Skif decided on “Jass.” Easy to remember, it had no associations for him other than his target. But he was careful never to personally address the man at all, much less by name, since he wasn’t actually supposed to know any of his names. The few times they met on the stairs or the landing, Skif ducked his head subserviently and crammed himself to the wall to let the arsonist pass. Let Jass think that Skif was afraid of him—all that meant was that Jass had never yet gotten a look at anything other than the top of Skif’s head.

A man of many trades was Jass. Over the course of three fortnights, Skif listened in to his conversations when he had someone with him in his rooms—pillow talk and business talk, and boasts when deep in his cups. He wasn’t “just” an arsonist. If he had been, he’d have gone short more often than not, as that wasn’t a trade that he was called on to practice nearly often enough to make a living at it. Together with all four of the whores he practiced a variation on the ketchin’ lay where one of the girls would lure an unsuspecting customer into Jass’ clutches where the would-be lecher soon found himself hit over the head and robbed.

He was also known for setting fires, of course—though, so far since Skif had moved in, they were all minor acts of outrage, designed to frighten shopkeepers into paying for “protection” from one of the three gangs he worked for, or to punish those who had refused to do so. On rare occasions, he sold information, most of which Skif didn’t understand, but seemed to have to do with intrigues among some of the city’s wealthier folk. Where he got these tidbits was a mystery to Skif, although there was a direct connection with the darker side of Haven, in that the information generally was about who among Jass’s cronies had been hired by one of the upright citizens, and for what dirty job.

The craggy-faced sell-sword was not the only one interested in Jass’ information. There were at least three other takers to Skif’s knowledge, two of whom transacted their business only within the four walls of Jass’s fireplace room.

But to Skif’s growing impatience, not once had Jass been commissioned by the same person who had put him to igniting the tenement house.