"Sorry. Think I'll stand here after all. Maybe you'll change your living aftertonight; maybe you'll slip me after this. So I'll have my say here-"

"Have it inside." A second figure stepped into the alley out of the darkdoorway, and the voice was female. "Come on in. But go first."

He thought about it. The pair of them stood in front of him. "One of you get alight going in there."

The second figure vanished, and in a moment a dim light flared, casting a faintglow on the youth outside. Mradhon calculated his chances, slipped his own knifeinto its sheath and went, with a prickling sensation at his nape-a short step upto the floor with the man at his back, a flash of the eye about the single room,the tattered faded curtain at the end that could conceal anything; the woman; asingle cot this side, clothing hung on pegs, water jugs, pots and pan-.nikinsset on a misshapen brick firepit at the right on the rim of which the lamp sat.The woman was the finer image of the man, dark hair cropped close as his, liketwins-brother and sister at least. He turned. The brother shut the door behindhim with a push of his foot.

"Mama Becho's," the brother said. "That was where you were."

"You're Jubal's man," Mradhon said and ignored the knife to walk over to thewall nearest the clothes, where a halfwall jutted out to shield his back fromthe curtain. "Still Jubal's man, I'm guessing, and I'm looking for hire."

"You're crazy. Out. There's nothing for you here."

"Not so easy." He saw one cloak on the pegs. The man wore one. There was someclothing, not abundant. He fingered the cloak, letting them follow his train ofthought, and looked at them again, folded his arms and leaned back against thewall. "So Jubal's got troubles, and maybe he's in the market. I work cheap-tostart. Room and board. Maybe your man can't support anything more right now. Buttimes change. And I'm willing to ride through this-difficulty. Better days mightcome. Mightn't they? For all of us."

The woman made a quiet move that took her to the side. She sat down on the cot,and that put their hands on different levels, at different angles to his vision.He recognized the stalking and the angle the man occupied between him and thedoor, the curtain at his shoulder, so he moved again a couple of paces along thewall, slipped his hands both into his belt (but the one not far from his knife)and shrugged with a wry twist of his mouth.

"I tell you I work cheap," he said, "to start."

"There's no hire," the man said.

"Oh, there has to be," Mradhon said softly, "otherwise you wouldn't like myleaving here at all, and I've walked in here in good faith. It's your pick, youunderstand, how it goes from here. An introduction to your man, a little earnestcoin-"

"He's dead," the woman said, and shook his faith in his own bluff. "Thehawkmasks are all like us-looking for employ."

"Then you'll find it. I'll throw in with you- partners, you, me, the rest ofyou."

"Sure," the man said, and scowled. "You've got the stink of hire about youalready. What coin? The prince's?"

Mradhon forced a laugh and leaned back again. "Not likely. Not likely the HellHounds or any of that ilk. My last hire turned sour, and a post in the guard-no.Not with your complexion-or mine. Your man, now-So he and you are lying low awhile, and maybe I've got reasons for doing the same. There are people I don'twant to meet. No better service I can think of-than a man who might be buildingback from a little difficulty. Don't give me that. Jubal's gone to cover. Word'saround. But one of those hawkmasks might suit me . . . keeping my face out ofthe sight of two or three."

"I'm afraid you're out of luck."

"No," the woman said, "I think we ought to talk about it."

Mradhon frowned, trusting her less, liking it not at all that it was the womanthat took that twist, that looked at him from the cot and tried to demand hisattention away from her brother? cousin? with a quiet, incisive voice.

Then the curtain moved, and a darkskinned man in a hawkmask stood there with asword aimed floorward in his hand. "We talk," the man said, and Mradhon's heart,which had leapt several beats while his fingers, obeying previous decision,stayed still... began to beat again.

"So," Mradhon said cockily enough, "I was wondering when the rest of us wouldget into it. Look-I'm short of funds ... a little bit for earnest, so I canreckon I'm hired. I'm particular about that."

"Mercenary," the young man said.

"Once," Mradhon said. "The guard and I came to a parting of the ways. It's thisskin of mine."

"You're not Ilsigi," said the mask.

"Half." It was a lie. It served, when it was convenient.

"You mean," the youth said, "your mother really knew."

Heat flamed up in Mradhon's face. He gripped the knife and let it go again."When you know me better," Mradhon said softly, "I'll explain it all . . . howwomen know."

"Cut it," the woman said. She tucked her feet up within her arms.

"What would it take," the hawkmask said, "for you to consider yourself hired?"

Mradhon looked at the man, his heart pounding again. He sat down on the edge ofthe firepit, making himself easy when his instincts were all otherwise. Hethought of something exorbitant, remembered the hawkmasks' fallen fortunes."Maybe a silver bit-Maybe some names, too."

"Maybe you don't need them," the hawkmask said.

"I want to know who I'm dealing with. What the deal is for."

"No. Mor-am; Moria; they'll deal with you. You'll have to take your ordersthere-Does that gall you?"

"Not particularly," Mradhon said, and that too was a lie. "As long as themoney's regular."

"So you knew Mor-am's face."

"From across the river. From days before the trouble. I dealt with a man namedStecho."

"Stecho's dead."

The tone put a wind down his nape. He shrugged. "So, well, I suspect a lot werelost."

"Stabbed. On the street. Tempus' games. Or someone's. These are hard times. Vis.Yes, we've lost a few of us. Possibly someone talked. Or someone knew a face. Wedon't wear the masks outside, Vis. Not now. You don't talk in your sleep, doyou, Vis?"

"No."

"Where lodging?"

"Becho's."

"If," the voice grew softer still, difficult, for its timbre, "if there were aslip, we would know. You see, it's your first job to keep Mor-am and Moria safe.If anything should happen to the two names you knew-well, we'd suspect, I'mafraid, that you'd made some kind of mistake. And the end of that would be verybad. I can't describe enough-how bad. But that won't happen; I know you'll takegood care. Go back to your lodgings. For now, go there. We'll see about later."

"How long?" Mradhon asked tautly, not favoring this threatening and believingevery word of it. "Maybe I should move in here-to keep an eye on them."

"Out," said Mor-am.

"Money," Mradhon said.

"Moria," the hawkmask said.

The woman uncurled from the cot, fished a bit from the purse she wore andoffered it to him.

He took it, snatched it from her fingers without a look, and strode for thedoor. Mor-am got out of his way and he opened it, stepped out into the foul windand the dark and the reek of the alley, and walked, out onto the main way again.

Doubtless one of them would follow him. His mind seethed with possibilities, andmurder was one. -For less than the silver, any one of them would kill. He sensedthat. But there was the chance too that the hire was real: their casualties werereal, and they could not get too many offers now.

He padded as quickly as he could toward his own territory down the main road,down which the last few stragglers moved, homeless and searching, muddle-minded,some, which kleetel left of one when its use had been too long; or moving withpurpose it was unwise to stare at. He strode along in a world of faceless shapesand lightless buildings, everything anonymous as himself. Hooves sounded in thedark, moving in haste, and in a moment the streets were clear, himself among thelurkers that hid along the alleys: a. quartet of riders passed toward thebridge, Stepsons, Tempus' men. They were gone in a moment and life poured backonto the street.