Benni shrunk into himself as he passed the table. He wished he could slip into the shadows and disappear. The young sneak had always hoped to catch the guildmaster’s attention and attain a higher position in the guild, but he had never thought it would lead to this. This was complete insanity, and he was not entirely sure, at this point, that the new master was not insane as well.

Beyond a temporary partition were a number of rough looking men wielding sharp weapons. Every one of them was on edge, no doubt having heard by now that the so-called Raven was in their midst. They all watched the brown-cloaked figure as lions would assess their king’s rival. Each one was sizing him up and essentially ignoring Benni, to the young sneak’s apparent relief. Rezkin’s masters had impressed upon him the need to live each role he played. He had to believe the ruse before others would. Once he held the belief in his mind, he exuded confidence and practically willed others to accept him for the image he portrayed. In this case, he was a man to be feared, a man to be obeyed without question.

Benni shifted anxiously as Adsden stopped beside an open door and the armed men surrounded them. The young sneak could not believe how calm and unconcerned the Master appeared while surrounded by homicidal enemies. The master passed through the doorway, leaving the men behind, and strode to the center of the room as he surveyed the surroundings. Benni entered and immediately slid along the back wall in hopes of being forgotten. Adsden stood in the doorway leaning nonchalantly against the frame. He looked surprisingly pleased, which made Benni all the more anxious.

The study was larger than Rezkin expected. It easily comprised a quarter of the storehouse. The vast space was filled with luxury items to rival any lord. The desk was hard kendlewood imported from Ferélle. Crystal bottles, no doubt containing expensive spirits, lined silver trays upon which also sat several crystal goblets. Thick silk and velvet drapes covered paintings hung to look like windows through which one could view ethereal landscapes, and a plush woven Channerían rug covered the fatigued floorboards. In fact, the only element that was out of place was the man sitting behind the desk.

Guildmaster Urek leaned back in a plush reclining chair with his muddy boots discourteously propped up on the opulent desk. He was a disgusting man. Nearing fifty, what was left of his greasy hair was combed over in a futile attempt to cover his bald pate. His outdated, once luxurious coat strained at the seams where it struggled to contain his rotund belly, and his jowls and multiple chins jiggled with every movement of his full-lipped mouth. Beady grey eyes glared hatefully at the intruders who threatened his inglorious reign over the Serpent Guild.