to him, he will align himself with another. Tomorrow I am ordered to go out and find Bikker, and bring him to an audience with Hazoth.”
Malden cursed under his breath. “I thought you said Bikker doesn’t work for Hazoth.”
“He doesn’t. I don’t know who Bikker’s master is, actually. I only know Bikker will definitely come when I call him.”
“I don’t understand,” Malden said.
“Stealing the crown in the first place was Bikker’s idea. Or rather, it was the notion of he who pays Bikker’s wage. Bikker first came to the villa a month ago. He said he represented a wealthy patron who wished to contract for Hazoth’s services. Hazoth cannot be bought with coin, but there are things in this world he covets. One is his privacy. The king would have him burnt at the stake should he ever learn the experiments Hazoth performs in his sanctum. So when Bikker proposed this scheme, Hazoth listened, for Bikker’s employer promised him no one would ever learn what he was about. Whomever it may be-I have never met the man, nor learned anything of him-he convinced Hazoth he could offer his protection in exchange for Hazoth’s part in the plot. It was Bikker’s employer who decided a thief would be found to steal the crown-you know that much, of course-and then Hazoth would be employed to keep it in hiding. There really is no safer place for it in the Free City. The spells on the house prevent any spy from seeing it, and also any diviner from locating it with magic.”
Malden thought of Anselm Vry’s hedge wizard, and his shewstone. It had, as she said, not been able to locate the crown.
“It would take a small army to besiege the house, and a more powerful sorcerer than Hazoth-if any exist-to breach the barrier. If you wanted something of exceptional value to be kept safe, Hazoth’s sanctum is exactly what you’d need.”
“Interesting. I thought Hazoth wanted the crown to study it. Now I learn he is only an agent for some other player, who remains unknown. But what, exactly, do they hope to achieve? Bikker said no one would come looking for the crown. That the Burgrave would simply have a replica made, and forget the theft ever happened. We know that was not the case.” And Cutbill had told Anselm Vry that a replica crown would not suffice-but why not? There were so many questions Malden had no answers for, and imagined he never might. “What do they want to happen?”
“I am unclear on the specifics,” Cythera admitted. “I do know what they think will happen. The Burgrave will appear in public on Ladymas, without his crown. Somehow that will cause the people to riot. Bikker and his employer intend to turn that riot into a full-scale revolt. They mean to whip the people into a frenzy and cause them to overthrow the Burgrave.”
“But that would be madness!” Malden said. “The king would revoke the city’s charter on the instant. He’d have to, just to restore order. And then every man in Ness would lose his freedom.”
“There are many who would benefit from that,” Cythera pointed out.
Malden scratched at his chin. His whole skin had begun to itch. He chafed under the yoke of his low birth already. Without the freedom granted by the city’s charter, he would be no more master of his own destiny than a farmhand out in the countryside.
He would rather have been confined in the pit, tormented by demons night and day.
“The point of all this,” Cythera said, “is that Bikker’s employer will not wish the crown to be stolen back. So Bikker will be there when you try. He will be leading Hazoth’s guards.”
“That’s a major problem,” Malden admitted. “My plan depended on the guards being sloppy and undisciplined.”
“Bikker won’t allow that luxury. He’ll command them personally.”
“And if he should discover me inside the house-”
“I don’t know if you should be more afraid of the demon, of Hazoth himself, or of Bikker. Not one of them will let you live.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
“I’m afraid I’ve been of little help, save to make you think this hopeless,” Cythera said, straightening the maps on Malden’s table. “And now I must go. I do wish you luck-for my mother’s sake, at the very least.”
“Not for my own?” Malden said. “Don’t answer that. Get back safely. If Hazoth realizes what you’ve done, I can imagine you’ll suffer, one way or another.”
“Yes,” she said. She frowned and looked over at the bed. She sighed deeply, but clearly there was something she had to say to her betrothed before she went. “Croy,” she said softly. “Croy, we must-”
The knight jumped to his feet and came over to stand quite close to her. “Cythera, how can I gain your forgiveness? I’ve caused you nothing but trouble. How can I make this up to you?”
“You owe me nothing, Croy. You made a promise-well, we both made promises, didn’t we? But sometimes life gets in the way of promises.” She looked away from him. Malden could see how upset she was, but he didn’t dare intrude.
Then something odd happened. She met Malden’s eye. She looked into his eyes and for a second he thought she was pleading with him to say something. To jump in and save her from the hard thing she was contemplating.
As he had no idea what that might be, he could say nothing.
She sighed again and turned to face Croy.
“I don’t want you to get killed,” she said to the knight. “And right now, if you try to fight Bikker, that is exactly what will happen. So I want you to tell me that you won’t try. That you’ll let Malden handle this alone.”
Alone? Malden thought. So it’s all right if Bikker kills me?
“Milady,” Croy said, dropping to his knees so hard the floorboards creaked. “I would die a thousand times in your service-”
“But why? Why would I want that? It would accomplish nothing!”
“But I took a vow to save you and your mother-”
“You and I will have to talk when this is over. If any of us are still alive,” she said. “Oh, Croy, don’t look at me like that.”
The knight dropped his gaze.
“Be of good cheer,” she told him. “I don’t like seeing you like this. Anyway, perhaps things will work out. Maybe a thief can succeed where a knight failed.”
Malden glanced over at Kemper, and they both shook their heads. As much as Malden wished his own troubles gone, he would not have traded places with Croy at that moment.
“I didn’t mean that to be cruel,” Cythera insisted. She tried to meet Croy’s eye but he wouldn’t look up at her. “I have not forgotten all you’ve done for me,” she told him. “But you must realize-my mother’s safety, and my freedom, mean everything to me.”
“And to me,” Croy said.
“Then you must free me,” she said.
“But that’s exactly what I-that is, what Malden and I are trying to do,” Croy pointed out.
“An’ me, son, don’t forget I’m riskin’ my neck, too,” Kemper insisted.
“And Kemper, too, of course. We’re all trying to free you,” Croy said.
“No, not from that… you infuriating man!” Cythera moved toward the door. “Croy-please. Let me go.”
He did look up at her then, with utter confusion on his face. “I would never dream of delaying you.”
“Then forgive me already and let me be at peace,” she said.
“Forgive you… but for what?” Croy asked.
Cythera’s face creased in grief. “You don’t understand. I can’t make you understand. Just tell me you forgive me. Even if you don’t know why.”
“Of course, then, I forgive you. I forgive you all-there is never anything you could do I would not forgive and forget, on the instant
…” The knight’s voice trailed off. Maybe he was starting to get the point after all.
“I go,” Cythera said. “Goodbye. Malden, I’ll try and come to see you again the day you make your move. If
