He shook his head and went back to his stirring. Bazie had been watching him closely, and seemed satisfied with what he saw. “Ye mot not hev a home,” he ventured.

Skif shrugged. “Hell. Bargain’s a bargain. Ye said, a moon, I’ll not ’spect a flop a’fore that. ’F nobuddy’s there, I kin sneak in t’ sleep. I kin sleep on roof, or stairs, or summat.” He managed a weak grin. “Or even Lord Orthallen’s wash house.”

Bazie now looked very satisfied; evidently Skif had struck exactly the right note with him. No pleading, no asking for special consideration—he’d got that already. Just matter-of-fact acceptance.

’Sides, ’tis only for a moon. That ain’t long. Even in winter.

Actually, the wash house wasn’t a bad idea. Skif had slept there once or twice before, when Kalchan had decided that in addition to a set of stripes with the belt, he didn’t deserve a bed, and locked him out in the courtyard overnight. From dark until dawn the only people there would be the laundry maids, who slept there, and none of them would venture up to the storage loft after dark. The ones that weren’t young and silly and afraid of spirits were old and too tired to do more than drop onto the pallets and snore. It would be cold, but no worse than the Hollybush.

The only difficulty would be getting in and out, since beaks and private guards were on the prowl after dark in force.

Well, he’d deal with the problems as they came up and not before. Hard on me if I can’t slip past a couple beaks.

He didn’t have very long to wait for his news; by the time the next batch of laundry was in the cauldron, Raf returned with Bazie’s pail of beer and a mouth full of news.

“Well!” he said, as soon as Deek let him in. “Ol’ Londer did hisself no good this time! What I heerd—’e cheated a mun, sommun wi’ some brass, an’ th’ mun got a judgment on ’im. So’s the judgment sez the mun gets Hollybush. On’y nobuddy tol’ yon Kalchan, or Kalchan figgered ’e weren’t gonna gi’e up, or Londer tol’ Kalchan t’ keep mun out. So mun comes wi’ bullyboys t’take over, an’ Kalchan, ’e sez I don’ think so, an lays inta ’em wi’ iron poker!”

“Hoo!” Skif said, eyes wide with glee. “Wisht I’da been there!”