Beatrix continued to improve her Joining Earth Standard, Clarence continued to ignore the letters that came for him and the fact that his allowance was now down to fifty silver pieces. Whilst Fred continued to ignore the fact that Clarence was putting so much of his money into the Dutchman that it left him with twelve silvers a month. Three months had passed and things were changing but Clarence wasn't sure if any of it was for the better. It was all he could do to keep his concerns from his friends, but he knew that soon there would be no money left and if he couldn't work out a way to make the pub profitable it could shut and all of them would be destitute.
Beatrix was developing an affection for Fred. Clarence was convinced stemmed from his efforts to distance himself from her. He had been plagued with dreams of her, he lived for the moments when she turned and smiled at him and it was just too dangerous to let it happen. So when he felt she was getting too close he went to Bells and spent his time with the red headed beauty, Molly Buttercup, and was vocal about his exploits and conquests. If he could, he brought women home and made Beatrix serve them drinks, each time showing her, convincing her, that he was not interested. He kept her away from him, and turned every affectionate opportunity into a way to show her he was just her friend.
At first she seemed disappointed (Which made him think that perhaps he had been right and she did find him attractive), then she seemed hurt, and then her hurt turned to silent resentment which brought her much much closer to Fred. Clarence encouraged it. He loved that Fred was happy and that his miserable grumblings had turned into flirtatious jokes. He loved it when he saw Fred smile and so he drowned his own feelings in the arms of Molly Buttercup. Did it hurt? Yes. He was upset that Beatrix didn't fight harder for his attention, but she wasn't that insecure and she wasn't going to waste her time on a man who clearly didn't want her.
On a cold August morning, Clarence came downstairs and found Fred and Beatrix speaking in the kitchen. He was about to walk in on them and state how shocked they must be to see him up and about this early, when he heard Beatrix use his name.
"How am I supposed to trust him, Fred?" Beatrix asked. "Clarence won't tell me what he's done, why he's here in Gelding Town, or where he's come from. The more he gets to know me the less I get to know him."
Clarence felt his ears burn, he pleaded and prayed to old magic itself that Fred didn't tell her.
"Beatrix, he's the man you know and leave it at that. Why does it matter what came before?"
"It matters because we are both-" she paused, trying to find the right word. "Owe?"
"Indebted."
"That- yes- to him. I looked at your accounts-"
Fred made a disgusted noise, "What did you do that for?"
"Because I know how much you're paying to keep this place running and I know how much we take," she argued. "It matters because those letters have the Leprechaun coat of arms on them, I saw it in one of the newspapers he lent me."
Clarence swore under his breath, he was so careful to check them before he gave them to her. "What is he to the Leprechauns that they pay him an allowance to keep well away from them?"
"He's a Humanist. His beliefs are treason, and you can work out the rest yourself because I won't sit here and betray his confidence."
"How noble-" Beatrix grumbled. "Why do you pay the Mayor of Gelding Town fifteen silvers a month as protection money?"
"Gelding Town is a smugglers paradise but we don't want to have our goods smuggled in return. We pay him to overlook certain things- that might not otherwise be overlooked."
Like me, Clarence thought to himself.
"But fifteen silvers is almost as much as we took last month."
Fred frowned, "I'll not charge the locals more for local beer- I'll have no customers left."
"On the nights Clarence plays the fiddle you get three times the custom- you need to ask him to play twice a week, on a Friday and on a Saturday, that's when the most people come in."
"I won't ask him to work for me." Fred cautioned.
"He's going to have to if he wants to keep his home."
Clarence would gladly play twice a week.
"What else would you have me do?" Fred asked.
"You need to think about the times when the pub is open and not making money," she told him. "We hardly ever take over lunchtimes unless the dock hands finish unloading cargo, but loads of travelers come for food and we turn them away. There's footfall on a Tuesday and Thursday when the passenger ships come in, and the travellers on their way to Cork are always looking for a meal."
Clarence took a deep breath and entered the room, "Morning," he told them.
"Early for you!" Beatrix exclaimed. Exactly as he had expected her to. She looked as beautiful as she always did, her dark eyes reflecting the morning light, her lips moist from the mint and honey tea. Her suspicion and concern aside, every time he looked at her she got more stunning.
Clarence smiled at her and slid onto a stall, "What are you two plotting?"
"Beatrix's telling me how to run my business," Fred told him. "She seems to think she knows how to make me profitable."
Clarence pulled the teapot over and tipped the dregs into an earthenware mug. "Go on then, if it were up to you, what would you do?"
Beatrix pushed her hair behind her ear and her eyes flicked up to meet his. He felt the usual shiver across his skin as he watched her, but her eyes moved to Fred. He noticed the softness of Fred's gauze, the fondness that now resided in his eyes for her a mix of relief and jealousy followed. As much as he had crafted this, whenever Fred looked at her like that he wanted to hit him.
"I would sell something easy for travellers. On my world we had cream tea- it was a pot of tea and scones with jam and cream."
"What's a scone?" Fred asked.
Beatrix gawped at him, "I suppose, you people don't eat much cake, do you? You have sugar though, I saw bags of it being carted to the brewers. Does it cost a lot?"
Clarence shrugged.
"You mix the sugar with some flower and add some milk and butter, mix it up, cook it and eat it with Jam."
"And you think people will buy them at Lunchtime?"
"Yes, for three coppers a scone they will."
"That's pricey."
"They taste good. And if they are successful, we'll start to do meat and cheese along with the pottage." When they didn't protest her eyes widened further. "I bet the Baker will be happy to do us a deal on the flower if we're getting bread from him."
Clarence, between sips of tea, lit his pipe and blew a ring of smoke towards her, "How much do you need to start it?"
"It might not work," she told him. "I have no idea if the things that were popular in my world will be here."
"Well I can make us some money," Clarence told her. "Enough to start this up, but I need your help."
That night, Clarence listened from the kitchen as Beatrix told a group of soldiers from the Gelding Town Barracks that Clarence had been boasting. He could win a fight against their best soldier Roots Greenway without using magic, she said. They laughed, said that there was no way they could be matched without magic but she disagreed. Boasted that Clarence was practically undefeated.
"As that maybe," the guards told her- "In the taverns and the shit pits of the Gelding Town Docks."
Clarence smiled, knowing that the soldiers didn't go near the Ship Inn or the dockyards after nightfall for fear of their own lives, especially on fight nights. Pete, the Captain of the Squid's imported fighters were proven killers, every single one. From the sound of the arguments breaking out, everybody in the bar was pitching in with their own opinions and soon there was a huge debate in the crowded tavern.
"Clarence would win every time!" The Butcher kept shouting loud enough that he could be heard over the crowd. Banging his hand on the table with every proclamation of Clarence's indestructibility.
"He's all show and no muscle!" Somebody else shouted, possibly Fred, as a dig at how much exercise Clarence did to keep his body looking as good as it did. Beatrix played her part, adding more fuel whenever it looked like a resolution might be made. When the drinkers were so riled up they were considering their own fight night right there in the bar, Clarence stepped into the room. The vision of a confused man. "What's going on Beatrix?" he asked. "Why's everybody arguing?"
"They don't think you can beat Roots Greenway in a fight without magic," Beatrix told him.
Clarence laughed, "I'd beat him easily. Hands tied behind my back and a blindfold on."
The crowd had an opinion about that.
So much so that Clarence and Beatrix didn't need to prompt the idea for a match. The idea came from the Barracks Commander- of all people- delivered in a sage voice that might have been due to the fact that he just wanted to drink in peace and was faced with shouting.
When the crowd left the tavern a date and time had been set. Tomorrow Clarence would fight Roots Greenway with one hand tied behind his back.
By the morning most of Gelding Town was talking, and by lunchtime, the townspeople turned up at Fred's to cast bets. Beatrix posed as a bookie alongside pouring pints for them.
The fight would take place in Traders Square, a ring had been created for the purpose by the soldiers, the commander- not being one to do things poorly, had even put the physician on a retainer for the day but in a gesture of good will Clarence had insisted he pay. Both Clarence and the Commander knew that once the main fight was over others would want to jump in the ring too.
Even with the hand tied behind his back, Clarence was the favourite to win.
Just before the match, he told Beatrix to bet against him.
"What!" she hissed. "That's terrible Clarence!"
"Do you want money or not?" he grumbled. "I'm getting the shit kicked out of me tonight for your scones." He pressed a gold coin into her hand, it was his last one. Fred made a small counter bet for Clarence to win, just so it looked like they were hedging their bets either way. "This looks bad," Beatrix told him.
"No it doesn't, anybody who knows me, knows I always bet against myself."
She seemed rather taken aback by that, "Always?" she asked. "But you always win."
He laughed, "It's wishful thinking." He noticed how worried she looked and he stuck his hands in his pockets, he didn't deserve her concern. "Don't watch if you are worried," he told her. "Stay in the pub and serve those who don't want to come. Let Fred cheer me on."
Beatrix hung her head as she bit her lip. It wasn't a sign of submission, usually when she did that it meant he would get such an earful they might start bleeding. "Alright," she sighed. "But don't get hurt."
Fred gave him a pep talk, which did nothing as it was a lie. His heart was pounding, he knew what he needed to do but it made him feel sick to think he would do it. He would be humiliated, his pristine record destroyed. Roots Greenway would forever be known as the man who bested Clarence O'Leary. "For the Dutchman," he told himself. "I'm doing this for my friends."
He knew Roots Greenway was formidable, he'd trained with him enough times at the barracks to recognise that it wouldn't be an easy fight anyway- but that was good considering the outcome he wanted. He stepped into the circle and the crowd erupted in cheers, Roots wasn't far behind and he ducked into the ring and got a cheer of his own. There were even children in the crowd, stupid grinning faces shining with adoration at a sport that did not deserve it. Clarence loved fighting, and hated that he did.
Even Lord Humphry, the Mayor of Gelding Town, had turned up to watch, his narrow eyes drilling into the fighters as if he wanted them to both fall down dead.
The fight would be refereed by the barracks commander- which showed just how clean it would be. The Ship Inn referees were the bodies pushing you back into an oncoming fist.
He held up his hand to signal the first round and stepped out of the way.
Roots came in fast and attacked Clarence's left where he knew Clarence had hurt his ankle training a few weeks earlier. Clarence acted surprised, and when he reacted he made it look like his ankle was still hurting him, he defended with his weight on his right as much as possible until Roots seemed to think he wasn't pretending any more. As soon as his guard went down Clarence attacked, bringing Roots to his knees. Roots rolled, brushed the dust from his clothes-
And struggled to stand.
Clarence kept his distance, it had to be an act. Something was wrong. Roots was sweating like a thirteen mile sprint. He took a few steps forward and collapsed. Clarence rushed to him, saw that he wasn't moving, then called the Physician.
Smith took his time as he ducked under the rope, he looked down at Roots and delighted, sung through his teeth, "This is going to cost." He eased himself onto the floor next to the soldier. "He's having a heart attack, somebody bring me a candle."
The crowd, who had hushed at the drama, took an intake of breath and one small child ran forward with a tallow candle. The physician lit it with a flick of his hand then he placed one hand on Root's chest and the other next to the candle. Everybody watched in silence as the flame of the candle shot higher and higher into the sky then flickered low again. Roots was still breathing, Smith looked around at the crowd, "I have saved this man from the brink of death," he told them. "I have concession rates for Humans on a Tuesday morning and I do take payments in instalments. You can find me next to the Flying Dutchman Tavern on the Main Road."
"Yes thank you," Clarence grumbled.
Roots sat up, he was so shaken his eyes were rolling. "Sorry Clarence, I thought it was trapped wind and my left arm has been hurting all day."
"We could have rescheduled, we can if you want?"
"No" he motioned for the soldiers to help him up, "I surrender Clarence. I feel terrible and we can work out- whatever this is- next time you train with me."
Noble as Roots was, it didn't help put on a show.
The crowd didn't know what to do. It wasn't an occasion to celebrate a victory and so many went home rather than crowding into the pub. Those who did come in stayed in their groups and talked more than they drank. Clarence gave Smith seven slivers for his trouble so he was miserable about the outcome too, considering the Physician hadn't done more than mend a broken heart.
"It's the worst of luck," Fred told him, "But it's one month Clarence, and we've made a fair amount today with the bets and the extra alcohol sold."
Clarence wasn't to be placated. "We charge around three coppers for a pint, each person who drinks in here has between three and five pints. We average about twelve coppers from each of our customers. On a good night, we get about fifty people but usually, we have around fifteen to twenty. Humphry's fee for allowing me to stay is fifteen silvers. At the rate we are going we make about one silver a week."
"I know." Fred's expression turned to stone.
"Then if you add on the room prices: A week's stay is two silvers, else it's seventy coppers a night and a space on the floor is twenty, with food, is twenty-five. And we get what? About three people staying in the rooms and usually two or three a night by the fire. So let's say that's six from the rooms and about three silvers from the fireside."
"Nine a on a good week, yes. Thirty-seven a month."
"You took twenty-five last month. The beer, the candles, the food, the straw on the floor, the bedding, not to mention the firewood eats all your income away and my protection money puts you in the red."
Fred didn't argue, "I made three silvers off my bet today. You won."
Clarence crossed his arms. "I've lost gold."
"We'll find a way, Clarence, We have to."
When they came back to the tavern Beatrix had been told the outcome by the locals already. She looked like she was sucking a wasp. When Clarence slid into a seat on the other side of the bar and asked her for a pint she told him it would be more than he could afford.
"It was bad luck."
"I knew I shouldn't have bet against you." She drank from his pint before giving it to him. "So I didn't."
He took a moment to register what she said- "We still have-"
"No," she cut him off. "I spoke to the Baker and he's agreed to a trial month. The Butcher has too, and I spoke to Farmer Harris who has said he will give us butter and milk. Arnold Puce, at the customs office, agreed to put me in contact with people to get flower and sugar and finally I've spoken to the blacksmith to see if he can help me create an oven or those scones are going to be more like biscuits- which could still work but I wouldn't be able to charge three coppers for one."
Clarence blinked, "You left the tavern unattended?" he asked, rather too dismissively for his own liking. He gazed at her. How had she done something so remarkable?
"No," she frowned, also upset by his disapproval. "They all came in, I just took the opportunity to-"
Clarence leaned over the bar and kissed her cheek, she turned bright red. "You are remarkable!"
"Yes- well, It better work, or we'll be remarkably bankrupt." She told him and reached for his pint again. He let her, grinning as he watched her sip from it. She was still red, and when she gave his pint back she brushed the spot he had kissed with her thumb, gently, as if savouring it.
Fred came up from the cellar with a barrel and looked between them. "You alright?"
"Beatrix might have saved us, Fred."
Fred chuckled, "I know," he said. "I've been sending people across from the crowd to speak to her."
Clarence sat back, he wasn't sure if he felt impressed or betrayed. Regardless, annoyed that they hadn't confided in him. Beatrix seemed to read his thoughts; she leaned across the bar, vicious glory in her curled lips, said, "It sucks to be treated like a mushroom, doesn't it."
"A- what?"
"Left in the dark and fed shit." She rapped on the bar, gave him a meaningful look and walked away from him with her nose in the air.
~
Impressed, humbled, upset that she thought so low of him- he put it behind him as he took over the taps in the bar. He had no idea what Fred and Beatrix were doing as he worked, but from the sounds in the kitchen Beatrix was having a bath and Fred was helping to heat the water.
At the end of the long night shift, once the drinkers had wobbled home and Beatrix had gone to bed, Fred joined Clarence as he cleaned.
"Anybody staying?" Fred asked his usual question for the days Clarence worked.
"There's two in the rooms upstairs for the next two nights, but nobody by the fire."
"You did the taps?"
Clarence nodded, "All locked off."
Fred looked exhausted. He leaned on the bar and his fingers taped onto the wood, "You've not washed the bar down?" he asked as his fingers made a sticky sound.
Clarence raised an eyebrow, "Are the accounts that bad?" he asked, he assumed Fred had been looking.
"Yes, but that's not what's bothering me."
Clarence continued to tidy, wondering what else might possibly be upsetting his friend.
"I know you like her Clarence, and I know that terrifies you. You think you're protecting her by keeping her in the dark but she has a right."
Ah. They were going to talk about Beatrix. He turned his eyes up to the ceiling where her room was and wondered just how much she would hear. He hated Fred for bringing her up, for bringing up his fear. His shame.
"I like that she doesn't know. I like that she's falling head over heels in love with you too."
He said the most unhelpful thing he could, leaving a shocked friend at the bar. Clarence disappeared into the kitchen, worried about the impact his words might have had. Fred didn't follow him and when Clarence came back out with water and a rag to wipe the bar down Fred was chewing the inside of his mouth, he just looked upset.
"You have no idea what our relationship is," he said. Implying that they had discussed it and it wasn't the conclusion Fred wanted. Clarence instantly felt relief and horror at the idea of Beatrix rejecting Fred's advances. "You think because she smiles at me she wants to-" he trailed off and shook his head, then changed tact. "Tell me what is in the letters Clarence. You're my best friend, and I know- I know- how awful it was for you. I get it but-"
"You don't." Clarence felt his cheeks burning. He wondered if he could run upstairs and lock his bedroom door. These heart to hearts were a thing of nightmare for a man so practiced at ignoring his problems. Pouring his heart out about Beatrix would have been preferable to talking about those bloody letters. "You don't get it, Fred. When I say I would rather kill myself than do as they ask I am not joking. Every time their letters come I consider walking into the sea."
"You don't mean-"
"I do mean it," Clarence growled. "But I have Beatrix. I have this tavern and I have you. You are my family and this is my home. It's worth fighting for. A family should be worth fighting for."
Clarence expected Fred to be humbled by his words, to at least reassure him somehow. He watched Fred take a deep breath, from his pocket he extracted another letter.
"It came this morning." From the way he held it, Clarence suspected that he and Beatrix were intending to read it before they gave it to him. Fred's conscience must have got in the way of their plans- hence why he had waited for Beatrix to go to bed before he spoke to Clarence about it.
"I want you to read it out to me."
Clarence looked at it like it carried the plague. Fred held it out but Clarence took steps back. "Burn it," he demanded.
"Beatrix is getting good at reading our language, she's even started to teach me-"
Clarence bashed his hand on the countertop- "Burn it!"
Fred matched his rage with his own defiance. Opened it instead. Clarence watched in horror as Fred started to sound out the words.
"Yeh- or- ehi-igh-"
Clarence snatched it from him and crumpled it into a ball. He smashed it onto the beer-soaked floor and ground it in. "You bastard-" he hissed, his voice trembling. "You have no right-"
"I have every right!" Fred's voice boomed. The man by the fire got up and came to look at them through the door. Fred grabbed Clarence by the shoulder, marched him through the kitchen and out to the back yard. "I put my life at risk to have you here." He gasped in the cold night air. His face inches from Clarence's own.
"Is that it?" Clarence sneered. "I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience, would you like me to leave?" He felt sick, Fred was his best friend, or so he had thought. All Clarence's talk of Fred and Beatrix being family to him- had it meant nothing to Fred? Was Clarence just an inconvenience to be weathered? Fred sagged, he sat on an empty barrel and shook his head.
"You don't see it- do you? You can be so selfish. You brought Beatrix back here, she is completely dependent on your kindness and we are terrified what those letters mean. Not just for you but for us- your 'family'."
Clarence crossed his arms and looked at his feet.
"Every time you get one you drink your self stupid. You disappear to Bells or to the Ship Inn and you come back stinking and bruised. When Beatrix asks you about them you bite her head off. You refuse to speak to me about it either, and every month they are restricting your allowance. How are we supposed to help you if you won't let us?"
"You can't help," Clarence told him. "There is nothing you can say or do that will change things." He watched Fred's mouth open, his hands hook onto his hips as he was about to argue the opposite. Clarence cut him off. "I need normality, I want to wake up listening to seagulls, I want to laugh at Beatrix as she tries to pronounce 'table' in Joining Earth Standard and I want to speak to the customers in the bar without them knowing who I am. I want to be treated like a normal person."
"You're not though, are you?" Fred's beard bristled, his eyes gleamed and somewhere far away a dog was barking. "I've said it before Clarence, and I'll say it again; If you want that: If you truly want to be a 'normal' person, go to the Fringe find a remote spot far far away from a portal and start again."
"I would be hunted down."
"Everything has a price, including freedom."
"They let me stay here because they can control me here. Everything I do is observed and reported. It's not so easy for me to sneek off."
"Aye, good thing too considering what happened the two times you have. The first time you went away, I nearly got tortured by Necromancers, remember? That's how I found out who you really were Leprechaun. The second time you brought back-" he paused and ran a hand down his beard then motioned to Beatrix's window. "Are you willing to let her find out the hard way? After you decide to ignore what they are telling you for so long that they use us to control you?"
Clarence closed his eyes if he could just focus on the breeze cooling his burning skin, but his head felt like it was full of bees. "That won't happen."
Fred sniffed, he looked wholly unconvinced. "If you were to go to the Fringe I'd come with you, Beatrix would too. If it's that bad-"
Clarence studied him, "Seriously?" he asked.
Fred nodded, but Clarence knew that Fred wouldn't leave his pub. The pub his great grandfather had started, where he had grown up as a child, was as much ingrained into the wood as the years of beer stains. Fred had never traveled past Cork, as far as Clarence knew he hadn't left Gelding Town in over five years. It meant a lot to Clarence that he would consider leaving to start again elsewhere, but he wouldn't know where to start. "I just need to make enough money to pay Humphry for his silence every month and they will leave me alone."
Fred got up and put his hand on Clarence's shoulder, "Please," he said. "Tell Beatrix the truth, and tell us what they want. I'm asking you as your brother Clarence. Your family."
He hung his head, in his mind everything would change if he did. He remembered how Fred used to be so vocal about his beliefs and his thoughts, but the day he found out who Clarence was he stopped. His conversations became guarded until the door was locked and the customers were gone and if there were people by the fire he would whisper to Clarence rather than speak. He used to tell Clarence what an asshole he was, he'd laugh at his posturing and his idiosyncrasies, but the day he realised the mocking stopped. He tried so hard to keep their relationship the same, but Clarence noticed every little thing that became strained. It was more strained than ever now. "I'll think about it," he said, more from exhaustion, stress and a desire for the conversation to be over, than a willingness to do as Fred wanted.
Fred went inside, saying he was going to bed, but Clarence stayed out and smoked his pipe for a long while after. The stars above Gelding Town were so clear they looked like dust splattered across the heavens. Every world in the Network had a sky like this one until you got to the Fringe, it gave him great comfort to know that on almost every world, in the northern hemisphere you could find the North Star.
Back inside, he extinguished all the candles except for one and locked the front and back doors before he retrieved the crumpled mess of the letter from the floor and took it upstairs with him.
That night he didn't sleep much, the words on the page were hard to read now they were stained with the water and dirt from the flagstone floor but he could just about make them out. Through his wall, he could hear Fred snoring and up a floor again the boards creaked as Beatrix turned over in her sleep. Eventually, she would find out, perhaps if she heard it from him she wouldn't be so upset. All the letter indicated was his happiness here was timelimited. If he didn't make the pub self sustainable soon they would use it's financial ruin to hurt him.
~
The next morning, Clarence took his fiddle and went to Traders Square. He watched the market set up around him and when people began to get their produce he began to play. They chucked him halfpennies and copper thrupennies for the most part but some gave him real copper. It was relaxing for him to go through the songs he knew, and to be so absorbed in the music that he didn't have to think about anything else. Each time he was given money he would tell the crowd that he played at the Dutchman, with the finest beer in Gelding Town. By lunchtime, he felt much better. Molly the whore from Bells brought him a pork pie.
"The Madam told me you were out here."
Clarence took her to sit on the steps surrounding one of the town's wells and looked up at her. She slid down next to him and twirled her red hair around her finger. She had a way of making the most of her chest, it always seemed to be thrust out in front of her like a handshake. "I hear talk that things are bad in England."
"Do you?" Clarence bristled, she'd come to speak to him about the very thing he wished to avoid.
"The new Pendragon's still not been chosen and there have been assassination attempts on other Empires rulers too now. Somebody really has a problem with the Council of the Light."
He was pretty sure she was just making conversation, but Molly could be far more observant than Clarence would like to admit. "Plenty of people have a problem with those incompetent bastards, myself included." He grumbled as he bit into the pastry. "What do you want Molls?"
"I came to give you some information," Molly told him. "My cousen sends his regards and this letter." Molly, ever useful, slid a piece of weather-beaten parchment from her bosom and handed it to Clarence. He opened it and paraphrased it to her.
"Pete says he's on his way back with a prizefighter, says that he should arrive around October. That's odd, I thought he was away for longer?"
Molly shook her head, "Weather," she told him. "You know how it is."
Clarence rested his head back against the well and closed his eyes.
"Are you going to come back to see me soon? You haven't paid for my services for anything other than talking. I like to think we are friends Clarence, but helping you wash isnt quite what you pay me for. You've been odd since Fred brought-" She sat a little straighter- "Clarence O'Leary do you have a lover?"
"She likes Fred more than me," Clarence told her, though Fred's half uttered words the night before had been bothering him, what was their relationship? He'd kept his voice light, and succeeded in fooling Molly that Beatrix wasn't anything more than a friend.
"Oh," Molly sagged again, "Well I know it's not another whore."
"Can you be called a whore if you only have one client?" Clarence asked her. "Just think Molly, If I leave Gelding Town you'd be able to see as many customers as you like."
"How do you know I'm not?" She giggled.
"If you were, Arthur would have cut your tits off." Clarence huffed and Molly stopped smiling.
"I hate that creepy old man. What do you mean if you leave?"
Clarence gave a bitter laugh, "If Arthur had his way I never would have come. He chased me around five worlds before I negotiated to settle here."
Molly pouted, "If you go, what would I do?"
"Do you see yourself working as a whore for the rest of your life?" Clarence asked her.
"It's either that or I go to sea with Pete and though I am good at tugging on things I know what I'd rather-"
Clarence snorted a laugh but it turned into a feeling of mortifying shame when he saw Beatrix making her way across to them. Molly grinned from ear to ear, "You're Beatrix!"
Beatrix's face did the 'polite but confused' thing with an easy smile as she calculated what was going on. "I am," she said.
"I'm Molly Buttercup," Molly jumped up, every bit of her bouncing as she held out a hand, which Beatrix took but her eyes travelled to Clarence and he saw the challenge there.
"Am I right in thinking you work at Bells?" Beatrix asked.
"Has Clarence told you?" Molly beamed, "We have an arrangement, he and I. I got worried when you showed up but he says you're with Fred, congratulations!"
"Did he?" her eyes lingered on Clarence, her smile fixed onto her face. "I'm glad I haven't kept him from you Molly, but unfortunately, I do need to bring him back to the Tavern."
Molly flicked her hair back from her shoulder, the red curls bounced as they resettled. "Would you come and play for us soon, Clarence?" she asked him. "The madam loves it when you play."
"Sure," Clarence would have said anything at that moment to get away from her. She clapped her hands, pecked him on the cheek, and spun on her foot to leave. He watched her disappear through the market crowd with a frown. Next to him, Beatrix broke into hysterical laughter.
"So, I'm with Fred?" she paused- " and you have 'an arrangement-'" she tucked her hands under her hair, lifted it off her neck and let it fall back down again. He watched it swing as it absorbed the light. "Does the madam like it when you play her fiddle?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him.
"Stop it," Clarence muttered, he could feel his cheeks burning. Thankfully the day was hot so he could just say he was sweaty.
"Clarence you're beautiful, why on Earth do you pay for it?"
"Turns of phrases like that are what will get you caught." Shame made his reaction worse than he intended, but just as forcefully he said, "You have to be careful- always."
She chucked her hands up and took a step back from him. "Ok- Jesus- Sorry. Light!" she swore, but her smile widened. He couldn't be angry with her when she laughed so readily.
"Why are you here Bea?" He demanded, it felt wrong to back down now.
"There's a man in the pub. It's the same man that tried to speak to me when I first came here. He's got horrid teeth, as soon as he came in Fred sent me out the back and told me to come and find you."
Clarence swore, "He's not supposed to come into the pub."
"Who is he?"
"My-" Clarence wasn't sure what to call him. "Minder, for the want of a better word. Though I can think of hundreds of cusses more appropriate."
Beatrix's eyes glinted with intrigue. "Does he send the letters?" she asked.
"No, he works for them." Clarence realised he was giving too much away when he should be warning her. "If he speaks to you, make it seem that your understanding of Joining Earth Standard is far less developed than it is. The speed you picked up the language will make him more suspicious of you, and if you need to count coins check it with Fred, and don't read anything."
"Why?"
"Do you want to live?" Clarence asked her as they turned onto the main road. Beatrix finally looked like she was taking it seriously.
"Are you in trouble?"
"I have no idea." He'd made up his mind, he had to do it. If he didn't Arthur would delight in doing it for him. The idea of that slimy bastard taking pleasure in informing Beatrix who he was- "Beatrix, stop for a moment." He pointed down a side street and he crouched in the gloom. She did the same, so their backs were against opposite walls.
"Why are we hiding?" she asked.
"Not hiding, I need to tell you something but you'll need to sit down."
Beatrix looked like a joke was forming on the tip of her tongue but Clarence held his hand up, "My name is Clarence O'Leary."
And she pretended to faint.
It wasn't helpful at all, especially when she started to laugh again.
"High Prince Clarence O'Leary of the Leprechaun Empire, Second Son to the High King Edward O'Leary- Emperor of the Leprechaun Empire and High Councilor of the Light."
Her laughter didn't stop. "Sure you are," she gasped. "And I am Beatrix, the omnipotent ruler of the Kingdom of Earth and Leader of the Free world. My mother was a strawberry and my father smelled of Elderberries." She was practically crying with laughter, but when Clarence didn't join in her laugh trickled to nothing. "High Prince?"
He nodded and she shook her head-
"No that can't be true."
He waited.
"This is Gelding Town."
He continued to wait.
"You live in a tavern, with Fred." she paused. "You snuck down to Earth and smuggled me back. And you are currently poor as shit."
He felt his breath constrict as his emotions turned to physical pain. Shame, experienced as an ache in his gut and a tingle under his skin as her face turned from shock to outright anger.
"You told me if I was found out they would kill me but you didn't tell me they were watching everything you did- Light! Clarence who knows about you?"
"The Mayor, The Commander of the Gelding Town Barracks and Arthur Innisman- my minder who you have met. Beyond that, Molly Buttercup, her madam, a ship's captain called Pete, Fred and now you."
"You have some explaining to do," Beatrix snapped.
"I'll tell you everything," he said. "But right now, there's a man in Fred's Tavern that I need to get rid of." He stood up and offered his hand to Beatrix. When she took it her skin was soft but her grip was hard, and she set her jaw and walked out in front of him to reach the tavern first.
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