Once they got in among the homes of the wealthy, though, it was a different story. He eyed some of those places, all close-kept behind their shuttered windows, with a knowing gaze. At one point or another he had checked out a great many of them, and he knew some of them very, very well indeed. The owner of that one had not one, but two mistresses that his wife knew nothing about—and they didn’t know about each other. He treated them all well, though, so to Skif’s mind none of them should have much to complain about. Sometimes he wondered, however, where the man was getting all the money he spent on them. . . .

:He’s honest enough, but there are others,: Cymry put in. :You see what I mean by needing your skills?:

He furrowed his brow and concentrated on thinking what he wanted to say instead of saying it out loud. :I suppose—: he said dubiously.

But they were soon past the second wall, out of the homes of the merely wealthy, and in among the manses of the great. And Skif had to snicker a little as they passed Lord Orthallen’s imposing estate. It was the first time he’d come at it from the front, but he couldn’t mistake those pale stone walls for any other. How many times had he feasted at m’lord’s table, and him all unaware?

They passed Lord Orthallen’s home, passed others that Skif had not dared approach, so guarded around were they by the owner’s own retainers. And finally there was nothing on his right but the final wall, blank and forbidding, that marked the Palace itself.

His apprehension returned, and he unconsciously hunched his head down, trying to appear inconspicuous, even though there was no one to see him.

No—there was someone.

The next turning brought them within sight of a single Guardsman in dark blue, who manned a small gate. Cymry trotted up to him quite as if she passed in and out of that gate all the time, and the man nodded as if he recognized her.

“This would be Cymry,” he said aloud, casting a jaundiced eye up at Skif, who shrank within himself. “They’re expecting you,” he continued, opening the gate for them to pass through, although he didn’t say who they were.

Cymry walked through, all dignity, and began to climb the graveled road that led toward an entire complex of buildings. Skif tensed. Now I’m in for it, he thought, and felt his heart drop down into his boots.

Chapter 14

14