Malden stared with gaping mouth at the prisoner, and not only because of his state of distress. The man was naked, gaunt, and haggard of expression. He was also someone he recognized. It was the vagabond he’d seen in Cutbill’s lair, the one who’d claimed right of sanctuary.

“You’re the thief Kemper, are you not?” Malden asked.

“For the nonce. Sooner’n I’d like, I’ll go by a different name,” Kemper agreed.

“I’m . . . sorry?”

“They’ll be calling me ‘the late’ thief Kemper, if’n you don’t get me down.”

Malden recovered his wits with a start. “Of course, at once,” he said. He hurried to the wall where the other end of the strap was tied around an iron hook. He undid the knot with shaking fingers and lowered Kemper carefully to the floor.

For a while the vagabond merely rolled about on the flagstones, his face split by a piteous grin.

“Oh, I’ve never found such happiness at the bottom of a flagon, nor between a girl’s legs,” Kemper moaned. “Ye’ll never know such ecstasy, lad, and ye should be thankful for that.”

Malden had many questions for the man. “How did you come to be here? It was just this morning I saw you, at Cutbill’s. You were safe enough there—how were you taken so soon after?”

Kemper grimaced. “A man can only abide so much stale bread and water. Cutbill gave me sanctuary, to be sure, but his hospitality was a mite lacking, if you catch me. Of all things, water to drink, ye’d think I was a horse! If I wanted real victuals, I decided I must go abroad. I snuck forth just afore dawn, made right for the Smoke, where I knew I could catch a game.”

Kemper rolled over onto his side and moaned in pleasure. “Found it easy enough. Didn’t reckon one o’ the players was a cloak-of-eyes on his off-shift. The bastard recognized me just fine and tried to haul me out o’ there. Figured I was safe enough, as I’ve always been. Been caught more times’n you’ve kissed a girl, I figure, and always got free again before. Never thought they’d ken out me one weakness. Now, if ye please, me hands and ankles.”

Malden went to free the vagabond’s extremities and found they were bound by matching chains of bright metal, seemingly far too thin to hold up Kemper’s weight. They tinkled merrily when he pulled them free.

“Keep’m as souvenirs, if ye like,” Kemper told Malden, when he saw how the thief stared at the chains. “I’ve no desire to see’m again. Should be worth a mite, seein’ they’re solid silver.”