Pathfinder (Pathfinder 1)

Up in their room, the first bath was waiting, and Loaf ordered Umbo to strip off and use the water. “And the soap. And scrub everything twice, you filthy mud eel.”

As Umbo stripped, he said, “Aren’t you going to thank me for warning you to hold your tongue, and save us both a beating?”

“I’m not,” said Loaf, lying down on the floor.

“Why are you lying on the floor when there’s a bed right there?” asked Umbo.

“Because after my bath I’ll want to get into a clean bed,” said Loaf.

“If you won’t thank me for my warning, you don’t deserve a clean bed,” said Umbo.

“First, it wasn’t you who warned me,” said Loaf, “it was a future version of you that now will never exist. Second, you probably only did it because future-me told you to, so I thank myself. Third, as far as I could see the only person who got a beating was future-you; I’ll wager that future-me didn’t have a mark on him, and I only sent you back to give warning because the taverner threw us out and I didn’t want the bother of changing rooms.”

“You’re lucky I don’t come back in time and pee on you as you lie there on the floor.”

“No doubt you’re peeing in your own bath instead,” said Loaf.

“Why? Is that the custom here in the big city?”

“Scrub harder.”

Next morning, they ate a fine breakfast, though Umbo realized they couldn’t live in this style forever. Months, yes—they had plenty of money for a few months. But what if Rigg didn’t notice them, or couldn’t get out of the house he was in?

“I think we need to hold a council of war,” Loaf announced.

“If by that you mean we need to figure what we’re going to do,” said Umbo, “I’m with you.”

“On the one hand,” said Loaf, “we could go looking for Rigg. But that seems to me to be a dangerous course—at least if that’s the only thing we’re doing, and it’s the first thing we do after entering the city. I’d rather be busy at something else, and along the way pick up information about what house the royals live in, and whether he’s in the same one as the rest.”

“That was one good thing about last night’s ruckus,” said Umbo. “We found out for sure that Rigg is in the city and alive, even if some people aren’t happy about it.”

“We found out for sure that people think he’s in the city and think he’s alive,” said Loaf. “But it’s better than not knowing anything at all.”

“So what other business can we be after?” asked Umbo.

“Do you happen to remember the banking house to which Rigg’s letter of credit was addressed?”

Umbo thought back. “That was a long time ago, and Rigg was doing all the talking.”

“I just wondered if you were doing any of the listening.”

“Were you?” asked Umbo.

“I heard the name, and I might know it again, but I’m three times your age or more, and my brain is worn out and full up. I don’t have much room to tuck new things square inside. They just cling to the outside for a while and drop off.”

“There was Longwater . . .”

“Longwater and Longwater,” said Loaf. “But that was the house that discounted Mr. Cooper’s notes.”

“If you remember so well—”

“It’s the name that I forgot,” said Loaf. “Try again.”

“Potatery and Sons.”

“Almost,” said Loaf. “But it’s still

not right.”