With the Master Thief out last night—and everybody and his dog hunting for the goodies that Skif had let fall—the last thing Skif was going to do was to go out again tonight. No, things would have to cool down a bit before he ran the rooftops again. It gave him a great deal of pleasure, though, to lie back in the sweet-smelling hay and contemplate last night’s work. The only thing that spoiled his pleasure was the thought that this unknown Master Thief was going to get all of the credit for his work.

On the other hand, it would probably anger the Master Thief to be saddled with the eventual blame for all of the vandalizing Skif had done.

And at the moment, no one would be looking for a mere boy; they’d be trying to catch a man. This Master Thief was proving rather useful to Skif’s campaign.

I s’pose I oughta be grateful to ’im, Skif thought, but he didn’t feel grateful.

In fact, after a while, he realized that he wasn’t as satisfied with last night’s work as he thought he should be. It just wasn’t enough, somehow. He was thrashing around at random, blindly trying to hit the one he truly wanted to hurt and hoping that somehow in the chaos he’d connect with a blow. And even then—how did putting holes in someone’s roof measure up to burning down a building and committing cold-blooded murder in the process?

It didn’t, and that was that. I want him, Skif thought angrily. I want the bastard what ordered it!

Nothing more—but nothing less. And right now, he was settling for less.

Still, that Brother Halcom had a point, too. He’d seemed to think that the two highborn nobles that had been robbed had pretty much deserved it and probably Lord Rovenar had done a dirty deed or two in his life, and Skif had been nothing more than the instrument of payback. That wasn’t a bad thought.

Brother Halcom knew the highborn. . . .

Brother Halcom might know enough to give Skif a clue or two to the identity of the one highborn that Skif really wanted. So maybe Skif ought to see if he could get Brother Halcom to talk.

Finding someone to hurt that he knew deserved it might feel better than this random lashing out.

And maybe, just maybe, Brother Halcom would know who the smooth-voiced highborn was.