Kemper drew too many stares after that to allow any comfort in the tavern. He gathered up his cards and his drinking reed—and of course the pile of coins scattered across the floor—and the two of them headed out into the streets, bound on a wild carouse. Perhaps just to spite those who glared, Kemper handed Malden his things and walked right through the closed door, which rose more than a few startled gasps. Malden bowed deeply to the astonished patrons and then walked right into the door himself, smacking his face on its wooden boards. Perhaps his three cups of ale had more of an effect than he thought.

Without looking back he opened the door and stepped out into the road. Kemper was waiting for him, whistling random notes that never quite added up to a song.

“It’s good to see ye, son, it surely is. ’Tis always a pleasure t’have such company as one can speak plainly to, and not have t’worry ’bout keepin’ secrets and bein’ circumspect. I’ll just have those,” Kemper said, and took his things back. The reed and the coins went into his tunic, but he kept the cards in his hand and riffled them as he walked.

“How is it you can hold those cards, when you cannot hold a tankard?” Malden asked. He had already worked out that the reed was necessary as Kemper’s hand would pass unheeding through any drinking vessel he tried to pick up.

“Well, now,” Kemper said, coming to a stop and lifting his chin like an orator. “The curse on me’s a strong ’un, yet a mite imperfect, if ye catch me meaning. If I concentrate hard ’nough on it somewhat, I can grip it. With long practice, I can hold just about anythin’. Like me reed, and me cards, which I’ve had since afore ye first soiled yer bedclothes in the night. I’ve mastered sittin’ in a chair, and lyin’ abed, an’ food an’ drink are available t’me. Seems the wizard what did this wanted me livin’, and not allowed the peace o’ death. I’ve not touched a woman, nor e’en changed me clothes, since the day ’twas done.”

“It’s a pitiable condition,” Malden sympathized.

“Yet not without its consolations, y’know, for a gentleman of fortune like me an’ yerself. It’s a rare gaol that can hold me, an’ I can carry coins, if they’re silver. As ye see.” He flashed a coin between his fingers and twirled it for Malden.

“Only silver?”

“None as is livin’ can say why, I reckon. Yet silver’s a metal no magic e’er touches, y’see?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Malden admitted.