—and Kemper and Malden leaned forward to get a better view—

—and Cythera clutched a silver serving fork to her chest, bracing herself for she knew not what—

—absolutely nothing happened.

The watchmen were allowed to exit the villa without any further delay. They marched back to the tent, where they reported at some length to their serjeant. Then the porters returned to take down the tent, and all departed together, heading up the Cripplegate Road toward the Stink, and thence back toward Castle Hill.

And still nothing happened.

Hazoth returned to his studies. He did not leave his laboratory for the rest of the day. Cythera went about her duties. Normally she would have been glad for Hazoth’s preoccupation. Any time to herself—any time when he wasn’t demanding things of her, or torturing her for his amusement—was precious. Now, though, she was more frightened than ever. Hazoth might or might not realize her part in summoning the watchmen, but it didn’t matter. When he finished with his day’s labors he would want someone to blame for the interruption, someone on whom to take out his anger. What was coming would be terrible, even worse than the punishment of the night before. There was nothing for it, though. All she could do was keep at her work. If her head was slightly bowed, if her hands lingered on the familiar knives and spoons in the silver cabinet as if she were lost in gloomy thoughts, it didn’t stop her from finishing the task.

Up by the trees, thoroughly sodden with rain, Malden clucked his tongue in disgust and looked over at Kemper. The intangible card sharp was dry as a bone—the raindrops had passed through him without stop. “I need to get dry,” Malden announced. “Come, I have a spare cloak back at my rooms. We’ll make a fire. And then we need to confer.”

“I don’t unnerstand it,” Kemper said, trailing after Malden as he hurried up the street leading out of Parkwall. “He just let ’em in? Let ’em ransack his spread?”

“They didn’t find the crown,” Malden told his associate. “That much is certain. If they had they would have dragged Hazoth out of his hole and conveyed him forthwith to the palace dungeon. Or rather, they would have tried. He would not have gone easy.”

“Now that, I would’ve paid t’witness,” Kemper chortled.