:Tell him the truth, loon,: Cymry prompted, as he tried to think of something to say. He hadn’t expected that Cymry would try to take them in the same way they’d gone out.

“I had t’see my uncle in Haven,” he said truthfully. “He didn’t think he was gonna live. There was summat I needed t’hear from him.”

:Very good. He really didn’t think you’d leave him alive, did he?:

The Guard’s demeanor went from suspicious to sympathetic. “I hope his fears weren’t justified—”

Skif stopped himself from snorting. “I think he was more scared than anything else,” he replied. “When I left, he was sleepin’ off a dose of poppy, and I bet he’ll be fine in the morning.”

:Lovely. Absolute truth, all of it.:

Evidently the Guard either had relatives who were overly convinced of their own mortality, or knew people who were, because he laughed. “Oh, aye, I understand. Well, I’m sorry you’re going to have your sleep cut short; breakfast bell is going to ring mighty early for you.”

Skif groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he said, as the Guard waved him through without even taking his name. “Good night to you!”

He unsaddled Cymry and turned her loose, and slipped into his room again via the window, thus avoiding any potentially awkward questions in the hall. He’d had the wit to clean himself up thoroughly at that stable, so at least he needed to do nothing more than strip himself down and drop into bed—which he did, knowing all too well just how right that Guard had been.

Tomorrow, though… he had to arrange an interview with the Weaponsmaster. The sooner, the better.

All during his classes the next day he had only half his mind on what was going on. The other half was engaged in putting together his plan, and as importantly, his argument. Herald Alberich wasn’t going to like this plan. It was going to be very dangerous for Skif, and Skif knew for certain that Alberich would object to that.

During Weapons Class, Skif managed to give Alberich an unspoken signal that he hoped would clue Alberich to the fact that he needed to talk privately. Either he was very quick on the uptake, or else Cymry had some inkling of what was going on inside Skif’s head and put the word in to Alberich’s Kantor; in either case, just as class ended, Alberich looked straight at Skif and said, “You will be at my quarters here at the salle, after the dinner hour.”

The others in the class completely misconstrued the order, as they were probably intended to. So as they all left for their next class, they commiserated with him, assuming that something he had done or not done well enough was going to earn him a lecture.