CHAPTER 9
Roaming’s house was in a slightly nicer part of the Rookery than the Old Girl’s Arms. He had been able to afford a steelwood-framed house, so that unlike most buildings in the Rookery the structure was immune to the constant assault of sea air, humidity, and rot. The house had a neat, scrubbed look to it, but it was still far more humble than the houses found in the rest of Damsport.
Rory knocked at the door with some trepidation. Orlande, Roaming’s wife, was a distant, haughty woman, and Rory hoped she’d be open to talking.
The door opened to reveal a face pinched with displeasure.
“If this is another paternity case, you can go to the hell of your choosing.” Orlande went to slam the door, but Rory got her foot in edgeways.
“Ain’t got nothing to do with that. I just want to
