“I wouldn’t say that. I’d say his chances are quite grim. But I picked Malden for a reason, Slag. It wasn’t because he showed such ability when he robbed Guthrun Whiteclay. It’s because he has a brain in his head. One sees that so rarely in the men who come through my door. If anyone can pull this job off, it’s Malden.”

“That why you’re sitting here, still scratching fucking notes in your fucking book?” Slag asked, gesturing at Cutbill’s ledger. “Like any other day. You might be dead tomorrow morning. Shouldn’t you be out whoring or drinking yourself sick?”

“I imagine if I am to have my throat cut on the morrow, a bad hangover or a case of the crotch rot would not, in point of fact, improve the experience. But no, I am not working so late because I expect Malden to succeed. I am working in case he does not. This ledger is more than just a record of accounts. It is my life’s work. It can never really be done, but I am attempting to make it as complete as possible. It includes a number of instructions that are to be carried out if I do meet my creator in the morning. I called you in here specifically because I need your help with that. Later tonight I want you to vacate the premises well before Anselm Vry and his soldiers arrive. And I want you to take this book with you. There are a number of people who should see it: the Pirate Queen of the Maw Archipelago will be most interested, for one. The Great Chieftain of the barbarians, Mörg the Wise, absolutely must be allowed to read page three hundred and nine if we are to avoid a war with his people.”

“Such desperate fuckers as them need to see the guild’s records of payments and income?” Slag asked. The gleam in his eye was one of distinct curiosity. Few things could break a dwarf out of his dark moods, but a juicy mystery was near the top of the list. “What’s really in there, then?”

“You’re free to read it and find out,” Cutbill said. He turned the ledger around so it faced Slag. The dwarf made his way across the room and climbed up on Cutbill’s desk to see better. Reading along upside down, Cutbill watched as Slag’s eye ran down the endless columns of numbers to the spidery glyphs that appeared in the margins of each page. Slag stabbed the coded symbols with one delicate finger.

“Huh. Fucking clever. It’s in cipher.”

Cutbill favored Slag with a thin smile. “One I’m sure you could break, given enough time.”

“That’s not why you want me to take the book, though.”