Tycho looked at Atilo’s page. The boy was growing, his shoulders were broadening. Training with Atilo had put muscle on his slight frame. Lady Desdaio obviously saw to it he was properly fed. “Your master knows you’re here?” The boy stopped, shuffled his feet for a second and resumed walking. Tycho took that as a no. Lord Atilo didn’t know where he was. “Lady Desdaio knows.” “She does?” Pietro nodded fiercely, devotion in his eyes. “She said not to trouble the master with my every move.” As an apprentice assassin, the boy had every second Saturday of the month off. Tycho should have realised he’d find Pietro waiting at his door as evening fell. “Anyway. My lord is busy in Council.” Pietro sounded proud to be serving a member of the Ten, as well he might. It was a major step up for a street boy. One Tycho had made happen earlier that spring. He had the boy’s friendship whether he wanted it or not. “He’s considering Sigismund’s proposal?” “Indeed. My lord is barely home.”
