Tam laughed and shook his head before sobering and saying, “I do feel really bad for treating him the way we have. I know he looks and sometimes acts scary, but I’m not sure he could hurt a fly … unless maybe it was attacking one of us.” He grinned. “I do think he’s sincere about that, you know. I think he would do what he could to help us, although I still don’t understand why.”

“He lives by a code,” Frisha said. “You know, everyone keeps calling him ‘my lord’ even when he discourages it. I think it’s because, deep down, we all recognize true nobility. That’s how he acts—being a gentleman, protecting people, setting crooks to rights.”

Tam grunted. “I think it’s just because he scares the crap out of people and orders them around like it’s his prerogative. Only a lord acts like that and gets away with it, and he doesn’t look too scared about getting called out for it. I think you should consider the possibility that he might actually be a noble. I don’t know, maybe a landless minor lord or a fifth son or something.”

“How would you know how the fifth son of a noble acts?” Frisha asked in challenge.

“I don’t,” Tam replied, “but I know commoners, and he doesn’t act or speak like any commoner I’ve ever met.”

Frisha nodded and said, “I have to agree with that.”

Rezkin finished bathing and dressed in his dark night stealth gear. He decided he was fortunate that Roxie was so dedicated to her job, or as often as he had to change, Rezkin would have nothing to wear. These outworlders were sensitive to the sight of blood, and Rezkin had to maintain the appearance of an average outworlder. Every time he turned around, the young woman was practically begging to perform some chore for him.

He strapped on his dark, lightweight, leather armor and secreted his weapons about his body. Rather than donning a full cloak, he pulled a deep, charcoal-grey hood over his head, the ends of which attached to his tunic with ties. The material was waxed and formed to stand away from his face, leaving his field of view relatively clear and his visage in shadow. It also had the advantage of resisting rain.

He unbarred the door, but not wanting to attract attention, Rezkin slipped out the window into the adjacent alley and dropped to the ground with a soft, barely audible thud. He made his way through the encroaching darkness to the Golden Trust Bank. All of the bank’s proprietors would have left for the day, and whatever security forces they had would be less likely to expect an infiltration at the beginning of their shift. Most thieves tended to attempt high profile robberies in the darkest hours of the night.