Changes

get a flawed sparkly past him. And as long as he had one thing he was sure of, for now, that was enough.

“All right then.” Nikolas and Rolan both nodded. “We’ve got enough of your persona roughed in that we can do a credible job of inserting you into my operation. Time for the next step in your education.”

Chapter 5

Mags was not quite sure what to expect at this point. Where would they don their disguises? How would they get to where they were going—they certainly couldn’t take Rolan and Dallen with them. And where were Rolan and Dallen supposed to stay?

But going off to an inn, especially a very popular inn, instead of delving into the seedier side of town did not fit in with anything he would have anticipated.

It was the very large, very noisy inn that had featured the actors and players that they had been to last night. He assumed that Nikolas had a good reason to take them there, so he held his peace and asked no questions. Nikolas glanced curiously at him once when they had left Rolan and Dallen in a special area of the inn stables reserved for Companions but seemed satisfied with his silence.

Nikolas took a table in the common room; a small one right in the corner and out of the way, but well lit. He ordered drinks for both of them, looked very much like a man who was enjoying a rare night out, and spent about a candlemark talking to people he knew who came by the table.

“And this is Trainee Mags,” he would say, as soon as the conversation allowed. “You will probably come to hear about him as a famous Kirball player if you haven’t already, but he and I are getting acquainted away from the overly curious ears of my darling daughter.” Then he would get an arch look on his face as Mags flushed. Then the newcomer would look at Mags, look at Nikolas, and get the “Oh—aha!” look on his (or sometimes her) face and say something like, “So that’s the way the wind is blowing, eh? Well, she’s of age for it—” and Mags would blush even redder.

That it was all true—except for the getting acquainted part—only made him more embarrassed. Which was, he supposed, the point, at least for Nikolas. Not that Nikolas specifically wanted him embarrassed, but that Nikolas wanted a consistently genuine reaction, since some of the people they were greeting were Heralds. And just when Mags was starting to wonder when they would actually get around to doing what they allegedly came down into Haven to do, one of the actors from the previous evening hailed them from across the room.

The man came to the table at Nikolas’ gesture. “Niko, Arianna wants your opinion on her farce,” he said. “We want it to be funny, but we don’t want a repetition of the Bochter incident. Eh?”

Nikolas made a face. “No one wants to repeat that. It took the Constables most of the night to clear the inn. I can certainly help make sure no tender sensibilities are trodden on, nor tempers raised, nor insults taken.” He stood up. “Come on, lad. We get to be theater critics today.”

“This will take a while, but you don’t need to worry about Andels locking you in. You might as well leave by our entrance; it’s closer to the stables, and there’s someone on the door at all hours,” the actor said, as they followed him through a side door. He wasn’t pitching his voice in a way that made it obvious he wanted to be heard—but if Mags was any judge, he was making sure that anyone who wanted to hear him could.

Puzzled now, Mags still held his peace. The actor went one way at a t-junction in the hallway, but Nikolas went in the opposite direction, and Mags followed. Nikolas opened a little door that looked as if it led to a storeroom with a key he had on his person.

He opened the room, and somewhat to his surprise, Mags saw that a lamp was already burning in it. It probably had been a storeroom at one time, but now it held just two things: a rack with clothing on it and the lamp safely mounted on the wall. Without a word, Nikolas handed Mags a set of clothing not unlike what he had worn as the blind beggar and took down a similar set for himself. Very shabby and threadbare, but carefully mended. Shirt, jerkin, and some sort of loose trews, all in faded dust colors, with the faint remnants of stains on them. But clean. Mended clothing and clean—that put two more things in Mags’ mind. He and Willie Weasel were supposed to care about how they looked, but Willie didn’t spend a pin more on anything than he absolutely had to.

Things were beginning to make sense for Mags now. This was where they would transform into their other identities—perhaps not every night, but given that Nikolas was a familiar creature around here, they would be using this room often enough. It was probable that someone had come to ready the room and light the lamp as soon as he and Nikolas had settled at their table. Then it had just been a matter of someone coming up with an excuse for Nikolas to go talk to the actors. Their comings and goings in an inn that was already frequented by Heralds in general (probably because of the plays) and patronized by Nikolas in particular would not be noted.

The actor who had accosted them was clearly one of Nikolas’ confederates. Now that he had the general shape of things in his mind, Mags was confident that when Weasel and his boy left this inn, they would leave by a side entrance that no one would note.

Huh. Guess I been learnin’ a lot I niver thought ’bout.

“All right, then,” Nikolas said, very quietly, in tones barely above a whisper, as Mags hung up his uniform. “Tell me what’s going on here.”

Mags did, and Nikolas nodded with satisfaction. “I’ve built up confederates and places like this on a network that I inherited from my predecessor,” he said. “This particular resource was his; he actually was an actor before being Chosen, and this inn belongs to his family. Remember the soapmaker you utilized?”

Mags nodded.

“I’ve recruited her,” Nikolas said with satisfaction. “She’s a fantastic resource. As you noticed, no one pays any attention to the person who comes to clean the ashpits.”

Mags felt a sudden pang of guilt. This was all very well but—what if they were ever trailed back to these bolt-holes by someone dangerous?

“But—I wouldn’ wanta bring danger on ’er—” he said hesitantly.

“That’s another reason I am relieved to have you partnering me, Mags,” Nikolas told him as he cracked the door for light, then blew out the lamp. “You should be able to sense if we are being followed, and in that case, we take another way back, one that will take us through a few cellars. That should effectively lose them. And if for some reason that doesn’t work, we’ll lead them straight into Constables or the Guard.”

Mags felt much better about that as he closed the door to the little room and made sure that it locked behind them. He wondered if they would leave through a cellar this time. In fact, they left by a side entrance so lost