“They rejected my offer. I was forced to ensure the Diamond Claw Guild’s compliance. Things need not get messy here provided the Serpent Guild proves to be more … accommodating,” Rezkin replied cordially.

“You do not appear to be the rabid killer of whom I have heard tell,” the second remarked.

“A killer, yes. Rabid, no,” Rezkin replied without hint of guilt or remorse.

“I respect a man who acknowledges his own dark deeds without excuse. Martius was never the kind of man from whom one could expect even a semblance of refinement. I am afraid you will find Urek to be much the same, despite his upbringing. Please, come with me. I guarantee your safety at least as far as Urek’s study. After that, you are on your own,” explained Adsden.

Rezkin was not about to trust the man, but at least he would be permitted entry into the guildhouse. He did not relish the idea of fighting his way into the facility just to reach the guildmaster. Thus far, it seemed his newly minted reputation had fostered the kind of reaction he desired. “Come, Benni. You are with me.”

Benni now shook harder than he ever had in his sixteen years of living amongst thieves, brutes, and murderers. He could barely move his feet as he ambled forward. When he reached the steps where stood the Serpent Guild guards, he thought he might lose his bladder. He was literally entering the serpent’s den, and he was certain he would not be leaving alive. The young man did not imagine the master would look kindly on his failure to comply with orders. If he failed to do as the master commanded, he would likewise die.

Although at times the master seemed friendly and perhaps even compassionate, Benni had seen the man deliver death with cold indifference. Even if the Master had a plan to survive this encounter, he doubted the man cared enough to ensure that Benni, too, would make it. With heavy boots and an even heavier heart, Benni stepped through the doorway into the Serpents’ lair.

Rezkin walked beside Adsden through the dark storehouse. It was not unlike the storehouse inhabited by the Slink Den except that this one was larger and actually contained goods and supplies, presumably black market goods pilfered from cargo ships and caravans. This one lacked the dirty, smelly small-men and women. Behind a large stack of crates sat several large men around a table. They were chewing crass root and rolling dice as they shouted and grumbled over the results. All action stopped as the hooded stranger and the young man were led through their midst.