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savin' 'is own neck. But Skif was listening, as Jass was not, and he knew that
if Jass was ever caught, his life wasn't worth a bent pin. If there was even
the
chance that the Watch was on to Jass, his employer would ensure his silence in
the most effective way possible.
It wouldn't take much just another interview in an out-of-the-way place like
this one. Only Jass would not be meeting  milord, and there would be an extra
corpse in the cemetery.
There was a metallic chink as money passed from one hand to another, and Jass
counted it.
 Remember what I said, the voice warned. One set of footsteps marked the
owner's transit to the door of the chapel, and Jass got up to follow.  Don't
get
creative. Just set the fire, and get out.
 Awright, awright, Jass sneered.  My lord. ;
The light vanished; the candle must have been put out. The door swung quietly
open on well-oiled hinges, with only a faint sigh of displaced air to mark it
opening. Then it shut again with a hollow sound, and the key rattled in the
lock.
'E's gettin' away! I dunno 'oo 'e is, an 'e's gettin' away!
Skif practically flew up the stairs, no longer caring if he was discovered, so
long as he could see who that voice belonged to!
Too late. Not only were they gone, he couldn't even hear footsteps. He flung
himself at the windows hopeless; not only was it dark outside, but the windows
didn't open and they were made of colored glass as well. There was no way he
could see anything through them except for one single blob of light, a
lantern,
perhaps, receding into the darkness. He returned to the door, but you couldn't
just open it from within once you got inside, it had to be unlocked from the
inside as well as from the outside. Cursing under his breath, he got out his
lock picks again, knowing that this would cost him yet more time, in the dark
and fumbling in his hurry.
He cursed his clumsy fingers and the lock picks that suddenly turned traitor
on
him; at last he heard the click of the tumblers and wrenched the wretched door
open.
There wasn't a single light to be seen within the four walls of the cemetery.
They'd gotten far enough away that they were out of sight among the tombs, and
by now Jass and his employer would have gone their separate ways, with nothing
to show the connection between them, nothing to prove that  milord wasn't
just
paying a sentimental or pious visit on the anniversary of someone's death.
No! Skif wasn't going to give up that easily.
From here there was only a single path winding among the chapels, crypts, and
trees, and Skif tore up it. There were only two entrances, and he thought he
knew which one  milord would take. He had to catch the man before he left the
cemetery he had to! He had to know
With his heart pounding and his eyes burning with rage, he abandoned
everything
but the chase. At a point where two private chapels faced one another across
the
path, where he might have slowed, just in case there was someone lurking in
the
shadows, he only sped up.
And at the last moment as he passed between them, too late to avoid the
ambush,
he sprung a trap on himself.
A trap that took the form of a cord stretched at knee-height along the path.
Skif hit it, and went flying face-first into the turf. The impact knocked the
breath out of him and left him stunned just long enough for the ambusher to
get
on top of him and pin him down.
He fought but his opponent was twice his size and had probably forgotten more
dirty tricks than Skif knew. Ruthless, methodical, he made short work of one
young boy. Before he could catch the breath that had been knocked out of him
by
the fall, Skif found himself gagged, his hands tied behind his back, pulled to
his feet, and shoved into one of those two chapels.
The door shut with an ominous brazen clang. Skif's feet were kicked out from
beneath him before he could lash out at his captor, and he went to the floor
like a sack of meal.
There was a rattle of metal, and the shutter of a dark lantern opened. Skif
blinked, eyes watering at the light, as the craggy sell-sword who had bought
so
much information from Jass peered down at him
 Well, well. A trap for a fox I set, and I catch a rabbit, the man said,
looking down at Skif with no humor in his face whatsoever. He wasn't talking
like one of the denizens of Haven's rough streets anymore; he had an accent
that
Skif couldn't place.  Now, why is it, I wonder, that wherever I find Jass,
also
you I find?
Skif glared at him over the gag, daring him to try something. Not that he had
the slightest idea of what he was going to do if the man made a move&
But the man only stooped swiftly, and seized one of Skif's ankles. Kick as
hard
as he could, Skif could do nothing against the man's greater strength; at the
cost of a bump on the head that made him see stars, he gained nothing and
found
himself with both ankles trussed and tied to his wrists, which were in turn
tied
behind his back. Only then did the man take off the gag, taking care not to
let
his hands get within range to be bitten.
He squatted easily beside Skif, sitting on his heels.  I believe it's time
speech we have, you and I, he said, frowning.  And it is that I hope for your
sake that you aren't Jass' errand boy.
He stared hard at Skif for a long time; Skif worked his jaw silently, and
continued to glare at him, although he was beginning to feel a little odd. As
if
there was something messing about inside his head.
So if 'e wants ter talk, why don't 'eget on wi' it? he thought furiously. And
at
that exact moment, the man smiled grimly, and nodded to himself.
 What were you doing here? the sell-sword asked as soon as Skif's mouth was
clear of the threads the cloth had left on his tongue.
 Sleepin'! Skif spat, and snarled in impotent fury. If it hadn't been for
this
bastard, he'd have found out who Jass' employer was! He made up his mind not
to
tell the man one word more than he had to.
 In a cemetery? The man raised one eyebrow.
Skif found angry words tumbling out of his mouth, despite his resolution not
to
talk.  Wha's it matter t you? Or them? They's not gonna care an' it's a damn
sight cooler an' quieter here than anywheres else! Them highborns is all
playin'
out i'country, they ain't gonna know 'f I wuz here!
 You have a point, the man conceded, then his face hardened again.  But why
is
it that you just happen sleeping to be in the same place where Jass goes to
have
a little chat?
 How shud I know? Skif all but wailed.  I drops off, next thing I knows, he's
up there yappin' t' summun an' I wanta know who!
If he'd had his hands free, he'd have clapped both of them over his mouth in
horror. His tongue didn't seem to be under his control what was happening to
him?
 Oh, really? The man's other eyebrow arched toward his hairline.  And why is
that?
 Becuz Jass' the bastid what set th' big fire an' burned me out an' the mun
whut
was with 'im wuz th' mun what paid 'im t' do it! Skif heard himself saying
frantically.  I know'd it, cuz I 'eerd 'im say so! 'Is boss set 'im another
fire
t' start right whiles I was listenin'! An' I wanta know who he is cuz I'm
gonna
get 'im, an' then I'm gonna get Jass, an ,
 Enough. The man held up a sword-callused palm, and Skif found his flood of
angry words cut off again. Just in time, too; there had been tears burning in
his eyes, and he didn't want the man to see them. He blinked hard to drive
them
away, but he couldn't do much about the lump in his throat that threatened to
choke him.
Wut in hell is happenin' to me?
But the man darted out a hand, quick as a snake, and grabbed Skif's shoulder
and
shook it. That hand crushed muscle and bone and hurt
 Now, to me you listen, boy, and engrave my words on your heart you will ,
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