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hadn’t, because he knew it was unlikely he’d see a bed for another day. This morning he decided he liked it more than not, even though he was tired. His fatigue was of his own devising and was the result of the most pleasant of diversions.
    He saw that Gina had kicked off the blanket during the night and lay exposed for his appreciation. She had a remarkable curve to her back and buttocks that made him consider for a moment staying a little longer in bed, but the practical needs of the day trumped more immediate considerations, and he rolled out of bed.
    His clothes lay in a jumble on the floor and he dressed quickly. The previous day’s efforts had been well spent, and were bearing fruit. Gina had turned out to be quite a bit brighter than one might expect of the average tavern dancer, and had few scruples when it came to spying. She didn’t know she was a spy yet, but James would unfold that all in good time.
    She would be his first agent in Kesh. Durbin might not be a critical city from the Empire’s point of view, but it was of great interest to the Kingdom in the west, given that it was the Empire’s only port on the Bitter Sea and more trouble came through Durbin than every other port in the Empire combined.
    Gina wasn’t educated, but she possessed a street-smart, intuitive ability that could not be taught. James, as Jimmy the Hand, had encountered every woman of low birth you could imagine: thieves, murderers, confidence tricksters, card cheats, whores, shop girls, and drudges. After entering the prince’s service, he had encountered women of high birth, and this much he knew: one woman in ten might have survived being abandoned by an idiot lover in Durbin and emerged as nothing worse than a tavern dancer. Most would either have ended up dead, or as slaves, or at best, as whores trapped in one of the innumerable brothels in this pest hole of a city.
    James slapped Gina on her bare rump and she said, ‘What?’ in groggy tones.
    ‘I have a plan,’ he said lightly.
    She sat up and looked at him through puffy, sleepy eyes.
    It occurred to him that she might have the most beautifully shaped breasts he had encountered, and over the years the number he had seen was impressive. Defying the distraction, he said, ‘I think we should go into business.’
    She looked at him with a narrow gaze, suddenly suspicious. ‘I’m listening.’
    ‘I reckon you are worth a great deal more than an occasional bed warmer for a merchant or trader and that you can do better than being groped nightly for a fistful of coppers.’
    She shrugged. She had heard her share of false promises from customers carried away by a night of pleasure. Many a man had left a dancer’s bed determined to save her from a life of degradation, only to be barely aware of her name by the middle of the next day. Passion can inflame the imagination as much as it can the flesh.
    He laughed. ‘I can read your mind.’
    ‘Oh, really?’
    ‘I have no desire to save you.’
    She feigned disappointment. ‘And I was so hoping for that.’
    He made his tone businesslike. ‘You’re obviously smarter than you let on. Do you know how to listen and not hear?’
    She laughed. ‘I listen to everything, yet I hear nothing.’
    ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I would have you listen for me.’
    She cocked her head, but said nothing.
    ‘There’s a moneylender in the small market by the Low Tide Gate, by the name of Jacob. You will go there and receive a small sum which, should anyone ask, was owed to you by a client who turned out to be honest, if not timely.’
    She smiled. ‘Then what?’
    ‘Buy something pretty, perhaps a new costume in a colour other than green. Some bangles perhaps, and the smallest dagger you can find, which you should secrete about your person.’
    Her eyes narrowed even more. ‘And?’
    ‘Start looking around for a spot to open your own tavern.’
    ‘Really?’ Her eyebrows shot up. ‘What sort of spot?’
    ‘Away from the docks. I