"What faces?" the boy asked. "Hoods up high and night's too dark, I've seen no faces," the boy said quickly before he was gone.
"You're enjoying yourself," Domenec said. "Stop trying to sound like a deckhand. No one'll believe it, especially when you're being so charitable."
Mervyn only grinned wider and ran a broad hand over his shaved scalp, wiping away the sleet.
"The lad's likely of an age with Cashin," Mervyn said with a frown as he looked in the direction of the harbormaster's office where a dim lantern burned, as if he was waiting to ensure the young boy made it back safely.
"Or Mureal," Mervyn mused. "Boy that age should be apprenticing to a proper master or serving as some knight's squire, not lingering here, on an isle of murderers and thieves."
