Malden took a coin from his purse—a tuppence—and dragged it across the surface of the buttons, digging a narrow furrow through them. With two more sweeping curves and a couple more lines he sketched a simple drawing of a heart transfixed with a key.

The button seller stopped talking at once. He reached for the coin and took it from Malden’s hand, in the process smoothing out the buttons and obliterating Malden’s handiwork. “I’m up to date on my payments,” the merchant insisted. “Move on before someone sees us together.”

“He—you know of whom I speak—calls on your aid. You’ll be rewarded.”

The button seller cast a suspicious glance at Croy, who was standing a ways off, trying to look inconspicuous and failing, utterly.

Malden sighed. “He’s a mark,” he said, a half lie. “I’m running a game on him. But to pull it off I need a distraction. Did you see a woman come through here, wearing a velvet cloak, followed by a bravo with a barrow? If you saw her face you’ll remember her, for it was painted from chin to hairline in vines and flowers.”

“Aye,” the button seller agreed. “I saw her.”

“I need the bravo out of the way so I can speak with that woman. The guard doesn’t need to be distracted . . . permanently, just for a few minutes. Do you think you can help me?”

“For—For him,” the merchant said, meaning Cutbill, “I can.”

“My thanks. And his.” Malden wandered away from the stall, one hand reaching for a bolt of patterned damask hanging from the next stall over. Croy came running over to join him, and Malden cursed the knight silently. If he didn’t need Croy to gain Cythera’s favor he would never have come out with him like this.

“It’s done,” Malden said, and no more.

“When? Where shall it occur?”

“Keep your eyes open,” Malden told him.

They moved through the crowd drawing as little attention as possible. Malden stopped at several stalls and even haggled for a moment with a seller of thread, though he had no intention of buying anything. Croy kept staring at the faces passing by, but there was no help for that. Malden made sure they stayed close to wherever Cythera went, but not too close. When the diversion came he was no more than ten yards away.