The voice had not sounded like the crown’s voice, but it was clear as if spoken in his ear. He could not have made it up. He would not have made up something like that. He pulled his hand partway from under the pillow. No light. It had gone out. Thank Gird. He put his head down on the pillow and then sat up again. The pillow smelled scorched. He lay awake, sweating and trembling, thinking.

Guards patrolled the palace all night. Someone was stationed at the door of the treasury all the time, day and night. There was no way he could get in there unseen … and he had no legitimate reason to go there at all. He tried to imagine the steward’s reaction if he asked to see the treasury. The man would want to know why, and whether his brother the king had sent him, and if he’d asked …

Another thought came unbidden. He was supposed to learn about exchange rates and values of things … perhaps Master Danthur would want him to see … whatever was there. Perhaps if he asked the right questions … the answers would be in the treasury.

On that thought he fell asleep and did not wake until morning.

The Lyonyan queen’s coming visit had already begun to upset the usual routine. Even his instructors seemed less alert than usual, and he found he could gain both information and time. Judicious questioning about counterfeiting and the difficulty of distinguishing counterfeit coinage and false jewels led to Master Danthur suggesting a trip to the treasury.

Camwyn approached the treasury doors with vivid curiosity but, once inside, found the great room boring. Windowless now, it had once been a ballroom with a portico overlooking the street far below, catching the cooler breezes. Now it was stuffy and smelled like any storeroom. Soft light filled it; Camwyn looked up and found a skylight far overhead.

“Two full stories up, inside,” the steward said. “Was a gallery up there one time, but they tore it down when they blocked up the windows. Outside now it’s a sheer drop, four stories at least, and not a ledge or nub to cling to.”

Camwyn remembered looking up as he rode down that street; the wall here was far higher than on the other sides of the palace complex, and there was, he knew, a long blank stretch between windows. Still … surely the best thieves could climb up to the roof. From another part of the wall?

“You’re not here to gape,” Master Danthur said. “Pay attention.”