“Herald Alberich has special dispensation from Her Majesty herself not to wear the uniform of Heraldic Whites,” Herald Teren interrupted, as Alberich's expression changed only in that he raised his right eyebrow slightly.
And now, suddenly, an explanation for Skif's own rather extraordinary behavior in the cemetery hit him, and he stared at the Herald in the dark gray leather tunic and tight trews with something like accusation. “You Truth Spelled me!”
Now that he knew Alberich was a Herald, there was no doubt in his mind why he had found himself telling the man what he knew that night in the cemetery. Everyone knew about Heralds and their Truth Spell, though Skif was the first person in his own circle of acquaintances who'd actually undergone it, much less seen it.
The two Heralds exchanged a glance. “Elcarth's right,” said Teren. “He's very quick.”
“Survive long he would not, were he not,” Alberich replied, and fastened his hawklike eyes on Skif, who shrank back, just as he had that night. “I did. Because there was need. Think on this — had you by any other been caught, it would not have been Truth Spell, but a knife.”
Skif shivered convulsively, despite the baking heat. The man was right. He gulped.
Alberich took another couple of steps forward, so that Skif was forced to look up at him. “Now, since there is still need, without Truth Spell, what you were about in following that scum, you will tell me. And fully, you will tell it.”
There was something very important going on here; he didn't have nearly enough information to know what, or why, but it was a lot more than just the fact that Jass had been killed, though that surely had a part in it. But Skif raised his chin, stiffened his spine, and glared back. “T'you. Not t’im. I know you. I don' know 'im.”
The Heralds exchanged another glance. “Fair enough,” Teren said easily. “I'll be outside when you're ready for me to take him over.”
Herald Teren turned and strode out the door on the other side of the stable. Skif didn't take his eyes off Alberich, whose gaze, if anything, became more penetrating.
“Heard you have, of the man Jass, and his ending.” It was a statement, not a question, but Skif nodded anyway. “And? You followed him for moons. Why?”
“ 'E burned down th' place where m'mates lived.” Skif made it a flat statement in return, and kept his face absolutely dead of expression. “They died. I heard 'im say 'xactly that with m'own ears, an' 'e didn't care, all 'e cared about was 'e didn' want t' get caught. Fact, 'e said 'e got rid of some witnesses afore 'e set th' fire. Might even've been them.”
Alberich nodded. “He was not nearly so free with me.”
Skif tightened his jaw. “Honest — I was in the cem'tery by accident, but I was where I could 'ear real good. An' I 'eard 'im an' th' bastid what hired 'im talkin' 'bout a new job, an' talkin' 'bout the old one. I already figgered I was gonna take 'im down somehow — but only after I foun' out 'oo 'twas what give 'im th' order.”
A swift intake of breath was all the reaction that Alberich showed — and a very slight nod. “Which was why you followed him.” A pause. “He was more than that — more than just a petty arson maker, more even than a murderer. As his master was — is. Which was why I followed him.”
Skif only shook his head. Alberich's concerns meant nothing to him —
— except —
“You know 'oo 'e is!” he shot out, feeling himself flush with anger. “The boss! You know!” He held himself as still as a statue, although he would cheerfully have leaped on the man at that moment, and tried to beat the knowledge out of him.
But Alberich shook his head, and it was with a regret and a disappointment that went so deeply into the tragic that it froze Skif where he stood. “I do not,” he admitted. “Hope, I had, you did.”
At that moment, instead of simply glaring at him, Alberich actually looked at him, caught his eyes, and stared deeply into them, and Skif felt a sensation like he had never before experienced. It was as if he literally stood on the edge of an abyss, staring down into it, and it wasn't that if he made a wrong move he'd fall, it was the sudden understanding that this was what Alberich had meant when he'd said that these were waters too deep for Skif to swim in. There were deep matters swirling all around him that Skif was only a very tiny part of, and yet — he had the chance to be a pivotal part of it.
If he dared. If he cared enough to see past his own loss and sorrows, and see greater tragedy and need and be willing to lay himself on the line to fix it.
