“Since there are still treasure hunters looking in every nook and cranny, I suspect they did decline,” the young priest said cheerfully. He seemed highly amused, and Skif wondered why.

The Prior shook his head sadly. “I know that you have little sympathy when rich men are despoiled of their goods, Brother Halcom.”

“If the gods choose the hand of a thief to chastise those who are themselves thieves, I find it ironic, but appropriate, sir,” Brother Halcom replied evenly. “This Master Thief has so far robbed two men who have greatly oppressed others. You know this to be true.”

“Nevertheless, the thief himself commits a moral error and incurs harm to his soul with his actions,” the Prior chided him gently. “You should spend less time gloating over the misfortune of the mighty and more in praying that this miscreant realizes his errors and repents.”

Brother Halcom made a wry face, but the Prior didn’t see it. Skif did, however, and he noted when the young priest rose from the table that his leg ended in a dreadful club foot. The priest had spoken in the accents of someone who was highly educated, and Skif had to wonder how much Brother Halcom knew personally about the two who had “officially” been robbed.

And whether he knew anything about the one that Skif had despoiled…

For one moment, he wondered if the young man had really meant what he said. He’d sounded sympathetic.

Fah. He’ll have no time fer the likes of me, no doubt, he thought, hardening his heart. Well look who’s stuck muckin’ out the stalls, an who’s playin’ with the broke-winged birds! Push comes t’ shove, money an’ rank stands together ’gainst the rest of us what always does the dirty work anyroad.

He finished his meal and went back out to clean kennels.

With the Master Thief out last night—and everybody and his dog hunting for the goodies that Skif had let fall—the last thing Skif was going to do was to go out again tonight. No, things would have to cool down a bit before he ran the rooftops again. It gave him a great deal of pleasure, though, to lie back in the sweet-smelling hay and contemplate last night’s work. The only thing that spoiled his pleasure was the thought that this unknown Master Thief was going to get all of the credit for his work.

On the other hand, it would probably anger the Master Thief to be saddled with the eventual blame for all of the vandalizing Skif had done.

And at the moment, no one would be looking for a mere boy; they’d be trying to catch a man. This Master Thief was proving rather useful to Skif’s campaign.

I s’pose I oughta be grateful to ’im, Skif thought, but he didn’t feel grateful.