"There they are." One thief whispered to the other two as they watched from their hiding place. Across the street, a pair of shopkeepers left the furniture store. The older one... the father... paused long enough to activate the security wards that seemed to proliferate among the high-class shops in this part of town. The doors and windows of the one-story building pulsed bright green, and then the light faded. By the time it was completely gone, the men were already down the street, on their way home.

"Wanna wait until it gets completely dark?" said one thief. Handrake was a tall, wiry youth with black, unkempt hair. He couldn't have been more than eighteen.

"What the hell for?" replied Jeph, a short, compact man with a jagged scar on his chin. "We'll be waitin' forever. They'll be around to light the street lamps before too long. Ain't gonna get much darker than it already is."

"Who cares if we're seen anyway," said Alabad. He was a tall, muscular man wearing a longsword on his left hip. The brown-haired rogue was the only one of the three that carried a visible weapon. "I've fought my way outta tougher towns that this."

"Yeah," said Jeph with a sarcastic sneer. "Right. Okay... let's go. Ya got that spell ready, boy?"

Handrake nodded.

The three of them stepped out of the alley and walked calmly across the street as if they were patrons of the obviously-closed store. The paused outside the door. Handrake mumbled a few words, and the green glow returned.

He made a complex hand motion.

Nothing happened.

He made the motion again.

Nothing happened again.

"Problem there, boy?" said Jeph. The thief looked up and down the street. Not nervously... just with a look of mild curiosity.

"Let me bash the door down," said Alabad.

The boy made the motions again, and the light vanished. It didn't fade away as it had done before; it simply winked out like a flame from an extinguished candle.

"I told you I could do it," said Handrake.

"Hmph," said Alabad.

"My turn," Jeph produced a pair of fine lockpicks and began working on the lock. The motions of his nimble fingers were as complex as Handrake's spellcasting... and they succeeded on the very first try. A few seconds after he had begun, the wooden door's thick metal lock opened with a mighty-

CLUNK

Jeph pushed the door open, and the three thieves ducked inside without a word. Alabad closed the door behind them. Handrake cast another spell and produced a limited-distance light... a glowing ball who's light was visible for only few yards. The ball floated up near the ceiling, where it illuminated most of the store, yet anyone walking past on the street would be unable to see the men inside. And it only took the boy two tries to successfully cast the spell.

"Good work, boy," said Jeph. "Now let's look for that safe."

The men spread out and wandered among the furniture that was carefully and creatively laid out in the store. Bedroom suits, living and dining room sets, desks and chairs... all carved and assembled from the finest woods by the most skilled craftsmen, and then packaged and exported with tender loving care to Montfort where it-

CRASH!

Alabad kicked over a delicate antique chair, rendering it useless for anything other than expensive firewood.

"Alabad!" Jeph hissed.

"Thought I saw a secret panel under the floor," said the sword-wielding rogue. He knelt down to examine the space where the chair once sat. "Naa... nothing."

"Be quiet," said Jeph.

"It's over here," said Handrake. The apprentice mage was pointing at a spot on the wall was indistinguishable from any other spot. "Secret panel."

"Hmmm..." Jeph ran his hand across the wood. He didn't feel anything. "You sure?"

"I can see through the wood." Handrake pointed at his eyes, which were glowing slightly. "It's there."

"Good craftsmanship," said Jeph. "I can't feel the seams-"

"Which means you can't get it open," said Alabad. "My turn."

Alabad shoved a table out of his way... a table he could have just as easily walked around... and stood in front of the space Handrake indicated. He drew back and punched the wall. A two foot square potion of the wood cracked and fell away.

"Ouch!" Handrake yelped. "That must've hurt."

"Not if ya've got heart, boy," replied Alabad.

"Yup," Jeph stood on his tip-toes and saw a safe hidden within the wall. "There it is." He reach up with his lockpicks and start working on the lock. "You'd think they'd have a combination lock," he mumbled as he worked. "Not that it'd make a difference so a professional thief like myself."

"Just get us the goodies," said Alabad. The rogue was clearly frustrated with the lack of excitement in tonight's activities.

*click*

Jeph opened the safe. Alabad gulped. Handrake whistled.

The sack of gold coins must have weighed at least thirty pounds. The smaller sack behind it held non-coin payments of jewelry and loose gems. There was also a business ledger, which Alabad tossed away, and a single three-carat diamond ring in a small felt pouch.

"Good gods above," whispered Jeph as he held the ring.

"Wonder why it was just sitting in there?" said Handrake.

"Who cares," replied Alabad. He snatched the ring away from Jeph. Jeph didn't protest... the three had already promised to sell everything and split the money equally. "This is nice,"

"Hey, what's that-"

"Shhh!"

All three men heard the footsteps approaching the door.

"The light!" Jeph hissed.

Handrake dismissed the glowing globe, plunging the store into darkness an instant before the door opened. Framed by the moonlight, single male shape stood in the doorway,. He paused for a moment, then walked into the store, moving toward the violated safe. He stopped and lit a lantern which had been sitting on one of the desks.

He looked up and saw the open safe.

"Wha-"

Ka-CHUNK!

Alabad's sword burst out of the boy's chest, thrust completely through from behind. The young Fexworth boy, no more than seventeen years old at the most, coughed up a lung-full of blood and dropped dead on the floor of his father's store.

"Alabad!" Handrake said in a barely-muffled shriek. "You- You- You-"

"Yeah, whatever," Alabad yanked his sword free, wiped the blood on the dead boy's shirt, and sheathed his weapon.

"You shouldn'ta done that," said Jeph.

"Why not?"

"Wasn't part of the plan. This isn't a caravan robbery, ya know."

"He was gonna scream. Whaddaya want me to do, let his big mouth bring the Tower Guard runnin?"

"Where's the old guy?" said Handrake. He was over his shock already. "The father."

"Damn," said Jeph. "Let's get out of here."

"I got the gold," Alabad hefted the heavy bag of gold.

"Jewels right here," said Handrake. He held the bag of jewels up so the others could see it.

"We're gone," said Jeph. Three of them left the store and vanished into the night.


---


Several minutes later, Anton Fexworth hobbled through the open doorway of his store. He stopped as soon as he saw the light. It was coming from an oil lamp that someone had dropped on the floor.... right next to the pool of red liquid.

"Marcellus?" Anton rasped. "Son?"

Anton squeezed past a table that was out of place, and nearly placed his right foot onto his dead son's face.

"MARCELLUS, NOOO!"

The old storekeeper dropped to his knees in the pool of blood and cradled his son's limp body in his arms.

"No... my son, please, no...."


--


"I know a guy on the south side," said Jeph. "He'll get us a good price on the jewels. AND he'll keep his mouth shut."

"Hmmm...." Alabad's brow furrowed. The three of them were in an alley, leaning lazily against the back of an old church. It was a place were no one would see them without being seen themselves. Most thieves in Montfort had a dozen such places already mapped out in their heads.

"Hmmm what?" said Jeph. "You been in town two days, and you tellin' me you know somebody ta fence these jewels?"

"There's that Azawyldo guy I heard about-"

"Az skimps on the gold, and he talks too damn much."

"Who cares if he talks."

"I do," said Handrake The apprentice mage shuffled nervously and eyed the moon as if it were watching him. "I got a life, ya know. A legitimate gig. I can't continue my apprenticeship if I'm locked in a cell somewhere."

"Shut up," Jeph and Alabad said at once.

"Look," Jeph continued. "because of you and your sword, this is now a murder as well as a robbery. We gotta be extra careful what we say, what we do, and who we take this loot to, or else we'll find ourselves swinging from the gallows."

Handrake gulped audibly.

"How can we trust this guy you know?" said the apprentice "What's his name?"

"Thodgill. He runs a shop down on the south side of town."

"Never heard of him,"

"Me neither," said Alabad.

"He's new."

"Oh great, another inexperienced pup." Alabad shot a glance at Handrake, who glared back at him.

"I've dealt with him before. He gives good prices, and he knows to keep his yap closed."

"I want to know where he is," said Handrake. "But I don't want him to see me."

"He'll only deal with me anyway," said Jeph. "He doesn't like strangers. I'll take you there and go in alone."

"Heey... so how will we know how much he gives you? You plannin on cheating us, Jeph?"

"Alabad, you oaf... I'm taking you to the guy's shop. If ya get curious about the deal, you can always go talk to him later."

"Hmmmm...."

"But Jeph," said Handrake. "You just said that-"

"Hush, boy. Come on, you two... you wanna get some money or you wanna stand around here all night?"

---


"I'll tell you like I told the other two," Anton Fexworth hissed through clenched teeth. "I want to see Hood. Now."

"And I'll tell YOU, old man," said the filthy-looking thug that was standing next to him. "He ain't here." The thug had propped himself up outside of a disgusting tavern known as the Hung Dog. Anton Fexworth fit in with the tavern's patrons about as much as a sheep in a crowd of starving wolves. No one bothered, him however.

Anton stared into the man's dark eyes and frowned.

"How many hoops am I going to have to jump through? If I ever wanted to see Hood, I was supposed to got talk to the bartender's apprentice at the Silver Falcon. I did that. HE said to got talk to the one-legged butcher in the town square. And HE said to come to the Hung Dog and talk to YOU. Now YOU'RE telling me... what? What exactly ARE you telling me?"

"Dragon's Inn," said the man, who had yet to give his name.

"Hood is at the Dragon's Inn?"

"I ain't said that. Alls I'm sayin' is that ifn you wanna talk to Hood, you gotta go to the Dragon's Inn."

"Look you, I DEMAND satisfaction! I want to see him and I want to see him RIGHT NOW!"

"No, YOU look, Mr. Fancypants! You don't just pop up and start askin for folks like you're doin! Especially folks like the one you're askin about. YOU'RE the one that wants ta see HIM, so ifn he wants ya to jump through hoops, then DAMMIT YE'D BETTER JUMP THROUGH THE DAMN HOOPS!"

The men locked intense gazes for several seconds, and then Anton Fexworth hobbled away. Both men muttered curses under their breaths, but Anton's were much more bitter and scathing. He was smart enough to know that the man at the tavern... whoever he was... was just following whatever orders he'd been given. Getting angry at him would serve no purpose; but that just lead to more frustration. Anton was ALREADY angry... he was seething... he elderly bones were rattling with rage underneath his wrinkled skin. Inwardly his soul fought with itself... battling to see which emotion would eventually win out: despair over the loss of his son, or the desperate need for revenge. For now he felt both, and it showed in every step he took, every word he spoke, and every passing glance he gave.

He hobbled back towards the more 'civilized' part of town, where the famous Dragon's Inn was nestled. He doubted the man he sought would frequent such a popular and well-traveled place, but he had no further instructions other than to "go to the Dragon's Inn." He didn't know who to talk to once he got there, so if he didn't see a face he recognized, he'd be out of luck. The entire night... the smelly taverns... the sore feet... the frustrated dance from one place to another... would have all been for nothing.

"That bastard," Anton mumbled. "I should have known better."

Anton was walking past a blacksmith's shop when the door suddenly flew open. Anton barely had time to turn his head when something grabbed him and yanked him violently into the store.

"HEY!" he protested.

A shape stepped in front of him as the door slammed shut.

It was the thin, dark shape of an ordinary man. A small man, thin and lanky... completely unthreatening. But there was an intensity about the shape... a feeling... an unseen aura surrounding it that made Anton shiver in his boots.

"M-m-m-" Anton stuttered. "M-Mr. Hood?"

The shape stepped into the dim light. He had a harsh, triangular face and a long, thin nose that reminded Anton of a rodent. His hair was short and brown, the same color as his eyes. But those eyes stared out at Anton like the orbs of some ancient, evil deity that had awakened to find Anton robbing its tomb.

Anton recognized the face, and his heart nearly stopped beating. The fear was like a cold, tight fist clamping down on the old man's chest. Squeezing...

"What the hell do you want?" said Eric Hood.

"I-I- I- I- I-" Anton gasped and wheezed for a few seconds. He had to regain his composure. He pictured his son lying dead on the floor. He felt the body cooling in his arms. The rage returned, but it took a few seconds to burn past the thick fog of stark terror that Hood had induced. "Mr. Hood," he said finally. "I am Anto-"

"I know who the hell you are. What do you want."

"My son is dead."

Eric Hood's face twisted into his "What Does This Have To Do With Me?" sneer.

"He was murdered. Killed by... by some thieving scum that YOU said you'd protect me from."

"Someone robbed your store," said Eric.

"AND killed my SON! MURDERED HIM! In COLD BLOOD! We'd left for the night, and he went back to fetch the engagement ring he'd just bought for his fiancee. He must have caught them in the act. They... they took money and jewels... and they killed him. When he didn't come back, I followed him. I found him... I found..." Anton was on the verge of crying, but it only brought more rage. "WHERE WERE YOU!? I pay you MONEY to PROTECT US!"

Eric Hood frowned, but remained stoically silent.

"So WHAT are you going to DO about it!" Anton howled.

"I can't bring your son back," said Eric.

"You think that's what I want!? You think I walked all over this town for THAT! I want JUSTICE! I want those men... whoever they are... to PAY! And if you can't give me that, then I want every cent I've ever given you back, RIGHT NOW!!!"

"You're angry," said Eric. "I understand. But if you don't stop yelling in my face, I'll slice your mouth right off of your face."

Anton's quivering lips closed.

"You been to the Tower Guard yet?"

"No," said Anton. "You said never to-"

"Good. I'll handle it."

"You'll handle it. That's all... you'll... handle it."

"You go home and do what you've gotta do. I suggest a few strong drinks. Come to your store tomorrow morning at your usual time."

"And?"

"It'll be handled," said Eric. He turned and stepped into the shadows... vanishing like a wraith.

"Handled?" said Anton. "What does 'handled' mean? Mr. Hood? Hello?"

Anton Fexworth realized that he was alone in the building.

---


"Twelve thousand gold," said Thodgill. The young-looking, but sly hustler sat across from Jeph at a plain wooden table in the back of Thodgill's store. The 'store' was just a front for his real business... receiving and shipping stolen goods. He'd been in operation for only a few weeks, but business was already booming. A sack of gold sat on the table in front of him. A similar, though smaller sack filled with jewelry and other valuables rested in front of Jeph. Thodgill had aleady inspected each piece and figured out how much he could sell it for elsewhere, and how much it would cost to secretly ship it to 'elsewhere.' He'd used those figures to come up with a price, which he had just quoted to Jeph.

"Twelve-thousand, eh? said Jeph. It was a fair price, but the of jewels was worth at least fifteen. "How' bout fourteen."

"What? You wanna haggle?"

"That's how it's done."

"That's not how its done here. I named the price. Take it or leave it."

"Oh come on," said Jeph. "Twelve? You know good and well you can sell that stuff in Bephal for at least twenty-two thousand. At least."

"There's such a thing as profit, ya know."

"There's such a thing as getting screwed, ya know."

"Thirteen," said Thodgill.

"Eighteen."

"Get out. Take this crap with ya."

"Hold on. Okay... fifteen?"

"Fourteen."

"Done," said Jeph. He shoved the jewels over to Thodgill, and Thodgill reciprocated with the sack of gold

"Twelve's in there," said Thodgill as he got up from the table. "I'll go get the other two."

"Hold on there, Thodge," said Jeph. "How about I take this twelve now and come back for the rest."

"Why?" said Thodgill. Jeph just smiled back at him. "Screwing your partners again, eh?"

"Of course," replied Jeph. The thief got up from the table. "I'll be back for that other gold later on tonight."
"It'll be here."

Jeph walked out of the shop through the back door. There was a small park across the street, and he could feel Alabad and Handrake watching him from the shadows. He couldn't see them, so he scanned the park and walked over to the most logical place to hide. Both men were there waiting for him.

"Amateurs," said Jeph. "Here..." He tossed the bag of gold to Alabad. "Twelve thousand gold."

"That's all?" said Handrake.

"Some of the gems were fake."

"Bull. You're cheatin' us," said Alabad. "He's cheatin' us Handrake. That ring alone was worth... hell... a lot of damn money."

Handrake cast a spell and looked at Jeph.

"No he isn't . He doesn't have any more gold on him."

"Told you," said Jeph.

Alabad grumbled incoherently.

"Well, let's split it up...."

The thieves split up the gold equally... despite the fact that only two of them had contributed significantly to the heist. Each counted his money quickly and silently while keeping an eye on the surrounding shadows.

"Okay, gentlemen," said Handrake. "It's been fun, but I've gotta go."

"Past yer curfew, boy?" said Alabad. "That wizard still ridin' ya?"

Now it was Handrake's turn to grumble.

"If ya come across any more jobs, just let me know," the apprentice said. "Just not anytime soon, okay? It'll be a while before I can sneak out again."

"Yeah, right," said Jeph.

Handrake looked around, and then ducked through some bushes. He emerged on the sidewalk and walked away like an ordinary citizen out for a moonlight stroll.

"What about you?" said Jeph.

"Heh. Killin' and stealin' always gets me randy. Gonna find me a house a ill-repute, if ya know what I means."

"Try the Dark Chalice."

"Where's that?"

"Go to the old tavern on Sinclaire road. It looks shut down from the outside, but if ya go in and go down to the basement, you'll find a door. Tell the guard that Eddie sent ya, he'll let ya in."

"Nice women there?"

"Cheap women."

"That's what I mean."

"Cheaper than most... decent quality for what ya pay. Don't drink or eat anything there, though... stuff's either drugged or just plain bad."

"Uh-huh."

"I'll be there myself later on. I'm gonna stop by the Pan-Demonica for some quality refreshments."

"See ya there, then," said Alabad. "Bring a bottle of somethin' wit ya."

"You bet."

The men parted, both going separate directions, with two different goals in mind.

---

CRASH!

"OWWW!!!"

Dremen bounced off of the wall and fell face-first to the floor. He felt his nose break, and tasted fresh blood in his mouth. He got up on his hands and knees...

"Pleeeeease!" he begged. "I don't KNOW nothin!"

"Oh yeah?" said Eric Hood. "Let's find out how much you don't know, eh?"

Hood kicked the middle-aged storekeeper in the face, dislodging all of his front upper teeth.

"MMMMNNNNFFF!" Dreman protested. He fell flat, and then rolled over.

He was looking up at Eric Hood's face.

"You're the most popular fence in the city," Eric said. He kicked the man lightly in the side, bruising but not breaking any ribs. "I help keep you that way. All I ask is a cut of the profit... and some information every once in a while."

"...please... oh, please, I don't know nuffin..."

"Someone stole some items from a business partner of mine. I'm looking for that guy. So if he didn't bring the goods here... where would he go."

"I dunno!"

WUMP!

Eric kicked the man in the side once more. This time he DID break a few ribs.

"I promif! I dunno nuffin!"

"I don't believe you."

WUMP!

"AAAA!!"

"Okay, punk. I sure hope your family knows where you hide your money... they're gonna be needin it to bury you. Probably gonna need about six or seven funerals for all the different pieces-"

"NOOO!"

"I ever show you my new toy?"

Eric reached into his pocked and pulled out a slender, metallic object about five inches long. It looked like a wand... or the handle of a knife. Hood pressed a tiny button on the surface-

*click*

A blade popped out of the handle. A sharp blade, that glinted wickedly in the night.

Dremen saw the knife and screamed as loud as his broken ribs would allow.

"Now let's get down to business," said Hood. He walked toward Dremen, who was on his knees begging for mercy.

"No! I don' know nuffin! Dey din bring dat stuff here!"

"Where did they take it?"

"Dis uver guy! Dis new guy down in da sout side of the city! Across um dat ole park!"

"Who?"

"I dunno his name! He's a new guy... people started takin' goods dere weeks ago!"

"A new fence set up shop in town? And you didn't tell me?"

"I was gunna! honest!"

"Sure. Sure you were. I'll have to deal with your lack of communication later. Right now, I've got to talk business with a new client."

Eric pressed the tiny button on his knife again-

*click!*

And the blade slid back into the handle. Dremen collapsed on the floor like a deflated balloon.

"I'll be back," said Eric. He left Dremen's store and was gone.


---


Alabad trotted down the dark steps, his sword slapping against his thigh. He could hear the sounds of drinking and... other things... coming from not far below. He reached the bottom of the stairs, rounded a corner, and came to a large door. The wood had been painted black, all except for a small brown panel in the center at head-height.

Alabad pounded on the door, and the panel slid back. A pair of red eyes glared out at him. Whatever was on the other side wasn't human.

"Who you?" grunted a feral voice.

"Eddie sent me," replied Alabad.

"Eddie who?" said the voice.

"Whaddaya mean 'Eddie Who?' EDDIE sent me dammit, now let me in before I impale you through the freakin door!"

The voice grunted. The panel slid back into place, and the door opened.

Alabad stepped into perhaps the seediest dive he'd ever seen. He was in a small square room with doors on all sides. There was a worn, rat-eaten red carpet attempting to cover the floor. More wood showed through the holes than was hidden. There was a dark brown couch in one corner, where six decent-looking, scantily dressed woman sat and eyed him. The women were clean, and they had pretty smiles. Their scars and scabs weren't too noticeable. Actually, as Alabad took a closer look... the couch on which they sat looked like it had been white at one time.

There was an old decrepit table pushed over against the opposite wall, where a toothless old man was attempting to mix drinks. A few salty old patrons had decided to risk his wares.

Standing next to the wall behind the door was a huge... thing. It was half orc, half ogre, and all ugly. It smelled worse than it looked, but some of the scent could be attributable to the carpet, the couch, and the women.

Finally, just opposite the entrance and to one side of another door, sat a high podium. Behind it stood a smiling man wide, billowing silks. He looked like the cleanest thing in the entire room.

"What can I do for you, sir? My name is Olemite." said the man. "Come to sample our wares?"

"Uhhh... yeah."

"Friend of Jeph's?"

"Huh? How'd you know that?"

"Different passwords for different people. Since Jeph sent you here, he gets a discount on his next... uhh... purchase."

"Oh."

Alabad eyed the women once more. They all wiggled and gyrated, vying for his affection... and money. They all looked mildly appealing. At least none of them were repugnant. Alabad picked one at random... a slim beauty with dark hair and large, luscious lips. The other girls looked somewhat disappointed.

"Ahh... Yiffon," said Olemite. "She'll treat you right."

"She'd better," said Alabad. "How much?"

The man waved Alabad over to the podium.

"How much," Alabad repeated.

"Make an offer," said Olemite.

"Huh? Ya want me to haggle for her?"

"But of course!"

"Uhh... okay. After a few minutes, the two of them had worked out a satisfactory agreement. Haggling for women was a new experience for Alabad, but he did manage a nice deal. He decided to try to get a lower price next time.

Olemite opened one of the doors, revealing a short hallway with tiny bedrooms on either side. He showed Alabad and Yiffon to their room.

"Enjoy your time," he said before he left.

"Oh, I'm sure I will."

Alabad turned to Yiffon and watched her undress.

"Boy, did I get a good deal," he mused as the last of her clothing fell away. The woman sat down on the bed. Alabad got up and started to take off his clothes...


---


Thodgill thought he heard something in the back room.

He got up from his comfortable chair and grabbed his crossbow, then stepped into the back. It was dark. Only one of the two oil lamps he kept back there was lit. He distinctly remembered leaving them both on when Jeph... his last visitor... left.

"Who's in here?" said Thodgill. His eyes traveled to where the two hidden safes were located. Neither of them looked like they'd been disturbed. The door was closed and the latches were still in place. The trip-wire he kept strung over the doorway was still there, and the swinging-axe trap that it triggered was still un-sprung.

He took a few more steps forward into the room, then paused to watch the shadows. He saw where one of the oil lamps had been extinguished. He could still barely make out the half-full oil reservoir. He listened to the silence. All he heard was his own breathing.

"Hmmm..." He turned slowly, keeping the crossbow pointed at whatever was in front of him. He examined the shadows from different angles. Nothing.

He tried to figure out what it was he'd heard. He couldn't place it. But then, if there was anyone skilled enough to get in and stay hidden, they wouldn't make any noises...

... unless it was for bait.

"Oh shi-"

A pair of arms reached forward from behind Thodgill and snatched the crossbow out of his startled fingers.

"AAAA!"

Thodgill spun, and came face to face with a thin man with a stern face and cold, evil eyes.

Eric Hood reached out and grabbed Thodgill by the neck. He dropped the crossbow, and quickly buried his other hand in Thodgill's gut-

WUMP!

"OOOF!"

The air left Thodgill's lungs, and then Eric's grasp tightened, refusing to allow more air in to replace it.

"ACK! ACK!"

Thodgill pulled and yanked at Eric's arms. Eric kneed the man in the groin-

"OOOOooooooo......"

And then shoved him violently across the room. Thodgill narrowly avoided his own trip-wire, which would have sent the spring-loaded axe right into his back. He spun, intending to fight-

CRACK!

Eric's first punch knocked that silly thought of fighting right out of Thodgill's mind. The second punch informed Thodgill that perhaps he'd better calm down and listen to what the stranger had to say.

"Wha... who?" Thodgill managed to say.

"The name is Hood. Eric Hood. We haven't met before."

"N-no," said Thodgill. Out of sheer force of habit, he began looking around for a weapon... any weapon.

CRACK!

"Pay attention," said Eric. He'd just regained Thodgill's full attention with a punch to the nose. "You see... that's the problem. We haven't met. My lines of communication let me down... but don't worry, I'll be taking care of that right after I deal with the little problem of some missing items."

"What are you talking abo-"

CRACK!

"I'm talking; you're listening. You must be from out of town... you don't know how things work here. Should've done your research. You see... most criminals and some storekeepers here in Montfort pay dues to me, and I let them stay in business. I also help protect 'em. Mostly I protect 'em from me... but sometimes I protect 'em from each other. You followin' me so far here?"

Thodgill nodded.

"That arrangement works out pretty well. Every once in a while somebody needs ta be taught a lesson, but other than that, things run like clockwork. There's peace when I want it, and there's a great big bloody mess when I want it. It's a nice arrangement. I like that arrangement. Other people... powerful people... like that arrangement. So will you."

"I, uhh... yeah." Thodgill nodded in agreement as he looked into Eric's eyes. He regretted not hiring some thugs to help secure the place, but somehow, he knew it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. There would have just been a bigger mess to clean up. The question now was... was this Eric Hood a serious player... or just some nobody trying to shake him down.

"Now, I know what yer thinking," said Hood. "You punks always think the same thing right about now... who am I? Somebody you need to be afraid of, or just some nobody trying to move in on ya. Well, I'm not in the business of proving myself to anybody. Assuming I let you live, you can ask around and find that out for yourself. Right now, I'm here to make sure you don't threaten our little arrangement."

"Threaten. Hey, I didn't-"

SMACK!

Hood slapped Thodgill. It wasn't a light, playful slap.... it was one of those backhanded smacks that damn near broke Thodgill's jaw. Thodgill rubbed the injured spot on his cheek. There's be a nasty blue and black bruise there by morning.

"Somebody decided to ignore the way things run here. They robbed a place that was under my protection. Killed a guy. Stole some items... items that would need to have been fenced. Now, none of the other fences know a damn thing about it... but then your name popped up. I figure I'd pay you a visit and kill two birds with one stone. You got a nice place here, Thodgill. I'd hate to see anything bad happen here. So I'm offering to bring you in on my little arrangement. What do ya say-"

"This... this is extortio-"

SMACK!"

Now Thodgill will have a matching bruise on the other cheek.

"I KNOW what it is, moron," said Hood. "What I'm askin is do I need to get ugly or not?"

"What... what do you want?"

"A third of all the illegal profit you get."

"A third?! That's ridiculous. And what do I get in return?"

"You get to see me a lot less than you would otherwise. You get protection from me... from your competitors... and from the two-bit predators out there who wouldn't wait two seconds to crack your skull AND your safe if they knew you had something. You ever have any kinda problem, you don't go to the Tower Guard... you come to me."

"And what ABOUT the Tower Guard? You protect me from them, too?."

"I won't protect you from your own incompetence. If you're stupid enough to get mixed up with the Guard, then that's YOUR problem."

"Sounds like a raw deal to me."

Eric moved so fast that Thodgill didn't even see it coming. He heard a *click,* saw was a glint of metal and then his chest exploded in pain.

Eric shoved his knife hilt-deep into Thodgill's chest. The shopkeeper gasped and fell backwards. Eric shoved him to the ground and knelt on top of him, with his bony knew planted firmly in the man's stomach. He grabbed the small knife protruding from Thodgill's chest and gave it a hard twist.

"A-A-A-" Thodgill gasped.

"Ever been stabbed before?" said Eric. Thodgill squirmed weakly.

"That blade is about hair to the right of your heart. I wouldn't be squirming around too much if I was you."

"unnnng...."

"Of course, I'm not you-" Eric twisted the knife again, and then yanked it out. A brief spurt of blood fountained upward from the wound. "That one was just to get your attention. NOW we get down to business-"

The knife came down once more, piercing the quivering chest and puncturing Thodgill's right lung. Thodgill convulsed and coughed. He could feel his lung filling up with blood.

"THAT one was for setting up shop in Montfort without checking out how things work first. That kinda mistake just creates more work for me."

Eric removed the blade... and immediately reinserted it just to the left of the previous wound. The sharp blade sank in with a slick, wet sound.

"ACK!"

"THAT is for wasting my time with stupid questions and comments when I'm just trying to help YOU out... just trying to save YOU a lot of grief later on. And this... THIS is 'cause I just don't like you!"

Eric grasped the knife, pulled it free once more, and proceeded to stab the man in the chest four... five... six times in rapid succession. Each downward stroke missed Thodgill's heart and one healthy lung.... but often by mere fractions of an inch.

Thodgill screamed and cried and screamed again. He felt like some huge knife-toothed beast was chewing on his chest. Blood flew everywhere. It got into his mouth and eyes. He couldn't see anything but a painful red blur. And even with the strength of desperation, he was too weak to overpower the stabbing maniac on top of him.

Finally, Eric stopped.

"Now," he said. He wiped his blade off on one of the few remaining clean spots on Thodgill's shirt. "Now you're gonna die."

Thodgill whimpered.

"You're gonna die without some medical treatment. A good enough healer could pray you back together, or maybe Clussh could sew you up. But only if you get to 'em before you bleed to death... or before shock sets in. That'll only take a few minutes. Plenty of time for you to crawl outta here and scream for help. Maybe some passing townsmen will take you where you need to go. Or maybe they'll just slit your throat and take your moneypouch. Doesn't matter to me... it ain't my problem. But you see, you need to get going, or you're gonna die right here on the floor. Only thing is... I'm not gonna let you move until you tell me what I want to know."

"...god....oh, gods,... please...."

"I wanna know who came to see you tonight. Who brought you some stolen jewels?"

"...jeph..." mumbled Thodgill. He never even thought about keeping his mouth closed. It wasn't even an option.

"Uh-huh. And where is Jeph now?"

"I... I don't know... please... please help me...."

"That's not the answer I'm looking for. Maybe you didn't hear me. I'll ask you again, and this time I'll.... talk....real.... ssslloooowwww... Where's Jeph?"

"He... he... he...he likes to...go... to the D-Dark Chalice.... it's... it's a-"

"I know what it is. I know where it is. See, you knew something after all."

"...please... please let me... go..."

"Uh-uh. We still got business to discuss."

"...oh... please..."

"You want into my little organization or not? A third of your income. Plus you do little favors for me every once in a while. Like answering some questions without me having to beat it out of ya."

Thodgill gasped for air. He wondered which of these rasping breaths would be his last.

"I'll take that gasp as a yes. I'll also take those items that Jeph sold ya. They in yer safe?"

Thodgill nodded.

Eric got up and walked over to the hidden safe. He knew exactly where it was. People always hid them in the same stupid places... behind paintings and bookcases. Eric found it and picked the lock with ease. Inside was a small bag of jewels, and a nice fat monepouch. He took both.

When he turned around, he saw that Thodgill was trying to crawl out of the room.

"You're moving already," said Eric. "That's good. You just might make it. I would tell ya how to get in contact with me... but why bother. I'll see if you live first. If so, I'll be back. If not, then I guess I'll be dealing with the next guy."

Eric walked toward the door. Just as he left, he stopped and knelt down to pick up Thodgill's crossbow.

"Here. A going-away present."

Eric fired the bolt, and it sank deep into Thodgill's left buttock. Thodgill shrieked. Eric smiled and walked out, taking the crossbow with him.

---

Handrake lay in bed, half-dreaming about his ill-gotten loot. He felt a twinge of guilt about the boy that Alabad had killed, but that was all it was... a twinge. There were more important things he had to think about now... like his studies and how he was going to put his money to the best possible use.

The apprentice had his eyes closed, so he didn't see the dark figure standing over him until the old man had already finished his spell.

Suddenly, Handrake couldn't move.

"Huh!?" he gasped as his eyes popped open.

It was dark for a moment, and then a light came on in the room. Handrake stared up into the eyes of his master, Zazafad.

The mage's dirty, unkempt gray hair sat atop his wrinkled dome like some kind of wild creature that had crawled up there and died. Handrake's master looked down at him with his mis-matched eyes... one blue, one gray.

"What in the blue hell have you been doing, boy," he spat. He literally spat... tiny droplets of spittle rained down on Handrake's immobile form.

"Wha- what do you mean, sir?"

"Where have you been?"

"I haven't been anywh-"

"Oh SHUT UP, boy! I'm tired of your lies. You think you can sneak in and out of here at your leisure!? I'm a MAGE dammit! I KNOW who goes in and out of my house!"

"But- I- I just had to run some errands, sir!"

"Errands that you had to SNEAK OUT to do!?"

"I- You- You won't let me out when I want, so I-"

"You're supposed to be in here studying the craft, boy. If you're not doing that, then you're sleeping so you can study HARDER the next day! NOT running out on the streets all times of night."

"I was back just after dark, sir! I was-"

"You were what? What WERE you doing, boy?"

"I- was..."

"I can SEE your little insignificant mind trying to think up a lie. Don't bother."

"There was... I was... you see..."

"Did anybody die?"

"Huh?"

"Only two things worth sneakin' out for, boy... sex and crime. You're back FAR to early for it to have been a sex. So... WHO were you with, and should I expect a visit from the Tower Guard in the morning?"

"I... there's this guy named Jeph. He wanted to get some money from this store, but it had wards on it."

"So you take the magic I've taught you and use it to commit crimes, eh?"

"But... but..."

"Did anybody die in this crime, boy? Stealing is one thing... but killing..."

"No," Handrake lied quickly... before his effort betrayed him.

"How much?" said Zazafad. "Where's the gold, boy?"

"On the... the shelf."

"Hmmm..."

On the shelf in the boys room, nestled between bottles and bags of various magical ingredients, sat a large sack. It had gold in it. A lot of gold.

Zazafad took the sack and sat it on the floor beside him.

"I'll be taking this," he said.

"But-"

"And now you'll have to be punished."

"But-"

Zazafad yanked the thick belt out of his pants and coiled it into a loop. Then he rolled Handrake over.
---


Alabad rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. The prostitute... the second for the night... had left already. She must have snuck out while he'd been dozing lightly.

"Hmmmm..." he mused. He sat up and pulled on his pants. Instinctively he reached for his sword and his money pouch.. Both were right where he left them, so he relaxed. "Let's see who's gonna be next. I wonder if Jeph made it in yet."

Alabad stood and stretched. It occurred to him that he should figure out exactly what he was going to do with his share of the money. If he didn't he'd end up spending it all in places like this. He considered traveling to some other town where the competition wasn't so thick and the law wasn't quite so good at their jobs. There were plenty of places like that around.

"Hmm... maybe Bephal? Or I could-"

"I wouldn't be making any plans for the future," said a voice.

There was a man in the room. A thin man of somewhat average height. He was standing in a corner where the light from the one oil lamp didn't quite reach.

Alabad cursed himself as he reached for his sword. He unsheathed it and faced the stranger. He could've SWORN that man wasn't standing there a second ago.

"You a friend of Jeph's?" said the stranger.

"Yeah. Who the hell are you?"

"Eric Hood," said the man.

A chill went down Alabad's spine. He'd walked with the criminals in lots of different cities, and the name Eric Hood had turned up in more than a few of them. It was always associated with something bad.

Something VERY bad.

"You're the man, eh?" said Alabad. He tightened his sword-grip. "That's funny. I expected somebody bigger."

"Most people do," said Eric. He stepped out of the shadows, revealing his face.

"How'd you get in here..." said Alabad.

"Olemite pays his money on time, and he knows not to ask questions," said Hood.

"Uh-huh."

Eric stared at Alabad and, as hard as Alabad tried, he couldn't suppress another chill from waltzing up and down his spine.

"What do ya want?" said Alabad.

"What do you know about a heist tonight? Furniture store. Money and jewels. And murder."

Alabad smiled.

"I know all about it," he said. "I was there."

"You and who else?"

"What's it to you?"

"That store was under my protection."

Alabad felt like all of his muscles had just frozen solid. But then he remembered that he had a sword, and so far, Eric Hood was just standing there weaponless.

"Too bad," Alabad said. "You're not getting any of the loot, if that's what ya want."

"Loot? You think that's what I'm after? That store was under my protection. You robbed it. That means you... and whoever else was in on it... just volunteered to be examples to every other thief in the city."

"Examples, eh?" Alabad frowned and prepared for attack. "I don't think so. I'm twice your size, plus I'm a trained swordsman. You're just some street-rat. You wanna try me, come on... the last thing you see will be your entrails hanging from the tip of my sword."

"I'll take that blade and shove it hilt-deep up your arse," said Eric. "But first, you're gonna tell me who else was in on the job."

"I ain't tellin you squat! And ya know, I'm tired of standin' here talkin.' You wanna go, Let's Go!" Alabad charged, swinging his blade in a downward arc towards Eric's head. At the last second, he altered his attack. He spun and brought his sword around, attempting to slash Hood across the chest.

Eric Hood deftly and calmly stepped away from the attack. He moved to one side and waited...

Alabad stepped into a straight, powerful lunge.

Hood twisted out of the way. The movement was slow, almost lazy. But the one that followed was like the strike of a snake. His arm shot out-

*click*

The blade sprung free of its housing and instant before he slashed at Alabad's wrist.

Alabad hissed and yanked his arm back, throwing a thin trail of blood onto the floor. Without a word or a thought, he twisted and tried to kick Hood in the side. Eric backed away, just as Alabad had planned. He swung his sword in a series of twirling arcs as he charged. Instead of dodging, Eric walked into the attacks... he ducked, twisted, and spun away from the deadly sword as is danced around him. It never touched him once. Alabad may as well have been trying to kill a buzzing fly with his clumsy weapon.

But Eric Hood was deadlier than any mere insect. He lashed out with his blade, and left a bleeding gash across Alabad's chest. Hood ducked and danced away... then came forward again. Alabad spun and slashed. The very tip of his sword sliced across Hood's shoulder... a harmless wound. Hood's knife, however, dug deep into Alabad's wrist, severing the veins and tendons cleanly.

"Arrrgh!"

Alabad jumped back. He tossed his sword up, and snatched it out of the air with his left hand. He lunged again, and at the last instant, twisted into another slash that almost caught Hood across the throat... almost.

Hood backed away, and the two men began circling each other in the tiny room. Alabad was bleeding from several cuts, and his right hand was now a useless lump of flesh. Eric Hood just watched and waited. Alabad's eyes moved from Hood's eyes to the door, and then back again.

"Few lucky strikes," said Alabad. "But I'm still standin'"

Hood didn't say a word.

"YAAH!" Alabad moved in, attempting to force Hood back with a series of savage, powerful chops. Again, Eric avoided the man's sword. He ducked under one blow, blocked a kick from Alabad, and then struck. His knife caught the light as is darted for the center of Alabad's gut.

"UNGH!"

It caught the light again the instant before it sank into the swordsman's thigh

"Arg!"

Hood spun, ducked, and slashed Alabad across the upper abdomen, opening his flesh in a deep, painful wound.

Two jabs, a slash, and Hood was gone... walking calmly around Alabad's bleeding, limping form once more. The swordsman snarled.

"This can go on all night," said Hood. "Or at least until you bleed to death."

Alabad charged, then spun and ran for the door. Hood stuck out one long, bony leg and tripped the fleeing thief. Alabad hit the floor with a thud, his sword slid into the shadows. He rolled over just as Hood's blade came down towards him. He knocked Hood's blade aside... but Eric's other hand was now clasping a blade as well. It slashed across Alabad's face, leaving a long, thin line just under his eyes. Eric's hand brought the knife around again-

"ARRRRGH!!!"

Alabad's right ear rolled across the floor.

"Ready to answer some questions now?"

Alabad rolled hard to one side and kicked back at Hood's leg. Hood jumped back. Alabad leapt to his feet, turned, and-

THUCK!

A dagger sank into his upper back, just a hair to the left of his spine.

"AAAHH!"

THWUCK!

A second dagger joined it, slightly lower and on the opposite side of his backbone.

Alabad staggered, but tried to remain on his feet. He failed. He hit the ground again, falling first to his knees, and then over onto his side. Blood was pouring out of the half-dozen or so deep, serious wounds that Hood had given him. He felt someone walk up behind him.

Hood grabbed his shoulder and pulled him over onto his back, which forced the daggers deeper into his flesh.

"AAAAA-AAK!!!!!"

Hood placed his right boot across Alabad's throat. When the swordsman tried to grab Eric's foot, Hood applied pressure and choked him.

"Who else was in on the job?" said Hood calmly.

"NNGH! NNGH!"

Alabad tried to fight back the pain. Hood reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out another dagger. He twirled it lazily between his fingers.

"Answer the question, or I'm gonna have to start hurtin' ya."

"nnNNGO to hell!"

Hood held the dagger over Alabad's crotch and let it fall. The tip stuck into his flesh just an inch above and to the left of Alabad's manhood.

"Missed." Eric retrieved the dagger and held it up again. "Small targets are hard to hit sometimes. But I'll get it next time, don't worry."

"Jeph! Jeph and Handrake!" spat Alabad. "It was the three of us!"

"And where are they now."

"I don't know."

"Wrong answer," Eric let the knife go. He didn't miss this time.

"EEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

"You scream like a woman," said Eric. "But then, I guess you are one now."

"P-P-PanDemonica! Jeph's at the PANDEMONICAAAA!!!!"

"And the other?"

"IDON'TKNOWOHGODPLEASE!!!!"

"Okay," said Hood. He shoved Alabad over onto his side, and then pushed him onto his stomach. Alabad tried to get up, but he was too weak. He just lay there and tried to breathe. That got harder and harder to do as he got weaker from his injuries.

"...help... me...." he cried.

Alabad felt something fumbling with his belt. He felt his belt give way, and suddenly Alabad's pants were being yanked down. He was naked from the waste down now.

"huh?"

Alabad heard Eric walking away, then he heard the scrape of metal against wood as Hood picked up his sword. He came back and knelt beside Alabad. He showed him the sword.

"Remember what I said I was gonna do with this sword?" said Eric.

"Huh? No! NO!"

Eric stepped away and moved behind Alabad.

"Hold still," he said.

"NOOOO-

SHLURK!!!

"-AAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

---

"Damn," Jeph mumbled to himself as he mounted the iron steps leading up to the PanDemonica. "The night ain't gettin' no younger, and here I am with no drinks in me yet."

Jeph had spent the past few hours visiting his creditors and paying off those who needed to be paid off. Over half of his haul from the robbery was now in the hands of other people... but at least he wouldn't have to hide his face when he walked down the street any more. He was out of debt for the first time in quite a while. Now it was time to get the festivities started.

"First beer... then women. Then more of both. Repeat until dawn, or unconsciousness."

The steps led up to a set of huge metal doors, in front of which stood an enormous iron golem. The thing was well-carved and constructed, and it eyed Jeph as it approached.

"What's the password?" The golem boomed.

"Jest lemme in, dammit before I have ya melted down for scrap!"

"You may pass..." The golem stepped aside, and one door opened.

The sights and sounds of the PanDemonica assaulted Jeph as he entered. The strange red light... which seemed to come from no place in particular, bathed him as well as the hundred-and-fifty or so patrons who were milling around in the club. The smell of beer and brimstone was so thick that Jeph could see it.

The club was a popular hang-out for criminals and other scum. Thieves, rogues, muggers, assassins, mercenaries... Just about everyone in the 'trade' had been here at least once. Of course, there were a few who thought the club's alleged connection with 'infernal powers' was bad luck. The truth was, the only bad luck involved was when someone foolishly broke one of the club's rules.

Then things got very bad indeed.

Just inside the door was a large, wide balcony that ran around the perimeter of a huge star-shaped pit. The main body of the club was below him. That was where the bar, the tables, and the scantily-clad waitresses served the club's all-criminal clientele. The balcony, where Jeph stood, led around to the dozens of private rooms and offices that could be rented by patrons with enough cash and/or influence. Stationed at various places throughout the club were huge iron golems similar to the one outside the door. No two of them were alike, and their faces were so realistic that more than a few rumors existed about the source of the club's security force.

"Welcome," said Leonardo, the club's greeter and head bouncer. Leondardo... who hated to be called Leo... was a tall, slim, very well-dressed man. His blonde hair had just the slightest touch of gray mixed in. He smiled a warm, but sly smile at Jeph.

"Hi, Leonardo," answered Jeph. Jeph felt a tingling sensation as the three knives he had hidden on his person began to vibrate. Weapons were allowed in the club, of course... but the club liked to keep track of who had what.

Just behind Leonardo, perched on a small podium, was the source of the weapon-scanning spell. The Imp. The Imp was a hideous creature, it looked like a cross between a pig, a bat, a monkey, and a barrel of red paint. It snorted at Jeph. Jeph ignored it and headed down the steps to the main floor.

"Remember the rules," Leonardo called after him.

"Remember 'em?" said Jeph. "Can't miss 'em."

Posted over the bar, directly across from the entrance were two enormous stone tablets, which bore the club's rules:

1. No Fighting - Take it outside.
2.No Telepathy
3.Club closes at Dawn. No Exceptions
4.Stay Away from the Golems
5.No Spitting
6.Curiosity Kills - Mind Your Own Business.
7.Living Only - Undead, Stay Away!
8.Don't Stare At the IMP!
9.You Steal...You Die.
10.Mages Welcome, But Keep Your Spells to Yourself.

The letters glowed fiery red... an ominous reminder of the seriousness of the rules. Jeph glanced at them and kept going down. He looked around the club until he found some faces he recognized. Three men sat drinking at a table. They were old associates that Jeph hadn't betrayed... yet.

Jeph walked over to their table and sat down.

"Aye, Jeph," said Patch, a gruff-looking thug with an eyepatch. The other two men, a small pickpocket named Bance and a large fighter named Thurgood grunted their own unintelligible greeting.

"Heya," said Jeph. He signaled a passing waitress for a drink, and she scurried off. "What's the word on the street? said Jeph. These men, especially Patch, were known for having the latest news on anything happening in Montfort.

"Heh," Patch grunted. "I hear Hood's on the prowl again."

"Oh yeah?" Bance said. He shivered imperceptible at the mention of the name 'Hood.' So did Jeph.

"Really?" said Jeph.

"Yep."

"I pity the fool that he's after, I tell ya that," said Bance.

"Once that demon gets on yer tail... there ain't much ya can do besides hope you can run faster than he can," said Patch.

"I don't know," grunted Thurgood. "I ain't never done nothin' to cross Hood or his boss... but if'n I ever did, I don't think I'd run."

"Oh yeah?" Patch, Bance, and Jeph all raised their brows in doubt.

"What're ya gonna do," said Patch. "Fight? HA!"

"Hood'll make sure ya die extra slow and painful just for makin him break a sweat," said Bance.

"Maybe," said Thurgood. "But there's a lot to be said for dying like a man."

"I guess so," said Jeph. "But there's more ta be said about livin.'"

"Heh. Well, I ain't never crossed 'em either, and I never intend to," said Bance. "But I know exactly what I'd do if I ever did."

"What's that?" said Patch with mild amusement.

"I'd haul my sorry arse right down to the Tower Guard, that's what. I'd confess to some minor crime, and insist that they lock me up. Not even Hood and his bunch can get to ya in there."

"Don't be too sure about that," said Patch.

"Oh, come on... they've locked up some pretty powerful people, and none of em ever escaped. They got more wards and guards than some royal palaces."

"There's always a way in," said Jeph. "Take it from a thief... there's always a way."

"Naaw. Not in there. Nope," said Bance. "You get yourself locked up by the Guard, you ain't gotta worry about nobody or nothing."

"Hood ain't the only one you gotta worry about, though," said Thurgood. "Hood's just the front man. His boss..." Thurgood just nodded and let the sentence drop.

"He can get ya if he wants ya," said Patch. "Don't matter where ya hide or who ya got protectin' ya. Like Jeph says... there's always away. And once yer locked up, you can't even protect yourself... or run. All ya can do is wait."

"Wait for somethin that never comes," said Bance.

"Well, I ain't gonna talk ya outta your little fantasy," said Jeph. "But personally, I think that's a fools choice if I ever heard one."

"Hmph," said Bance.

"Yeah, me and Jeph,... we'd chose the only sensible option..."

"Run Like Hell!"

"HAR HAR!"

Jeph and Patch cackled and slapped hands.

"Oh yeah... run like the bleedin yellow coward that I am," said Patch.

"That's me!" added Jeph.

"Oh, THAT ain't gonna work either," protested Bance.

"Oh, yeah? Why not?"

"Remember Sinterbourne?" said Thurgood. "HE ran. Nobody ever heard from him again."

"Maybe that's cause he's still runnin," said Jeph.

"Lots of people run," said Bance. "Lots of people still end up dead."

"Not all of em," said Jeph. "Not that you know for sure. They could still be out there and we'd never know."

"What kinda life is that anyway? Can never show your face again. Never see yer friends. Never go home, or anywhere even CLOSE ta home. I'd rather fight and get it over with."

"To each his own, I guess," said Patch.

"So, uh, who's this guy Hood's after?" said Jeph.

"Oh, I dunno," replied Patch. "Some idiot robbed Fexworth. You know... the furniture guy. Killed his son."

"F-uh... f-Fexworth?" Jeph gulped. His whole body suddenly felt empty... as if someone had unzipped him and yanked out his innards.

"Yeah," said Patch.

"F-fexworth was under Hoods's p-uh-p-protection?"

"Hell yeah," said Patch. "Pays big money, too. Whoever hit him must have had a death wish. And they killed his son, too. Boy, old man Fexworth musta raised hell, because Hood was all over town tryin' to find out who did it."

"I sure wouldn't wanna be THAT guy," said Bance.

"....uhhh..." Jeph's bladder suddenly felt very, very full.

"Hell, I wouldn't wanna be that guy's mother!" said Bance. "Hood's gonna hurt him so bad his ANCESTORS are gonna scream."

"...ummm...." Jeph was literally straining to keep from embarrassing himself.

"What's wrong, Jeph?" said Patch.

"I... uhh... I think I see somebody over there I need to talk to." Jeph got up and scurried away.

He had to get out. He had to get away from Montfort, away from this section of the kingdom entirely. He had to run...

Jeph made his way through the crowd, nearly tripping over several people in the process. His feet and legs felt like sandbags. His arms felt like wooden planks.

He was scared out of his mind.

He reached the bottom of the steps that lead up to the balcony. He put his foot on the first step, and looked up.

Eric Hood was just coming through the door.

"Oooooohh GODS!!!!"

Jeph spun around and dashed back the way he came. He knew there was no other way out of the club. His only hope was to hide in the crowd until he could make a break for the door. Or maybe he shouldn't leave at all. Hood couldn't kill him in the club. He couldn't do anything to him as long as they were inside. So maybe he should stay.

"Yeah... yeah, that's it. I'll hide in here...."

Jeph found an empty table in a corner. There was a large group of men sitting directly in front of him, blocking almost everyone's view of his table. Jeph sat down and tried not to look nervous.

He caught a glimpse of Hood coming down the stairs. He reached the club's main floor and started looking around.

"Please don't see me... please don't see me... please..."

Eric frowned and walked off in a direction that took him away from Jeph. He squeezed into a crowd and was gone from sight.

"... oh, gods..."

Jeph kept scanning the club. His eyes moved so quickly from place to place that they actually hurt after a few minutes. But there had been no sign on Eric Hood since he disappeared. Jeph glanced up at the door. Perhaps he should make a run for it now...

"That would be a bad idea," said Eric Hood, who had been sitting silently in the chair next to Jeph for about twenty seconds.

"AAAAAA!!!!" Jeph's bladder and bowels chose that moment to empty themselves.

"Shhh...." Eric Hood placed a single slim finger to his lips. "Let's not draw a crowd."

"Oh please... oh... I didn't know..."

"Didn't know what, Jeph?"

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I didn't.... it... it wasn't my idea!"

"What wasn't your idea, Jeph?"

Jeph's mouth clamped shut and refused to open even though he wanted to scream. He was to scared to make a sound.

Eric Hood took out a long, slender dagger and began twirling it between his fingers. Jeph's eyes followed the rapidly-moving blade as if he were hypnotized by it. In a way he was... hypnotized by fear.

"I've got a problem, Jeph," said Eric. "A business associate of mine had a string of bad luck. Somebody broke into his store and stole a good bit of cash from him. Then they killed his son. He was a bit upset."

Jeph gulped noisily. He eyed the door... maybe he could still run for it...

"So naturally he comes to me. He pays me money, see. He pays me to keep him safe, and to take care of things when they don't go well."

Jeph's breaths came in short bursts, like the panting of an exhausted dog.

"So I'm looking into the robbery, and your name comes up."

"Oh, gods... please, Mr. Hood... I d-d-didn't know!"

"And here I find you in the one place I can't take care of things the way they need to be taken care of. I think that's a problem, Jeph. Don't you?"

Jeph nodded.

"No violence in the club, ya see. As long as you're in here... well... you're safe."

Jeph noticed that he'd stopped breathing. He started again before he passed out.

"The club closes at dawn, though. I could wait right here until then, and when Leonardo teleports all the stragglers out at sunrise, I can gut you in the street like the mangy sewer-dog you are."

"Oh, p-p-p-please-"

"Stop begging, Jeph."

"Yes, sir."

"But I got a better idea," said Eric.

"W-w-w-what?"

"Old man Fexworth doesn't know HOW many men hit his store. If... for some odd reason... you were to escape, no one would know any better. Except for me, of course. And I've got more important things to do than chase you down."

"You- you- y-you'd d-do th-that, Mr. Hood?"

"No."

Jeph felt his bladder release once more... but fortunately it was already empty and he was spared any further embarrassment.

"Not without good reason," said Eric. "I wanna know who it was that hit that store with ya. I wanna know where they are. If you do that for me... I'll give you a gift."

"G-g-gift?"

"A head start. I'll go get those other guys first... then I'll come after you. If you're still sitting in this club, well... then I'll just wait 'til dawn and kill ya. But if you take that time to get a good head start, then you might just get away. Maybe."

"Y-you- you'll do th-that for me?"

"Yep. All you gotta do is start singin'..."

Jeph opened his mouth, and the words came tumbling out...

"The first guy is a guy named Alabad. He's probably waiting for me at the Dark Chalice... that's a little brothel west of here. The other guy... oh, gods.... he's just a kid. Kid named Handrake. He's a mage's apprentice. Works for Zazafad. L-lives there, t-too. Oh, please let me go, Mr. Hood.... please..."

"Zazafad, eh? Big time mage? Old man? Makes enchanted weapons?"

"Y-yeah. Th-that's him."

Eric Hood nodded. Then he got up and walked away.

Jeph watched him for a few seconds, then Hood simply vanished into the crowd. Jeph sat perfectly motionless for a long time. He didn't even know how long.

Then, without warning, he got up and ran screaming from the club.

---


Eric Hood walked up to the large ornamental gates that surrounded the mansion. The two guards stood on either side of the gate. Both were dressed in full plate mail. They gave him the typical guard-stare, and Eric gave them his usual look. One of the guards quivered so violently that his knees knocked, making a loud 'banging' sound as one armored knee hit the other.

"You know who I am," said Hood. "So don't waste my time."

The guards opened the gate and waved him through.

The mansion was a 'home' for women. As most people knew, it was also a high-priced brothel.... it was to the Dark Chalice what Inebridee Dark Taint Brew was to cold urine. Eric walked quickly up the cobblestone path to the front door. It opened as he approached, and the Lady of the House herself greeted him.

"Hel-LOO, Mr. Hood," said Davidia Vain. She was a large, round woman who's enormous body was always wrapped in the finest silks. Tonight was no exception. She looked like she had just come in from a night on the town... socializing with royalty and aristocrats. In truth, she probably hadn't left this mansion in several years. Her servants and her 'ladies' took care of all her needs.

"Davidia," said Hood as he stepped inside. He knew the way to her business office. He walked there briskly, and Davidia waddled behind him, struggling to keep up. But she struggled 'gracefully.'

The entered the plush, richly decorated office and Davidia shut the door behind them. There was no chair or desk. Just a couple of huge sofas and a coffee table. All antiques. All highly valuable

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Davidia cooed. "I do hope our payments are on time."

"They are," replied Eric.

"Finally deciding to take me up on my offer, then? Hmmm?"

"No," said Eric. "I'm working."

"Ahh, but you're always working, dear boy."

"There's always something that needs doing. Tonight is no exception."

"Well what is it that I can help you with tonight?"

"A mage. Zazafad. Old man. I need something on him... and I've heard his name in certain circles associated with your establishment."

Davidia frowned, as if she had just tasted something extremely unpleasant.

"Problem?" said Eric.

"Zazafad," she didn't speak his name... she spat it out like a piece of rancid beef.

"You've dealt with him?"

"Ohhh, yes."

"What can you give me?"

"He comes here often. Or at least he used to. Guards are under orders not to let him in, now."

"Turning away paying customers?"

"Don't need HIS kind of money."

"Rough on the girls?"

"Girls?" Davidia lowered her voice. "He didn't come here for the girls."

"I don't understand."

"He came here for the boys. Young boys. My attendants. The children of the women that work here. He came for them. The younger and prettier the better."

"Hmmm..."

"But they usually didn't look all that pretty when he finished."

"He beat them."

"Among other things. He paid good money... but a woman's gotta draw the line somewhere."

"I see."

"No, you didn't. I've seen some of his leftovers myself. Reminds me of your handiwork, Hood."

"Children."

"Boys. Little boys. The only girls he touched are the ones that were so young that they looked like little boys."

"Who else knows?"

"The girls and me. And, unlike most brothels, we KEEP our secrets. Except to you, Eric. You always get whatever you need."

"Good. That's exactly what I need."

"Here," Davidia pulled a scroll out from under the sofa cushion and started writing on it with a feather pen she kept on the table. When she finished, she handed it to Eric. Eric read it.

"Names?" he said.

"Names, dates, and descriptions. I know blackmail when I smell it, Eric. And if you're going after Zazafad, I want ya to have all the goods you can get. Those are some of the children he... damaged."

Eric and Davidia exchanged glances.

"You take that bastard for everything he's got," said Davidia. "Then take some more."

"Actually I'm after someone else. The mage is just an obstacle."

"I've seen what happens to your obstacles," said Davidia. "That's good enough for me."

Eric got up and left.


---


"Oh, who the HELL!?"

Zazafad shuffled across the carpet and made his way through the show-room. It was crammed with weapons of every sort... swords, daggers, axes, maces, crossbows. All were enchanted to some degree or other. Some had the 'standard' enchantment that made a blade lighter and more resistant to dulling and breaking. Others had fancier and more unique enchantments. All were for sale at a healthy price.

Zazafad and his apprentice, Handrake, did all the work themselves, and they made a fair share of gold selling the products to travelers and adventurers.

Zazafad let the showroom and stood before the front door. It was wood, but the old mage could see straight through it nonetheless. He recognized the man on the other side. He'd never met him, but he fit the description he'd heard. The mage pulled a dagger from under his sleeping robe. (Both dagger and robe were enchanted, of course). Then he opened the door just a hair.

"Zazafad," said Eric.

"And you are?"

"Hood. Eric Hood. I'm here to see Handrake."

"He's asleep."

"Wake him up."

"No. Go away. I know who you are and what you want... just forget about it and go away."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"The boy is my apprentice, and he's under my protection. Leave now, and don't come back. Ever."

"No," said Eric. "Not without what I came her for."

"Perhaps you don't understand who I am," said Zazafad. "I can fry you where you stand."

Eric pulled out a scroll, unrolled it, and held it up so the mage could see it. Zazafad squinted at it through the tiny opening in the door.

"What is this?" he said. "Who are these names?"

"Didn't bother to ask them their names, eh?" said Eric.

"What are you talking about?"

"Steven Fordef, age 7," said Eric. "Brenden Jowwel, age nine. Bobrick Henny, age six. Any of that sound familiar?"

Zazafad scowled. At first he had no idea what Hood was talking about... but that last name. Henny. Six years old. Such soft, smooth skin...

"What is this?" the mage repeated.

"Oh, you know what it is," said Eric. "You're an upstanding citizen. You've got friends and business contacts. Customers. Enemies. I'll bet none of them share your... particular interests when it comes to young boys, do they."

"You... you bastard! Where did you get-"

"What do you think would happen if they found out? Never sell another enchantment in THIS town, I'd bet. But then, that'd probably be the least of your worries."

"It was that bitch Davidia, wasn't it!"

"This is a close-knit town. People care a lot for their children. And other people's children. There are laws, ya know... but then-"

"I'll KILL her!"

"I'll bet you'd be dead ten times over before the Tower Guard even made it half-way here."

Zazafad ceased his rambling and just looked out at Eric.

"What do you want?" he said.

"I want a lot of things," said Eric. "I usually don't work this side of town, but in this case I'll make an exception. I want half of everything you make-"

"IMPOSSIBLE!"

"And I want Handrake."

"...the boy..."

"And I want whatever gold he came home with tonight."

"I give you that... And you'll leave me alone?"

"No. I never said I'd leave you alone."

"You can't hold this over me," Zazafad hissed. "I'll leave town-"

"You do, and a copies of this scroll and other details will show up in every city within a thousand miles of here. Don't think it can't happen. I've got resources you've never even heard of."

"You... you can't do this!"

"Who's gonna stop me? Are you gonna go to the Tower Guard and tell 'em you've been raping young boys and now you need protection from the big bad criminal? Go ahead. I dare you."

"The boy. And the gold," Zazafad sighed.

"And fifty percent."

"Twenty-five," said the mage.

"I don't have time for haggling," said Eric. "Fifty or this gets posted on every bulletin board in the city."

"All right. All right, take him. And the gold. And my profits."

"And one other thing-"

"What now?"

"One child gets attacked in this city... one child... I'm coming for you whether you did it or not."

"But that's not fair!"

"That's the deal."

Zazafad lowered his eyes and stepped back, allowing Eric Hood into his home.

"His room is... at the end of the hall," she said.

"Thanks," Eric started walking down the hall.

"Are you going to kill him?" asked the mage. "He really is a promising young mage-"

"Of course I'm going to kill him," said Eric. "What do you think this is, a social call?"

"I-"

"I suggest you go out and get a few drinks. Now."

Zazafad looked around for his coat...

"I said Now."

The elderly mage walked out into the night wearing nothing but his slippers and his robe.

Eric found Handrake's room. There was a bulge under the covers on the boy's bed, but he ignored it. Instead, he walked over to the closet and yanked the door open.

His hiding place violently exposed, Handrake fell out onto the floor.

Eric reached down and grabbed the youth by the neck. He pulled him up.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" he said.

Handrake nodded.

"You know you made a mistake, don't you?"

The boy nodded again.

Eric took out his knife.

*click!*

"One more question," said Eric. "You've been here a while. Since you were young, I'd bet. Did he do it to you, too?"

Handrake nodded a third time.

"Too bad, kid. Things gotta be the way they gotta be... but you've suffered enough already-"

Eric slit the boys throat with one quick swipe of his blade. Handrake gasped and coughed... and went limp.

It was a relatively clean and painless death. It didn't have to be... but it was.

Eric dropped the boy's body onto the floor.

"Don't worry kid," he said. "Zazafad won't have it nearly so easy when his time comes. And it IS coming, you can believe that."

---

Jeph rode like the proverbial wind... racing down one of the dark, little-used back trails that lead away from Montfort. Branches and leaves tore at his face, and at the skin of the horse he rode. The beast was tired... exhausted, but Jeph would not stop to give the horse rest or water.

He wouldn't even slow down.

Not as long as Montfort was this close.

He'd go to Bephal, rest there for a few minutes... if even that long. Then he'd buy a fresh horse, pick a direction and go. He'd ride as fast as he could... to the next town. And the next. And the next.

All he had with him was the clothes on his back and the gold he had left over from the robbery. He didn't stop to get anything else. He didn't stop to say good-bye to anyone.

And he DAMNED sure didn't stop to warn Alabad and Handrake. They were goners. If they weren't dead already.. .they were probably wishing they were.

Jeph didn't know how far away he was now. He had no idea how long he'd been riding.

Not long enough.

Suddenly the horse slowed down.

"HEY!" he kicked the beast with his heals. "YAA! YAA! GO you stupid- YAAAAA!!!"

The horse responded by dropping dead. Jeph managed to leap free just in time to keep his leg from being crushed by the huge animal.

"DAMMIT!"

Jeph looked around. Shards of moonlight filtered through the trees. Barely enough to see by... it was a wonder the horse hadn't broken its leg.

Now he'd have to walk.

Jeph's stride became longer and quicker with every step he took. Fear and desperation drove him hard and fast, and pretty soon he was running. He ran full speed for a while, but when he realized he'd only kill himself like he'd done to the horse, he slowed to a quick jog. Slowing to a walk never crossed his mind.

He heard sounds from the woods. Animals. The wind. Unidentifiable noises that became more and more like footsteps as the night wore on. Was there something out there? Someone? Someone following him?

Had Eric Hood found him?

It took all the will power he could muster to keep from running again.

The noises continued, and so did Jeph. He was going to make it to the next town. He was going to get away.

He heard a horse on the trail behind him. All at once, he felt both condemned and relieved. Was it another traveler that he could catch a ride with?

Or was it Hood?

Jeph didn't take any chances. He leapt off of the path, intending to crouch in the shadows and see who it was. Unfortunately, it was so dark that he didn't see the steep drop-off just beyond the tree-line. He expected flat ground, but what he got was a wild, downhill tumble. He rolled end over end, bouncing painfully off of trees and rocks until finally the ground leveled.

Jeph got up. Nothing was broken, but his money-pouch had been dislodged in the fall. He had nothing but his knife, now.

He started walking again, but then he realized that he had no idea which way he'd been going. He looked up at the moon. Which way?

"Oh, gods," he mumbled.

He picked a direction and started walking. He moved slowly and methodically... like a funeral march. For all he knew, it was. He had no idea where he was going. He could have been heading straight back to Montfort.

He walked, and he was like a living raw nerve. His ears on edge... he listened for any and everything. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow... and there were a lot of shadows to choose from. He sniffed the air, trying to detect the scent of Montfort. Would he recognize it? Would he be able to distinguish it from Bephal?

Would he get all the way to Bephal only to think it was Montfort and turn around?

He cursed his luck, but still kept walking.

Then he heard the sound.

It wasn't like the other sounds... not like the ones he heard back on the path. No.. he knew EXACTLY what this one was.

The jingling of gold coins in a money pouch..

HIS gold coins in HIS money pouch.

Someone had found him. They were tracking him.

Jeph stood perfectly still.

The coin-jingling came again... from back the way he had just come.

He wanted to run, but he was frozen with fear.

When the noise came a third time, it was closer. A LOT closer.

Almost like it was right behind him.

Jeph heard a twig snap, and he was off. He ran like he'd never run before. He felt like the horse he'd just killed. His heart thundered in his chest. Sweat poured down his face and soaked into this eyes. His armpits were like pools of water.

He ran and he ran and he ran...

He heard the noise again. Closer than last time. He heard it even over his own panicked footsteps.

Jingle... snap! CRACK!

He was coming!

Jeph was like an arrow shot from a bow. He narrowly avoided braining himself on branches and trees... but he didn't slow down not one bit.

Neither did the sound.

Finally, he screamed

"AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!"

In mid-scream, the toe of Jeph's boot caught on a rock. He tripped. He rolled. Another hill... another incline... more rocks... he hit his head... and then he stopped.

He lay there, looking up at the sky.

...jingle... jingle-SNAP!

He got up, and felt the pain shoot up his left leg. He hadn't been so lucky this time. It was broken.

No more running.

Jeph hobbled over to a large tree and placed his back to the bark. He drew his knife. He tried to stop panicking, but he couldn't. His chest rose and fell like some out-of-control machine. Mucous poured from his nose. It mingled with his sweat and tears, and the mixture and ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt in a steady stream.

"...oh, gods... I'm so scared... I'm sooo scared..."

The only reply from the woods was silence.

"I'm gonna die out here... It's all my fault. Alabad... Handrake... I'm so sorry... I'm soooo sorry... now we're all dead.. Now I'm- I'm gonna die out here...."

...jingle...

Jeph's frightened rambling caught in his throat. He couldn't make a sound. He couldn't even breathe.

...jingle...SNAP!

The sound was to Jeph's right. A few INCHES to his right!

Jeph rolled to one side, and a large knife sank into the tree where his head was. Forgetting about his leg, he tried to run. His second step brought him to his knees.

"AAAAAAHEEEEELLLLLPPPPPP!!!!"

A thin hand grabbed a fistful of Jeph's hair and yanked the thief to his knees. Jeph looked up into Eric Hood's face.

Jeph opened his mouth... to scream or beg, he didn't know which.

Eric's hand shot into his mouth and grabbed his tongue. His other hand came around with the knife.

slice!

"NNNNNNGGGGGGGGGHGHGHGHG!!!!"

"Guess you didn't get as far as you thought," said Eric. "You know... right after I left the PanDemonica I stopped by the stables. Said hello to another business partner of mine. He runs the place. I made sure you got a horse that would take you where you wanted to go. Just not very fast. Can't push those older mares like you were doin.' Heart trouble, ya know."

"NNNGH!!!"

"Come on. I prefer to make my messes in town...."

Eric grabbed Jeph and pulled him along through the woods toward Montfort.

---

A few hours later, just before dawn, Eric Hood wandered the streets near a certain jewelry store. The store was closed of course, but its owner was just arriving. The man... a huge hulk of a man, with the pale skin and snow white hair... walked past the alley where Eric had decided to wait.

The large white-haired man paused. The air around him was freezing cold. It enveloped Eric like a fist, but Hood neither shivered or pulled his clothing around him. He just stood there.

"Did you have an interesting evening, Mr. Hood?" said December.

"Nothing special," said Eric. "Usual stuff."

"Very good. Carry on." December continued towards his store and, a few minutes later, Eric emerged from the alley and went the opposite direction.

---

Anton Fexworth approached his store with caution. He didn't want to be here. He SHOULDN'T have been here, not with the death of his son so fresh in his mind. Yet here he was.

It was just a few minutes after dawn. The streets should have been deserted, but there was a large crowd gathered around Fexworth's Fine Furniture. He heard them before he saw them. Gasps and stifled screams. The occasional sound of someone retching.

What was going on?

He rounded the corner and saw it immediately. The crowd, and the spectacle that had drawn them.

There were three of them. Three men, stripped naked and split open from throat to crotch. Everything inside had been removed, leaving nothing but empty husks of meat. Of the innards, there was no sign... except for long strings of intestine which had been used to hang them by the neck from the roof.

Anton pushed his way through the crowd. People recognized him as the store's owner, and began to deluge him with questions. Who were they? What happened? Who did this?

Anton didn't hear a single one of them. He just ignored them as he made his way closer... and then closer still. He wanted to see them close up... see the dead faces of the beasts that had murdered his boy. He wanted to bathe in the details.

And there were plenty of them.

All of their eyes were missing. One was missing an ear, and another had had his tongue cut out. Anton could tell because all of their mouths had been propped open with sticks... as if in silent screams. One man... the largest one... had a sword running up through the inside of his body. He'd been impaled from the rectum upward. The tip of the blade rested near his collarbone, and it ran the entire length of his body like a second spine.. Anton hoped that the man had been alive when it happened.

There were other details... little things. A missing finger here. A slashed wrist there. Anton wondered what had occurred in the course of the capture, and what was done afterward just for effect. Not that he cared.

Anton stared up at them for a long time. Then he turned around and walked away. When he reached the edge of the crowd... where there was no one to see his face and the tears that were streaming down his cheeks, Anton nodded and mouthed two simple words...

"Thank You."

[The End]