The Duchess Hoax (World of Jordinia)

Chapter 4: Hugo

THE SERVING BOY THUMPED DOWN two mugs of mead. Liquid sloshed over the sides, creating small puddles on the table.

"Would you bring us another?" Hugo wiped up the spills with his handkerchief. "We're expecting another guest."

"Straigh'away, mister." The boy scurried off.

Hugo checked his pocket watch. "She's late."

"She's not late," grunted Sol. "That stolen timepiece of yours is off by ten minutes."

Hugo hushed him, snapping the pocket watch shut and depositing it into his pocket—with the others.

Sol swigged his mead. "She probably decided not to trust you after all. Good on her."

Hugo tapped his foot impatiently, hoping Sol was wrong.

And why wouldn't she trust him, anyway? It was simple, really. There was a quest, and a reward. Whoever was clever enough to reach the lost duchess's uncle first, with the most convincing contender, was the rightful champion.

It was a race, really. And Hugo Vogel had always been a betting man.

The inn door opened. A beam of streetlight poured in, illuminating the youthful face that entered. She looked shabby as a church mouse, her secondhand dress the dingy gray of a garment that had perhaps been white in a previous decade. Large brown eyes swept the room wall to wall, as if searching.

Hugo got to his feet. He cleared his throat at Sol who, with some resignation, rested his mug and rose as well, overshadowing their table with his height.

Cautiously, the girl approached them.

Hugo smiled to put her at ease, adopted his sincerest tone, and extended a hand to her. "Thank you for deciding to join us."

She took his hand but didn't shake it. Hugo raised it to his lips, but she pulled away before he could complete the act. Sol snorted. Hugo stood on his foot.

"As no one is present to introduce us, please allow us to introduce ourselves. Hugo Vogel, at your service." He inclined his head. "And this is my associate, Solas Marchbanks the Third."

The girl regarded Sol, who gave an impassive bob of his chiseled chin. "Elsi Lark," she said warily.

A connection, thought Hugo. Elsi, Eludaine. Only by two letters, but he could work with that. He'd woven tales with far less thread before.

"Please," he gestured grandly to the empty chair, "be seated."

"I should warn you," said the girl, "before I sit, I haven't any money to pay for a meal at a place like this."

A place like this? Perhaps the inn was a step above the pub, but it wasn't exactly high dining. Did she not notice the rubbish littering the floor, hear the rowdy drunkards howling along to the fiddler's tune in the next room?

Hugo said graciously, "But of course, your meal is on us. After all, you're here on our invitation."

He waited. At last, she lowered herself into the vacant chair. Hugo pushed it in for her.

He resumed his seat. The serving boy reappeared with another mug and gave it to Elsi. She sniffed it, then promptly set it down, looking put off.

"So, Miss Lark." Hugo glanced surreptitiously around them before continuing. "I'm sure you're wondering what all this is about. Why I tracked you down and invited you here."

She straightened somewhat.

"What do you know about the royal family of Jordinia?"

"Jordinia?" She sounded surprised. "They were all executed, weren't they? I was too young to remember, but that's what I've been told."