Malden was thinking out loud. “Vry said he would search every house in the city for the crown. Yet I cannot believe that he would start here without some reason. I would think he would avoid Hazoth’s wrath if at all possible. So he must know. He must have some sign that the crown is in there—and yet, his watchmen left without it, and without a fuss.” He shook his head. “Perhaps he has another scheme in mind, and this was only a feint. Which only tightens our schedule. We must steal the crown back before he gets it—or all is lost.” He shivered inside his wet tunic. “We need to sit somewhere and think hard on this.”

“Aye, lad, and sure.”

“Perhaps a brandy or two wouldn’t hurt.”

That seemed to cheer Kemper immensely.

The two thieves were around a corner and gone before they could see the one real consequence of Anselm Vry’s raid. In the stables of a rich man’s house just across the way from Hazoth’s villa, voices were raised and a horse was starting.

“Just be reasonable, friend, it’s your death out there!”

Croy turned on his host with flashing eyes. For a second he thought he might strike down the merchant who stood in his way. Then he gripped the man’s forearms and leaned close to speak. “Forgive me. You’ve been so very kind, taking me in like this. I know I’ve put you in danger just by being here.”

“Think nothing of it—but think of yourself now. If you go riding up there in this state of excitement they’ll arrest you on the spot.”

“Anselm Vry will listen to logic. When I show him I am his only hope, he will give me what I need to finish this,” Croy said, and released the man. He grabbed up a saddle from a tack locker and threw it over the back of his host’s most hot-blooded stallion. As his host pleaded with him, he cinched the girth tight. He reached back and checked both his swords, making sure they were tied down in their scabbards and wouldn’t shake loose. Then he pulled a long felted cape over his back—the teased wool would keep out the rain, and protect his steel from rust. He grabbed the pommel and made to mount, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“They won’t just arrest you,” the merchant said, shaking his head. “They’ll cut you down like a dog. Once they see your blades, they will not show mercy.”

“I will move their hearts with my plea.” Croy hoisted himself up over the horse’s back and dropped heavily into the saddle. He grabbed up the reins and jerked the stallion’s head around so it faced the road.