Prologue

"You may examine my wares freely. They are the best in Lerna. You will find that my treasures are genuine. They are the best of everything in Lerna. I would not cheat the Chieftain’s daughter. As you can see, this Lyre Player is solid gold, with ruby eyes. It was found in an attic on the island of Lemnos when a family moved in. I will gladly sell it to you.”

Arminan turned the statuette over again in his hands, studying it carefully. He moved his rough and callused fingers over the smooth surface of the jeweled wonder, as if he was capable of seeing only with his fingertips. He set it back into the box, closed the lid softly, and thrust the key into the lock. He looked into the eyes of the Chieftain’s daughter and smiled as he locked the box and then transported both the key and the box somewhere into his long, thick coat.

The Chieftain’s daughter stared blankly for a moment, as if seeing someone behind Arminan. His eyes twitched with the urge to turn and discover who it was, but he would not submit to her standards. He returned her gaze and smiled assuredly, but his hand only moved into his coat and tightened on the hilt of his dagger.

“Perhaps I will purchase it, Merchant,” the woman answered. “Perhaps…” She turned and walked towards a barrel of vegetables. Arminan watched her for a moment, then whirled to face the intruder.

He was surprised when he saw not one man, but two. Even stranger, he had seen them both once before.

Dirk stepped towards Arminan and grabbed his collar in one swift movement. Within moments, they were in an alley behind the market, and Arminan lay on the ground, his dagger beside him. Dirk kicked Arminan directly in the stomach once, then turned to face his partner, Beloreth. A deep gash lay across his face, and it was already soaked with blood.

“That bastard,” Beloreth muttered to Dirk. He stepped to Arminan and lifted his foot over the merchant’s face. Before Dirk could stop him, Beloreth brought his foot swiftly onto Arminan’s nose, crushing it instantly. A high scream pierced the air.

“Beloreth!” Dirk yelped. He pushed the man onto the ground beside Arminan. With a swift look around to make sure no one was watching, he then leaned to the merchant and reached inside his coat. A long, sinewy arm lifted weakly to stop him, but Dirk kicked it away. Within moments, his hands closed around a small box. A bit more searching and he found the tiny key buried deep within a bloody handkerchief. With a cough, Dirk turned and fled from the alley, leaving the battered and bloody Arminan beside a dazed Beloreth, who watched, astonished, as his partner betrayed their plan.

A cloud of dust rose around the wounded, and suddenly the three were struck with a burning heat within them as fiery as the devil’s womb. Three distinct cries pierced the land surrounding the market instantly. The fire…the fire…

Eight Years Later

“Gahh!” Dirk cried suddenly as he dropped to the floor like a stone, clutching his side in agony. “Ahh…ahh…gahh! What…is…ah…this fire?” he gasped. “I…cannot…catch my breath!”

The man who had been standing beside Dirk leapt beside his captain and grabbed his head, leaning over his mouth in order to silence him. “My Lord, please keep silent!” he whispered. “Lest those sentries overhead hear our cries and return to realize our existence!”

Suddenly Dirk let out a rasping breath and raised his head. “That’s odd,” he said quietly. “It just…stopped.” He let out another short breath, then turned to the six men and entered a crouch position. “Did they hear?” he asked quietly.

Rajah, the tall, dark-skinned man who had been standing beside Dirk shook his head. “No, my Lord. At least, they did not let it be known to us common thieves below the ramparts. I heard no commotion from the skies.”

“Neither did I, my Lord,” said a low, raspy voice from behind Dirk. He turned suddenly before realizing that it belonged to Mohamed Ali, his best and most valued thief. He was dressed in tight pants which were black as night, and a long shirt to match it. Dirk watched him as he turned and then broke into a leopard’s run towards the fortress walls.

“I want this to be quick and clean,” Dirk told the small band of thieves. “Get in, grab it, and get out as fast as possible. Do not let anyone see you! Now, Devoresh, at Ali’s signal, I need you to call the dogs away from the mill and to you. You’re going to have your hands full keeping them calm, so Alexe will help you keep watch from the trees. Neham, you will come with me. Remember, the most important thing is the Claw. Arminan’s security is, well…minimal, and Beloreth could steal it at any time. He is the only person besides me that knows its true power. Damn…I tried to stop him eight years back…”

Beloreth grabbed the man by the back of the neck and squeezed as hard as he could. The guard gagged and sputtered as he tried to sound the alarm, but no sound could be heard more than three feet away. In moments, Beloreth was dragging the cold and lifeless body into the next room. He dropped the man in the adjoining closet and closed and locked the door.

“Good…” Beloreth muttered to himself. “Very…good.”

He grunted as he removed every knife from the box within his coat and placed them each in different unique places within his clothing. There was one behind his neck, two in each sleeve, his pockets were full of them, and he even had one in each shoe. With a moments notice, any enemy that would venture into the treasure room would instantly die. After all, he had always been an amazing knife thrower.

Beloreth smoothed his clothes down one last time as if appearing for an audience, then moved to the large double doors of the treasure room. From his pocket he produced a small tool, which he placed directly into the lock of the two doors. In minutes, he was inside.

Dirk grunted as he pulled himself onto the red-shingled roof above the treasure room. He dropped the satchel he had been carrying onto the roof quietly. As he dug through the bag’s contents carefully, he listened to every sound below in the treasure room through the small hole in the ceiling used to let in the light. Someone was down there…he would have to wait. After a few more moments, the sounds below stopped, and Dirk produced a thick, long rope from the bag. He looked around warily as he wrapped it around his arm, and with one last deep breath, he swung the rope down into the hole and latched the edge onto the huge, silver chandelier. What was that in the room? Voices? He moved the cord back and forth until he was sure it held fast, then he lowered the opposite end down over his head…

Arminan ducked behind the huge, silver table that bordered the wall opposite of the doors and the balcony. He waited there for a few moments before he heard the sound of the rattling lock on the other side of the double doors. Arminan smiled as the latch rocked back and forth across the door, the thief on the other side must be working frantically to open it.

To Arminan’s surprise, suddenly a long rope was extended into the room from atop the roof and latched itself onto the silver chandelier. Could this be a planned attack? Was he surrounded?

No, Arminan decided, that was impossible. He would just have to wait patiently for the thieves to fall right into his hands.

Beloreth gave a grunt of satisfaction as the treasure room door slowly slid to the side, admitting a small block of light onto the marble floor of the outer room. He quickly slid inside and closed the doors before the light would attract the guards.

Finally inside, Beloreth smiled to himself happily and slowly took in his surroundings. He was standing on a small balcony overlooking the room. On the ground floor there were several cages full of treasure, money, jewels, and armor and weapons, and on the opposite side there was a large silver table cluttered with old helmets and various piles of worthless merchandise. Just above the center of the room hung a large silver chandelier from a rusty chain on the ceiling. But where was the Claw?

There. Laying on a small ledge above one of the cages across the room was the beautiful, ebony bird. He would need to lower himself from the balcony…

“Beloreth!” shouted a high voice from the back of the room. “I should have expected you would return after all these years. For what you have forgotten.”

A small, well-dressed merchant stood up from behind the large table and stepped into the center of the room. He was holding a glittering sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

“I knew you would come, and I am ready for you. I’ll just call my guards, and you will be done for.”

Beloreth frowned in dismay. How…? The chandelier. In one swift movement, he extended his arm towards the chandelier and a dagger appeared in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the chain gave way and the chandelier collapsed on to Arminan with a clatter of candles and sharp metal. But strangely, Beloreth heard two screams, not one.

Dirk was moving the rope over his head when suddenly the cord tightened around his neck and moved towards the hole in the roof. Dirk tried to scream, but his vocal cords were crushed instantly as he was dragged toward the hole, and then…

Beloreth watched in horror as his old partner, Dirk, hung from a thick rope around his neck, which had caught onto a hook on the wall after the chandelier crashed down. Two dead men were now in the room, not one.

He shook his head, fighting back tears. Why had Dirk betrayed him eight years ago, in that alleyway in the market? He fingered the dark scar running across his face with distaste. Arminan was dead now as well. With the Blackbird’s Claw, he would have everything the Keeper had promised him. He had won.

Beloreth decided it was time to make his move. He stepped to the edge of the balcony, and in his haste, he decided not to use the stairwell to the ground floor. He would jump down, grab the statue, and…

As he backed towards the wooden doors to gain speed for the leap, there was a sudden clatter of voices from the hall. Suddenly, the double doors flung open, crashing into Beloreth and pitching him over the balcony and to the ground at least ten feet below.

As guards poured into the treasure room, one man pointed to the broken and bloody body laying below the balcony. Several daggers were protruding from his neck, arms, chest, legs, and stomach. The three Greek merchants…were no more.

A sudden knock at the door jerked Garret from his restful sleep. He was out of his bed in a flash, his sword hand. He leapt silently through the darkness of his room and stationed himself in the alcove beside the wooden door, his sword raised high.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Who’s there?” Garret hissed. His arm was aching from the strain of holding up his sword, but the rewards were well worth it. If it was the bluecoats coming to arrest him, well…he would be ready.

The other voice sent a chill down Garret’s spine. “A friend…” it whispered through the door. Garret remembered that voice from something, somewhere…

An image flashed through his head. It was from Garret’s childhood, when he had sought out a Keeper, because he looked wealthy. It was in the days when Garret was a poor boy, staying alive only through his skill in picking pockets. That day the Keeper had trudged through the muddy streets, wearing a hooded black robe in broad daylight. Garret’s eyes had fallen upon the Keeper’s purse-a fat, blue pouch that hung low from his belt. Just as Garret wrapped his hand around the man’s gold, the Keeper had suddenly whirled and grabbed Garret’s wrist. That had been the beginning, the beginning of it all…

Somehow, the rest of the people on the street did not notice the Keeper, and when Garret was near him, they did not notice Garret, either. Keeper’s were almost impossible to be seen when they did not want to. And yet, the Keeper had marveled, Garret had not only seen him, but was drawn to him…

Garret shook his head. “State your business,” he retorted to the voice.

“I wish to speak with The Master Thief…I have a job for you, Garret…”

Garret slowly lowered his sword. He doubted the bluecoats were this cunning, if they were onto him, they would simply burst through the doors and arrest him. Besides, if his instincts failed him now, he still had a flash bomb up his sleeve.

He reached into one of the deep pockets and produced a small blue key. Garret silently unlocked the door. “Enter,” he whispered.

The door creaked open slowly, sending a beam of light diagonally past Garret and into the room. He backed further into the shadows as a dark shape entered the room. He squinted to get a good look at the face, but Garret’s eyes could not manage to penetrate the shadows from the man’s hood that danced about his face. All he could see was a single green eye, shining in the darkness. It fixed on Garret.

SLAM! The hardwood door suddenly swung shut on its hinges, bathing the room once again in silent darkness.

“Come out of there, Garret,” the man commanded.

Garret scowled. He would not take orders from anyone, especially in his own home. It had almost gotten him killed once before, he was not willing to take that risk again. “State your business,” he repeated.

The dark shape moved to the small table and sat down on the wooden chair and helped himself to the piece of cheese and stale bread that was left over from Garret’s dinner the night before. Garret’s scowl deepened.

“I’ve come to you, Garret,” the man growled in between his nibbling, “Because you are the best. I need you to…acquire something for me.”

Garret stirred. “I don’t take those kind of jobs from clients I don’t know. Last time I did, it almost got me killed. And it lost me an eye. Tell me who you are.”

“Very well, Garret. I have other means of getting the Blackbird’s Claw.”

Garret was forced to maintain his composure. “The…Blackbird’s Claw?”

“Is that not what I said, my tricky friend?”

Garret stepped towards the stranger. “Listen, I’m no one’s friend. I trust no one. I’ve at least learned that in my lifetime. And I’m not going to do anything for you until you tell me who you are. You’re a friend of…his…aren’t you?”

“My dear boy, I’m afraid I have no recollection of what you are talking about. Who is this man you speak of?”

“The Trickster. Let me see your face, or no…results.”

“Very well then…you shall have your wish.” The man pulled back the cowl to reveal a his face. Garret sighed. It was not the Trickster…he had not been so sure. The man was certainly shifty.

Long, greasy, jet black hair hung from his scalp, clinging to his face for dear life. His eyes were…strange.

“Does this satisfy your thirst for knowledge, Garret? I should hope so…I shall reveal no more than this. Can you help me find the Blackbird’s Claw?”

Garret grumbled. “I suppose I could try.”

“I asked you a direct question, thief. Will you help me find the Blackbird’s Claw?”

“Look,” Garret said as he moved towards the stranger, “I don’t know who you are, or why you want it, but the Blackbird’s Claw is a very rare artifact, and I don’t have any idea where it is kept. It makes its way through the underground, never staying in one point for long…” Garret paused, and a dark look suddenly covered his face. “Are you telling me that you know where it is?”

“Yes, Garret. I have a good lead. And I want you to follow it for me.”

“I take it I won’t get the Claw for my reward?” Garret grunted.

“Oh no…your reward will be something much more…stable. Economically stable.” Before Garret could say anything the man reached into his cloak and pulled out a large black bag. Garret only had time to blink before the stranger spilled the contents onto the wooden table. Hundreds of tiny gold pieces flooded the table, rolling off and onto the floor.

“Wha…?”

The man silenced him. “You will keep this gold if you agree to take this job. Upon certain key points in your employment, I will give you more. When I hold the Blackbird’s Claw…you will have more money than you will ever spend.” The man hissed as he spoke. “You are going to go into an early retirement, my friend.”

Garret stood up and paced the room. “So…what is you would have me do? You know where the Blackbird’s Claw is hidden?”

Garret dropped to the grass silently and pulled the rope down over the wall. He slowly wrapped it up and placed it in his knapsack. He pulled his cloak tighter and took in his surroundings.

It was almost a week since the strange man had visited Garret. He wanted him to find the Blackbird’s Claw…the rarest artifact of the underground. It was an ebony statuette of a blackbird, very heavy, and worth a huge sum of money. The man who held the Blackbird’s Claw was regarded as the master of the underworld.

It was first crafted by a peasant woodcarver as a gift to a noble whom he wanted to please. The man regarded the noble as a god, for he had done great things for their empire, and had kept the peasant folk from starving. When he finished the ebony bird, he set it upon a shelf in his house to display. As he returned to his work, there was a knock at the door. He answered it, only to find that there was no one there. Disappointed, he went back inside.

The ebony bird was gone.

The man ran to the shelf, tears filling his eyes. As he groped around the room in a fury, he came to the shelf of carving tools. He grabbed the shelf and fell onto it, weeping. Apparently, the Blackbird was very important to him. As he pulled at the shelf in anguish, the carpentry knives slid off the stand and rained down on him, impaling the peasant instantly. His assistant entered the room just in time to witness as his master became a bloody pincushion. He killed himself a week later.

Garret shook himself. Ever since then, the Blackbird’s Claw, as it had been named, had been entitled the Theives’ Death. It was said to be both magical and cursed, which is what makes it so valuable. It was the death of thieves because when one thief acquired it, they never held it for long. To be in possession of the Blackbird’s Claw was to invite burglars into your home. The idea that someone actually knew where it was, well…that was strange.

He was standing in the dark garden of the Kul’Dar Estate, surrounded by weeds and small shrubbery. It was clear that Jason Kul’Dar did not regard his garden as a top priority.

Garret moved silently forward into the garden. He pulled himself through a small bush and stepped down onto the grass. About fifteen yards away from him there was a bluecoat standing watch. The bluecoats were Garret’s worst enemies. They were the city watch. They patrolled the city, and also were hired by the rich to watch over their valuables. Kul’Dar was a rich man, so the estate was sure to be filled with them.

The bluecoat was standing under a stone arch that led to another section of the garden. The stranger had told Garret of a secret entrance into the dining room. He would have to see if it was operational. The man had said that it would be in the adjoining garden north of Glarret’s entrance…that meant that he would need to deal with the bluecoat. The arch to Garret’s left, pointing west, opened into a dark walkway, which led to the main doors into the mansion. Garret believed his employer when he told him it was well lit, tiled, and guarded by two guards. The front door was not an ideal entrance.

The master thief crept forward to the bluecoat, trying to stay in the shadows and keep as quiet as possible. It took him almost three minutes until he was positioned behind the guard, his blackjack raised He brought the black club down upon the man’s cranium with absolute precision, and he smiled at the satisfying “Thunk.”

Garret leaned down and wrapped his long, gloved fingers around the purse full of gold coins. He slowly untied it and pocketed it, placing the coins in a separate padded boxes to stop them from jingling. He let out a grunt as he picked up the unconscious body and dragged him quietly into the shadows to his right. Good, Garret thought. Now, if another guard comes this way, they won’t see an unconscious bluecoat laying on the cobblestones.

Pulling his night black coat tighter around him, Garret almost gliding under the arch and into the garden beyond.

There. Rested against the wall of the interior mansion was a small wooden shed. It was the garden shed where the gardeners kept their tools. The inside was bathed in dark shadows, and a warm tingle of reassurance shot down Garret’s spine as he stepped inside. The shadows were his best friend.

There. Behind several shovels there was a suspicious looking gardening tapestry. Garret ripped it off and let out a sigh of dismay. Nothing.

Where was the entrance? Garret wondered. To his left was a large wooden box full of sharp tools and shovels, and above that was a rickety and rotted shelf holding cans of…something…disgusting. There were more hoes rested against the wall to his right, and the whole shed smelled of soil and decay.

“You’ve gotta be crazy! Mr. Kul’Dar won’t see anyone at this hour. It’s after midnight!”

A sick feeling shot up Garret’s spine. He froze instantly, afraid to move. Then, after what seemed like minutes, he whirled around to face the bluecoat, a flash bomb resting in the palm of his hand.

There was no one there. The guard was not talking to him. Then…

“But you have to believe me!” shouted another voice. “I must see the master! It’s urgent!”

The bluecoat grunted in return. “How do I know you’re not some kind’a taffer tryin’ ta’ break in?”

The voice responded, more urgent this time. “Look, it’s a matter of utmost importance. I must see the head man. I’m no taffer, I swear it. I’m his head contractor. I developed his fire escape route. I furnished the secret passage through the garden shed. I even helped him disguise that box! If I was a thief, I would be already gone with the goods…I know this place like the back of my hand!”

The voices were getting closer. So…the corridor was through the box. Garret hastily began to empty the garden tools and lay them aside. He had to be absolutely silent the entire time. When there were about five garden spades, a few shovels and a bag of soil on the ground beside him, Garret let out a sigh of dismay. There was nothing but a wooden bottom at the end of the box. There was no passage.

“Look,” answered the guard, “I can’t let you in right now, the master’s asleep! You’re not goin’ in!”

Garret reached inside the box one last time. Nothing. He picked up one of the tiny spades and replaced it. As he removed his hand, however, the leather glove he was wearing caught on to something. Garret pulled, but it held fast. What was there? He pulled one last time, and finally he heard a click and his glove came free. Garret looked into the box to see what it was.

The bottom was moving slowly inward, revealing the head of a ladder stretching into a dark pit. He had found the secret entrance.

“Fine, then,” answered the contractor. “But you are going to be sorry when you lose your job. But it’s your decision.”

The guard’s voice caught. “My job? What exactly do you need to see him about?”

“I can’t rightly tell you when it’s supposed to be a secret, can I? Let’s just say Lord Kul’Dar will not be pleased with either of us if you don’t let me in. Now I want you to escort me to the front door and let me in.”

Garret was already climbing down the rusty ladder quietly, and his heart gave a leap when he realized they were not coming to the shed. He was safe, for the time being. Before making his way further into the abyss, he tripped the switch which had caught onto his glove, and as the wooden panel swung back into place, he flew down the ladder like the wind. He didn’t have all night. He had to make it in and out in good time.

Garret could smell the arid walls closing in around him, and could hear the “Drip! Drip! Drip!” of water sliding down from above into tiny, stagnant pools. The mud crunched beneath his feet as he stepped off the ladder. He was in complete, enveloping darkness.

He reached into his robe and pulled out a short, red tube that he had acquired from the local “merchant” in town. It was a Thief’s Flare, and it could be lit in moments and required only the flick of a switch. It was revolutionary. Garret flipped the lever, bathing the cavern in pale red light.

He could see that he was standing in a small cave, and at the opposite end there was a black tunnel which moved in what looked like the direction of the mansion. Garret’s one robotic eye could adjust to light better than his flesh one, and from his right eye he could see that the tunnel was made from wood, not the decaying soil that made up the rest of the cave. Clearly, this passage was probably not used often, though it had been furnished for emergencies. There were torch brackets on either side of the cave, and as Garret moved to the wooden tunnel, he could see that it was fitted for torches as well.

Garret could tell that he was moving steadily upward as well as forward, and before long he came upon a metal slab that blocked the path. It looked as if it was separated from the rest of the cavern, meaning that this was it. This was where the tunnel opened into the dining room fireplace. He searched the wall for a switch, but he found none. He looked up and felt the ceiling, but to no avail. Finally, he felt the torch bracket beside the metal slab. It felt loose. He gave it a mighty jerk, and with a surprisingly quiet click, the slab shook. Garret pressed onto the slab. It moved slightly. He pressed it to the right. Nothing. When he pressed in to the left, however, it slid into a crevice in the wall, revealing the inside of a dark fireplace. He crept inside and slid the slab back into place.

“Damn…” muttered a voice from across the dark room, “Why do I have to watch in here? I wish I had patrol duty outside. Nothing exciting ever happens in here.”

Garret grinned as he pulled out his blackjack. Brace yourself, he thought. Something exciting is about to happen. Something’s about to.

Garret pulled his cloak tight around him as he leaned out of the cold fireplace. As he squinted through the darkness, he could make out the blue of the guard’s uniform beside the dining table, facing into the kitchen. He turned and took a mental picture of where he crouched. Directly before him was the head of the long dining table, extending into the rectangular room. There was a single door at the end of the table, where the bluecoat stood. Now that his eyes were better adjusted to the darkness, Garret could see that there were feint beams of moonlight sliding into the room from the three windows on the left side of the table. He would have to be quick, silent, and efficient.

Garret was up in a flash, moving across the room like some deadly phantom, blackjack raised. The guard cleared her throat as he drifted behind her.

WACK!

She crumpled to the floor, where, Garret kicked her into the shadow beneath the table. She would stay there for now.

Enveloped in darkness, Garret peered around the corner and through the door into the kitchen. Inside, there was a long counter that wrapped around the room, holding different plates and silverware that Garret could probably fetch a good price for. There was, however, one problem. A servant was washing dishes with her back to Garret, humming quietly to herself. Garret would need to disable her first in order to completely loot the room. No, he thought to himself. This was a business trip, he did not need to make any unnecessary risks. Besides, he would be swimming in money when he finished this job.

He crept slowly through the lit room, keeping his head down behind the cutting board stationed in the center room. As he neared the opposite end of the kitchen, Garret saw that there were two doors, one leading onto some sort of balcony, and the other led to a darkened game room. He would head there and plan his next move.

He tread carefully across the rest of the tiles and let out a sigh of relief when he reached the welcome shadow of the game room. Staying crouched, he crept to a craps table and filled his pockets with the gold coins that had been left by the nobles. There was no risk involved, so Garret figured he could afford to…ease…the nobles of their…unwanted burdens. He pocketed the coins and then crawled to the deserted bar.

Behind the bar, there was a sturdy wooden door that Garret was not planning to enter. The master stairwell was near, and he did not need to take any unnecessary detours. There were three other doors along the wall, leading into what looked like servants’ quarters. There an open door beside the bar, letting a beam of light into the dark room.

That was where he needed to go. It opened into a well-lit hall. If Garret could make his way through the hall undetected, the stairwell was waiting. From there, he would make his way through the bathroom suite and enter Kul’Dar’s own chamber. Hopefully he would be asleep, because there was a door right near the entrance to his bedroom suite that led to a small room containing the ladder to the trapdoor of the estate attic. From the attic, Garret could drop onto the beams of the Exhibition, where the Blackbird’s Claw was kept.

Taking a deep breath, Garret stood up and pulled his cloak tight around him. As he moved towards the open door, he reached into cloak, searching for his blackjack. But before he could pull it out, a voice came from the end of the hall.

“Who…’da ‘ell ‘r you? Servan’s ‘corders are back ‘da other way!”

Garret crept to the door, trying to get a good look down the hall.

“God! You’re all such fools! Do I have to explain myself to every sentry I pass? I am Sir Arminan Damar Tel’Aviev, the Master’s head contractor and employer! I need to see him this instant! It is urgent!”

The guard grunted. “O-Oh! It’s you, Arm’nan! I’m sorry, it’s late and ‘da darkness is p-playin’ tricks on me! Go right up the stairs, the Master’s awake.”

Garret froze. The Master was awake? Damn! This Arminan, whoever he was, would to ruin everything! Garret would have to sneak into the room when the two were inside! This would be the time when his true skills would be put to a test.

“Thank you, Benny,” replied Arminan. “I will be sure to inform the Master of your cooperation.”

Garret pulled himself into the hall slowly. The two men were talking beneath the staircase, their backs to Garret.

“Wh-Why thank you, Arm’nan! Good luck, with whatever it is your doing!”

As Arminan disappeared up the dark staircase, Garret leapt across the hall, landing silently on the embroidered rug that bordered the walls. As he moved his way towards the end, he continued to watch Benny. The bluecoat was swaying slightly to the right. He was probably drunk. This was going to be easy.

“Benny,” called a voice from the game room, “I’ve come to relieve you of your shift!”

Garret reacted immediately. As Benny slowly turned, Garret pulled out a green tube and popped the cork. It flew at Benny.

“Wha-?”

Just as Benny turned to face him, Garret ingested the contents of the tube.

Garret held his breath as Benny stared at where he was standing. In moments, it was over, and Benny was walking back down the hall. That was not the first time an invisibility potion had saved his life.

The effects of the potion had not worn off yet, so Garret quietly made his way to the winding staircase. As he reached the shadows, he felt something strange welling inside of him. The new guard reached the staircase and turned, his back to Garret, as the thief suddenly became visible once more. He quickly climbed the stairs and out of sight.

Garret let out a deep breath. He had almost met his demise in that hall. He would have to be more careful. If he was to succeed in nabbing the Blackbird’s Claw he would have to trust his senses and not loose his cool.

Light abruptly cut into the staircase, making Garret easily visible. He had reached the bedroom suites. He climbed the last few steps and stepped out onto the marble floor. It echoed slightly. To make his way across the marble foyer he needed to be much quieter. He reached into his cloak and pulled out the worn moss that he used so many times. He strapped it onto his boots to soften his footsteps. As he hooked the last bits of moss onto his footwear, he reviewed his plan one last time. He would diagonally cross the foyer to the bathroom, which led to Jason Kul’Dar’s bedroom. That was the tricky part. From bits of information he could gather on Kul’Dar’s Estate he found that the bedroom suites all had entrances to the attic somewhere. He would just need to find the ladder without being noticed by this…Arminan…character.

He held his breath as he stepped into the lit marble foyer. There was only a quiet thud, no echo. Pleased, Garret trotted darted across the surface, making his way to the small wooden door to the left of the main entrance.

He tried the knob. It clicked and would not turn fully. Kul’Dar kept his doors locked. He would have to be quick if he was going to pick the lock. Examining it closely, he decided that it was not very complex. He could probably open the door using only his square-toothed pick.

He reached into a small pocket by his right ankle, just inside the dark pant leg. He pulled out a tiny lock-pick, with a square end. He slowly forced it into the keyhole, feeling his way inside the mechanism. As he twisted and turned, he could hear muffled voices inside the main room.

“…Your money, master?”

“…Arminan, what are you doing…not expected…”

Garret heard the satisfying click as the lock gave way. After removing his lock-pick, he tried the knob. It turned.

He shut the door quietly as he stepped into the bathroom. It was a small room, with a tiny bath in the center, filled with Mechanist knobs and twisty-things. There was one thing, however, that was of interest. A silver key lay beside the washbasin along the wall. Garret didn’t know to what door it belonged, but it could prove useful.

He bent over and removed the moss from his feet. He could step freely on the wood that bordered the bathroom. He stepped over to the door and checked it. It was unlocked. He leaned his ear against it and listened.

“I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced, milord. It is a matter of utmost importance.”

“Does it concern the Claw, Arminan?”

Judging by their voices, Garret could tell that something was blocking them from Garret besides the door. There was probably a wall in the room and an additional section on the side that was blocked off. He creaked the door open and peered in.

He was facing a fancily decorated wall, covered with paintings of the previous Kul’Dar’s faces. To the left the wall broke off, where the room curved out of his line of sight. Perfect! They would not see him if he walked out.

He stepped into the bedroom and closed the door silently. To his right there was a small door that led to a closet. He opened it and looked inside. Bingo.

It was not filled with clothes, but instead there was a shaky five-step ladder that led up into the dark attic. He grabbed hold of the first step when he suddenly froze.

“It does concern the Claw, master. Very much so. I’m afraid it is about to be stolen.”

Garret’s eyes widened.

“Stolen, Arminan?” Kul’Dar’s voice was frantic. “No! No, it can’t be stolen!” He paused. “How do you know?”

Garret knew well the sound a man makes in his last breath of life. There was a gagging sound, and then it died away. He heard the body thump to the floor. Murder!

But is it Arminan? Or Kul’Dar? Who killed whom?

“Heh heh…” Arminan laughed. “It’s mine,” he muttered. There were footsteps now, and they were getting closer.

Garret shot up the ladder instinctively, reaching the darkness barely fast enough. The door opened, revealing Arminan’s face. It was the first time Garret was able to really examine it. His eyes were full of determination, and he was not dressed like a thief, much less a murderer. He looked a lord. He was ugly, but his ugliness was accented by a broken and twisted nose that dominated his face. Had he seen Garret?

Arminan grabbed the ladder and stepped onto it. Garret sunk into the darkness, holding the wall for dear life. Arminan was going to steal the Blackbird’s Claw.

So, the legend was true. The Blackbird’s Claw really was the Thief’s Death. Everything was true. Why did he take this job? Things were beginning to get mighty thick.

Arminan’s red tunic stood out in the darkness as he pulled himself up onto the rotting boards of the attic floor. Had he seen Garret? If so, the master thief had a flash bomb up his sleeve. He was ready for anything.

Yet the ugly backstabber trudged right past Garret’s dark hiding spot and made his way to the heavy metal door in the center of the dark room. He produced a silver key from his pocket and forced it into the keyhole. Garret could see beads of sweat forming on his brow. Arminan was clearly not a practiced thief.

The lock clicked and the door swung inward, revealing the moonlight from above. Arminan was going onto the roof. He pulled the door shut behind him, bathing the room once again in darkness.

Garret moved quickly. In moments he had both of his lock-picks out. This was going to be tricky, for it was a reinforced door with what looked like a very complex lock. He tried the square-toothed pick. It did not fit. He slid the triangular-toothed pick into the lock. It would not turn. This was a circular lock with twin teeth, the rarest type of lock. He could not open it without a key.

Damn! Garret was going to be seriously delayed. He might not even be able to stop Arminan in time. He reached into his pack, feeling around for anything he might have that would be useful for destroying the lock mechanism. His hands closed around the strange silver key that he had found in the bathroom. Perhaps this belonged to the door?

He tried the key. It fit. He felt it turn inside the mechanism, and the familiar click broke the silence of the attic. The door swung inward once more, creaking slightly. He stepped out onto the roof.

It was a warm, clear night, free of any clouds. The stars glistened and the moon shone down upon the tiled roof, bathing the cloaked figure in light. Garret could see tiny guards patrolling in the garden below. He ducked down to keep from view.

His client’s distorted face suddenly came to mind. The strange man with terrible, clinging hair, his strange scar, his green eye… He had seen the man before, he knew he had…

“Garret,” Keeper Marcus said, “This is the Keeper Annals. We keep our highest wealth of knowledge in this room. Perhaps, if you continue your studies at this pace, you will be permitted to work in here. If you become a Keeper, then…you may even add to this. Think of it, my young friend. All this…prophecies! All this…all of it, could be yours to read. Now go to your quarters, my pupil. We will resume your studies in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the young Garret, his eyes wide with anticipation. “I cannot wait, sir.”

“Good,” answered the Keeper. “Good…”

As Garret turned to leave the Keeper Annals, he caught glimpse of a man standing at one of the bookcases, flipping through a green leather-bound book. The Keeper’s back was to him, and he did not notice Garret staring behind him.

The man suddenly turned and stared at Garret, his gaze burning into the young Keeper-To-Be’s mind. He closed the book quietly, and sheets of paper whirled around him, flying out of books and off tables. Garret’s teacher whirled around, and then looked back at Garret, a scowl on his face.

“That’s just Keeper Marius. Leave him be.” Keeper Marius continued to stare at Garret, his ugly, red eyes burning in the dim light of the Annals. “Come on, Garret. It is time to leave.”

Garret shook himself and looked around. He had been lying face first on the roof, his cloak almost smothering him. What had happened?

Arminan. Garret had to stop him from stealing the Blackbird’s Claw. Garret’s reward was too much for him to have gone to all this trouble for nothing. He had to stop Arminan.

Garret ran quietly across the roof, trying to stay as low as possible. How long had he been passed out? He needed to get to the open skylight above the exhibition!

He came upon the glass window that was slightly opened out, providing a space small enough for Garret to climb through. Below the window were the thick wooden beams that made up the rafters of the huge exhibition room. He dropped silently into the shadows.

As he stepped down onto the wooden beams, he leaned out and examined the scene below. There were three guards, all facing the large double doors at the opposite end of the room, with their backs to Garret. In the center there was a walled off area with no roof. It was only there to prevent the bluecoats from constantly seeing the displays. Garret could see pedestals with masks, rings, and ancient weapons, but in the center of the display, on a smaller pedestal, sat a black, ebony bird, raising up in song. The Blackbird’s Claw.

The three guards suddenly collapsed to the ground, unconscious. A gas arrow sat embedded in the wall above the doorway. On impact it had released a cloud of toxic gas that put the men to sleep. Arminan must already be down there.

Garret’s assumption was correct. There was a rope hanging from the rafters a way down that Arminan had used to enter the room. He was half crouched outside the display area, waiting for something. Garret used his chance to make his way for the rope.

His black-gloved hands closed around the thick cord, and he swung around over the edge. In one swift moment, Garret had slid down the rope and was crouched in the shadows behind Arminan, who had stood up and began to walk toward the Blackbird’s Claw.

Garret stepped behind him, blackjack raised, as he grabbed the Claw. But just as Garret was about to bring it down upon his head, the doors burst open. Arminan bolted towards out of the display area and back into the shadows where Garret had been hiding. He must not have seen Garret, his blackjack raised.

“The killer is in here! There’s three men here! They’re unconscious!” There was a pause. “They’re going to steal the displays!”

Garret whirled, trying to think of a plan. Kul’Dar was dead, the Claw was stolen, and he was standing by the displays, full of weapons and equipment. He pulled out a flash bomb and threw it at the two guards that ran towards him.

“Ahh!” shouted one of the men. “I-I can’t see a thing!”

Garret leapt past the blinded bluecoats and dived for the rope, which Arminan was beginning to pull up. He caught it, causing Arminan almost to plunge to his death.

“Who are you?” cried the murder as he pulled himself back onto the beam. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you. I was hired to steal the Blackbird’s Claw.” Garret grabbed Arminan’s leg, pulling him back toward him. The murderer managed to pull out his knife and saw at the rope as he was pulled further and further off the beam.

“Neither of you move!” shouted one of the bluecoats from below. “In seconds we’re going to have a bowman in here!”

“Get off me, you fool! We’ll both die!” Arminan wriggled and squirmed, but Garret held fast as he pulled himself up. Finally, Arminan kicked Garret square in the face, almost causing him to lose his grip and fall. He stood up on the beam and ran towards the open skylight, Garret in pursuit. One of the swordsmen from below was trying to climb up the rope and follow, but Garret pulled out his dagger and finished what Arminan had begun. The guard plummeted to his death. As Garret pulled himself out of the Exhibition, an archer came running in.

“Where is he?”

Another bluecoat replied, “You’ve missed him! He’s pulling out now! We’ll have to double all the patrols outside! Don’t let those two get out of here alive!”

Arminan was dashing across the roof to the opposite edge. Garret shot after him, but when Arminan reached the edge he leapt clear into the air, arms extended. Garret stared after him, puzzled, then everything was clear. Arminan grabbed hold of the wall of the estate, and with a grunt pulled himself over and Garret watched him dash into a dark alley in the city.

Damn! Garret thought. Everything…ruined! He sprinted across the roof and took a leap of faith towards the wall of the estate, and his fingers only barely caught hold of the crumbling stone.

“’E’s climbin’ over the wall!” shouted a bluecoat from the garden. “Get ‘im!”

Garret pulled himself over and dropped down to the city street. He was going to have to act fast.

As he dashed down the dark alley leading away from the Kul’Dar Estate, he heard the metal gate clinking open. Shouts pierced the night air. The search for the assassin had begun, and Garret was a suspect. He shouldn’t have taken this job.

He dashed down the dark path, cutting across lit streets sometimes, but trying to stay in the darkest places possible. As he ran behind one apartment, he saw that the house was dark. He tried the back door. It was unlocked! He opened it and crept inside. He took hiding in the shadow of a large dining table and waited. Soon, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching outside of the house.

“Come on,” whispered the bluecoat. “I don’t think he went down this way. Let’s check the pubs. That’s where these kind of scum like to hang out.”

“Sounds good. We’ll send a few guards to investigate Dayport and South Haven. If we don’t find him, well…”

“That other man was dressed like a lord. Maybe we’ll be able to find him.”

“Maybe.” The guards voices drifted away. “Because I didn’t even get a good look at that cloaked man’s face. He was like the wind.”

Garret let out a sigh of relief. He was safe. They were not going to check Shalebridge, where Garret lived. Garret stood up. He had better get going-it was a long walk home, and he would be dodging the law all the way there.

The sun was beginning to flame up over the horizon as Garret arrived at his second-floor apartment in Shalebridge. He limped slightly to his right, because he had tried to jump a fence during one tense moment on the way home and he hadn’t quite…made it. He was getting old fast.

Relieved, he pulled out his bronze key that fitted to his door and unlocked it. He pushed the door open and leaned into his dark house. Was there an ambush? Were the bluecoats waiting?

There was no one there. Besides, Garret did not think that anyone knew where he lived anyway. No one even knew who he was.

“Garret,” hissed a raspy voice, “You have failed…”

“Ahh!”

Garret whirled around to face the voice, only to find that it was the same strange man who had hired him to steal the Blackbird’s Claw. He was standing behind Garret silently. How long had he been there? And how had he managed to keep so quiet?

“Damnit, don’t scare me like that!” Garret ushered him into the main room. “God, I thought it was a bluecoat behind me…” He trailed off. “Wait…how do you know I don’t have the Blackbird’s Claw?”

The man sat down in the wooden chair in the corner of the room. “I can tell by your composure. You have failed. Why?”

Garret closed the door behind him. This man was more dangerous than he had first thought. He would have to be careful.

“I’m sorry. This man, he murdered the Lord Kul’Dar just as I was entering the attic. I was following him, ready to knock him unconscious, but…” He stopped. “But…I…fell asleep myself. I don’t know what happened. I was on the roof, and I just kind of…crumpled. I got back up and followed him into the Exhibition, but he alerted the guards…and…”

The man glared at Garret. For one of the few times in his life, Garret felt uneasy.

“I tried to follow him, but the bluecoats were fanning out all along the city.”

“I understand, Garret.”

Garret froze. “You do?”

“Yes. We can still recover it. All is not lost. Did you by any chance catch the name of this…turncoat?”

Garret let out a sigh of relief. “Yes! I did! His name was Arminan…Arminan Tel’Aviev, he’s some sort of Lord it seemed-”

His client leapt up from his chair, startling Garret. He pulled off his hood, revealing the ugly scar that dominated his face. “WHAT?” he roared. “ARMINAN STOLE THE CLAW?”

Garret leapt back, startled. Before he knew it, his tip was biting his client’s neck. He quickly sheathed it once again.

“I-I’m sorry, sir…you startled me. Reflexes, you know…”

The strange man shook his head and stared hard at Garret. “You let Arminan steal the Claw?”

Realization flooded over Garret. “You know this man?”

He stood up and began to pace around Garret. He ran his hands through his hair. “Do I know him? DO I KNOW HIM?”

“Please,” Garret begged, “You’ll alert the bluecoats! Then we will both thrown to the Burricks! I don’t want that, and I know you don’t!”

The man fingered his scar anxiously, and then said in a whisper, “Do I know him? Oh, yes, Garret…I know him. He gave me this scar.”

“What?”

The man leaned close to Garret. “I have never told you my name. I am known to many as Beloreth Riacotte. And Arminan, well…he knows that I want the Claw. He does not know…”

Beloreth trailed off. “Never mind. He doesn’t know everything. But there is another man out there that does. And we need to get the Claw before he does. You need to find where Arminan is going.”

Garret’s hands closed around a piece of old bread. He took a huge bite and then returned it to its place on the moldy wooden table. “Does this mean that if I find Arminan, I still get my pay?”

Beloreth paused. “Well…yes. Yes…if you find Arminan, you get your pay.”

Garret turned away. How would he find the Lord Arminan in the entire city?

Suddenly, Garret could not see. Everything clouded over…he couldn’t see a thing!

“Garret, are you all right?”

He tried to make speak to Beloreth, but he couldn’t.

“Garret?”

He felt his knees hit the floor with a thud. Moments later, his head followed.

“Garret? Are you all right?”

Garret leapt up, his hand reaching for his sword. “Wha-what happened?”

The words caught in his throat. He had no sword.

“Garret, what happened to you? Was it a vision? Some sort of communication with an unworldly being? We have people like that here, you know.

Garret took a step back. It was the Keeper Marcus.

“What…? What am I doing here?”

The Keeper laughed. “You agreed to allow us to train you, Garret. We are going to teach you to become a Keeper.”

Garret turned at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“K-Keeper Orland?” Garret whispered.

The man walked past Garret. “Yes, of course it’s me, Garret,” he called over his shoulder.

Garret turned back to Marcus. “Marcus, what has happened?”

“Nothing, Garret,” he responded. “You took a fall and were knocked unconscious. Why? Is everything all right?”

Garret ignored him. “Where are we, Keeper?”

“Where are we?” he asked, laughing. “We’re in the Keeper Annals! You spend most of your time in here, Garret.”

Garret stood up, frantic. “Keeper Marcus, I don’t belong here! This can’t be a memory! It can’t be! What’s happening to me!”

The Keeper leapt to Garret. “My god, boy, you are not alright! We need to get you to our Healers. Come on, son.”

Boy? This was the Keeper he knew when he was fourteen! Garret was his apprentice!

Suddenly, before they could stand up, a high shriek pierced the air. “I HAVE FOUND IT! I’ve found the secret! At last!”

Garret stared blankly ahead at the row of books ahead of him. He remembered this from his childhood. He knew what Keeper Marcus was about to say, he would tell him that-

“That’s Keeper Marius. I think you remember him?”

And that-

“He’s probably made some kind of discovery. There’s so many books in here, we don’t know nearly half of the secrets in here. He spends most of his time in the Annals anyway.”

Garret suddenly felt a presence standing behind him, and whirled around. He was face to face with Keeper Marius.

And he was holding a book. And on the book was-

FLASH!

FLASH!

FLASHFLASHFLASHFLASHFLASH!

“Garret!”

Garret felt a tingle as a hand slapped his face. He opened his eyes and found that he could not see. He couldn’t see a thing! There was something in his eyes, something long and greasy…

Beloreth!

Garret rolled to the side and leapt up, a flash bomb resting in the palm of his hand. “Beloreth…what just happened to me?”

Beloreth stood up slowly and walked towards Garret. “I couldn’t say. You just sort of collapsed, and then I leaned down to wake you up, and you opened your eyes. You fainted, it looked like.”

Garret pocketed the flash bomb, then froze. He turned halfway to Beloreth, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. “I wasn’t out for long?”

“Only moments,” the other answered.

“Damn…” Garret mumbled to himself. He had to have been asleep for longer than that. The Keeper Annals…

Garret paused, unsure of what to tell Beloreth. For some reason, Garret had a foreboding feeling in his gut, warning him of something. Was it his client? He decided not to say what he had seen.

Beloreth stepped in front of Garret. He could feel the man’s long, hair, he could even smell his client’s rancid breath and decaying teeth. His one green eye shot into Garret like lightning, seeming to peer into his mind and extract all the information it could. “You still need to find Arminan for me. Meet me in the Marketplace at midnight tomorrow night. If you don’t know where he is by then, well…”

“I assure you, Beloreth, I will find him,” Garret grunted. “He won’t be able to hide from me.”

“Good,” Beloreth turned away from Garret and made his way through the dark room and opened the door. “I will see you tomorrow night, Garret. Farewell.”

Garret watched as the Beloreth pushed the door shut behind him, bathing the room in near-darkness, besides the tiny candle burning on the table. He walked over and tipped the flame into a large candle by his bed, lighting it. After replacing the small candle, he removed his sword, laying it carefully on the floor beside him. He climbed onto the board that served as his bed and pulled the woolen sheet over him. He had not had more than an hour of sleep in a long time. Hopefully things would change tonight.

Besides, Garret thought, He needed to think of a way to find Arminan.

Sleep came quickly.

*          *          *

“You still need to find Arminan for me,” Beloreth told the thief. “Meet me in the Marketplace at midnight tomorrow night. If you don’t know where he is by then, well…”

So…the man thought, a midnight meeting. How delightful.

He grabbed the rope and swung down from Garret’s barred window, slowly lowering himself off of the sill and down the two story drop safely. He gave a mighty tug as his feet touched the ground, triggering the brand-new mechanism in the arrow and retracting the rope. The newest technology in thievery.

Satisfied, the cloaked man skulked off, disappearing in the shadow of the night.

*          *          *

Garret awoke suddenly. How long had he slept?

He rolled off of his cot and slid the heavy wooden slabs across the window, allowing a small beam of light into his room. He rarely did this, for being a hardened thief, Garret tended to enjoy the shadows. They gave him comfort.

Judging by the tone of the light and its feint, greenish color, he decided that it was around dawn. He needed to get changed. He had been dreaming of Arminan, and he now realized that there was no Lord Arminan in the city, for he had never heard the name before. Therefore, it was most likely that he lived on one of the islands along the coast of the continent.

Arminan was probably preparing to leave right this minute. He needed to make his way through the city in the morning light and infiltrate the headquarters along the dockside. He didn’t have time to wait until evening. He needed to get in, find out what ship Arminan was leaving on, and get out again, all in broad daylight. It was a change from Garret’s usual protocol, but he would probably be able to pull it off with success.

Garret flung his closet door open wide and pulled out an old pair of tan pants. He had not worn these in years. With luck, they would still fit.

He stepped into the pants and tried the button at the waist. They closed properly, but only just barely. A little more food in Garret’s belly and they would snap.

He pulled out a dusty, leathery shirt that he had not worn in even longer. This was the shirt that he had grabbed from his father’s cold, lifeless body after his death. He never wore it, but saved it for special occasions, which were few. He pulled it over his head squirmed slightly. He hated modern garb. He felt restricted inside them. He needed a healthy breeze around his privates to feel truly free.

He slid his arms through the dark brown vest that he had been saving along with his shirt. How odd, he hadn’t realized that he never wore normal clothes. He had at least eight different dark cloaks, and they were all that he wore, along with a black shirt and a few pairs of baggy black pants. He hated to look colorful. People noticed color, and Garret did not like to be noticed.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his untidy hair one last time. Moments later, the room was empty. “Mr. Garret” was gone.

*          *          *

   Mr. Maefel walked down the crowded street slowly, taking his time as he looked at every shop along the way. He was early for work today, so perhaps he would stop somewhere and grab a bite to eat. He would need to find an appropriate place first.

His eyes flicked back and forth as he watched the people move past him. He stared as a pretty, young lady stepped past, smiling at him.

There. In the distance was the pastry shop, a tiny building that he passed twice a day almost every day. He longed to go inside and taste their youl’den. Rumor had it that it was the best in the city.

“Sorry, sir,” Maefel apologized to a tall man who he had brushed against. The man was smoothing his vest and running his other hand through his untidy black hair. One of his eyes was strange…it stared straight ahead, like some…machine. It frightened him.

“Fine thing, sir. Have a nice day, sir.”

Maefel turned back to the man as he walked away. “Sure. I’ll have a great day down at the docks,” he muttered. “It’s such a pleasure.”

   The man froze. He began to turn back to Maefel, but stopped. Maefel watched him disappear into the crowd. Literally.

Mr. Maefel sighed and looked up at the sky. It was almost time for him to be at work. He had barely enough time to stop in and grab a youl’den.

A soft bell tingled as he pushed through the door leading to the pastry shop. He could instantly smell the sweet aroma of sweets and hand-cakes wafting towards him. Heaven. It was Heaven.

The baker smiled to him as he stepped up to the counter. “Sir?”

Maefel’s eyes flicked from the cookies, to a tray of youl’den, to tiny hand-cakes of all flavors, and back to the youl’den.

“I’ll have one youl’den, thank you.”

The baker reached under the counter and pulled out a glittering, round pastry, topped with icing. Roasted apples and chocolate flooded out of the center and leaked around the side, making it look almost like a tiny volcano.

“A good choice, sir.” He handed Maefel the youl’den. “Seven drachmas, please.”

He handed the baker seven small, silver coins and stepped back, allowing room for the next customer, a pudgy women who, judging by her size, was a regular. He plopped into the chair beside one of the small, round tables, and took a large bite into the youl’den.

All the rumors were true. The taste was truly amazing. He was finished in seconds, licking the sticky apple from his fingers. Fantastic.

His throat, however, felt like a well in a drought. He could feel sweat dripping from his tongue, could taste the dry roof of his mouth.

“Excuse me,” he asked the baker, “But do you have a water pump?”

He smiled to Maefel. “Sure. It’s in the back. Just head through that door into the alley. Restin’ up against that far wall.”

“Thanks.”

Maefel opened the door and stepped into the dusty alleyway behind the bakery. There, rested against the red-brick wall, was a water barrel, a small hose protruding from the bottom.

WHACK!

He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, with a throbbing pain on the back of his skull.

Garret grunted as he dragged the Maefel’s body into the dark space behind the water pump. Hopefully, he would not be discovered until Garret had time to nick Arminan’s files.

   Garret reached into the man’s coat pocket, searching carefully. He pulled out a thin pen, which he took, and his hands clasped around a rectangular card. Bingo. He held it up to his eyes.

JASON MAEFEL

Dockside Records

Garret grinned as he pocketed the card. Perfect. It was time to go.

Garret stepped inside the main lobby, head held high. After one last smoothing of his hair, he approached the main desk, where a pretty young woman sat. She was rifling through a stack of papers.

“Hello,” Garret said softly. He smiled broadly, exposing his straight, pure white teeth. He hadn’t done that in years.

“Hey there,” the woman answered, bored. “You know the drill. Just put the card through the gear.”

“Like this?” Garret asked as he placed the card in between two small, metal gears on the desk. They turned furiously, and in moments, the business card was lying beside the gears, as good as new.

The woman looked down at a green light on the desk that had just flashed on, indicating Garret’s clearance. “Looks like everything checks out,” she told him. “Have a good day, sir.”

Garret tried to conceal his excitement. “You too, ma’am.” Grinning, Garret stepped through the wooden door behind the desk.

It was a partially lit, stone hallway; cold as any he had visited in a long time. There were doors lining the corridor, probably leading to offices. He had to read each and find out where they kept their records.

Arnold…Buldoon…Everette…Foxenn…Kelmaar…Linien…

There. Further down the hall, there was a door identical to all of the others, except there was no name card. Instead, there was a plaque that read: “Hall of Records- Restricted Area.”

Garret tried the handle, but it clicked in resistance to his touch. It was definitely locked. He leaned down and examined the lock. It was complex, and would most likely take both of his picks. He looked around cautiously as he carefully inserted the triangular-toothed pick into the lock. The hall was empty. He was inserting the square-toothed pick when a door opened and a short man came out of one of the offices.

He saw Garret and turned away, but then retraced his steps. In moments he was face to face with Garret, who frantically had pocketed his lock-picks and was standing in front of the newly unlocked door.

“Who are you?” The man inquired. “I don’t think I have seen you here before. And what on earth are you doing near the Hall of Records. This area is restricted even to me!”

Garret held a finger up to his lips and raised his hands slightly. His eyes widened and he let his jaw slacken. A short yelp escaped from his throat.

It worked. The man whirled, looking to see what hideous beast was approaching, and seizing the moment, Garret whipped out his blackjack and let it rain down on the man’s cranium.

Garret grunted as he dropped the unconscious man into the chair facing the long, Records Hall desk. He adjusted the man’s hand and placed it on the desk, making it look as though he had passed out.

Garret looked around. Now, he just needed to find some information on Arminan. Where to start…

He began by looking for the ‘A’ section, because Arminan’s name was probably under Aviev. He doubted that the third name ‘Tel’ held any significance in the files.

Applebie, Argaante, Asterinne…Where was Aviev?

Garret suddenly saw it. A bland folder was tucked in between two huge files, and he could see the letters ‘A, V, I’ on it. He struggled to pull it out, and looked at the cover. Aviev.

He emptied the contents onto a long table in the center of the room. Garret smiled as he sifted through the papers. Arminan lived on Delos, an island off of the coast. He was a rich merchant who sold wares all over the surrounding isles. It seemed that he had been living in Lerna for quite a while now, but roughly nine years ago he had been constantly on the move, searching for new relics and antiques. Eight years ago he came to Lerna, but his business apparently faltered when he left his shop untended one day and everything was stolen. After that, he had a mansion built on Delos where he could center all of his operations.

Garret’s finger paused at a line at the bottom of the page. He was leaving this evening, at eleven o’clock. That meant he would have to find Beloreth and tell him before then. Damn, things were beginning to get overwhelming. There wasn’t another boat leaving for Delos until…there wasn’t one leaving for another nineteen days.

He placed the folder back onto the shelf, in between the two gigantic files. That explained it. It explained why Arminan wanted the Claw. He was a dealer of antiques. It couldn’t be anything more. Garret had been reading too far into the whole thing.

But Beloreth? Why did Beloreth want it?

Suddenly, Garret shuddered furiously as he remembered. Keeper Marius, he had been holding a book, and on the book was…on the book was…

An ebony bird, its one claw outstretched, and it was resting on a fist. The Keeper had approached Garret, his breath almost choking him, and before the Keeper Marcus could stop him, he had grabbed the boy and pulled him forward.

“I have found it,” the Keeper hissed through closed teeth at Garret’s frightened face, only inches from his. “Do you here me, boy? I have found the secret that the Gods left for me. Most were blind to the power, but I have prevailed where others have failed. I have unlocked the key to everlasting power, boy!”

Keeper Marcus had grabbed Garret and pulled him away from Marius, scowling furiously. “Don’t mind him, Garret. Everything he says, he says metaphorically.”

Garret knew. The Blackbird’s Claw was the key to some sort of incredible power. Beloreth was after it. Arminan was after it. And Beloreth had hinted that a third person was after it. Somehow, the Keeper’s knowledge had leaked out, and they had found out.

Garret shuddered at the thought that he had almost placed the world’s hands into Beloreth. Ugly, scarred, greasy-haired Beloreth. He could not trust anyone anymore. He wasn’t going to the midnight meeting. He was getting on that boat. Tonight.

“Hmm,” Garret muttered, “Arminan leaves on boat number one-seventeen.” He smiled. He would be ready.

*          *          *

“I love you, honey. It was so romantic for you to take out tonight. Where are we going, anyway?”

The tall, well dressed man pulled at his mustache, smiling in the dim light from the lamps above. “We’re going to a special club. It’s very expensive, darling.”

The woman let out a small sigh and here hand clutched her heart. She was an image of true beauty. The thick blond hair rolled off her head like a river, clinging to her lovely face, and her eyes…the sparkling seas of blue that danced above her nose like fairies. He expected she had been with many men throughout her life, and broken every one of their hearts.

Beloreth tore his eyes from the woman and pulled his cloak tighter. He was crouched in the shadow of one of the buildings surrounding the market, waiting. When Garret arrived, he would have a clear view of him from where he hid. Then he would give him his…payment.

He was relieved that Garret had gone off to find Arminan’s files. He had thought that perhaps the night at the Kul’Dar Estate would be too much for the thief, that he would not want to be involved with a murderer such as he. He was also very fortunate that Garret suspected nothing.

Beloreth chuckled in spite of himself. He knew that Arminan lived on the island of Delos. Over ten years ago, when he had been good friends with the man, it was always the subject of conversation. It came as no surprise to Beloreth, or Dirk, when Arminan had announced that he was moving the next winter. That had been before…Dirk’s betrayal. Beloreth knew now, he could not trust anyone. If he could dispose Garret and Dirk, he would have a clear path to the Claw. But alas, that was too much to wish for.

Beloreth fingered one of the small knives hidden in his sleeve. Was that Garret? A dark shape had entered the marketplace, moving across cautiously. Did he suspect Beloreth’s plot?

Beloreth nodded to himself. It was most definitely Garret. Who else would be creeping into the marketplace, shrouded in a dark cloak, at midnight?

A flick of his wrist, and the knife was soaring through the air. Beloreth could almost feel the satisfying crunch as it met its target. Garret staggered to the ground. From where he stood, Beloreth could see the hilt protruding from the man’s neck. Beloreth chuckled to himself. The Master Thief…was no more.

In an instant, Beloreth was hunched over Garret’s lifeless body. He had to dispose of it somehow. He knew he could drop it one of the many canals that ran through the marketplace. Yes. No one would ever find Garret. He would never be missed, either.

Beloreth lurched the knife free of the corpse’s neck as he turned it over. He gasped. The dead man was not Garret, but another.

“Kep!” Beloreth whispered. “I-I’ve k-killed Kep! Then…”

A tall and lanky thief stepped out from behind one of the carts. “I’ve been watching you, Beloreth. I knew you would try to kill him. You’re so predictable. I was well aware that if you saw me, you would think I were him, so…I sent Kep in for me. I’m sorry it distresses you so to have murdered an old friend. And you were so close…” He trailed off. “A pity.”

Beloreth growled at the man as he pushed the greasy hair back into his hood to get a better view. Two daggers appeared in his hands. “I…am…going…to…kill…you!”

The man laughed. “No, old boy, I believe you are mistaken. I will have the Claw, and then you will regret everything. Did the Keeper not warn you? Did he not tell you to share your secret with no one?” The hooded figure cackled in the cold, night air. “Yes. He did! But you had to share it with your dear friend, didn’t you! You fool! Our friendship, or everlasting power? Do you really think I could be so foolish as to choose that over the Claw’s power?” He laughed again as Beloreth approached him. “Rajah! Devoresh! Ali! Protect me!”

Three men leapt from the shadows, blocking Beloreth’s path. He had no choice. Beloreth turned and fled, down the market, making his way for the one of the dark alleys surrounding the square. He could hear Rajah cracking his knuckles far behind him.

“Go, oh cloaked monstrosity of death! And express gratitude to your divinity that we shall not join in pursuit! Do not disrupt my master’s plans!”

Beloreth’s footsteps echoed against the buildings as he dashed down the alley to safety. His breath was heavy and his legs ached from the strain, and his hair was wet with tears of old. Kep. He had killed Kep.

Why had everyone betrayed him? Why did he receive no respect? No love? He had shared the secret of the Claw with Dirk, and it had almost gotten him killed. More than once. He fingered the scar that ran across his leathery face. He could almost feel the knife as it slid across his skin. Arminan, Dirk…they would all pay when he had the Claw.

He slowed his pace as he approached the East Gate that separated the city from the rest of the town. He would not be betrayed once more. Beloreth had faced too much treachery and deceit to be fooled yet again. He would not return the Claw to the Keeper. He would keep it, and rule them all. He would make them all pay.

Beloreth almost laughed out loud. They would all beg for mercy under his greatness, but he would be a hard master, and make them rue the day they turned their backs on him.

No, he thought. The Keeper will be startled, but even he will soon bend to me. He too will regret the day he thought to betray me. Dirk, Arminan, his brother…and Kep.

He turned the corner of the street, coming face to face with the East Gate and its two sentries. He hunched his back and limped towards them.

“Going out, old man?” One of the guards asked, chuckling. His curly red hair looked strange in the torchlight, almost like his skull was burning. “A little late, I think. But if you’re going, we can’t stop you.” He looked up to the tower window above him. “Open the gate, Orion. This old man means to pass through.”

The gate slowly creaked up as it was raised by the two men in the tower. When there was enough space for Beloreth to pass, he limped under the arch and out of sight of the guards.

“You’re welcome, old fool!” The red haired man called out sarcastically. “No need to thank us!”

Beloreth trudged across the wet grass, thankful to be off the hard stone. The entire city had forgotten the beauty of nature, but he had not. The moonlight shone brightly on the wet dew, making the land sparkle. It was truly beautiful.

He smiled as he proceeded into the edge of the forest. A few redwood and oak trees sprung up from the hills, hinting the forests and groves ahead. He had only about a half-hour’s walk until he reached his cabin in the dark woods. He would be able to get a good night’s sleep before he had to begin to plan his break-into Arminan’s mansion. He had to get there before Dirk, so he would leave tomorrow afternoon. Besides, the Keeper expected him to leave tomorrow night, so this would ensure that no one would know his plans.

He suddenly froze at a noise to his left. He looked around the dark grove of trees, but he could see nothing. Could it be an animal? Perhaps it was. Beloreth chuckled. He was jumping at rabbits.

“Beloreth,” came a deep, raspy voice from behind him, “Turn around, old fool…”

Beloreth shook with fear as he slowly turned to face the voice. His sweaty palms flexed, preparing to throw the shiny knife that now rested there. But he could not. His heart was beating too fast, and he dropped the knife to the earth, a low whine escaping his throat.

“I have been living in your thoughts, Beloreth. You cannot hide anything from me, old man. Not even the most carefully hidden betrayal.”

Beloreth shook with mortal terror as the tall man reached out and touched his cloak. In an instant, Beloreth was on the ground, writhing in pain. His horrible screams rung into the air as he convulsed at the man’s feet.

“Don’t worry, Beloreth. No one will hear you…I have placed a shield around this grove…so you won’t…disturb…anyone.”

Beloreth grabbed one of the man’s feet and began to kiss the boot furiously. “P-please, m-m-master…” He screamed in pain. “I-I swear it won’t be r-repeated, K-Keeper M-Marius!”

The Keeper’s cackle rung in the night air like a gunshot. “Of course it won’t be repeated, old fool! It was over trusting of me not to do this to you earlier, but it seems you have left me no choice. But I must warn you, amortilation is a very painful way to ensure one’s loyalty. Mwa ha ha!”

Beloreth’s screams of anguish melded with Marius’ laughter to create an unworldly sonata that could be heard throughout the wood, despite the shield, but only by animals. The grove where Marius tortured Beloreth would be lifeless for many, many years.

*          *          *

The guard crumpled under Garret’s blackjack, and in moments the unconscious body was securely locked in a large, empty crate nearby. He stepped down from the table that he had been standing on and looked around.

He seemed to be in one of the cabins below deck, for there were two bunk beds at the far end of the room and a large table, bigger than the one that Garret had been standing on. In the second top bunk there was a lump that Garret assumed was a sleeping crewman. He would need to be completely silent so as not to awaken him.

Garret dared not open the door and venture onto the deck. He would have to stay hidden for the entire evening and leave the ship when it arrived on Delos in the darkness of the early morning.

He searched the room frantically for a good place to stow away, but could find none. He could feel the ship lurch into motion, and a strange, dizzy feeling came over him. The journey was underway.

Garret clutched his stomach in shock. It was a long time since he had traveled overseas, and he was not used to it. Slightly curled with a sick feeling, he turned around. Where could he hide?

There were no closets. It was only a cubic room, and the only dark and solitary area was the empty crate where he had stashed the body. Where could he hide?

Suddenly, he heard two voices outside of the cabin.

“We’re off, then,” came the first voice, a deep sounding male.

“Uh-huh,” came the second, “Delos, it is. We’ll be thar’ ‘afore daybreak, I hear tell. Haven’t been there in quite a while.”

Garret pulled his cloak overtop of him, his heart beating fast. His legs wouldn’t move. He had no invisibility potion, and not a single flash bomb. He was frozen in the center of the cabin, his heart stopped. His mind raced with desperation. All things must come to an end, he thought. The rein of the Master Thief has ended.

James nodded. “It do be true. Not for months have we traveled to that resolute isle. I’m a-mighty tired. Go’night.”

“”Night.” James turned away and turned the brass handle that opened his cabin. He stepped inside and let out of gasp of surprise.

In the center of the room…

It was clean. Boulwar had cleaned the room before he turned in. James looked up and saw him sleeping in his top bunk. The cards, the dice, the clothes, and the smell…were all gone.

What a pleasant surprise, he thought as he sat down on the bottom bunk that was his. He could go directly to bed. He would have to remember to thank Boulwar.

He lifted his head suddenly. What was that?

He had heard a noise from below, in the water. He could not discern exactly what it was, but it had not sounded natural. He slid out of his bed and stepped over to the window. He leaned over the table and out the opening.

He could see nothing unusual. He turned back into the cabin and looked around. If Boulwar was truly in a thoughtful mood, there would be some grog left in the crate. He stepped over to the only wooden box in the cabin and lifted the lid.

He sighed. Nothing. Well, what had he expected?

James let out frightened cry as Boulwar’s hand rolled off the bed, suspended in the air before his eyes. It motioned to the window.

“There is someone in the room, James,” whispered Boulwar. It was hoarse, and sounded a little odd, probably because he was laying down. “I’ve been awake for quite a while. There’s a stowaway in this cabin, and he is armed.”

James tightened his fists. “Where?” he asked, his dark brown eyes peering around the room.

Boulwar’s hand reached down and he slid a finger through the air, silencing him. Then the finger pointed below James’ bed.

As James silently retrieved his dagger from the bedside table, he thought he could feel movement below him. Boulwar was right. There was definitely someone down there.

James began to step off of the bed, but Boulwar’s hand stopped him. He made a slicing motion with his hand as he reached below his own bed and into James’ section, slicing the air above James’ head. James nodded in understanding.

With one swift movement, James’ hand was under the bed, piercing at something fleshy. Boulwar continued to make the hand motion, stab after stab. James’ body lurched at each thrust that penetrated the stowaway’s body. Boulwar’s hand finally dropped to the side again. He lifted it back up into his own bed.

“Good,” Boulwar hissed. “He had me frightened. I was afraid to come down. It was a tough-looking man, in a black cloak. I was afraid that if he knew I was awake, he would kill me. Just drop the body in the water. Toss it out the window.”

James nodded, his heart still pounding. He had just killed a man. Mercilessly, and by surprise. It felt strange. He had a horrible feeling in his gut, like he had ended someone’s life unnecessarily. But if what Boulwar said was true, they could have been killed. He did the right thing.

As James rolled off the bed and onto the floor, he scratched his head. The man had made no sound as he was killed, only had shaken furiously beneath the bed. But no sound…

James shrugged. Perhaps the thug was mute.

James reached under the bed and reached his hands around the body. Grunting, he pulled it out and into the middle of the room, where he could see from the light of the window.

James choked back a scream of terror. Lying in the center of the room was Boulwar’s twisted body. His arms and legs had been hastily tied together, and there was a rag that had been thrust into his mouth to prevent him from screaming for help. Boulwar’s eyes were wide with fear, his expression frozen in eternal pain. His clothes were stained red, and the carpet was already soaked with blood that was seeping through more than ten gaping wounds in his face, neck, and chest.

Before James could control himself, he turned and vomited on the hardwood table beside him. He tried to grab his dagger to protect himself, but his chest was heaving uncontrollably. He could not even scream as he felt a thud on his skull. The world turned black, and he could barely feel his head hit the floor hard.