Skate laughed. “I didn’t know there were any busking wizards.”
“There aren’t many. It’s considered by most who study the discipline to be a waste of the power and scholarship of magic, to turn what should be esteemed and high-minded pursuits into a crass entertainment stream. It doesn’t bother me; after all, a person’s got to eat, and it can be hard to get food in your belly with nothing but the knowledge, however vast and impressive, in your head about history, art, literature, religious doctrine, or the like.”
It had never occurred to Skate that there could be hungry wizards. People with such skill always found work for those who appreciated their abilities, or so the thinking went. “I don’t blame them either.”
Belamy nodded. “That’s because you’ve lived it. You’ve been hungry. Most who study magic never have been. It’s not an area that’s easy for the unfed to get into. A man like Gherun has never had to deal with want, and his opinions on such matters are far less charitable than yours. He’s not a cruel man, but his mercies are limited by his experiences.”
Skate thought about that for a few moments. “You told me he inherited most of his money.” Belamy nodded. “He’s never been hungry.” More silence, and a confirming shake. “I don’t like him.”
“I didn’t think you would. But he is a friend, Skate. When you decide to take from him, I expect you to honor your promise not to hurt anyone you borrow from on my account.”
Skate rolled her eyes and nodded. “I don’t just go off and hurt people I don’t like.”
Belamy raised an eyebrow. “You stabbed an old man once, as I recall.”
“An old man who couldn’t even feel what I’d done.”
“You didn’t know that at the time.”
“I didn’t do it because I didn’t like you! I didn’t even know you. I only did that—on accident, mind you—because I was afraid.”
“I know.” His tone was gentle, but his eyes were iron. “What I’m telling you is, if for any reason you fear similarly around Gherun, I need you to remember that you made a promise.”
Skate rolled her eyes again. “Fine, I promise to remember my promise.”
Belamy smiled. “That’s all I ask. Shall we begin your lesson for the evening?”
“Yeah.” She continued up to her room, where Rattle was already floating with a piece of chalk in its claws.
The next half hour passed quickly, with the first part of the time spent on recognition of letters, and the next part spent on practicing writing them. Belamy did little, only occasionally offering bits of advice like “Your first line of that should be longer,” or “That takes two strokes, not three.” For most of the lesson, he simply listened and read. It was not until Skate’s eyes had begun to droop with exhaustion that he closed his book and joined Rattle and Skate at the desk.
“You’ve done very well, to have learned so much in just a week. It’s not often I’ve had a student with such a willingness to work and ability to learn so quickly.”
“How many students have you had?”
“Never mind that,” he said as he smiled and tapped her chalkboard. “I had an interesting conversation while you were gone this evening.”
“Oh yeah? What about?”
“You.”
Sweat immediately broke out along the palms of her hands, which she nervously wiped on the nice new coat she’d taken off and set across her legs. “Yeah? Who you talking to that knows me?”
“I think you only met him once, don’t worry. He lives in my library.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She assumed the man in the ball had taken the opportunity to talk to Belamy; he had seemed very concerned that Belamy should know about the discussion from him. “What’d he say?”
“He mentioned your interest in the books in the room, and the fact that he’s the one who instigated the conversation, as well as the effort to withhold information about it from me—”
“Now hold on.” Her sweaty palms were now clenched into fists. She wondered why she was so nervous about this, when she knew she had not done anything wrong in the first place by talking to the strange man. “I wasn’t withholding anything—”
Belamy patted the air to reassure her. “I know, that’s not what I meant. I mean that he asked you not to tell me about it, and you politely obliged.”
“Because he was going to do it himself.”
“Yes.”
“And he did.”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched out, broken only by Rattle taking the board from Skate and tossing it into the interior of the desk. Its task complete, it left the room with the gentle thud of the shutting door.
“Who is he?”
“A guest.”
“In a ball?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he can’t get out. So I give him a place with a view, and Rattle lets him read when he can.”
“Does he have a name?”
Belamy nodded. “Petre. Petre Hangman.”
“He’s a hangman?”
“His father was, and his father before him. He’s not sure how far back the family business goes. He never took up the trade.”
“How did he end up in the ball?”
“He was imprisoned there by magic.” Belamy shook his head. “It is dangerous to cross wizards, Skate, and our friend Petre did so. The ball was the wizard’s punishment for his crimes.”
Skate was a little taken aback but not too concerned. How many thieves did she know who got caught on the job and done in for their trouble, after all? “I guess he’s lucky the wizard didn’t kill him.”
“I don’t think Petre would share your assessment,” he said with a half-smile. “Anyway, I brought all of this up to let you know you’re free to talk with him whenever you want. Just be careful not to drop him; if his ball breaks, it will be the death of him.”
Skate nodded and stood, draping her coat across the back of her chair. Belamy took his book with him out the door.
“Hey!”
The old man stopped and turned to face her.
“What did he steal, anyway? From the wizard.”
“Oh, he didn’t steal anything. He was put in there for murder.” Belamy left then, leaving Skate alone with the information.
More snow was falling outside the window. It would be a foot thick by morning.
Chapter 11
In which a disguise is employed, a plan is altered, and something explodes.
“You’ll need to stay here,” Skate explained to Rattle, “and wait for me to open up the window. It’ll be that middle one on the very top.” It was still snowing, and snow was piled thick all along the road, save for a narrow strip that had been carved out diligently by the servants of the wealthy residents of the neighborhood to allow the passage of small wagons and carriages. In the small alley that the two crouched in across from Gherun’s home, it was not so bad; the buildings’ overhanging roofs had kept most of the snow out.
Rattle looked in the direction of her pointing finger and clicked once, which Skate took as confirmation of understanding.