Medor bent and saluted Gauvard on one cheek, then walked past. Thierry followed him. He glanced back, saw the person named Gauvard bolting the door. They waited, were led into the large room. Medor was clearly familiar with this house. Thierry had no idea what they were here to do. They sat down, Gauvard nearest the fire. Medor didn’t take off his coat, so Thierry didn’t. He was aware of the caltrop, sharp in his pocket, against his leg.

Something else, though. Gauvard was a man’s name but there was an element of uncertainty now that he saw their host more clearly. Soft features and hands. Slender fingers, a slender frame, though tall. Grey hair worn long under a blue or maybe a black cap. A loose tunic, fur vest over it. This might be a woman, Thierry thought.

And with that, he realized where they were, who this was.

Someone known, even notorious, by reputation if not, to him, by name…before now. He kept silent. He had said he would, and really didn’t know what he’d want to say.

But Medor’s uncle (his uncle?) was looking at him now. A measuring gaze. Then an amused smile. “Hello, Thierry Villar,” he said.

“How do you know who I am?” He spoke because he’d been addressed. He was uneasy, and intensely curious, alert. There was a scent in the room, incense burning on two braziers, one by the fire, one across from it. He saw flowers, yellow and red and bright blue. How were there fresh flowers in the midst of this winter?

Gauvard Colle shrugged. “Not much use to those who pay me for help if I can’t at least know your name.”

“How, though? And help with what?”

Gauvard ignored the first question. “You have never spoken with someone with access to the half-world? Consulted as to love, perhaps?”

“No. But I’ve been with people who have done that. You’re…different.”

A giggle. “How flattering!”

Was it possible, Thierry thought, that this person was also slightly mad?

They both looked at Medor.

Gauvard said, “You want to know who murdered the Duke de Montereau. I know.”

A silence.

Medor said, calmly enough, “You know who did it, or that I came to ask?”

“The second thing, clever nephew.”

Medor said, “I need to know who has asked you about it today, and who might have asked for guidance in a matter such as this, in the last weeks.”

Another unsettling giggle. “Clever,” repeated Gauvard. “But you know I can’t answer. Would destroy my trade if people didn’t believe they could trust me. You wouldn’t even come back, and I should miss seeing you so much. Besides which, you and the provost already know who killed the duke.”