“Heh. ’Twas coz ye didn’ fancy carryin’ me t’ t’other, up an’ down stair,” Bazie countered, and they both laughed. “but aye, could’a had earth closet, or jest dropped privy down t’sewer ’thout it bein’ water closet, but there’d be stink, ye ken, an’ that’d be on us an’ on t’goods we washed, eh? So we got mun t’ put in water closet when’ we took’t this place.”

Raf sighed. “Took a mort’o th’ glim, it did,” he said wistfully. “Didn’ know ye’d saved tha’ much, ye ol’ skinflint.”

“Kep’t fer when we needed’t,” Bazie replied. “Yer wuz liddler nor th’ young’un. Had Ames an’ Jodri an’ Willem then—an’ we made ’t up quick now.”

“Wut happened t’ them?’ Skif asked cautiously, fearing to uncover some old, bad news.

But Bazie laughed. “Ames’s off! Took’t up wi’ some travelin’ show, run’s t’ cup’n’ball lay, liftin’ i’ th’ crowd. Jodri, ’e’s on ’is own, took’t t’ sum place t’South. An’ Willem made th’ big ’un—got hisself th’ big haul, an’ smart ’nuff t’ say, thassit. Bought hisself big ’ouse uv flats, like this’un, on’y in better part uv town, lives i’ part an’ rents out t’rest. Set fer life.” Bazie chuckled, and Skif sighed with relief. If Bazie wasn’t lying—and there was no reason to think that he was—then his “pupils” had done well for themselves.

And so should he.

It also spoke well that Bazie was perfectly pleased about their success and didn’t begrudge them their independence.

“Nah, young’un, ye did good yestiddy, but ’tis in m’mind that mebbe ye shouldn’ be seed fer a bit?” Bazie made a question out of it, and Skif was in total agreement with him.

“If th’ Guard’s got inta it—what wi’ th’ girl Maisie an’ all—mebbe they lookin’ fer me,” Skif replied. “Ol’ Kalchan, well, ’e got hisself in bad deep, an’ Guard’ll be lookin’ fer witness t’ whut ’e done. An’ ol’ Londer, ’e’ll be lookin’ fer me t’shet me up.”

“No doubt. Mebbe—permanent.” Bazie lost that expression of pleasant affability that Skif had become accustomed to. “I know sumthin’ uv ol’ Londer, an’—mebbe ’e wouldn’ dirty ’is ’ands personal, but ’e knows plenty as would take a ’int ’bout gettin’ ye quiet.”

Skif shuddered. He had no doubt about that. “’F I’m not ’bout, ’e’ll let ol’ Kalchan ’ang. Specially ’f Kalchan don’ ever wake up. An’ ’e’ll say, ’e didn’ know nothin’ ’bout th’ girl, an’ no one t’ say otherwise.”

Londer had three sons, after all. He could afford to lose one.