Intrigue, Indeed

Intrigue, Indeed

Pera stepped before the huge double doors of the Thieves' Guild, marveling one more time at the dark, diagonally grained wood; deep, old scars ran through it from too many city guards come calling. She ran her fingers over the engraved symbols of prosperity and luck in the center of each door, then along the length of her black hair to the knot at the end of the two-foot braided tail, and the knife sheath hidden within; satisfaction shone through green eyes behind narrowed lids. It took more than symbols to bring one prosperity and luck.

She straightened her black and brown tunic one more time and shook out her brown cloak. An immaculate appearance might not be something one would expect a thief to keep; yet, when visiting Guildmasters, image counted. True, there was no honor among thieves, but being dressed the part was always appropriate.

---

Grell had run Taris' Thieves' Guild for twenty-six years, and had worked as an apprentice and cut-throat long before that. He now spent nearly all of his time within the walls of the sprawling, though non-imposing building. It had not been his hands that had built the manse, no, that was long ago in a dead age that only the sages remembered, but he had built the Guild into an entity enslaved to he and he alone. Oh, he still loved to get his hands dirty every so often, cutting a purse or jugular as the opportunity or business offer presented itself. He was a businessman, after all. And even then, the sensation of a life in one's hands, to do with as one wished...many of his younger aides did not understand his… peculiarities. To them, success was becoming Guildmaster and relaxing with all the luxury and security it provided. Little did they know of the hardships, of the subtle machinations of leadership within the Guild, and the city itself, for that matter. He could have been an assassin, joined their Guild, perhaps rose to Guildmaster within that organization. The Mayor's inner circle was mostly assassins, a secret known only to the assassins. And he, Grell. He knew he had a bloodthirsty streak in him, but the kind of killing the Assassins' Guild did...phaugh. Grell lived for style, substance, the touch of a master that would be a sign to those knowledgeable in such matters of skill and cunning—a neck broken just a certain way, a single jewel left behind after a burglary, scarred with the rune of luck, a ransom note written with a flourish. Grell lived for exposure in a career field that held exposure an anathema.

---

Within the airy expanse of the Guild's foyer, Pera considered the many fine paintings and sculptures about the room. Above the arched entryway to the Grand Hall, some fifteen feet above the richly carpeted floor, was the Guild motto, carved upon a great, yellowed piece of yew that stretched from wall to wall: The Artist Proceeds Through His Work With Vigor. It was, of course, entirely for the benefit of those that came seeking to hire an 'artist' for an unusual job.

Pera unconsciously rubbed the small, intricate thieves' tattoo on her neck as a guild steward returned down from the staircase against the far wall. The bald man's originally pleasant expression changed to that of a serious, professional one. This woman was not a merchant to be coddled; she was a fellow thief from a far-off guild.

"Your request to appear before the Guildmaster has been approved. Welcome to the Thieves' Guild of Taris," the man intoned with a gravelly rasp to his voice, bowing slightly. Pera nodded her head curtly, and the steward motioned for her to follow him. The man led her upstairs, through lavish waiting rooms, to the Guildmaster's chambers. The rooms she passed through reeked with the cloying scent of cedar and ran the gamut of artistic styles: decorative, esoteric, archaic, decadent. However, every room and every piece of art within followed a similar theme: violence, and the glorification of such.

She drew several stares from some local merchants who reclined within the final sitting chamber before the Guildmaster's offices. Though merchants, as a class, traveled extensively in the process of chasing their profits, few indeed of Taris' merchant class had ever traveled far enough to set eyes upon a citizen of Ebor. The sight of the golden-skinned, black-tressed woman was more than a passing curiosity. If anything, her exotic beauty only served to make the stares more intense. Pera payed them no heed as she watched the steward pass through the oaken portal to the Guildmaster's chambers. She did, however, reach down without looking to touch the scroll case secreted within a pocket of her cloak.

---

The door to his offices opened, bringing Grell out of his musings immediately. One of his stewards entered, and announced that Pera of Ebonshire had arrived. He waved and nodded, and the steward disappeared again. Through the door stepped an Ebori woman, a thief, by her bearing and posture as well as by her tattoo. She wore the dress of an Ebonshire guildswoman. The features of her face were sharp, and her eyes glittered with confidence. When she smiled, despite her intended amiability, an aura surrounded her—the aura of a predator.

---

She looked around the room. Austere compared to the rest of what she had seen, the Guildmaster's office was large and furnished throughout in burgundy hues. Two padded chairs of antique nature stood before a heavy, dark table of mahogany. Behind the table sat the Grandmaster himself in another of the chairs. He appeared of indeterminate age, although she knew him to be in his fifth decade of life. The lack of hair upon his scalp did not serve to make him as anonymous as his stewards, however; on the contrary, the stark expanse of lined, ruddy flesh upon his skull contrasted with the strong gaze from his pale, amber, eyes. The intensity of those orbs brought a feeling of discomfort quite unnatural to Pera, although she did not show it. A strong body was hidden beneath simple brown robes, and two normal-sized, though agile-appearing, hands rested upon the surface of the table. Two lamps of magical nature sat at corners of the table, resembling simple candlesticks with spheres of light atop, and their light and semblance reflected back from the deep red of the tabletop.

"I assume you have brought the information you informed my steward of," Grell stated, expressionless. His voice seemed to die in the air of the still room.

Pera blinked at him, silent for a moment. "As sent to you from my Guildmaster, brother."

Grell smiled then, rising to accept the scroll case from the tall woman, then sat back down, his eyes upon the vellum papers he pulled from within.

"So, you address all your fellow thieves as brother and sister in Ebonshire?" he asked, not looking up from the documents.

"That is how we address one another, yes," Pera replied in a disinterested tone, still standing.

"Even your Guildmaster?" Grell's eyes continued to peruse the papers, but a near-invisible smile now crept upon his lips.

Pera paused again, this time for several seconds. When she spoke, her voice had dropped even lower in pitch.

"Perhaps here in Taris, Master Grell, you ascribe to the niceties of society, and follow complex and subtle etiquette. I do neither."

"I see."

"Ebonshire may be many leagues and weeks distant, but we are not barbarians. We practice the arts of agility and cunning in a city nearly the size of your own. We, too, deal with the fops and dandies of our city, but we do not concede to the use of their language and standards. We do not work for them. We grant them favors, for a fee. Stealth and cleverness are our hallmarks, not civility."

"Very well said!" Grell exclaimed, laying the documents down upon the table and looking up at Pera. "But you must not know the complexities of Taris, only so much larger than your city," and he held a thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart.

"This city is controlled by merchants and wealthy mercenaries," he stated, rising and moving towards the back of the chamber, to a delicately painted representation of the city that spanned the entire wall, "and long has it sat here in the cradle of two spurs of the Voral Mountains, with the extent of the fertile Tarislanea before it." He indicated the broad expanse of farmlands that sprawled upon the plains before the city. "Within these walls have been planned the successful conquests of no less than twelve great nations in two great ages spanning seventeen hundred years. One thousand seven hundred years is a long time for noble families to gather wealth, prestige, and odd little peculiarities that you call etiquette." He turned to face her.

"The wealthy of this city are bored, sister thief. Their city is the grandest and most famed in all the known world. You know this to be true. Any and all vices and pleasures can be found here, for the right price. They are bored of the lavish lifestyle, the incessant droning of their fellow nobles and the more irritable droning of the penniless masses. And to tell you even more truth, fellow thief, I am bored. Yes," and he spread his arms and spun, grandiosely, "we are all bored. So what shall we do to end this infernal boredom?"

Pera said nothing.

Grell seemed the slightest bit disappointed, his smile twisting a fraction. "We of the great city of Taris, we of power and influence, have found a most wonderful game to play here. It is called intrigue. I am certain you have heard the word before.

"Tired of their niceties, their etiquette, which they, nevertheless, continue to practice, the nobles of Taris, almost to a family, engage in a near endless, hidden, battle of intrigue. And we, the Guild of Thieves of Taris, are the gamesmen.

"We burgle the fine jewelry and artwork that sits within their mansions and estates, gathering dust, and sell it to other nobles that appreciate it more. Or, at least, pay more for it. We kidnap the sons and daughters of annoying relatives and enemies. On occasion," and here his eyes lit up, "we cut a throat, when some braggart of a nephew becomes wearisome, or a peasant leader gains too much attention from his fellow dregs. And so, because of all this gamesmanship, we are no longer bored. Everyone is happy. At least, everyone that counts."

"I see," said Pera, dryly.

"Oh, come now...I have not just opened your eyes to the subtleties of noble life, have I? Do not the nobles of your own city engage in such acts?" Grell looked at her.

"For the most part, we of the Guild Ebonshire do not immerse ourselves in the ridiculous antics of the upper classes. True, there are some among us who find such things...appealing." The young woman wrinkled her nose at this. "But, I assure you, the majority of thieves in Ebonshire are just that...thieves."

"And in my opinion, nobody is just a thief," the Guildmaster replied, pointing to the opened papers on the table.

One of Pera's eyebrows twisted up, and her dark face took a perturbed cast for but a moment. Then it was the predator again.

"Surely, you are trusted enough by your brother Guildmaster to know what you have carried all these leagues between our two cities?"

Pera's face was expressionless. "I know enough. I am a trusted member of my Guild."

"Trusted enough to make the journey, of course," continued Grell, "but do you really understand what this is all about?"

"Weapons," the woman answered simply.

Grell stared at her for several moments. "Yes, weapons. And much more! These papers reveal the trade route of a certain caravan..."

"From Aenthan, yes, I know," Pera interrupted.

"...from Aenthan, the land ruled by mages, the land of magic unparalleled! And within that caravan will be many weapons of magical sort. Weapons that can very well change the order of things in a land...or city."

"Intrigue," said Pera, starry-eyed.

"To the uttermost extent of the word! You see, my young thief? Do you see? Yes, you must." Grell stood up, pointing out areas on a map contained with the papers. "Several points along this trade route are prime areas in which to steal those weapons. Of course, no one is supposed to know the true nature of the caravan. It is supposed to journey to Clyme, where the weapons are to be traded for ancient artifacts of power. Otherwise, it is just another merchant train, working its circular route."

"But there must be some individuals in positions of power that know the caravan's true mission," Pera objected, "I admit my Guild is closer to Aenthan than most, but we are not the only thieves that spy on that wizardly land."

"How many other great powers know of this caravan?" Grell went silent for a few moments. "I know not, but the Aenthani leave nothing to chance. Most of the merchants are mages, and the mercenaries guarding the caravan are elite guardsmen from the capital. No direct assault short of an army will succeed in taking those weapons, and an army would be too obvious and avoided easily. So what does this leave us?"

"Thievery," Pera replied.

"Ahh, yes...our revered profession. So I will send my Guildsmen to steal these weapons. I will likely join them. Such a foray is uncommon, and offers rare sport for one such as I. But has it ever occurred to you why we will steal them? Or who we will steal them for? Or, for that matter, why your Guildmaster had these very important papers sent to me?"

The younger woman said nothing, though she stood very still.

"Intrigue, my foreign sister."

Perhaps you should enlighten me more," Pera said, looking none too convinced.

A huge grin surfaced on Grell's face. "It is more simple than it seems. My bored clients will pay much for an opportunity to own such rare weapons. Maybe they will use them against a noble house opposed to them...if they have the fortitude. Likely not...my opinion of the noble houses has been quite accurate over the years. More likely, they will show them off...hang them over the mantel in their feast hall. Few who remain within these walls during the campaign season have the courage or skill to use such weapons. That is what my Guild is for, of course. And as my Guild is paramount among my priorities, we will keep some of the weapons for our own purposes."

The young woman nodded. "The Guild is always first among priorities."

"Truly. But..." and here he paused, raising his head from the parchments to gaze at her intently, "...I am sure you would like to know why I hold these papers in the first place."

Pera's eyes lit up at this, despite the narrowing of her lids. The muscles of her body tensed, but she bent over and leaned upon the table to hide the fact from Grell. "A journey such as mine lends itself to...curiosity. I am interested in why my Guildmaster would give such papers to a far-off Guild...when we just as well could have used them ourselves."

"A simple answer, actually," Grell stated as he sat down again, shuffling the papers. "Someone in your Guild is a traitor."

Pera stared at the Guildmaster, not seeming to comprehend what he had just said.

Grell continued, his smile grim. "Your land is very near to Aenthan. The mages and wizards of that land are quite suspicious of everyone around them, and for no small reason. They, too, have a thieves' guild in Ulfan, City of Magic. They, too, engage in intrigue."

Pera still stared off beyond Grell, brow furrowed. "You know my Guildmaster?"

"Once, many years ago...in circumstances I will not elaborate upon now. I assume your Guildmaster believes that if he attempted to purloin the weapons, the mages of Ulfan would learn from your traitor. Therefore, he's probably attempting a trade. In exchange for the notes and caravan route, I'll give him something he wants of... equal value."

She started and looked straight at Grell. "What will you give him?"

"His life."

Pera's lovely face twisted in confusion.

"Just another twist of intrigue. In effect, he will pay off a life-debt. I had been offered a job, years ago, to personally slay your Guildmaster. Yes, an assassin's job, no doubt, but a man of my position indulges. It goes a long way towards revealing my contempt for the Grandmaster of Assassins here in Taris that I do such things. He knows both I and my guild are too powerful for him to do anything to prevent me from taking...forays...into his sphere of influence. The supposed power behind the Mayor's office and the Council of Guilds...phaugh." His head shook several times.

"Fortunately...for your Guildmaster, the planning of it has taken so long that he must have found out and is offering this information as payment to disregard the job."

"I...see," Pera mumbled, then shook her head and looked at the older man. After some time, when he did not respond, she grinned broadly.

"It is all so simple, really," Grell finally replied, matching her smile. "Intrigue, yes, but nothing of the more complex sort. I surmise that your Guildmaster knew this; that is why he sent you."

"Me?"

"Of course! You have little understanding of such things, and he obviously gave you this task so that you would come to me and learn something of the complexities of city politics."

"I suppose that he must have," Pera said, looking off to the side, her smile still distinctly large, although she was attempting to get it under control.

"And with that, I believe your task is complete," Grell added, rising and coming around the table to take Pera's arm. "You are welcome to the hospitality of the Taris Guild. Rest here before returning to your far-off home."

Pera shook her head, and although her smile was still present upon her face, it was now slight and meaningless. "You are gracious, Guildmaster Grell. Yet I have other pressing duties in distant Kaladar, and another message for another Guildmaster there before I return home."

"Are you saying you will not stay overnight?" Grell did not appear surprised.

"I am saying I will not be staying at all. I truly must be on my way, at this moment."

Now Grell looked surprised. "If that is your intention, so be it, but please allow my stewards to supply you with some foodstuffs for your journey."

"Alas, good Guildmaster, I cannot even tarry for that. I must bid you farewell, and thank you for seeing me so promptly." With that she bowed, and opened the door herself, exiting.

The door opened again as soon as it had closed, and a steward entered. "The representatives of the Blacksmith's Guild are awaiting, Master."

Grell paused for some time, hands clasped behind his back. Just as the steward was about to ask again, the Guildmaster spoke.

"Very well, Kendal. But before you do so..." He rubbed his bare chin thoughtfully.

"...notify Theda and Yulan that I wish them to follow that woman..."

---

"Lord Mayor, a woman of Ebor is asking for an audience," reported the portly servant, clad from head to toe in the blue and gold checks of Taris.

"Yes, show her in with utmost haste," replied the mayor, rising from his stone seat in the grand hall of the citadel, although he did rise slowly. His joints were not what they used to be. Seventy years was a rare age for a man to reach in his era, and he felt every one of those years.

The servant turned and walked briskly back down the long hall, disappearing through the large double doors, and quickly returned with a beautiful, amber-skinned young woman dressed in black and brown. She was surrounded by an air of confidence and certain danger.

"Welcome, dear girl, welcome!" The mayor hobbled down the dais to meet her, took her arm, and just as swiftly turned and pulled her towards a sturdy iron-banded door at the back of the hall. "Was your meeting successful? Grell is a pleasant man, isn't he? But I ramble. We mustn't keep them waiting, you know. It is always good to be on time." His hand trembled slightly, not entirely from age.

"I am coming, M'lord," she smiled, not seeming disturbed at all.

The mayor threw the door open and motioned for her to enter first. She did so, and he followed her into an adjoining meeting room.

He shivered, as he usually did, when he caught sight of the two black-robed figures standing side-by-side at the end of the long table in the room. They never sat when they visited him. They did little, in fact, other than listen and give orders. So many times he had wished to himself that they would at least remove their hoods so that he could have the decency of seeing them face-to-face. But assassins were fanatically protective of their true identities. He did not deem to argue with them.

"This is the woman?" The shorter robed figure asked in a steady, male voice.

The Mayor started at the sound of the assassin's words, and turned towards the black-garbed man.

"Yes, yes, this is her." He released her arm and began rubbing a thin, pale lower lip. "Is your...Guildmaster not with us today?" He looked to the other figure.

"No," was the reply from the taller figure, in a deep masculine voice. "The Guildmaster is tending duties elsewhere. That is enough for you to know."

"Absolutely! I ask no more, and I infer no more, I assure you. Allow me to sit down. I've had a difficult day..."

The assassins payed the Mayor no heed as he dropped into a chair halfway down the short table, instead turning to Pera, who was standing at the opposite end to them.

"Tell us of your discussion with the thief Master," the shorter one spoke.

"What's to tell? He took the information, examined it, was assured of its authenticity, and thanked me for delivering it. A simple task." The dark-haired woman returned their unseen gazes with a steady eye.

"Was he suspicious?" This, from the taller one.

"I am doubtful. He ranted about his understanding of the city's political situation. He even felt it necessary to tell me the reason for the information coming to him."

"Was he correct in his reasoning?" the shorter one asked.

"How should I know? I have neither the time to find out nor the concern to care. He has taken what was offered and not questioned it."

The taller assassin raised his arm to point at her. "We question it. And you. Your every concern should rest upon this thief Master's belief in your words and gift. Our Guildmaster has worked for some time to bring about this chain of events."

"I'm sure she has," replied Pera coldly.

The two assassins stiffened visibly, glancing at one another in a remarkably un-assassin-like way. The mayor, not noticing, spoke up, one hand running through his white hair nervously.

"I'm sure your Guildmaster will be pleased with this young woman's work." He paused, smiling wretchedly. "She has been coming to me for some time now, with much useful information."

"Who?" The shorter assassin asked.

The Mayor looked confused. "What do you mean?" His eyes darted between the two men.

"Which woman are you speaking of, old man?" The taller assassin asked.

"It is of no consequence," Pera interrupted, "and besides, your concerns should be upon yourselves. Believe what I have told you. Repeat it to your Guildmistress. I am finished here, and am leaving."

"Wait! Wait, my dear," gasped the Mayor, fumbling out of his chair and reaching for her uselessly. She quickly passed out of the room. He looked back fearfully at the two shadowy men, expecting them to rush after her. It surprised him greatly when they did not.

"Is...is everything to your satisfaction, gentlemen?" He pulled at the lobe of his left ear as he waited for their reply.

"We are done here, Mayor. We will take our leave now," the shorter one said as he bowed respectfully and left the room, followed by his partner.

The Mayor was still standing there, gazing through the door dumbfounded, when his servant came to tell him of the serving of dinner.

---

Four torches were all the light that lit the audience chamber of the Guildmaster of Assassins. Placed at the corners of the low-ceilinged room, they crackled and cast overlapping shadows that whipped back and forth to the rhythm of the chilling drafts blowing slowly through the two hallways entering the dim place. Opposite each other, the hallways disgorged blackened shapes, figures wrapped in ebony attire that hid any clue of what was beneath, other than that they were human. The assassins did not mill about aimlessly. They gathered before the throne of mottled grey stone carved out of the north wall of the chamber, upon which sat their leader. The Guildmaster was garbed as they, and sat motionless, one hand clutching a gnarled black staff, the other upon one knee, waiting, gazing out across the dark mass of figures and the chaotic shadows that pranced among them.

Through the western passage walked two more assassins, and their brethren parted as they headed for their Master. Just before they reached the throne they looked at one another for the briefest of moments. A moment later they were prostrated on the cold floor. The mass of assassins did likewise.

The Guildmaster tapped the staff quickly, twice, against the stone of the floor, and the gathered assassins rose as one.

"We bring news of the plot against Grell, Shadowed One," the shorter of the two spoke.

"Indeed? Let us hear of it," Pera spoke, leaning forward in her throne.

The two assassins stiffened again, now certain of the voice, and realized the consequences of their recognizing it. Even among assassins were identities held secret; the Guildmistress' most of all. Their long and thorough guild training was too complete for them to even contemplate mercy or pity; the Guildmistress was Supreme; their lives were forfeit. The two knew what they said was for the benefit of the others gathered there.

"The plan approaches its final stages, Shadowed One. Our...contact...has assured us that the information was passed along. The thief Master suspects nothing out of the ordinary."

"We shall see," replied the cowled woman. Pera smiled in spite of herself, and, of course, no one saw her do so. Cryptic replies were expected from a Guildmistress of Assassins, after all.

"We have nothing further to report, Shadowed One," added the taller assassin, bowing low.

"Ah, yes, but I do, my brethren," Pera spoke up, standing, raising her staff high, then slowly sweeping it across the air before her. "I know what others fail to see. I go where you cannot go. I am the Shadowed One, slipping from darkness to darkness, and I see much and know all." She smiled widely, and wondered if her teeth shone in the flickering torchlight.

The assembled assassins were silent, attentive.

She lowered the staff. "I know Guildmaster Grell will set out with his select group of thieves to raid the caravan bound for Clyme. He is a creature of habit, and I have studied his habits well." She looked out across the mass of robed figures, then continued. "When he reaches the caravan, he will be allowed to sneak through to the wagon with the magic weapons. There, he will be trapped and slain by mages, whom we have warned. They have paid us well for apprising them of the one who thought to steal from them. We will gain two valuable things: a gift from the mages of Ulfan, and the death of Grell, the haughty."

The assassins neither spoke nor moved. Silently, though, they relished the success their leader was predicting.

Pera motioned to a group of four large assassins near the throne to her left. "Take these two and kill them in the Cavern of Atonement. Collect their blood and burn it in brass braziers to the Goddess of Retribution." She turned back to the dark, attentive crowd. "Go now," she proclaimed, "return to your respective tasks, and know that your Guildmistress has brought the Guild a great victory! Our power increases, and we shall know no failure!"

She raised the staff high, and the assembled mass threw themselves to the floor. When she tapped the staff down, they rose and dispersed through the two hallways as silently as they had come.

---

Pera turned back to the throne, and bent over to lay the staff across the arms of the stone seat. When she rose again, she felt a tingle through the hairs of her neck.

"Grell the haughty, indeed."

The Guildmaster of Thieves breathed out heavily behind her as she stood still and silent.

"Turn about, Pera. I savor so much more the death of a victim who sees the death-blow coming."

The Guildmistress of Assassins turned around as if nothing was amiss, and furthermore said nothing. Grell looked at her, from the darkness of his own cowl. He, too, was robed as an assassin.

"Your ridiculous laws of hidden identity have seemed to work against you, dear Guildmaster," he proclaimed. "I merely had you followed from the Thieves' Guild. I myself tracked you from the Mayor's Citadel. It was childishly easy to gain entrance once clothed as one of you."

Pera made no move, nor sound.

"Oh, I know how lost for words you must be," continued the older man. "I was quite surprised, myself, that you would be so lacking in the basic skills of stealth. But then, you are not really a thief, are you?"

"Yes...I am." Her face was devoid of tension.

The simple reply surprised Grell, but he smirked and pointed his poison-coated knife at the younger woman. "Of course you are, Pera of Ebonshire."

"I spent the first seventeen years of my life in Ebonshire," said the assassin Mistress. "I left because I was..."

She smiled. "I was bored."

A slight nod of her head went towards the Guildmaster of Thieves.

"No intrigue."

She sighed, long and dramatically. "I've been bored lately, too...so I decided to enjoy myself...and fix a problem I've had for some time."

Grell then saw movement from the corner of his eye; dark-robed figures were slipping back into the room through the darkened hallways. A coldness crept into his veins, and rooted there, sending tendrils of fear rising through his neck.

"I am appalled that I need remind you of the unspoken contract between our guilds—while we both may spy...you steal…and we kill. So it has been for generations. Your taste for murder has seriously undermined the market for our skills," she continued, "and you really should know that we do not enjoy having our field of expertise sullied by one of the thieving trade. We lose valuable customers, and our reputation is damaged when one of your Guild does the job my Guild is meant to do...exclusively."

By now nearly all of the assassins had returned to the chamber. Grell's left eye blinked as a muscle ticked involuntarily in his cheek.

"I knew you would come, Guildmaster Grell," Pera hissed. "Your flair for the dramatic is so ridiculously obvious, I built an entire, elaborate scheme upon it. I knew you would accept my saying that Ebonshire's Guildmaster had sent me here. Actually, he knows nothing...I have not seen him for eight years. I knew you would send your thieves to follow me. Even if you had not followed me, you would have died at the hands of Aenthani wizards.

"I knew you would be unable to pass up the opportunity to search out our lair yourself, alone, secure in your hubris. And, I knew you could not resist the chance to kill me yourself; I, the vaunted Grandmistress of Assassins, the true power behind the city of Taris, greatest of cities...and the Mistress of all assassin's guilds in our world."

Grell was speechless, but his face was becoming very red, and a choking cry came from his tightly drawn lips.

"Oh, don't try to reply," Pera said, waving one hand aimlessly. "I know, you can't believe that you could have been so blinded by your own brightly glowing ego. I was confused for a moment when you spun than yarn about a 'traitor' in my Guild. I almost thought you had in some way discovered me!"

A smirk spread her own appealing lips. "Yes...I was a thief. But I believe it was you yourself who told me...no one is just a thief."

"No one is just a thief," Grell mumbled, numbly, eyes vacant.

She nodded, slowly, eying him. "Or an assassin." She waved her followers forward, and they began to slowly close upon the thief Master.

"Intrigue, indeed," the Grandmistress of Assassins sniffed, reaching under her cowl to tuck in a loose strand of hair.

The End

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