And he was in the guild. Croy’s deed had made him a man of property, and now he was a man of profession. He could start earning money for himself, having ransomed his place in Cutbill’s organization. He was beholden to no one, his own master. He was truly free.

“You may go,” Cutbill said. Then he held up one hand, rescinding that. He looked to one corner of the room, where a tapestry was shimmying as if blown by a wind Malden did not feel. “Wait. Use that door, over there.”

Malden looked at the indicated door and frowned a question, but Cutbill offered no explanation. Malden stepped through the door and closed it behind him. Beyond lay the spy room, where one could observe what happened inside Cutbill’s office without being seen.

Malden bent his eye to the spy hole and watched as a tall man wrapped in a plain brown cloak walked over to Cutbill’s desk. The newcomer sat down behind the desk as if he owned the place, then pulled back his hood.

It was the Burgrave. He wore his golden crown and his eyes were very sharp. What was he doing there, unaccompanied?

“Milord,” Cutbill said.

The Burgrave was silent for a while. Then he said, “It seems I am once again in your debt. I don’t like owing you things, thief.”

“Then allow me to say that the debt is all mine,” Cutbill responded. “You permit me to exist, and to carry out my operations. If those operations are occasionally to your benefit, I consider it my honor to serve so great a man.”

“Honeyed words never sound right in your mouth.” The Burgrave got up from the desk and stormed around the room. “I never doubted Anselm Vry. I always thought he was a clerk, and nothing more. Someone gifted with moving numbers around on a page, but wholly incapable of treachery.”

“You make him sound like me, milord,” Cutbill suggested. He continued to work at his notations.

“Hardly. You—I’ve never trusted you. But you saved me from a rather unpleasant fate, and you’ll have a reward.”

“Many thanks. Tell me, milord, have you decided what to do with the two heroes of the day? I speak of Sir Croy and of Malden.”

The Burgrave shrugged. “Croy proved his loyalty well enough. I don’t suppose I’ll make an issue of him. I’ll leave his banishment intact but not enforce it. That way, if he crosses me again I’ll have legal standing to hang him. Who is Malden?”

In the spy room, Malden cringed. He rather wished Cutbill hadn’t used his name at all—it could only lead to trouble.

“The thief who stole the crown. And returned it. One of mine, though he was not acting under my orders in the first instance.”

“Oh,” the Burgrave said. “Well, he’ll have to be killed, of course.”

Malden nearly cried out.