Fortune favors the bold, Rezkin thought. It was by pure luck he had been present at this precise time and location to overhear their plans. Of course, he would have suspected such deceit anyway, but this way he knew for certain. The man changed the subject, and by the sound of their voices, he knew they were walking toward the stairs. Rezkin quickly padded down the walkway until he felt the tingle of the mage ward he had encountered earlier. He pressed past it with a focused will and tested the latch on the door the ward was intended to secure. The door was unlocked. Rezkin would never understand why people put such faith in mage wards.

The warded room was an office. It contained a plush chaise, a few lounge chairs, and a large desk. Several shelves lined the walls upon which sat record books, stacks of correspondence, and loose parchments. The hearth crackled with flame in the heat of the summer, making the air too warm and stifling. A box of incense placed near the fire suffused the room with a spicy aroma.

Rezkin quickly crossed to the side table and poured himself a beverage. It smelled strongly of spirits, but he had no intention of actually drinking it. He took a seat at the desk and shuffled through a few papers noting anything of importance. Then he leaned back, propping his legs up as Urek had done. He wanted to appear confident and unconcerned, and these thieves seemed to appreciate overly dramatic gestures. He held the drink casually but made sure his cowl hid his features. He did not want these people to recognize him when he went about town with Frisha and Tam.

The door opened and in strode a man and a woman deep in conversation. The man closed the door behind them. He was tall and broad of shoulder, his face and hair clean, and his clothes cut in the style of a servant of high station. The woman was in her early thirties and was dressed in a fine silk and velvet gown in a mustardy gold color. Layers of petticoats pushed the lower part of the gown out to completely fill the doorway as she entered. The bodice was cut low enough to show ample cleavage, and she had wrapped about her arms a burgundy shawl of crushed velvet. Her shimmering golden locks were piled atop her head in mounds of curls, and glittering jewels dangled from her ears. She might have passed for a lady if she did not appear to be trying so hard.

The woman was halfway across the room before she looked up and gasped, stumbling into the man. The startled man was so preoccupied with catching the woman that he did not notice the cause for her distress.