“Do I get to sleep in the library again?” asked Illia.

“Of course,” Seregil replied.

“But you’re not to stay up all night reading,” her mother warned.

Illia gave Alec a conspiratorial look; why else would she want to sleep there?

They’d hardly gotten settled in for the night when Runcer appeared at their chamber with a familiar pinched look of disapproval around his eyes and mouth.

“That young boy is back, asking for you, my lords,” he told them, sounding pained at having to deliver such distasteful news. “I put him in the garden.”

“Thank you. I’ll see to him,” said Seregil.

They’d met Kepi, so to speak, in the spring when the boy had cut Thero’s purse in the Harvest Market. He’d led Seregil and Alec a merry chase to get it back, too. It wasn’t that there was anything irreplaceable in the purse, but the fact that the boy had been able to get that close to a wizard and two nightrunners and then nearly gotten away intrigued Seregil. Since then, they’d found occasion to use him as an extra set of eyes and ears, together with a handful of other youngsters Kepi brought them.

The boy was perched on the rain butt, wolfing down a mince tart. Runcer might not approve of him, but the cook, Sara, had a soft spot for the child and never let him get away without something in his belly.

Kepi was a true child of the streets, and knew neither his parents nor his own age. From the looks of him, he could have been anywhere from ten to a malnourished twelve or thirteen. He was skinny, with a pointed little face, wide blue eyes, and a tangle of blond hair so pale it was nearly white under the faded silk head scarf Seregil had given him. His long tunic—some nephew’s castoffs that Sara had cut down for him—hung loose on his narrow shoulders, and his legs and feet were bare and dusty beneath it. He could play the innocent when needed, but in truth he possessed all the craftiness and the streak of savagery needed to survive in his part of the city. But he was also bright and quick, and utterly devoted to his benefactors. As soon as he caught sight of Seregil and Alec, he hopped down from the barrel and made them an awkward little bow. “Evenin’, my lords,” he said, spewing crumbs. “Hope I didn’t disturb you or nuthin’.”

“No. Is there something you wanted?” asked Seregil. The boy had no outstanding assignments from them.

“I was hoping you had some work, my lord. With you gone so long, it’s been a hungry time.”

“What happened to the money we left you with?” asked Alec.

Kepi’s brash grin faltered. “Gambled it, my lord.”

Seregil chuckled. “A lesson from Illior. Hard-won money is easily lost.”

“Yes, my lord.”