Poor Dirk’s eyes had nearly bulged out of his head, and this cap to a well-told tale had surprised laughter out of everyone else. Word very quickly spread, but because of the prankish nature of Skif’s lifting, there wasn’t a soul in Herald’s Collegium, and not more than one or two doubters in Bardic and Healers’, that thought him anything other than a mischief maker, and an entertaining one at that. Those few were generally thought of as sour-faced pessimists and their comments ignored.

Not, Skif thought to himself somberly as he accepted the accolades of his fellows with a self-effacing demeanor, but what they mightn’t be right about me, ’cept for Cymry.

Except for Cymry. That pretty much summed it up. Everyone among the Heraldic Trainees was willing to accept Skif as a harmless prankster because he’d been Chosen, because Companions didn’t Choose bad people. And if anyone among the teachers thought differently, they were keeping their doubts to themselves.

“Time to get to the baths,” Kris reminded them. “Otherwise the hot water’s going to be gone.” That sent everyone but Skif on a run for their quarters. Skif lingered, not because he didn’t care about getting a hot bath, but because Alberich had given him an interesting look that he thought was a signal.

He made certain that no one was looking back at him, then sidled over to the salle entrance. Alberich was, as he had thought, waiting just inside.

“Working, and working well, is your plan of misdirection,” the Weaponsmaster observed calmly.

“So far.” Skif waited for the rest. There had to be more; Alberich wasn’t going to give him a look like that just to congratulate him on his cleverness.

“Would it be that you would know the voice of Jass’ master, heard you it again?” Alberich asked.

Skif felt a little thrill run through him. So Alberich was going to use him! He wasn’t just going to have to sit around while the Weaponsmaster prowled the slums in his sell-sword guise.

“I think so,” Skif said, after giving the question due consideration. “But, he’d have to be talking—well, he’d have to be talking like he thought he was way above the person he was talking to.”

“Condescending.” Alberich nodded. “That, I believe, I can arrange. There is to be a gathering of Lord Orthallen’s particular friends tonight. Get you to that place without challenge, I can do. It is for you to get yourself into a place of concealment where you can hear and observe, but not be noticed.”

“Oh, I can do that!” Skif promised recklessly. “You just watch!”

“I intend to, since it will be myself at this gathering, as guard to Selenay with Talamir,” Alberich replied. “I wish you at the door into the Herald’s Wing at the dishwashing bell.”