"Ya-h stole ma-h bro'der."
A street rat said from the shadows just behind Artemus.
Honestly, the rat was lucky that Artemus had the restraint to not slit the rat's throat the moment the scruffy man revealed himself, Keepers were quite jumpy outside of the Haven and Artemus was no exception.
The two stared at one another, their lack of words failing to deafen the sound of a raging fire some few streets away. Artemus looked out from beneath the hood that shielded his eyes and face in a shroud of shadow, taking in the street rat's appearance with careful eyes.
He was a younger man, most urchins were, rarely did a squallower die of old age in the city, least of all in times of strife. His clothes were filthy and his skin no cleaner, by the way he was standing, Artemus could guess that this particular rat had been found by a roaming mob recently.
Still… Despite his unfortunate circumstances, the gutter dweller didn't look desperate. Artemus had seen a Graven woman wearing the bloody remnants of a presumably dead wife's wedding dress, and yet the beggar before him had not once so much as glanced at his cloak.
The street rat's eyes were clear and calm, albeit, sunk deep within his skull, his overall appearance gaunt and frail and filthy.
Yet harmless…
The beggar hadn't so much as flinched when Artemus pressed the blade to his throat, Artemus couldn't even be sure the beggar realised just how close to death he currently stood.
"Is 'e well?" The street rat asked quietly as he flashed his empty palms towards Artemus, a clear sign of surrender.
"What?" Artemus asked dumbly, the shock of the beggar's sudden appearance beginning to wane, if only slightly.
"Ma-h bro'der." The urchin repeated; "Ya-h stole ma-h bro'der… Stole 'im right out o'h 'is cradle." The beggar's voice never strayed from quiet, nor did ever an ounce of tone betray the young man's attitude towards the apparent theft of his younger brother…
"I wouldn't know." Artemus whispered in reply as he removed the dagger from the man's throat, displeased to see the edge stained in red, though the man didn't seem to notice the wound.
"Pitty…" The rat spat before he turned away, skulking back into the shadows from which he came.
Artemus watched the man disappear from sight, and for half a moment, he considered following after the beggar.
At the very least, the urchin would have a far easier time navigating the narrow alleys of the city. Though Artemus doubted anyone would know where his son was unless Garrett told them specifically where he was sheltering…
And if Basso didn't know, Artemus could be sure that a lowly rat wouldn't either.
So, the Keeper turned away, skulking onto a main street and heading towards the Stonemarket, away from the raging flame behind him, though unfortunately, towards a rallying mob, their cries and cheers reminiscent of baying wolves as they hunted nobles, guards and imaginary monsters alike.