Harry looked up and met eyes as green as his own.

“I’ve always worn it.” Bennet touched the little falcon.

Harry nodded and glanced away from Bennet for a moment. “I had started asking around, before I was arrested, and I’ve tried again this last week, discreetly, lest your father track me.” He looked back at Bennet, his face under control now. “Nobody seems to know much, but there’s plenty besides me who have a reason to hate your father.”

“Probably most of the county.”

Harry ignored the sarcasm. “I thought maybe I should search a bit further back.”

Bennet raised his eyebrows.

“Your nurse is still alive, isn’t she?”

“Old Alice Humboldt?” Bennet yawned. “Yes, she’s alive. Her cottage was the first place I stopped when I got back into the district. And you’re right, she might know something. Nanny is very quiet, but she always noticed everything.”

“Good.” Harry stood up. “Then she’s the person to question. Want to come?”

“What, now?”

Harry’s mouth twitched. He’d forgotten how fun it was to bait Bennet. “I had thought to wait for sunrise,” he said gravely, “but if you’re eager to go now . . .”

“No. No, sunrise is fine.” Bennet winced. “I don’t suppose you could wait until nine o’clock?”

Harry looked at him.

“No, of course not.” Bennet yawned again, nearly unhinging the back of his head. “I’ll meet you at Nanny’s cottage, shall I?”

“I’ll go, too,” Will spoke up from the pallet.

Harry and Bennet glanced at the boy. He’d nearly forgotten Will. Bennet raised his eyebrows at Harry, leaving the decision to him.

“Aye, you’ll go, too,” Harry said.

“Ta,” Will said. “I’ve got something for you.”

He burrowed under his pillow and came out with a long, thin object wrapped in a rag. He held it out. Harry took the bundle and unrolled it. His knife, cleaned and oiled, lay on his palm.

“Found it in the stream,” Will said, “after they took you. I been taking care of it for you. Until you was ready for it again.”

It was the most Harry had ever heard from the boy’s mouth.

Harry smiled. “Ta, Will.”

GEORGE TOUCHED THE LITTLE SWAN swimming on her pillow. It was the second carving Harry had given her. The first had been a rearing horse. He’d been gone from her seven days, but he hadn’t left the neighborhood. That much was obvious from the tiny carvings he’d somehow placed on her bed.

“Gave you another one, has he, my lady?” Tiggle bustled about the room, putting away her dress and gathering soiled things for the laundry.

George picked up the swan. “Yes.”