there, that they were two boys who had been sent on an errand that needed to be discharged expeditiously, but not urgently.
Deek, however, knew every illicit way into the laundries and wash houses of the fine houses on these streets, and he led Skif over walls, up trees, and across rooftops. Together they waited for moments when the laundresses and washerwomen were otherwise occupied, and dropped down into the rooms where soiled linens were sorted for washing.
It was Skif who picked out the napkins from among the rest — no more than two or three lightly soiled squares of linen at each place. He chose nothing that was so badly grease-stained that it was unlikely it could be cleaned, nor did he pick out items that were new.
Once retrieved, Deek did something very clever with them. He folded them flat, and stuffed them inside the legs of his trews and Skif's, so that there was no way to tell that the bits of fabric were there at all without forcing them to undress. When they had the full two dozen, with no close calls and only one minor alarm, Deek called a halt, and they strolled back to Bazie's.
Skif was tired, but very pleased with himself. He'd kept up with Deek, and he'd been the ones to pick out the loot Bazie wanted. Nothing new, nothing over-fine, nothing that would be missed unless and until a housekeeper made a full inventory. Not likely, that; not in the places that Deek had selected.
They made their way up, over, and down again, and back to Bazie's den. This time when Deek knocked, it was Bazie himself that opened the door for them, and Skif watched with covert amazement as he stumped back to his seat like some sort of bizarre four-legged creature, supporting himself on two wooden pegs strapped where his legs had been, and two crutches, one for each arm.
“Aaa — ” Bazie said, in a note of pain, as he lowered himself down to his seat and quickly took off the wooden legs. “When ye brings back th' glimmers, young'un, I'll be getting’ proper-fittin' stumps, fust thing.” He gestured in disgust at the crude wooden legs. “Them's no better nor a couple slats. How's it that a mun kin be sa good wi' needle an sa bad wi' whittlin’?”
He put the crutches aside, and looked at them expectantly.
“Here ye be, Bazie!” said Deek, taking the lead, and pulling napkins out of his trews the way a conjure mage at a fair pulled kerchiefs out of his hand. Skif did the same, until all two dozen were piled in front of their mentor.
“Hah! Good work!” Bazie told them. “Nah, young'un — ye look an ye tell me — wha's the big problem we got wi' these fer sellin' uv 'em?”
That was something Skif had worried about. Every single napkin they'd taken had been decorated with distinctive embroidered initials or pictures on the corners. “Them whatcha-calls in th' corners,” Skif said promptly. “Dunno what they be, but they's all different.”
“They's t' show what owns 'em, but ol' Bazie's gotta cure for that, eh, Deek?” Bazie positively beamed at both of them, and took out a box from a niche beside his seat. He opened it, and Skif leaned forward to see what was inside.
Sewing implements. Very fine, as fine as any great lady's. Tiny scissors, hooks, and things he couldn't even guess at.
His mouth dropped open, and Bazie laughed. “Ye watch, an ye learn, young'un,” he said merrily. “An’ nivir ye scorn till ye seen — ,”
Bazie took out the tiniest pair of scissors that Skif had ever seen, and a thing like a set of tongs, but no bigger than a pen, and several other implements Skif had no names for. Then he took up the first of the napkins and set to work on it.
Within moments, it was obvious what he was doing; he was unpicking the embroidery. But he was doing so with such care that when he was finally done, only a slightly whiter area and a hole or two showed where it had been, and the threads he had unpicked were still all in lengths that could be used.
“Nah, I'll be doin' that t' all uv them, then into th' bleach they goes, an' no sign where they come from!” Bazie rubbed his hands together with glee. “An' that'll mean a full five siller fer the lot from a feller what's got a business in these things, an' all fer a liddle bit uv easy work for ye an me! Nah, what sez ye t' that, young'un?”
Skif could only shake his head in admiration. “That — I'm mortal glad I grabbed fer Deek's ankle yesterday!”
And Bazie roared with laughter. “So'm we, boy!” he chuckled. “So'm we!”
Skif did not go out again, nor did Deek. Instead, they emptied out the cauldron of its warm, soapy, green-gray water, pouring it down a drain hole in the center of the room, and refilled it with fresh. This was no mean feat, as it had to be done one bucketful at a time, from the common pump that everyone in the building shared — which was, predictably, in a well house attached to the side of the building to keep it from freezing. Bazie had special buckets, with lids that kept the water from slopping, but it still made for a lot of climbing.
No wonder Bazie was ready t' bring me in! Skif thought ruefully, as he poured his bucketful into what seemed to have become a wash cauldron without a bottom. His arms ached, and so did his back — this business of
