The first tavern was small and crowded, and stank of stale beer and staler humanity. But at least, Kevin thought warily, the men inside looked reasonably normal: sweaty, thick-set laborers and dock workers who’d stopped in for a quick drink.
Lydia shook her head in disapproval. “This won’t do. Too honest Come on.”
The second tavern hid in the basement of a half-collapsed tenement It was so dark in there that for one nervous moment Kevin, poised on the top of a short, rickety stairway, couldn’t see anything at all. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he swallowed drily. This cluster of men and ... not-quite humans lurking down there in the shadows couldn’t have had anything honest to them at all.
“Better,” muttered Lydia, her busy eyes checking out the clientele and scouring out possible escape routes at the same time. “Stay here.”
She moved easily through the crowd, stopping a moment here to ask a question or two, slapping away a roving hand there, never losing her smile or her patience.
After what seemed an eternity to the bardling, Lydia returned to Kevin’s side. “Three invitations to ... ah ... bed, two to sic and party a while, one to buy you—” she grinned at his outrage—” but no useful information. Besides,” the woman added teasingly, “the price for you wasn’t nearly high enough!”
She scurried out before he could find an answer.
The third tavern was almost as murky. The furnishings consisted only of a few splintery tables and chairs, and the thin layer of sawdust covering the floor was sticky with what Kevin prayed was only beer. The customers were an ugly lot, quite literally, hunched over their drinks like so many bitter predators, making the crowd in the last place look almost wholesome.
Not a one of them showed the slightest interest in kidnappers or a missing noblewoman. But before Lydia and Kevin could leave, a hulk of a man, big and ugly enough to be almost all ogre—lurched to his feet and staggered towards Lydia.
“H’llo, b’oot’ful. Come ‘n have uh drink.”
“Some other time, handsome.”
“I said, have uh drink!”
“And I said, some other time.”
As she turned to leave, the man caught her arm in a meaty hand. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, b’oot’ful.”
Lydia sighed. “They never learn,” she murmured.
Before the bardling could even start to move, the woman whirled on her captor, knee shooting up with devastating force and deadly accuracy. As the man doubled over in speechless agony, Lydia pulled free and smiled sweetly at Kevin, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
“Shall we leave?” she asked.
The bardling glanced warily around the room. No one seemed to have noticed what had just happened. Even so, he had to fight the urge to back out of there, hand on sword hilt. Once they were safely outside on the street, Kevin exploded:
“What in the name of all the Powers did you think you were doing?”
“Avoiding an unwanted drink.”
“But—but he might have been armed! He might have killed you!”
“And the roof might have caved in on us all. It didn’t He didn’t. Kevin, credit me with enough wit to know when someone’s carrying weapons. Or is sober enough to be dangerous. The poor idiot had it coming to him, and I just hope his less-than-friends back there don’t slit his throat while he’s helpless.”
“But—you—”
“Look, kid, this son of thing happens all the time when you happen no be both a warrior and a woman.‘’
“Well, maybe it wouldn’t happen so often if you just didn’t dress so—so—”
“So what, Kevin?”
