A little stiffly, Malden climbed out of the coffin and regained his feet. He dusted himself off and strode over to the divan, intent on learning what he was expected to do next. The bravo on the divan looked up expectantly. “You must have made an impression on the three masters above,” he said. Malden instantly recognized his voice as the one that had spoken to him when he was inside the coffin.

“Oh?” he asked.

“They let you keep your clothes and that knife at your belt. Sometimes the ones they send down here come naked.”

“I’m quite personable when you get to know me,” Malden said. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to direct me to your master? I’m told he wishes to speak with me.”

The bravo’s eyebrows drew together. “And what makes you think the master of this place is not here, right before you?”

Malden bowed in apology. “Organization like this, in such a secret place, leads me to believe only one man in the Free City might be master here. A man I know only by reputation, but that reputation leads me to believe certain things about him. I doubt he’s one of these gamblers, who kneel and dice for pennies. I am relatively certain he is no dwarf, and she—well . . .” Malden searched his memory. “Her name is Rhona. She’s one of Madam Herwig’s girls, from the House of Sighs up on the Royal Ditch.” The girl looked up at him with wide eyes, but he merely smiled at her in return. There were very few harlots in the city who Malden could not recognize on sight. “As for yourself, well, I do not think you are the chief here. While you cut a striking figure, sir, I will not believe you if you say your name is Cutbill.”

At the sound of the name everyone in the room glanced over their shoulder. Even the bravo and his playmate frowned. Yet in a moment all concerns were forgotten again and the bravo laughed boisterously, which got the girl giggling as well. “You’re smarter than we credited,” he said.

“Yet not so arrogant in that wisdom, as to have avoided this summons in the first place,” Malden said.

The bravo picked the girl up in his strong arms and put her back down on the divan as he rose and came bounding over to take Malden’s hand. “I’m Bellard. I serve the one you named on those occasions when subtlety has failed.”

“Well met. I’m called Malden.”

Bellard laughed again. “Oh, I know your name all right. And you’re correct, the master is waiting on your pleasure. He’s just through there.” Bellard made a sweeping gesture toward the far wall, where a stained curtain hung.

“So I just go through there, do I?” Malden asked.

The bravo smiled. “If you can, you’re well on your way.”