Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 20: The Sword and Crown

Anna was accustomed to seedy taverns.

She'd been to a gambling hall where men slid across tables in their own sick. At another tavern, a rat had scurried out from beneath the floorboard and bitten her (her ankle had swelled to the size of a bread loaf, and Sophie had withheld treatment until Anna swore she'd never go to the tavern again). But this, Anna thought, pushing open the door, really took the cake.

The Sword and Crown smelled of stale booze. A thick layer of dust coated the bar like the tuft of a grey beard, and she could hear the click-click of rats scurrying beneath the floorboards. Men lounged at small tables, drinking out of wooden steins as scantily-clad women sucked white powder from their fingers. She watched as one of the drunker men rose, staggered into the corner, and urinated on the wall.

Anna wrinkled her nose.

She was dimly aware of Ryne and the others settling at a table in the shadows. Ryne had pulled his cloak low over his eyes, but she could feel him watching her; his gaze was a hot brand on her back.

"Are you lost, sweetheart?" a male voice asked.

She turned.

A middle-aged man leered up at her. He was dressed in a stained tunic, and there was a hole in his left shoes. Still, Anna observed, the man had all his teeth, which meant that he could afford good dentistry. A shop owner, then. Or perhaps a guard.

A promising start.

"I'm looking for someone," Anna said.

His gaze swept over her body. "How much do you charge?"

She smiled. "Someone specific, I'm afraid."

The man winked. "I can be anyone you'd like, darling. Just say the word." He propped an elbow on the table. "Care for a drink?"

Anna followed his gaze. Two other men sat at the table, surrounded by a sea of cards and half-drunk pints. The first one — a young man with a green hat — leaned forward. The other man, roughly the same age and with sharp cheekbones, looked bored.

Anna played with a lock of her hair. "I make it a rule not to accept drinks from strangers."

"Name's Frank," the middle-aged man said. "Not a stranger anymore, am I?" He patted his knee. "Come join us."

Anna hesitated — more for show, really — and then perched on Frank's knee. As she'd expected, his hand went directly to her thigh. She could feel Ryne watching as the other man slid his hand between her legs.

Green Hat pulled a face. "Unfair. You always get the pretty ones."

"That's Darce," Frank explained in Anna's ear. "He's an idiot, so pay no attention to him."

Anna nodded. Truthfully, it was the third man that had caught her eye; he was dressed in a velvet smoking jacket, his buttons gleaming in the candlelight. His dark hair smelled of citrus pomade. A wealthy merchant, she deduced, or a nobleman. Certainly someone with enough influence to know Eris.

Anna smiled at him. "And you?"

His voice was cold. "Everett."

"Lord Everett," Frank corrected. "Doesn't like it when people bow, though." His hand slid further up her leg. Sour beer clung to his breath. "Not unless they're stooping to put their head between your legs, eh, Everett?"

Everett ignored this. "You said you were looking for someone."

It took Anna a moment to realize that he was speaking to her; Everett was gathering cards, entirely unconcerned by her presence. His signet ring flashed in the light. Definitely a nobleman, Anna thought.