“Are—are you serious?” Myron stammered. “And did he say yes?”
“To be honest, he sounded relieved,” Royce said. “I think he felt as if there was a dagger dangling over his head for a month. I suppose he was afraid we’d ask for something ridiculous like his firstborn or the crown jewels.”
“We might have, if we hadn’t already stolen them.” Hadrian chuckled, and Myron was not sure if he was joking or not.
“But if you really like this place …” Hadrian said, whirling his finger in the air. “I suppose we—”
“No! No—I mean, I think you are right. The abbey should be rebuilt for the sake of the kingdom.”
“Glad you feel that way, because we need you to help the builders design it. I’m assuming you could draw a few floor plans and maybe some sketches?”
“Certainly, down to the finest detail.”
Hadrian chuckled. “I bet you can. I can see you’re going to drive the royal architect to drink.”
“Who will be the abbot? Has Alric contacted the Dibben Monastery already?”
“He sent out a messenger this morning as one of his first acts as king. You’re going to have a few guest monks trickling in over the winter, and this spring all of you’ll have a great deal of work to do.”
Myron was grinning widely.
“About that tea?” Royce inquired.
“Oh yes, sorry.” He returned to pouring water into the pot. Stopping once more, he turned back to the thieves, and his grin faded.
“I would so much love to return to my home and see it rise again. But …” Myron paused.
“What is it?”
“Won’t the Imperialists simply come back? If they hear the abbey is there again—I don’t think I could …”
“Relax, Myron,” Hadrian said. “That’s not going to happen.”
“But how can you be sure?”
“Trust me, the Imperialists won’t advocate another foray into Melengar,” Royce assured the monk. The smile on the thief’s face made Myron think of a cat, and he was happy not to be a mouse.
In the hours before dawn, the Lower Quarter was quiet. Dampened by the snow, the only sound came from the muffled hoof falls of mounts as they moved slowly up the alley to The Rose and Thorn.
“Do you need any of the money?” Royce asked Hadrian.
“I have enough. Deposit the rest with Gwen. What does that come to now?”
“Well, we’re in pretty good shape. We have our share of the fifteen gold tenents for returning Alenda’s letters, and the twenty from Ballentyne for stealing them in the first place, plus DeWitt’s one hundred, and Alric’s one hundred. You know, one day we’re going to have to find DeWitt—and thank him for that job.” Royce grinned.
“Do you think it was fair asking for the money along with the abbey?” Hadrian asked. “I have to admit the guy was starting to grow on me, and I hate to think we took advantage of him.”
“The hundred was for going into Gutaria with him,” Royce reminded him. “The abbey was for saving his sister. We didn’t ask for anything Alric didn’t agree to in advance. And he did say anything, so we could easily have asked for land and noble rank.”
“Why didn’t we?”
“Oh? So you would like to be the count Blackwater, would you?”
“It might have been nice,” Hadrian said, sitting up straighter in his saddle. “And you could be the infamous marquis Melborn.”
“Why infamous?”
“Would you prefer notorious? Nefarious, perhaps?”
“What’s wrong with beloved?”
Neither could hold a straight face at the thought.
“Come to think of it, we failed to bill the good king for saving him from Trumbul. Do you think—”
“It’s too late, Royce,” Hadrian told him.
Royce sighed, disappointed. “So, I think he wasn’t too put out, all things considered. Besides, we are thieves, remember? Anyway, the bottom line is, we won’t be starving this winter.”
“Yes, we’ve been good little squirrels, haven’t we?” Hadrian said.
“Maybe this spring we can start that fishing enterprise you wanted.”
“I thought you wanted the winery.”
Royce shrugged.
“Well, you keep thinking. I’m going to go wake up Emerald and let her know I’m back. It’s too cold to sleep alone tonight.”
Royce passed the tavern and dismounted at Medford House. For some time, he stood, just staring at the top window, while his feet grew colder and colder in the snow.
“You are going to come up, aren’t you?” Gwen asked from the doorway. She was still dressed and as pretty as ever. “Isn’t it awfully cold out there?”
Royce smiled at her. “You waited up.”
“You said you’d be coming back tonight.”
Royce pulled his saddlebag off his horse and carried it up the steps. “I have another deposit to make.”
“Is that why you were standing in the snow for so long? You were trying to decide whether or not to trust me with your money?”
Her words stung him. “No!”
“Then why were you standing there so long?”