“Um … they call me Broken,” the eldest said. “He’s Cracker,” he said motioning the middle small-man. He nodded to the youngest and said, “That’s Ash.”

The warrior’s cold, blue gaze bore into the young man called Broken as he said, “I knew you were here before I came within five paces of the alley. Your presence was hidden for that long only because of the noise emanating from that cantaloupe merchant. You warned the young one not to target me. Why?”

The oldest boy’s mouth formed an o in surprise. “Ah, you’ve got too many sharpees … ah, I mean blades,” he said motioning to the swords at Rezkin’s waist. “An’ you look like you can use ’em. You’re a Red,” Broken said, referring to the color-coded system the thieves used to rate the threat of a target.

Rezkin turned his attention to the one called Ash who was trembling in fear with wide eyes bouncing back and forth between the frightening warrior and his overconfident cohort. “Why did you choose to target me?”

The little one’s mouth flapped silently a few times before he finally managed to speak. “I like the ones with swords. They’re always lookin’ for big trouble. They think they’re too good to rob. They ain’t lookin’ for little me.”

Shaking his head, Rezkin said, “Your assessment of the arrogance of many sword-bearing targets may have merit, but it is not always the case, and the consequences of failure are too great. Commoners who carry blades openly usually know how to use them, and anyone who does not is mostly likely a noble. What is the sentence for robbing a noble?”

The young one’s lip quivered again, and he squeaked, “You dangle.”

Rezkin nodded once. “That is correct. You hang by the noose.” He looked back at eldest boy and said, “You were incorrect in your assessment, as well. I am most certainly not a Red. I am a Black.” Broken’s eyes widened in fear, and Cracker whimpered as he lost his bladder, evidenced by the darkening of his trousers. “Do you know what that means?”

Broken gulped and nodded. “Yeah. It means we’re dead.”

Rezkin cocked his head thoughtfully and said, “I believe this to be a shortcoming in your training. Ultimately, I hold your guildmaster responsible. Perhaps we shall see what he has to say.”

“The guildmaster? But, we don’t know the guildmaster,” Cracker stammered in a panic.

“Shut up, Cracker!” Broken said with a hard elbow to the ribs. “Ah, ya see, we don’t know the guildmaster, but we can take you to Thorn.”

“This Thorn is your leader?” the warrior asked.

“Yeah, he’s the denleader,” the eldest replied.