"Jet emptied out the base this morning. Told almost everyone to stay away and lay low for a few days." The younger elf looks at me with troubled eyes. "I was hoping maybe you could tell me what was going on? Does this have something to do with your business yesterday? If something went wrong, why did Jet reward you?"

I shake my head in frustration. This kid is as raw as a fishgutter's fingers.

"Stupid punk. If Jet wanted you to know, he would have told you himself, wouldn't he?"

I am not enough of a monster to kill the messenger boy for violating protocol by coming to my place when not directed by Jet. Or for asking about what is going on. Jet might, though. And if he does, that's his business. So if Triel is telling the truth, he won't die at my hand. But is he?

I've heard that the human patricians have intricate rules and manners for their interactions with each other, and shades of respect and authority determined by the relative position of the parties. Here in Elftown, we aren't like that. We are fairly egalitarian. When everyone is lower than dirt, there isn't much use for manners and honorifics. But when you belong to an organization like Jet's there are a few rules, necessary for security. And these rules should have been impressed heavily on Triel when he joined. I learned them my first day.

Unfortunately for Triel, he seems rather oblivious to their application. That doesn't bode well for him. If he cannot conform his conduct to Jet's expectations, he won't last long.

But it is another possibility that has me worried. Maybe he knows exactly what he is doing. Maybe the information he seeks is important enough to someone else for him to risk the rules violations. Maybe he is a spy for one of the other bosses or, even worse, the humans. If that's the case, he dies now. But if the humans are willing to pay powerful sorcerers to gain information in occult rituals, they probably don't need this elf. As a backup spy, he looks a little weak. That could be a feigned appearance of weakness, though.

I think about how to figure it out for a few minutes while he stands motionless under the threat of my blade but fail to come up with anything. Triel makes no move for his own dagger. Smart. Spy or not, this kid is a distraction I don't need. For now, I just need to get rid of him. I will pass my concerns on to Jet and leave it at that.

His coming here without orders makes me angry, though. If I were prudent, I would get a new place. But that might be a bit premature. As it is, I will need to move for a couple days at least. And I probably better do it soon.

"How much?" I ask roughly.

"How much what?" asks the messenger, nervously.

"How much for the bread?"

"Oh," he says. "Two."

I lower my blade and back away. He looks relieved, but still wary. I sheath my blade, reach into a pouch, and toss him the two coppers. He catches one, but the other one falls jangling to the floor like a chip of scale knocked off a dragon. The messenger kneels, retrieving it.

"Thank you for getting the bread and light for me," I say. "You will go now. And if you ever come back again without direct orders from Jet or me, I will cut you deeper than that scratch on your neck. If you ever tell anyone where I live, I will kill you."

Triel starts to speak. I shake my head curtly, and he closes his mouth and moves to the door.

On his way out, his body shielded by the door, he mutters resentfully.

"Enturi was right about you."

"Oh, really? What did he say?"

The young messenger shoots me an unfriendly glance.

"That if I knew what was good for me, I would stay away from you."

He slips out, closing the door behind him. Yeah, he probably should have listened to the pretty boy's advice. Though, come to think on it, who made Enturi my gateguard? What business is it of his, anyway?

I sit on the edge of the bed and eat while I think of what to do next. I am going to break into the olive oil warehouse tonight, as long as there is no sign that it is occupied. The elves I heard last night can't be collecting the slum's dead every night. Even if few people are out at night, those scuttlers are hard to miss. I haven't heard any rumors of walking dead or magic crabs taking over the Elftown nights. So maybe I can get inside and see what is going on in there.

But that is work best undertaken in the dark of night under the pounding mantle of the rains. Right now, I have some time to kill. And a pouch full of gold and silver coins to spend. As soon as this stinking morning rain stops.