“Skif, Skif, Skif,” Bazie sighed, looking pained. “Oh, lad—tell me ’ow ’tis summun as smart as ye are got t’ be so iggnerent.”

“I didn’ wan’ miss me breakfust,” Skif said humbly, head hanging in shame. “T Queen sez ever’ young’un whut’s still takin’ lessons gets breakfust. Niver did like sums, so’s easy ’nuff not t’ learn ’em.”

Silence from Bazie for a moment, then, much to Skif’s relief, a chuckle. “Well, ’tis ’onest ’nuff answer, an’ nay so stupid a one,” Bazie replied. “Well, young’un, ye’re ’bout t’ learn them sums, an’ learn ’em t’hard way.”

“The hard way,” Skif soon learned, was to get them by rote.

Bazie drilled him. And drilled him. And then, when he grew hoarse and Skif thought he might be done for the day, at least, Bazie paused only long enough for a mug of hot tea to lubricate his throat and began the drill all over again. Only when Skif was mentally exhausted did Bazie give over, and at that point, Skif was only too pleased to haul water instead of reckoning his four-times table.

Shortly after that, Lyle returned with the makings of dinner and helped Skif put together a satisfying meal of bacon, day-old bread, and apples. As the bacon fried and the bread toasted, the other two appeared with a new lot of loot. Raf brought in more sleeves—this lot was a bit worn and threadbare about the hems, but Bazie examined them and gave it as his opinion that he could make a sort of trim out of some of them that would serve to cover the worn parts, making them look new.

Deek brought back only a couple of scarves and kerchiefs, but a great deal of news for Skif.

“Yer Nuncle Londer’s ’angin’ ’is boy Kalchan out t’ twist on ’is own, which I guess we all figgered,” he announced, as Skif and Lyle tucked thick slabs of bacon between two pieces of toasted bread and added mustard before handing them around. “It don’ look like ol’ Kalchan’s gonna be much like hisself, though. Healers say ’is skull wuz fair cracked, an’ they figger ’is brains is addled. They reckon ’e’ll be good fer nowt but stone pickin’ fer ’is life, an’ I reckon they’ll put ’im out wi’ sum farmer or ’tother.”