Beka thought about that a moment. "Not really. Not during the fight, anyway."

"Sakor touched!" the captain exclaimed, shaking her head. But Beka thought she sounded pleased.

25

Clutching the stolen loaf beneath his shirt, Skut sprinted through the late afternoon crowd filling the marketplace.

Behind him he could hear the furious bread seller shouting, "Stop him, stop thief!" A few people made halfhearted grabs at him, but the sympathy of the waterfront crowd was obviously with him.

Reluctant to leave his wares open to further depredations, the bread seller quickly gave up and returned to his handcart.

Hunger knotted Skut's empty belly. Tym's death had thrown him off his game for three days now, and he'd had almost nothing to eat. Grabbing the loaf had been a desperate move, but he couldn't stand the gnawing ache in his gut any longer.

Keeping one eye out for trouble, he threaded his way through filthy alleys to a ruined warehouse on the western fringes of the lower city, his current home.

One wall had burned and fallen in and the whole place reeked of old smoke, but an attic loft was still sound. Picking his way over the rubble, he climbed the makeshift ladder leading up to it.

Sunset light spilled across the floor below but the back of the loft was already lost in shadow. The grey doves roosting overhead shifted suspiciously as he peered over the edge of the platform.

"Kaber, you here?"

There was no answer.

That was a relief. He hadn't seen Kaber in a week and good riddance. The older boy had provided a certain amount of protection, but he was lazy and had lately taken to punching Skut when he didn't bring home enough for them to eat.

He went to the rusty brazier at the center of the loft and felt for the fire makings. His hand had just closed around the tinder bowl when suddenly he sensed movement behind him.

Skut was a quick lad, but not quick enough this time. Before he could stand up someone had thrown a heavy cloak over his head and pinioned his arms.

Snuffers!

Skut thought desperately.

He squirmed wildly, struggling for his life, and felt his foot hit something with satisfying force. There was a soft grunt of pain, but strong arms caught his flailing legs. His captors lifted him off the floor, holding him so tightly he could scarcely wiggle.

"We're not here to harm you," said the one holding his arms. It was a man's voice, and soft. "I want to know about Tym."

"Don't know nothin"!" Skut whimpered, bucking helplessly.

"Oh, let's not go down that route, shall we? Word is you're the one who saw it happen. I only want to talk to you about it. Settle down now and I'll make it worth your while."

Skut resisted a moment longer, his thin body taut as a bowstring, then gave in. Whoever had a hold of him clearly wasn't about to let go.

"All right then, I'll tell you. Only let me down."

"Put him down."

Skut felt his legs released, though the one behind him maintained a strong hold around his chest and arms.

"Are you going to behave yourself?"

"Said I would, didn't I?" Skut mumbled, heart hammering in his throat.

"Sit down where you are."

Skut obeyed, then cried out in fear as something heavy settled on his thigh. Looking out from under the edge of the cloak, he saw that it was a rough sack.

"Go on, open it," the man urged, still behind him. He could see the boots of another just in front of him, the one who hadn't spoken yet.

With trembling hands, Skut opened the bag and was amazed to discover a small sausage, a wedge of cheese, and half a dozen boiled eggs. The toothsome aroma was unbearably good, but he was still suspicious. The one doing all the talking had a highborn sound to him. What'd he want with Tym?

"It's all right," said the second one, speaking for the first time. Another man. "Go ahead and eat. You look like you could use it."

The smoky garlic scent of the sausage was too much.

Praying it wasn't poisoned, Skut took a cautious nibble, then another.

"What happened to Tym?" asked the first one.

"Fell off a roof, that's all," Skut replied around a mouthful.

"Tym

fell?"

Skut shrugged, peeling one of the eggs with dirty fingers. "Saw him go over. He didn't yell or nothin', just toppled down."

"No one's found his body. Are you certain he was dead?"

"Course!" Skut snorted. "Think I wouldn't make sure? The bastard hadn't paid me yet. His head was all stove in and broken. He didn't have so much as a groat on him, neither, not even his knife."

His unseen interrogator seemed to consider this for a moment. "What were you doing there? What was it he was going to pay you for?"

"Well—" Skut hesitated. "I guess I could say, since he's dead and all. I was watching a house for him, the one he fell off of."

"What house?"

"Tenement house in Sailmaker Street. Tym said I was to keep an eye out for any shady sorts, especially breakers and gate-runners. And Scavengers, too."

"How long did you watch?"

"Most of a week." The sausage was good, best he'd ever tasted. On the strength of this, he added helpfully, "I seen one, too. Pry the Beetle come by day before Tym fell."

"Did Tym say why he wanted you to watch for these fellows?"

"No, and I didn't ask. When Tym wanted something done, you done it, that's all," Skut told him, adding somewhat pointedly, "Would've paid me, too, if he hadn't gotten his self killed."

The man chuckled in a friendly way. "A true man of honor, our Tym. Did you see anyone on the roof, or hear anything strange before Tym fell?"

Skut absently cracked a louse on his sleeve as he thought hard. "No, nothin'."

"What was he doing up on the roof in the first place?"

"Said he was going to have a listen on the feller he was watching, lived up on the top floor. That's where he went over, right at that window. You ain't going to kill me or nothing, are you?"

"No, but I'll give you a word of advice. Keep low and stop blabbing. You don't know who else might take an interest in you. Now I want you to sit tight awhile, until you know we're gone. I wouldn't want to have to hurt you after you've been so helpful."

"I won't twitch!"

A strong hand clamped menacingly down on Skut's shoulder. "And not a word to anyone about this little visit, right?"

"Right! You wasn't never here," he whispered, suddenly fearful again.

The hand withdrew. Skut heard a shuffle of boots, the creak of the ladder, then silence. He made himself count to a hundred twice before he dared pull the cloak off his head. When nothing stirred, he scrambled to kindle a light and found a sturdy dagger and a small cloth purse lying on the brazier grill. The bag held at least a sester's worth of pennies.

Highborn or not, those gents knew a thing or two, Skut thought wonderingly. Showing gold or silver around these parts could get you killed right quick, especially a skinny brat like himself. But a few coppers here and there were safe enough and a stash like this could keep him going a month or more. He turned the knife over with something like reverence, testing its wicked edge against his thumb. Just let Kaber try knocking him around again! Gathering what few belongings he owned, together with anything of Kaber's that struck him as useful, he set off in search of new lodgings.

"Sounds like an accident," Alec said as soon as they were well away from the ruined warehouse. "He must have slipped coming down those slates, just like I did."

Seregil looked doubtful. "It's hard to believe Tym could fall. He's been over those roofs all his life. And the missing knife, that bothers me. Tym only drew his blade when he meant to use it. If it was in its sheath when he fell, Skut would have taken it. He said himself it wasn't there. Besides, if Tym had gone clattering over the slates, the boy would have heard it."