had several windows like this, as did the major temples in Haven, but this was the first time he'd seen one close up.
The Weaponsmaster barely waited for him to settle himself.
“So, your little excursion into the city last night bore some fruit?” was Alberich's question.
Good, he's already gotten everything from Cymry and Kantor and maybe the Guard but the “who “ and maybe the “why.” That was a bit less explanation he'd have to give. “I visited m'uncle Londer Galko,” Skif said, then smiled. “Though he didn't know 'twas me. Went masked, and in over roof. You know. I scared him pretty thorough, good enough I figger he told me the truth.”
As well Alberich should know, since he'd been the one who brought Skif's things from his old room, and had probably examined every bit. Skif experienced in that moment a very, very odd sensation of comfort. It was a relief to be able to sit here and be able to be himself completely. It was like being with Cymry, only a more worldly sort of Cymry.
“That was wise.” Alberich leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked thoughtful. “I would not have thought of Londer Galko as a source of information for our needs.”
“I didn' either, till I stopped lookin' for a man what needed a building burned, and started thinkin' about what I picked up while I was lookin' for him,” Skif replied. “An' put that with what you tol' me about the slavers. There's summat snatchin' younglings off the streets — not many, just the ones that haveta sleep there. More of 'em than you thought, I bet. You don't hear 'bout it, 'cause they ain't the kind that'd be missed.”
“We hear more than you might think,” Alberich put in, but also nodded. “Although if this is true, we are not hearing of most of them. Go on.”
“Londer ain't the kind t'get his fingers where they might get burned, not after that mess with th' Hollybush, but if there's somethin' dirty goin' on, he probably knows summat about it. He likes bein' on the edge of it, not so close he gets hurt, close enough he can kind of gloat over it. So — I paid 'im a visit.” Skif launched into a full explanation, frankly describing everything he had done last night, leaving nothing out. He hadn't, after all, done anything that he'd been forbidden. Nobody had put a curfew on the Trainees, no one had told him not to leave the Collegium grounds, he hadn't stolen anything. All he'd done was to terrorize one filthy old man who'd been the cause of plenty of misery himself over the past several years.
Still —
Alberich didn't look disgusted, and he didn't look annoyed, but Skif got a distinct impression that he was poised between being amused and being angry. “You — ” he said at length, leaning back in his chair and pointing a finger at Skif, “ — are the sort who would find a way around any order, so I shall not give you one. This information interesting is — useful, possibly — ”
“But if I was to go out all ragged an' kip down on th'street where I know they's been snatching?” Skif asked. “While you kept a watch? It'd be more'n useful, I'm thinkin'. We got what we need for the makings of a nice little trap. An' it's one you can't set without a youngling for bait.” He stabbed his thumb at his chest. “Me. You daren't use anyone else.”
Alberich's face went very, very still. “If you did not Mindspeak with Cymry — ” he said, very slowly.
“But I do. An' you got Kantor. So 'tween them we can Mindspeak each other. An' I got some ideas that'll keep me from gettin' coshed, 'cause I know how they been workin',” Skif replied, and sat back himself. “You'll know when I get took, an' you can follow. You'll know when th' man hisself shows up. We can do more'n figger out who he is. We can catch 'im.”
“It is very dangerous. You could be hurt,” Alberich pointed out immediately. “You can attempt to protect yourself, but that does not mean you will succeed.”
“Then I get hurt,” Skif dismissed, feeling his jaw tense and his own resolve harden. “It'll be worth it.”
Alberich half-closed his eyes and laced his fingers together, occasionally looking up at Skif as though testing his mettle. If this long wait was supposed to test his patience as well, it wasn't going to work that way, for the longer Alberich thought, the better Skif reckoned his odds to be.
And when at last Alberich spoke, he knew he'd been right.
“Very well,” the Weaponsmaster said. “Let me hear the whole of this plan of yours. I believe that you and I must do this thing.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SKIF widened his eyes pleadingly and held out his bowl to anyone who even glanced at him. He certainly looked the part of a beggar boy. He hadn't worn rags like these since he'd been living at the Hollybush. It was a good thing that it was still very warm at night, or he'd be freezing in the things. They were more hole than cloth, and he couldn't imagine where Alberich had found them, couldn't imagine why anyone in the Collegium would have
