shaft of moonlight. The moon reflected off a shaved head. S’kith was no burglar, but he had three times the natural talent that Beywulf had. Keilin called softly as S’kith gathered himself to jump the last gap. The Morkth-man nearly fell off the roof, but a few moments later he came to join them.
“What in hell are you doing here, Morkthy?” Beywulf demanded roughly.
Keilin already knew. “The section below us is calling him, Bey. He probably couldn’t help coming. It is dragging at me, too.”
“Hell’s teeth! A pair of bloody nutters. But you took a chance, S’kith! Cap’ll skin you. And aren’t you too far . . .”
The Morkth-man looked doubtfully at them. “They do not know I have come. And it is not too far. They are less than two hundred yards away, outside the wall. Why do you wait?”
“The lights have only just gone off. We’ve at least half an hour before it will be safe to move.” A strange kind of understanding for S’kith came over Keilin. “Bey. I’ll go in with S’kith. You cover our backs here.”
“Not what the man said,” muttered Beywulf.
“Bugger the man. He’s not here. And face it, Bey. S’kith’s a natural-born sneaker, which you’re not. And if I don’t take him with me he’ll probably go in anyway.”
He could see in the change of set in S’kith’s shoulders that he’d said the right thing. He made another snap decision. “S’kith. Come and huddle in here and help me warm up. I’m cold and I don’t want to sneeze and give us away.” Without a word the muscular, bald-headed man slid in next to them. His arms went around Keilin and he held him, not as a lover might . . . but as a mother might hold a child. Keilin did not know why, but he felt this was something of a profound experience for the strange shaven-headed man. So he put an arm around him, too. They waited