A Thief in the Night by David Chandler Page A

guildmaster of thieves listened attentively, all the while scribbling long strings of figures into his ledger, as if Mörget’s tale was a matter for scrupulous bookkeeping. “You said that? To the barbarian?” he asked, finally looking up.
    â€œYes! I did. Or, rather, I told Croy to do that. I told Mörget I wasn’t the man he was looking for, but thanked him very much for considering me. I’m not stupid.”
    â€œHmm,” Cutbill mused. He flipped to an earlier page of his ledger. “Well, that’s settled, then. There are demons afoot once more. Of course, something will have to be done about that—we can’t have such creatures at large.”
    â€œYes, yes, it must be vanquished. But they hardly need my help with that. The two of them have their magical swords. They’re perfectly adequate to the task.”
    Cutbill shrugged dismissively. “Still, I can see why they’d like to have someone along to take care of the traps. A sword—even a magical sword—is of little use to a man who has fallen into a bottomless pit. But you turned down their offer, quite reasonably. It does sound like a dangerous undertaking.”
    â€œPositively foolhardy,” Malden agreed.
    â€œQuite. Though I imagine that for Sir Croy the risk is half the reward. This will give him the chance to prove, once again, just how heroic he is. He’ll reap a great bounty of honor and glory.”
    â€œI suppose such things are what you desire if you’re a titled man’s son, and there is no need to ever work a day in your life.”
    â€œI imagine that would be nice,” Cutbill said.
    â€œHe’s going to get himself killed. Him and the barbarian both. As for Mörget, well, good riddance. That man is a threat to decent society. It’s just a matter of time before he kills someone just being here in the city.”
    â€œIt’s for the best, then, that he leaves soon.” Cutbill put down his pen and rubbed his chin. “And yet I do not wish him ill.”
    â€œWell, of course not,” Malden said, raising one eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what Cutbill was on about but he could tell the man was already forming a scheme. “I mean, at the very least, I hope he survives long enough to save us all from the demon, but—”
    Cutbill lifted his pen for silence. “Hmm. He wants someone to deal with the Vincularium’s traps. I’ll have to think of someone I could send his way. Just in the interest of getting him out of my town faster.”
    â€œMuch joy it gives them both, I hope. I’ll have nothing to do with this tomb. As I told them, in no uncertain terms. Of course, then Croy had to go and suggest the place was full of treasure. As if that was all it would take to make my ears prick up. There’s more to life than money.”
    â€œThere is?” Cutbill asked, as if he’d never considered the possibility.
    Malden had to think about that for a moment. “Yes, there is. There’s living to spend it.”
    â€œInteresting,” Cutbill said. He picked his pen back up. “Just the other day, you were telling me that you needed a large sum of money for a specific reason. Tell me, how is that project going?”
    â€œI thought it was dashed to pieces,” Malden admitted, thinking of Cythera. She had not signed the banns of marriage after all. “But there may be some new hope. All the same, there are easier ways to get the money to buy a house than crawling around in haunted tombs.”
    â€œMost assuredly. Though . . . I might suggest, Malden, that you go and ask someone about the Vincularium. Specifically, about who is buried there.”
    â€œSome moldy old king or other, I have no doubt,” Malden said.
    Cutbill frowned. “The treasure is likely to be . . . considerable.”
    â€œThe entire interior of that mountain might be made of gold, for all I care. I’m no