Malden’s shock could not be overestimated. “I—I—ah—yes,” he finally said, simply glad to change the subject, not thinking overmuch on what he said. “But—how did you know?”

“You’ve combed your hair!” Elody said, exploding in laughter.

Malden reached up and touched his short hair. It was true he’d groomed himself before heading out that morning. He’d wanted to look presentable when he turned over the crown. It did not occur to him that he had done so thinking that he would see Cythera again, but—

“It’s nothing,” he protested. “She’s a beauty, and far beyond what I might hope to attain. I’ve done nothing but make a fool of myself when I’m around her. Surely she’s not interested.”

“Some women like that,” Elody told him. “But I can see your discomfort talking on this, so I’ll let it be. For now. Tell me, Malden, why you’ve really come here,” she said, a sparkle in her eye. He knew he hadn’t heard the last of this. “I know you aren’t here just for advice on love.”

He set his cup on the ground and looked up at a shriveled lemon hanging from a branch above him. “I’m looking for someone. Either of two people, actually—a man and a woman.”

“We’ve plenty of the latter, to meet all requirements,” Elody japed.

He smiled and looked her in the eye. “How much of this place does Cutbill own?” he asked. He still wished to keep the master of thieves as far out of the job as he could manage, just as Cythera and Bikker had asked.

“That scrawny weevil? None,” she insisted.

“In truth?”

Elody sighed. “You know we’re not the finest house, nor the most lucrative. Truth be told, we’ve fallen on hard times, Malden. Cutbill could buy this place ten times over, doors, windows, coneys and all, and not feel the pinch. He never made so much as an offer. He steers clear of us because he doesn’t want to absorb our debts.”

Malden nodded understandingly. “I’m not sure if the people I’m looking for were ever clients of yours . . . or of any woman plying the trade. But perhaps you’ve heard tell of them.” That was the third great talent of the harlots: they heard things. Men were famous for talking in moments of extreme relaxation. The working girls tended to share the juicier bits of gossip they acquired with each other. Had the Burgrave himself a dark secret to hide, if he whispered it into the ear of his favored concubine at midnight, for certain it would be the small talk of streetwalkers in the Stink by midday.

“Let’s see what we can learn.” Elody offered him a hand to help him rise from his cushions and led him up the stairs to the private rooms, where the girls were getting ready.