“Your call sign is old,” she remarked.
“I’ve been away for a long time.” I paid an extra coin. “I will catch up with you soon, Beatta. But our errand is urgent. I’ll come back with him tonight.”
She weighed the coin in her hand. “Best cover your friend’s face better, then.” She went into a box, pulled out a shirt and a thin cloak. Only minor bloodstains on each.
“See, I remembered that you were smart.” I paid her for them. Khal did not look natural in this get-up, but we only hadto move to the slum by the Low Tower, and the dark was already upon us.
Khal kept scanning the street, the buildings, stopping at crossroads on the narrow paths, craning his neck at the twisting shapes leaning out above us. I caught his arm. “You’re going to draw attention if you keep staring,” I murmured. The streets were only dotted with people, nothing like the crush of earlier in the day or the mash that would be near the gambling halls, but there was space for someone to be sharp enough, someone to notice. “Looking out of place here is like bleeding in the forest. You draw predators fast.”
He took the hand that I offered, and followed after me. There were so many shadows in the dying light; it was impossible to know if we were already followed.
Things got louder as we approached the warrens, the leaning buildings gnawed through with so many tunnels and doors a fleeing suspect would be near impossible to catch. My mind traced the doors, the windowsills, the rooftops. Something was off, something shifted. It took too many seconds to realize I was taller.
“There,” I said. “Tipping House. The Mongoose should be there.”
Walking in the door was like stepping into a memory.
It was so dark, and smelled of rushes and damp, of the greasy rag lamp at the front counter. There were piles of things, broken chairs, sealed crates, bent plows. Ostensibly a second hand shop, this place felt more like home than anywhere I’d been in the last eleven years of my life. It felt like a weight fell off my shoulders, like I could almost forget the impending goodbye. I’d be okay now. I’d be okay, I’d-
“Todderick,” I called out. “A rat has come back to the nest.”
But the face behind the counter wasn’t Todderick.
I frowned at the mess of sandy-brown hair. “Prescott?”
He spread his arms. He was taller than he’d been, more meaton his shoulders. A shade of an attempted beard sculpted his neck and jaw, though it failed at the mustache. “The same. But I don’t know your face, and it is a shame to forget such a face as yours.”
“Well, it’s been some time.” I searched his eyes. Goodness, he’d actually grown. He’d been such a wilting candle of a boy. “You don’t look like so much of a drowned weasel as before.”
His back stiffened, then- “Rewy?” He barked out a laugh. “Gods and monsters, it is you! I thought you were gone and dead.”
“So did I. It’s been a passel of stories, but right now I need a favor.” I gestured Khal forward. “My friend needs a health potion. Please tell me something has fallen off a cart.”
He looked at Khal. “Rue…times are tight on such things. If your friend is still on his feet, I know a healer on 4th street, not cheap but still cheaper…”
“It’s not for him. Our patient is more urgent.” I nodded to Khal, and he brought out his purse, hesitant, set it on the counter. “We can pay.”
Prescott opened the purse, poured out the coin. Silver spread across the surface. “This is nice,” he said. “But I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Our last potion was reserved by a noble in the lower quarter. I can’t offend such a customer.” He pushed the money back towards us. “Perhaps, if you could visit a church?—"
“There isn’t time,” I said. “Surely you could think of a way to put off one little noble? This istwo month’swages.”
“Rue, you haven’t been around.” His eyes were flat. “Things are not so simple here anymore.”
“I’ve seen ledgers, Prescott. This is almost the price you’d pay sending to the Tower. You won’t do better than this.”
His eyebrows rose a hair. “Fascinating story,” he said. “So why are you traveling with an orc?”
"That's a story for a time when no one's dying."
He smiled, and it didn't touch his eyes. "Someone's always dying, Rue."
I reached into my waist pouch, and found Thea's comb. "What about this?"
Prescott masked his reaction quickly, but it didn't matter. I'd seen the hunger in his eyes. "I knew our Rue had clever fingers, but I didn't know you were robbing noblewomen."
"It was a gift."
"Sure."
