“They started it.”

“They’re regulars! And you’re newcomers! Strangers! Get out! Raus! Raus, I said!”

They were propelled, accompanied by abuse and shoves with clubs, out of the chamber. And then out of the tavern.

The drinkers found it amusing, were crying with laughter, and the wenches were cackling in shrill voices. The stuffed bear observed the incident with its one glass eye. Somebody had gouged out the other.

They didn’t get far; no further than just beyond the corner of the stable. Hearing muffled steps behind them, they quickly turned around, Reynevan holding the drawn dagger.

“Easy does it,” said a man they had seen inside, at a table in the corner, among the demijohns and wenches, raising a hand. “Easy does it. No false moves. I am Grabis Hempel.”

“Also called Allerdings?”

“Precisely. Allerdings.” The man straightened up. He was tall and thin, with long arms that hung down like a monkey’s. “And you are here on the canon’s orders, I presume. But he only mentioned one man. Which of you is he?”

“It is I.”

Allerdings examined Reynevan keenly.

“It was very foolish of you to come here asking after me,” he said. “And that brawl was even more foolish. Snoopers often stop by here; they might remember you. Although, in truth, your physiognomy is… unremarkable. No offence meant.”

“None taken.”

“I’m going back in,” said Allerdings, shrugging his skinny shoulders. “Someone may have seen me leaving with you and I’m easier to remember. We’ll meet tomorrow. In Milicz Street in the Sinner’s Bell beer cellar. At the Terce. And now, farewell. Begone from here.”

They met. On the nineteenth of February, the Saturday before Reminiscere Sunday. In Milicz Street, in the Sinner’s Bell cellar, which was usually frequented by apprentice bellmakers, and now, at the Terce, was practically empty. Right at the start, Reynevan felt the need to explain the matter at hand. Allerdings wouldn’t let him.

“I know in detail what the matter is,” he interrupted, before Reynevan could expand on it. “Our mutual acquaintance, Canon Beess—until recently the provost in the cathedral chapter—told me the details. He did it, I admit, only reluctantly, determined as he was to protect you and your secrets. But he knew that without the information I wouldn’t be able to prepare an operation.”

“Thus you know the details and have prepared an operation,” Reynevan said. “So let’s discuss those details. And quickly—”

“More haste, less speed, as they say,” Allerdings interrupted coldly. “Before we get to the details, we ought to examine a certain matter of a more general nature. One that may influence the details. Considerably.”

“Which is?”

“Whether the operation being planned makes any sense.”

Reynevan said nothing for a while and fiddled with his mug.

“Whether the operation makes any sense?” he finally said. “How do you suggest we judge that? Shall we take a vote?”