eat in peace. One individual, however, stood out.
He sat alone at the far end of the room his back to the wall. His table remained bare except for the standard tavern candle. He had not bought a drink or a plate. He wore a wide-brimmed felt hat with one side pinned up by a lavish blue plume. His doublet, worn over a brilliant gold satin waist shirt, was made of rich black and red brocade with stuffed shoulders. At his side was a saber attached to a fine-studded, leather girdle matching his high, black riding boots. Whoever he was, he was not hiding. Hadrian also noted a bundle beneath the table on which he rested one boot at all times.
Once Royce sent Emerald over with the news that the street was clear of associates, Hadrian got up and walked the length of the room, stopping before the empty chair in front of the stranger.
“Care for some company?” he asked.
“That depends,” the man replied, and Hadrian noted the slight saucy accent of a Calian native. “I am looking for a representative of an organization called Riyria. Do you speak for that group?”
“That depends on what you want,” Hadrian replied with a small grin.
“In that case, please sit down.”
Hadrian took the seat and waited.
“My name is Baron Dellano DeWitt, and I am looking to hire men of talent. I was told there were a few in the area that could be had for a price.”
“What kind of talents are you looking to buy?”
“Procurement skills,” DeWitt said simply, “I have an item I need to make disappear. If at all possible, I would prefer it to disappear completely. But it has to happen tonight.”
Hadrian smiled. “Sorry, I am quite certain Riyria won’t work under such tight constraints. Too dangerous. I hope you understand.”
“I’m sorry about the timing. I tried to reach your organization last night, but I was told you were unavailable. I am in a position to make it worth the risk.”