The Drunken Hammer, as it turned out, had been aptly named. Most of its patrons were either drunk or hitting each other, or both. The three thieves did their best to avoid the rowdy denizens of the tavern as they made their way to the bar. Satchel dodged a pair of dwarves taking turns bashing each other in the face with rocks. Apparently, it was some kind of contest though Satchel couldn’t exactly tell who was winning and who was losing. Addie received more than a few lingering stares from around the tavern. She pulled her cloak closer to her body, doing her best to ignore the looks.

  When they reached the bar, Jarek shouted over the tumult, “Hey barkeep!”

  A broad, husky man with a dirty apron and long pointed beard came up to the counter.

  “What’ll it be?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

  “I’m looking for a man named Basco.”

  The barkeep looked down and wiped a spot on the bar. “That a fact. Haven’t heard of him.”

  Jarek produced two cesteres from his pocket. He held them up and began rubbing them so that they made a metallic creaking sound.

  “Does this help?” said the old thief.

  The barkeep squinted as if looking at the coins from far away.

  “Maybe.”

  Jarek flicked his wrist, and a third coin appeared.

  “Getting clearer.”

  Jarek scowled. “The next metal I pull won’t be as inviting.”

  The barkeep stared long at Jarek and continued wiping the counter. He glanced at a pair of goons on the opposite wall, grunted and then said, “I may know something. What’s it to you?”

  “I’m an old friend.”

  The bartender chuckled. “He’s got lots of old friends.”

  “Perhaps, but I doubt many of them have saved his life. Twice. Will you help me or not?”

  The barkeep considered him for a moment and finally shrugged. “Yeah, all right. Lives up on the Hill with the other rich folk. He used to come down here occasionally. Goes by the name of Albirac deVille these days. Haven’t seen him around lately, though.”

  Jarek dropped the coins on the bar. With one motion, the barkeep swept them up and pocketed the coins.

  The barkeep licked his lips and then said, “You see the steeple of the cathedral as you came into Leona?”

  Jarek nodded.

  “Right, that’s the middle of town. All the main roads meet there. Go to the cathedral then take Fusterman’s Avenue. It’ll take you right up the Hill. Look for the house at the very end. You can’t miss it. It’s the biggest one up there.”

  Jarek thanked the barkeep, and the group waded their way back to the front door. Satchel felt as though he could breathe again as soon as the outside air hit his lungs.

  Night was fast approaching as the three of them wound their way through the streets of the town toward the cathedral. Fewer and fewer people stayed out this time of day. The buildings on either side of the road obscured much of the sky. The streets twisted and winded so much that they lost sight of the top of the cathedral. So, when they found themselves suddenly facing it, it made all of them stop and stare.

  The cold, rough gray stone of that gargantuan monstrosity made it seem powerful and eternal. The way it encroached on the surrounding buildings felt oppressive and overwhelming, as if ready to gobble them all up at a moment’s notice. Gargoyles jutted from the roof’s edge over each buttress, stone watchers guarding against the unworthy. Tall narrow stained-glass windows, backlit by dim candlelight, displayed various shades of oranges, yellows, and, especially, reds. A large rose window of deep scarlet dominated the upper half on the cathedral’s backside.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Heavy black metal doors served as the main entrance. Over the doors stood the statue of a figure robed from head to toe with both hands stretched out in front. At first, one might have thought the intent was to serve as a warm welcome to the faithful. However, the way the fingers on the hands curled had exactly the opposite reaction in the three onlookers.

  Addie shivered as she they passed by it. “What a horrible building,” she said.

  “I don’t like it much either,” said Jarek. “Let’s keep going.”

  “Yes, let’s,” agreed Satchel.

  They moved quickly across the courtyard and heaved a collective sigh of relief once they reached Fusterman’s Avenue. They eventually came to a lavish archway lit on either side by bright torches. Ornate letters on a bronze plate situated in the middle of the arch said, “Founders’ Hill.”

  A locked iron gate blocked their path but proved little match for the resourceful Jarek. Within seconds they were past the archway. Moving along the street, they took in the sight of the most gorgeous homes they had ever seen. Each seemed larger and grander than the last.

  Eventually, they came to a cul de sac at the end of the road. From the far side of the circle, a winding path flanked on either side by red maple trees led to the grandest manor of them all. The sight of it made Satchel take a breath.

  Gardens full of white flowers stretching from one side of the estate to the other, and a fruit orchard peeked around one corner of the mansion. Large white columns supported the roof that hung over the front patio of the house. Multiple lanterns were mounted on the back wall of the patio, providing warm light. The large oak doors were open, giving them a glimpse of an exquisite front hallway.

  Several tables and chairs were spread out on the patio. Seated at one of these tables was a mountain of a man pouring over several parchments.

  Satchel and Addie followed Jarek to the short wall that surrounded the place. They each sneaked over the side in turn and moved noiselessly across the yard, staying out of sight. When they reached a concealed position close to the patio, Jarek motioned for the other two to wait, and he approached the man from behind.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” said the seated man without turning. His voice carried a deep baritone.

  Jarek looked to the man’s side. The barrel of a steam pistol peeked out from under the man’s armpit, aimed at Jarek.

  The old thief chuckled and said, “I see you haven’t lost your edge, Basco.”

  The man jerked his head back to look at his stalker. His right eye widened. He stood abruptly and faced Jarek, saying, “You!”

  He sounded equally surprised and angry. Satchel shifted uncomfortably. This was not the welcome he thought Jarek would get. Except for Loth, Basco was the most imposing man he had ever laid eyes on. He stood a head taller than Jarek and had a barrel chest nearly twice as wide. Streaks of silver ran through his pitch-black hair and beard. An eye patch covered his left eye. The expensive white shirt and black pants only added to his already intimidating presence. Despite this, Jarek did not waver. A sly smile crept onto his face.

  “Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?” he asked.

  Basco scoffed. “Old friend? Since when have you cared about anything more than coin?”

  Jarek’s smile faded. “You’re serious. After I saved your life, even.”

  “Do you deny it?”

  Jarek said nothing.

  Basco’s eye drifted to Jarek’s left arm. “You still have that thing, then? I’m surprised you haven’t hocked it already.”

  Satchel could not take it. Jarek may not have been the most caring of guardians, but the old thief had taken Satchel in when no one else would have even given him a second glance. The boy shoved aside his apprehension and leaped out from his cover and looked Basco in the eye.

  “Don’t talk about him like that!” he yelled.

  “Oh ho,” said Basco. “You’ve trained up your very own attack dog. He does your dirty work for you now, is that it? You’re a lower form of thief than I thought.”

  “Satchel, stay out of this,” commanded Jarek.

  “Jarek may be a thief, but at least he didn’t turn into you,” said Satchel.

  Basco’s face reddened. “Now, listen here, pipsqueak-”

  “No, you listen!” Satchel fired back. “Jarek told us you were a brave mercenary. All I see is an old, fat bully hiding in a big house.”

  The former mercenary and the young thief stared into each other’s eyes. To Satchel’s surprise, Basco began a low chuckle which turned into a hearty, boisterous laugh.

  As his laughter died down, Basco said, “Uncanny. He’s just like you, Jarek.” He took a deep breath. “Had him a long while, have you?”

  Jarek nodded.

  “Even got that same look in his eyes.” Basco looked past Satchel. “I wonder if the other does as well. I know you’re back there.”

  Addie came into the light of the patio. Basco’s eyebrows went up.

  “A girl? My my, Jarek. You’ve gone soft.” His belly heaved as he let out another chuckle. The red in his face receded. He cleared his throat and then said, “All right, you wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t want something.”

  “I’d rather not discuss it here,” said Jarek. “Can we go inside?”

  “Of course, of course.” He stood and motioned to Addie. “Ladies first.”

  Addie obliged their new host.

  Basco then looked at Satchel. “After you, young man.”

  Satchel glared at him one more time and then followed Addie inside. Jarek began to do the same when Basco caught his shoulder and spoke in a low voice.

  “Forgive this old fool. The last ten years have been…difficult. Traitors run in all corners.”

  “They do, but I’m not one of them.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Understood.”

  “Good. And Jarek?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to steal anything.”