When Slag’s things were ready, he went immediately to Cutbill’s lair and took possession of them. He tied them up in a bundle and went straight back to his room above the waxchandler’s. It was almost noon by the time he arrived. Coming up the stairs he heard voices inside where only Kemper should be, and he opened the door warily, ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

When he saw Cythera inside, sitting at his table, his breath caught in his throat. He nearly did run away.

“Kemper, go relieve Croy at his watch,” Malden said when he’d divested himself of his gear.

“Lad, it’s dull as ditchwater down there. Nothing’s like t’happen afore ye get in place.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any trouble,” Malden told him.

Kemper muttered something under his breath. “At least gimme cards back. I miss me little friends.”

“Your cards.” Malden still had them in his tunic, where they’d laid against his skin for days. “You can have them back when we’ve got the crown.” Their eyes met for one last time, and Malden saw that Kemper was ready. It was important that Cythera didn’t know the real reason why Malden had been holding onto the cards. “I don’t want to hear you cut off your watch early to find a quick game,” he said.

“I ain’t stupid, lad,” Kemper replied, his chin nodding almost imperceptibly. “I know ye’d have me hide if I did.”

Malden nodded and watched his companion leave. When he was alone with Cythera, he closed the shutter of the window, even though it was a hot day.

“Bikker has the guards complaining,” she told him. “He’s put them through harsh discipline and punished them severely for any slight change of routine.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t know what’s coming, though. Neither does Hazoth. How are things on your end?”

“Everything’s ready and in place,” he told her. “As much as it can be. I have completely changed my plans, thanks to your information. We start by sending in our pet ogre to—”

She shook her head. “Don’t tell me. If Hazoth questions me, he can make me give up your secrets. Unless I don’t have them.”

“Very well,” Malden said, appreciating her wisdom. “Then let me say only: your mother may be free by morning.”

Her eyes flashed with hope. She crossed the room to him, her velvet cloak swishing around her feet. “Malden—thank you,” she said. “I know you have your own reasons for doing this. But thank you.”

He started to bow but then thought better of it. Instead he held out his hand.