‘Unlikely!’ Mungo scoffed. ‘Whatever Shadowspawn’s last venture was, it was
profitable. He’s been spending freely and often, so it’s unlikely he’ll be
looking for more work. My guess would be they’re arguing over a woman. They each
fancy themselves to be a gift from the gods to womankind.’
‘You seem to be well informed,’ Jubal commented, impressed anew with the boy’s
knowledge.
‘One hears much in the streets.’ Mungo shrugged. ‘The lower one’s standing is,
the more important information is for survival… and few are lower than my
friends and I.’
Jubal pondered this as the boy led the way past Shambles Cross. Perhaps he had
overlooked a valuable information source in the street children when he built
his network of informers. They probably would not hear much, but there were so
many of them. Together they might be enough to confirm or quash a rumour.
‘Tell me, Mungo,’ he called to his guide. ‘You know I pay well for information,
don’t you?’
‘Everyone knows that.’ The urchin turned into the Maze and skipped lightly over
a prone figure, not bothering to see if the man were asleep or dead.
‘Then why is it that none of your friends come to me with their knowledge?’
Jubal stepped carefully over the obstacle and cast a wary glance about. Even in
broad daylight, the Maze could be a dangerous place for a lone traveller.
‘We street-rats are close,’ Mungo explained over his shoulder. ‘Even closer than
the bazaar people or the S’danzo. Shared secrets lose their value, so we keep
them for ourselves.’
Jubal recognized the wisdom in the urchin’s policy, but it only heightened his