19. The Old Ones

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The coffee house had broad canvas covers which overhung the street. Several wicker tables had been set out underneath so the clientele could watch the world go by - and the narrow road was filled with people, busy with their daily lives.

The windows were marked with the etched form of stylised swan and the same logo had also been printed on menus and signs.

Esther took a sip from a tall glass of sweet green tea. She set it down on a metal tray and picked up her notebook.

She had spent the past hour sketching out the faces from the Chief Steward's rooms. She had an impeccable memory but it helped to put things down in pencil or ink. She was able to study the images more carefully and see things that she might otherwise have missed.

Each of the twelve paintings had been carefully created with intentional backdrops and props. The figures had been posed and the costumes had been selected so that they meant something - she was sure of it. She just didn't know what.

She poured out some more of the green tea and flicked through the book. Who were these people? Friends of the Chief Steward? Legals that Fidriss had placed in the city? Some kind of secret society?

Certaine had told her to investigate, but he hadn't known what she might find and she knew she would need to follow her nose, and her nose was itching. There was something important about these twelve people - and she was determined to find out what it was...

She payed for her drink and pulled a pair of dark glasses from her bag. As the sun rose high overhead she left the shelter of the coffee house and returned to the street.

She had chosen her clothes well and people seemed to be treating her respectfully - for which she was genuinely grateful. Women carefully avoided contact and men didn't meet her eyes, although she did notice a couple of tradesmen eying her up. She smiled and watched the drama of everyday life unfold.

She caught sight of the small boy with the ball and decided to start her inquiries with him.

'Are you having a good day?' she asked, pushing her glasses back so he could see her eyes.

'Yes, miss,' the boy said as he picked his ball up and looked her over. 'You one o' the visitors?'

'Yes,' she replied with a smile. 'But I'm looking for some... old friends.'

She showed her notebook to the boy and flicked through the pages.

'Do you recognise any of these people?' she asked. 'They may have been around for a while...'

'That's the big whore!' the boy exclaimed, pointing out the image of a well-built woman. 'She's got the brothie on the corner of Ender's Street.'

'Has she indeed...' Esther replied with a smile. 'And where can I find this... brothie?'

Ender's Street was only a short walk away and Esther was soon looking up at the tall, ramshackled but prominent building. It had four stories and the windows were covered with dark curtains. She stepped confidently through the entrance and found herself in a large foyer.

The room was furnished with dark wood and decorative wall hangings. Candles and oil lamps were burning seductively and a number of scantily clad girls were on duty.

A couple of them showed a brief moment of surprise when they glanced at their visitor but were quick to hide it with warm and welcoming smiles. Esther obviously did not look like the sort of person who usually attended this particular establishment, but they were all professionals and were prepared for anything.

'Can we help you?' one of the girls said charmingly while stepping forward with a subtle curl of her hips. She was dressed in a fairly revealing gown and Esther watched the way she moved with a measure of professional admiration. As Esther the dancing girl, she also knew how to move...

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