“We’ve only had two of the sleepers: a man and a boy,” the priestess told him. “But the bluecoats came and took them.”
Seregil clung to Micum’s arm as they made their way out and down the street. When they were well out of sight of the temple he straightened up and carefully patted his face dry with a corner of his shawl, so as not to disturb the cosmetics of his disguise.
“Just as you thought,” Alec said softly. “Now what?”
“We keep hunting,” Seregil murmured back, slipping his arm through Micum’s like a wife out with her husband.
They continued on, wandering down squalid side streets edged with offal and full of dirty children playing with whatever they could find. One had found a rusty barrel hoop and was rolling it down the street with a stick. Micum caught it as it rolled by.
“Hey, give it!” the boy cried, seizing up a stone from the muddy street and cocking his arm to throw.
Micum grinned. “Just want to ask you a question, boy. The answer’s worth a penny and your hoop back.”
The boy sidled closer, as did several of his playmates. They all had rocks.
“We’re lookin’ for raven folk,” Micum told him.
“What you want with ’em?” the boy demanded.
“What do you care? Or don’t you want my money?”
The boy lowered his arm. “Yeah, we seen ’em around. I traded one for a yellow stone, but I lost it.”
Just as well, thought Seregil, wondering if that might save the child. “Who did you trade with, dearie?”
“Yellow-headed fellow on a crutch.”
“Where was this?”
“Over near the Ring wall, end of Barrow Lane.”
“Have you seen any others?” asked Alec, pulling off a reasonably feminine voice.
The boy shrugged. “There’s an old woman, and a blond-headed young feller. Seen ’em around here and there.”
“When did you last see one of them?” asked Micum.
The boy consulted with his comrades.
“I seen the woman yesterday,” one of the taller boys replied.
“And I seen the woman, over by the nail maker’s stall,” a ragged young girl put in.
“Me too, me too!” several others clamored, and Seregil guessed that most of them were lying in hopes of a penny.
Micum handed out coins all around and gave the boy back his hoop. The children darted away like a flock of dingy swallows.
“Think it was money well spent?” asked Alec as they walked on.
Seregil smiled. “At least a few of them were telling the truth. We know about the old man and old woman. And I’ve heard rumors of younger ones.”
“If your wizard woman was right, then shouldn’t the ravens be Zengati?” asked Micum. “A ‘blond-headed feller’ doesn’t sound right. And chances are at least some of the children would have seen a Zengati trader or two to know the difference.”
“You probably don’t have to be Zengati to practice Zengati magic, though,” said Alec. “So, where to first?”
“Let’s split up for a while,” Seregil replied. “I’ll go over by the Ring wall. Micum, you check out the nail maker. Alec, try the marketplace a few streets over.” He glanced up at the sinking sun. “If you find one, just follow them. I’ll meet you back here when the sun touches the rooftops. If you don’t come back, I’ll find you.”
But either all the children had been lying, or the ravens had already moved on again, for Seregil found the other two waiting for him at the appointed time, equally empty-handed.
They set off again early the following day, picking up a few hopeful reports of sightings and trades over the course of the morning, but not finding their quarry.
At noon they stopped to rest in the shade and eat their meager meal of sausage and bread. They were nearly finished when Seregil halted mid-bite, looking intent as a hound who’d gotten a scent. A tall, dark-haired swordsman was crossing the street near the end of the block.
“That’s him!” Seregil murmured. “He got a good look at me in this getup, though. You two take the lead and I’ll keep out of sight until you need me.”
As they started off to track the tall swordsman, Micum gave Alec his arm as he had Seregil, so as to attract less attention. Strolling along, they mingled in the afternoon crowd and stayed just close enough to keep their mark in sight. Presently the man paused at a small knot of people, children mostly, all clamoring around a stooped old woman with a long nose and stringy grey hair. She wore a shapeless tunic over a striped skirt, and a belt from which hung the sort of things Kepi and the Mycenian woman had noted.
“That’s got to be her,” whispered Alec, looking around for the swordsman. He stood a little way off, seemingly paying no attention to the commotion.
As they watched, the old woman smiled and laughed with the children, and made her odd trades for valueless things. Among her wares were a few of the yellow stones like the one Alec had seen before, and something she claimed were dragon’s milk teeth. As much as he wanted to get a closer look, he knew better than to make a trade, given Thero’s concerns about such items.
So instead he and Micum waited until she was done and toddled off, then continued to follow her at a distance. There was no sign of the tall man now, and Alec inwardly berated himself for not keeping a closer eye on him.
“Did you see which way he went?” he whispered to Micum.
“No. The bastard slipped off when I wasn’t looking. Do you think he spotted us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Seregil is trailing him.”
Just then the old woman turned down a side street. Micum and Alec hurried to the corner in time to see her disappear down another side street. The crowd was thinner here, and they had to hang back a bit more. By the time they reached the second turning, there was no sign of her or the man in the nearly empty street. Tenements leaned over them, any one of which the woman could have entered.
An old man sat across the unpaved street smoking a pipe.
“Did you see an old woman come by here?” asked Micum. “My mother has wandered off again.”
“The mad woman with the things on her belt?” the old fellow asked.
“Yes, that’s her.”
The man pointed the stem of his pipe across the street at a two-story tenement. “That one there, with the blue door. I seen her here before, you know.”
“She’s a slippery one,” Micum said with a laugh. “At least now I know where she gets off to. Many thanks, old father. Come along, Sana.”
He gave Alec a wink and they went to the house in question and tried the latch. It was not locked, and opened into a small entrance area with a stairway leading up to the rooms. On the second floor they found most of the doors open-the occupants tried to encourage a sea breeze to dissipate the stale funk of the place. There was no sign of their woman, so they hurried up to the next floor, where things were much the same.
A one-eyed young tough with a bandage covering half his face and hair that might have been the same color as Alec’s if it were ever washed lounged in a doorway at the end of the corridor. “What’s the hurry, friends?”
“I’m looking for an old woman who just came in,” Micum told him. “Grey hair, bits and bobs hanging from her belt.”
“I know who you mean. The old raven woman, right?”
Alec hid his excitement as he asked, “Does she live here?”
The man gave him a measuring look and a slanted grin. “What’s it worth to you, missy?”
Alec reached into the little purse at his belt and took out a copper.
“That the best you can do?” the tough asked derisively.
Micum handed him another. “We’re poor folk. Please, won’t you help us?”
The man pocketed the money. “She lives below, third door on the left.”
“Much obliged,” Micum said, and followed Alec back downstairs.
Atre breathed a sigh of relief as Alec and his companion disappeared down the stairs. Brader stepped out from the empty room he’d hidden in.
“Now, that was very interesting,” Atre murmured, scratching under the bandage.
“How so?”
“Unless I’m very much mistaken, that was young Lord Alec under that kerchief and dirt and that forced falsetto. Seems he’s more of an actor than he let on.”