his mind where he tucked coincidences, was Cappen’s presence that morning. But
Cappen had been in the game too, like Mradhon Vis and Sjekso; and Cappen had get
off with some profit, as Cappen usually did.
Cappen bought him a drink; and that was uncommon, that Cappen had that much to
spare. But it was in Cappen’s nature to play the lord and throw about what he
had.
Cappen had ducked out of the Unicorn a scant moment before the blind man came,
having assured Hanse’s presence there with that drink… but that then circled
the matter back to Yorl, where it made least sense.
Hanse forbore another glance over his shoulder, reckoning that even Cappen’s
unskilled stalking might pick that up. He kept his attention towards the pair in
front of him, kept moving where necessary – watched them reach the steps and
both of them start up the stairs towards the lady’s lodgings, without any
exchanged movement which might mean the passing of the loot.
Now … now while the noise of the creaking stairs gave him sound to rely on in
tracking them – he had his chance, and took it, a path he had marked out that
afternoon. He carefully set his hands on a barrel, levered himself up into a
tuck and sought the next level of debris, noiselessly, one after the other,
holding his breath as one foothold rocked and the next proved stable.
He made the roof as the pair made the door and opened it; he edged along it with
the greatest care – a wooden roof at least, and not the tiles some fancied
uptown. Even now he would have preferred to be rid of the boots and to go