Free Masques of Gold by Roberta Gellis Page A

for stealing too.
    The food was good. Hubert cracked a bone, sucked on the marrow, and threw the pieces out into the road where two dogs, darting from a side alley, promptly fell on them, snarling and snapping, until a passerby kicked them and they fled in different directions. Slowly Hubert’s mind, which had been distracted by amusement as he watched the dogs fight, returned to the question of why William had been in such a hurry to be rid of him. Why could he not have joined the guards in their meal, for example, if William did not want the daughter to see him?
    Hubert still had made no sense of the problem when William came out of the house some time later, but considering it had sparked enough caution in him to prevent him from calling out to his friend. He rose from the stool and followed, his longer, faster stride slowly narrowing the distance between them. They were again near William’s house when he laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. This time, although William turned swiftly, he did not start or grow pale.
    â€œThe news is good and bad,” he said. “Let me get a bite to eat and we will go. I had no chance to search the workshop, of course, and any hope of profit is gone. The sons loaded Flael’s strongboxes in the cart and made off with them—and my idiot daughter did nothing to stop them. However, some good has come of that. The sons are being sought by Justin FitzAilwin.”
    Hubert grunted, being familiar with Justin, who occasionally did business with his master. But since he did not understand how he could profit in any way from the sons being found by Sir Justin, who would take good care that the strongboxes were not available to any unauthorized person, what he said was, “Why did you send me away?”
    William no longer ground his teeth when Hubert asked him a question. The years had taught him patience—and that he must limit his contempt to remarks Hubert could not understand. He had once gone too far and been knocked down and kicked, like a misbehaving dog. Besides, in this case where money was involved, he had to be sure that Hubert did not, by accident, transmit any ideas to FitzWalter that could inspire even a flicker of doubt.
    â€œBecause,” he murmured, stretching upward to speak directly into Hubert’s ear, “if you stayed, we would have had to give your name, and once your name was known, someone would remember that you are sworn to FitzWalter. Do you think your master wishes to be connected in any way to Peter de Flael, who is suddenly and most strangely dead?”
    Hubert shook his head, but he still did not understand how anyone could connect Flael’s death to him or through him to FitzWalter, and he said so. William’s explanations continued right through dinner, once he had made sure no one in his house could overhear Hubert’s unguarded voice. Toward the middle of the meal, if he had had the courage, he would have stuck his eating knife in Hubert’s eye in frustration. However, by the time he had finished eating and they were on their way to FitzWalter’s house, which was perched somewhat forlornly on the mound where Baynard’s Castle had once stood, he had got across the point that Hubert must not tell his master he had been near Flael’s house since he dropped the corpse there, and he must not go there again, unless specifically bidden to do so by FitzWalter.
    ***
    Lissa had been wakened suddenly by a voice, the most familiar and least loved in the world, making a demand she did not at once understand. For a moment the whole of the past six weeks were wiped from her mind and she was once again in her own home, fallen asleep before the fire as she sometimes did after a particularly busy day. She sat up, rubbed her aching neck, frowned crossly and said, “Whatever do you want, father? Can it not wait—”
    Her voice checked abruptly as her eyes took in a room lit by daylight and different