"This is a foul place." Selene stepped gingerly over one of the many scraps of garbage littering the alley. "And it smells of dung and--"
"Stop complaining. You wished to come." Kadar grasped her elbow. "The inn is just ahead. Stay close to me. From what Tarik said, it's a low place frequented only by soldiers and whores." He pushed open the door. "Don't be surprised if you see things you don't want to see. In a place like this, no one bothers to seek privacy when they wish to rut."
"Then it's no different than the House of Nicholas."
But it was different. The place was as different from the pristine cleanliness of Nicholas's house as silk was from leather.
Dimness.
Noise.
Smoke.
The sour smell of sweat, wine, and ale assaulted Selene's nostrils as she followed Kadar into the room. Only a few candles lit the darkness. The room was crowded, the tables full, but she couldn't make out the faces of any of the men or women.
"I don't see him. Are you sure he should be here?"
"No. Tarik said he spent time here when he wasn't selling his lance to local lords. He might not be in Rome at all. Why are you so determined to have him?"
She wasn't sure herself. Perhaps it was the coincidence of having Vaden suddenly emerge from the veil of years. It seemed almost like a sign. "He helped us before. If he's selling his lance now, Tarik might as well buy him for us." She frowned. "It's too dark in here. We'll have to go farther into the room."
"I never actually saw Vaden. Would you recognize him?"
"He has fair hair." She had seen him only once, and then his face had been blackened by smoke. "Like a lion. I'd recognize his hair."
No one seemed to pay them any attention as they moved about the room. They were too occupied in their own pleasures.
"Well, there's no fair hair in this room that I can see. The Romans are usually dark."
Selene dragged her gaze from the sight of a naked woman straddling the hips of a young soldier, making guttural sounds deep in her throat. She had thought she would not be shocked, but the sight brought back too many memories of the women she had known as a child. "Have you ever had a woman in a place like this?"
"When the hunger struck me and there was no other alternative."
"Did you pay them well?"
"Yes, as I told you, I spent time in a house of pleasure. I wouldn't cheat them."
"These women do not look--Do you suppose they're paid a fair sum?"
"No." His gaze narrowed on her face. "It's the way it is. It's a hard life. They have something to sell that's worth a meal, a place to sleep for the night. Nothing more. The women at the House of Nicholas were fortunate in comparison."
"They weren't more fortunate. They were slaves. At least these women have choice."
"Yes." An indefinable expression flickered over Kadar's face. "Choice is important."
She had the odd sense that he was no longer talking about the women of Nicholas's house.
But then the expression was gone and he was glancing away. "If you don't see him, we might as well leave. This place is upsetting--"
"There. What is that?" She had caught a glimpse of something in the dark corner across the room--shimmering, moving. She eagerly moved closer. "It might be . . ."
Lion-colored hair flowing over naked shoulders . . .
His shoulders were not the only portion of his body that was naked. His tunic lay on the rushes beside him, and he was crouched between the thighs of a woman as naked as he. He was moving quickly, stroking deeply, murmuring encouragement to the whore beneath him. She needed no encouragement. It was clear that she was entirely willing and in the throes of pleasure.
"Is it him?" Kadar asked.
"I can't see his face." The man's head was bent over the woman, long strands of tawny hair veiling his features. "I'll have to get closer."
