snugged in at Becho’s alley.”
“Good,” Eichan said, and got up from the cot, taking his cloak across his arm.
“You stay here,” he said to Mor-am and Moria. “Use the drop up the way. Keep on
it.”
“You didn’t have to give our names,” Moria said. She trembled with rage, whether
at Eichan or at her brother. “Any objection if we settle that bastard outright?”
“And leave questions unanswered?” Eichan flung on the cloak. He towered,
difficult to conceal if one suspected it was Eichan. “No. We can’t afford that
now. You’ve cost us a safe hole. You live in it. And watch yourselves.”
“There’ll be watchers,” Moria said, hoping that there would.
“Maybe,” said Eichan. “And maybe not.” He followed Dzis back out the door and
pulled it after him. The latch dropped. The lampflame waved shadows round the
walls.
Moria turned round and looked at her brother, a burning stare.
Mor-am shrugged.
“Hang you,” Moria said.
“Oh, that’s not what they do to hawkmasks lately. Not the ones on our trail.”
“You had to go to Becho’s, had to have it, didn’t you? You let someone follow
you, stinking stewed-get off it, hear me? Get off that stuff. It’ll kill you. It
almost did. When the Man gets back-“
“There’s no guarantee he’s coming back.”
“Shut up.” She darted a frantic glance at the door, where one of the others
could still be listening. “You know better than that.”
“So-they got him good this time, and Tem-pus wins. And Eichan goes on pushing
and shoving as if the Man was still-“
“Shut up!”
“Jubal’s not in shape to do anything, is he? They go on hunting hawkmasks in the