Scruffy scowled angrily, but Thinman looked unsure as he glanced to his partner for reassurance. Scruffy made a slight flicking motion with his finger just before the crossbowman on the roof released a bolt. Rezkin felt a flood of the familiar battle energy he usually experienced before serious combat. He spun with the speed of the bolt, snatching it out of the air. On the return spin, he lobbed the bolt back at its sender, striking the man in the throat. The young crossbowman reached up and grabbed at the protruding object as he struggled for breath. Losing his balance, he fell over the lip of the roof and struck the cobbled street with a crunch. With the guards’ attention on the dead man only a few paces away, Rezkin flicked two daggers into his hands. He took several steps forward and spun the daggers for no other reason than to make their presence known and intimidate the offensive men.

“Would you like to join him, or will you be informing the guildmaster of my presence?” Rezkin asked, his voice deepening to a dangerous pitch.

Thinman did not even glance at his partner before he jerked the door open and disappeared into the dark interior of the storehouse.

Benni was stunned when he saw the ease with which the Master dealt with the rooftop crossbowman. He had thought for certain their lives were forfeit when he saw the ranged weapon pointed at them.

Scruffy stood with his sword half drawn as he fumed with anger, his nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. He took a step forward and then seemed to think better of the action and stepped back again. It was obvious he wanted to attack Rezkin but feared the odds of surviving.

A sensibly dressed man, who looked more like a profitable businessman than a thief, emerged from the door followed quickly by the second guard. He was of average height and well-groomed with smooth features and a sturdy build. He wore a dark grey and charcoal colored suit with silver buckles. Overall, he looked completely out of place in the broken-down dockside storehouse.

“So, are you he? You are the one they call the Raven?” he asked in a well-bred accent.

Rezkin raised a brow and answered, “Am I? Perhaps. You are?”

The well-dressed man stood with one hand clutching his lapel in gentlemanly fashion and the other arm casually resting behind his back, no doubt holding a weapon of some sort. “I am Adsden, second of the Serpent Guild.”

Rezkin nodded politely in greeting and replied, “I have come to speak with the guildmaster. I have a proposition for him.”

Adsden’s lip quirked ever so slightly. “This would not happen to be the same proposition you offered the Diamond Claw Guild, would it?”

The young warrior smiled cordially and replied, “The very same.”

“Many of their highest members now line the riverbank,” Adsden remarked.