Raven shrugged. "Go to the wood-seller before somebody else tries to take my money."

Shed looked at the door. He did not want to go outside. They might be waiting. But then he looked at Raven again. The man was cleaning his nails with that wicked knife. "Right away."

It was snowing now. The street was treacherous. Only a thin white mask covered the mud.

Shed could not help wondering why Raven had intervened. To protect his money? Reasonable. . . . Only, reasonable men stayed quiet around Krage. He would cut your throat if you looked at him wrong.

Raven was new around here. Maybe he did not know about Krage.

He would learn the hard way. His life wasn't worth two gersh anymore.

Raven seemed well-heeled. He wouldn't carry his whole fortune around with him, would he? Maybe he kept part hidden in his room. Maybe enough to pay off Krage. Maybe he could set Raven up. Krage would appreciate that.

"Let's see your money," Latham said when he asked for wood. Shed produced Raven's silver leva. "Ha! Who died this time?"

Shed reddened. An old prostitute had died at the Lily last winter. Shed had rifled her belongings before summoning the Custodians. His mother had lived warm for the rest of the winter. The whole Buskin knew because he had made the mistake of telling Asa.

By custom, the Custodians took the personal possessions of the newly dead. Those and donations supported them and the Catacombs.

"Nobody died. A guest sent me."

"Ha! The day you have a guest who can afford generosity. ..." Latham shrugged. "But what do I care? The coin is good. I don't need its provenance. Grab some wood. You're headed that way."

Shed staggered back to the Lily, face burning, ribs aching. Latham hadn't bothered to hide his contempt.

Back home, with the fire taking hold of the good oak, Shed drew two mugs of wine and sat down opposite Raven. "On the house."

Raven stared momentarily, took a sip, maneuvered the mug to an exact spot upon the tabletop. "What do you want?''

"To thank you again."

"There's nothing to thank me for."

"To warn you, then. You didn't take Krage serious enough."

Latham tramped in with an armload of firewood, grumbling because he couldn't get his wagon out. He would be back and forth for a long time.

"Go away, Shed." And, as Shed rose, face hot, Raven snapped, "Wait. You think you owe me? Then someday I'll ask a favor. You do it. Right?"

"Sure, Raven. Anything. Just name it."

"Go sit by the fire, Shed."

Shed squeezed in between Asa and his mother, joining their surly silence. That Raven really was creepy.

The man in question was engaged in a lively exchange of signs with the deaf serving girl.

Chapter Eight:
TALLY: CLOSE-UP

I let the tip of my blade drop to the inn floor. I slumped in exhaustion, coughing weakly in the smoke. I swayed, feebly reached for the support of an overturned table. Reaction was setting in. I had been sure this time was the end. If they hadn't been forced to extinguish the fires themselves. . . .