Point of Knives by Melissa Scott

what I wanted to tell you. Jesine—Dame Hardelet—I pointed out van Duiren to her, when we were collecting witnesses, and she said she knows the woman under another name. As far as she knows, Dame Costanze van Duiren is Dame Amielle Delon, and she owns a counting house in Point of Knives. A counting house that employs no clerks, and is almost never open for business, but she pays the rent and keeps stout locks on the doors. What do you say to that?”
    “It’s interesting,” Eslingen agreed. “Very interesting.”
    “Jesine said she just thought Delon was a fence, there’s dozens of them in Point of Knives. But I say she’s keeping her real business there.” Steen leaned forward. “And I say we should raid the place, see what she’s got in her coffers.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Eslingen said.
    “Why not? We could be in and out again before she knew what hit her.”
    “Except she would know,” Eslingen said. “Granted, she’s probably got more enemies than just you and Caiazzo, but right at the moment, you’re the first one she’ll point fingers at.”
    “Then what, we should just do nothing?”
    Eslingen shook his head. “Let me tell Rathe, have him put a watch on the place. We might find out more that way than if we just go crashing in without any idea what she uses the place for. Not to mention the points have the rights to break down a door or two if it comes to that.”
    “You really think he’d do it?” Steen asked.
    “He wants to know what’s going on,” Eslingen said. “He’ll do it. I give you my word on it.”
    Steen nodded slowly. “I’ll hold off, then. But if it comes to court without any more than this—I’ll have to act, Eslingen.”
    “Understood,” Eslingen answered.
     
    To Rathe’s surprise, Eslingen was more than punctual, arriving at the eating house before the appointed time. The day had turned fair, and they took their meal into the back garden, where the chance of eavesdroppers was diminished. The vines that adorned the brick walls were already turning scarlet, and Rathe eyed them with a certain melancholy. They seemed all too emblematic of this relationship, brilliant and delightful, but all too soon to fade. And that, he told himself, was the worst sort of theatrics—even the crowds at the Bell would scorn such melodrama.
    “Any luck?” he asked, and made himself meet Eslingen’s eyes with a smile.
    Something that might have been worry eased from the other man’s face. “Not with what I went to ask,” he said. “Apparently Old Steen didn’t believe in treasure maps or sharing information. And Young Steen’s witnesses are numerous but not what I’d call convincing. But I did find something interesting. His boss knows Dame van Duiren under another name entirely. And she has a counting house that’s never seen to do much business, yet somehow still survives.”
    “That is interesting,” Rathe said, once Eslingen had gone through the details. “And I’d guess she’s right, your Dame Hardelet—”
    “Oh, most definitely not mine,” Eslingen said, with a smirk. “She’s courting Young Steen, and I think she’ll get him.”
    “Also interesting, but not to the point,” Rathe said. “She’s probably right, van Duiren’s a fence, and that’s where she changes her money when she has to.”
    “So presumably that’s where she’ll manage this business,” Eslingen said. “It stands to reason she won’t want anything associated with herself as van Duiren, there’s too much chance Caiazzo would find out and tangle all her businesses in the courts. What do you want to wager that she’s got Old Steen’s papers there?”
    “It’s possible,” Rathe said.
    “So maybe we should make sure,” Eslingen said. “Sneak in, take a quick look round—”
    Rathe shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Once we do that, she’ll know we’ve found the place. She’s bound to have wards on the place, magistical and not, and—well,