Prince Tenarreau is a busy, busy man.

On a normal day, one that didn't see any sort of city-wide crisis or anything of that nature, it was merely virtually impossible to see him. I'd discovered this over the past six months, doing my best to arrange a meeting in order to make some further inquiries regarding my family's murder and what he knew of it. Honestly, the full breadth of his inaccessibility was a little overwhelming. I mean, get this - there's a waiting list just for the privilege of speaking with an assistant . . . just so that you might beg him for the opportunity to petition some other fellow for an audience with the Prince. And that guy was someone else's assistant, possibly the guy who worked for the guy who worked for the Prince, possibly not. I don't actually know how many links exist in that particular chain.

Even if you had a damned good reason to see him as well as the support of most of his staff, it was never a sure thing. As such, if you were flat out told that you had a meeting with the Prince, you didn't screw around.

In fact, he's so ridiculously, mind-bogglingly busy that attending a meeting that he himself had asked for (and which was scheduled for 'immediately') involved a lengthy wait of about two hours spent sitting in a rather uncomfortable grey and burgundy chair outside of the Prince's main greeting hall, in something called an antechamber.

I don't know why it's called that.

It was around the second hour that I began to suspect that the Prince having me wait was intentional, possibly because of the stunt with the royal messenger. I'd seen the out-of-breath fellow arrive at the Palace about twenty minutes after I'd shown up, looking flustered. He'd walked in, seen me, scowled darkly at my cheerful wave and relaxed demeanor, and marched directly between the two knights guarding the greeting hall and into the room I presumed Tenarreau was occupying.

So perhaps me cooling my heels in the antechamber was the Prince's way of telling me that I shouldn't play games with his staff.

Since it appeared this was a calculated attempt to piss me off, I decided not to let it get to me. I was a rock. I sat in my chair calmly, appearing relaxed, smiling cheerfully at people who were wandering in and out of the room.

I even pretended to doze off a couple of times, projecting serene indifference, not allowing myself to be bothered over the fact that I'd been yanked all the way over to the other side of the city while in the middle of attempting to track down an impossibly elusive kid whose name I didn't even know. Yes, I refused to let myself become annoyed by the fact that I could have made much better use of this time by trying to pin down and eliminate the single biggest thorn in my side – this kid who I'd been hot on the trail of. I cared not at all that, in addition to this, I had to fend off daily robbery attempts by other Lords in an effort to heroically protect my reputation, as well as manage miles of territory that had been thrust upon me without warning by the very man who was now interrupting the-

Okay, okay . . . so it got to me a little. I didn't let it show.

At around three bells a Lord arrived, one who recognized me and gave me an even darker scowl than the one I'd gotten from the messenger.

“Lord Marcsun!” I beamed happily at him. “Good to see you again, old boy! How are things?”

Marcsun's expression became a study of barely suppressed rage. Furiously ignoring me, he limped his way up to one of the palace knights standing near the door and spoke quietly to him. The guard nodded once, turned to send a quick nod to his partner, and then they both pushed the doors open so that Marcsun could enter. He walked through without sending me a glance, scowling ferociously.

“We'll have to catch up some other time! See you later, Jayden!” I said, waving to his back. I kept smiling, pretending that the sight of Marcsun being allowed to walk right in to the Prince's chamber didn't infuriate me, having sat patiently for two long hours already just for the privilege of walking through those same doors.

He'd been limping. Hmm. I recalled something Cyrus mentioned earlier, how he'd thwarted an attempted robbery by someone who looked as though they might have explosively injured their leg while opening my study door. Judging from the limp, that had likely been Marcsun, which meant that when all this was said and done I'd have to pay him a little visit, possibly humiliate him the tiniest bit. I'd been leaving my neighbor alone this past little while, but maybe he'd interpreted that as a sign of weakness. Some Lords never learn.

About ten minutes later, Lord Marcsun walked back in to the antechamber and exited the palace, refusing to look at me. The scowl on his face suggested that his meeting with the Prince had not been a particularly satisfying one, which cheered me up a little. I smiled an annoyingly carefree smile just in case he glanced over at me.

Just as Marcsun was exiting the building, a short fellow with a slim build appeared at the doors to the greeting hall, wearing a white robe with purple trim in addition to a self-important expression. He stepped forward regally, unfurled a scroll and, with nobody except for myself and two guards in the room, began to read it loudly.

“Would Lord Vincent Tucat, Viscount of E'ren-Dell, please make himself known,” he practically shouted. Then, he stood there, eyes to the outside entrance, waiting.

For fun, I sat there for about five seconds and looked about the empty room, as if trying to locate the individual he was referring to. Then, as though realizing something, I stood up from my chair and pretended to awkwardly make my way through an invisible crowd as I headed towards the fellow.

“Yes, I say – oh, pardon me – yes, over here!” I said, raising my hand high, speaking as though I were talking over a crowd. I slowly made my way to him, weaving around imaginary people as I did. “Yes, Lord Vincent Tucat. That's me.”

He didn't bat an eye.

“Please come with me, Lord Tucat,” he said, eyes still fixed on the Palace entrance. Once he was done speaking, he turned sharply and walked toward the doors he'd emerged from. I was thankful he hadn't said “walk this way” - the temptation to strut behind him with a somber expression and a perfectly straight back would have been too great for me to resist.

I followed him into the greeting hall, a half-smile on my face, still annoyed but determined to keep my cool.

Guards stood at every corner of the eight-sided room, still as statues, and at any given moment I could see a couple of white-robed messengers zipping from one side of the room to the other. Prince Tenarreau sat casually on his throne, his left hand resting gently on a sheaf of cream colored papers perched on his armrest, his right hand holding a similarly colored piece of paper before him, a contemplative expression upon his face. He looked positively tiny sitting there in front of me, partially because the throne itself was an enormous, bejeweled monstrosity, and partially because, well . . . he was tiny.

Warren Tenarreau, Prince of thieves and Lord of all Harael, the most frighteningly powerful man in the entire city . . . was little more than three and a half feet tall.

At times, it seemed that Tenarreau intentionally emphasized his small stature by surrounding himself with things that were bigger than they truly needed to be, probably just to see if he could make people laugh at the overall effect it produced. Rumors would often circulate regarding the sort of thing that happened to individuals who were unfortunate enough to laugh at the Prince's size, though people more often than not considered these rumors to be complete hogwash.

I myself have never so much as sniggered in his presence, after having confirmed at least one of the rumors as a verifiable fact. The rather well-to-do Lord at the heart of this rumor claimed he simply couldn't help it, laughing long and hard at the sight of the diminutive Prince as he sat upon his throne, his feet unable to reach the ground. I'll spare you the details concerning what was rumored to have happened to him, but suffice it to say that this particular fellow was no longer an active Lord in Harael, and was no longer all that wealthy either. I've also heard that he doesn't find very many things amusing nowadays.

I stopped about ten feet away from Tenarreau, as was proper, and patiently stood there, waiting for him to acknowledge me. I shook off the last vestiges of the silly mood I'd been nursing in the antechamber, the sight of the Prince reminding me what a meeting like this could potentially mean for me. This was no time to fool around, or forget to take things seriously. I'd been trying like mad to manufacture some face time with the Prince, get information from him. Perhaps this was my chance.

Tenarreau only kept me standing there for half a minute as he read his piece of paper, turning his head to inspect me after a few moments. He let me know how white his front teeth were a second later, an easy smile gracing his features.

“Why, Lord Tucat! A pleasure, as always . . . so good of you to drop by,” he said, his voice practically oozing good-natured charm and sincerity.

“Highness,” I said respectfully, bowing as low and extravagantly as I could manage with my shins being as sore as they were. “I came as soon as I was able, as you may have heard. I must say that I'm thrilled that you have finally agreed to meet with me. Can I assume that one of my many requests managed to make its way to your ears, and that you called me here to discuss certain . . . family matters?”

He probably hadn't, of course . . . but it seemed like a good idea to bring it up right away.

“Hmm? You wish to discuss your family? I assure you I had no idea,” he said, smiling. “No, Tucat, I've called you here because something of an emergency has come up, and it required that I speak with you. I won't really have much time for any idle chit-chat once that's done, either, so I do apologize in advance.”

Idle chit-chat. I ground my teeth together as I smiled a tight-lipped smile at him, nodding respectfully.

I hadn't really expected him to just start telling me everything I wanted to know about my family – he was holding that knowledge over my head so that I'd remain committed to managing the obscene amount of territory he'd saddled me with. Still, I hadn't expected him to be pushing my buttons, either. My family murdered, and he called discussing the details concerning their deaths 'idle chit-chat' . . .

I forced myself to relax, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Tucat, it has recently come to my attention that you may have misinterpreted my expectations regarding the management of your territory, and the handling of your new neighbors. Specifically,” he favored me with an amused look, “I'm wondering if you mistakenly believed I'd told you to rob every single Lord in Harael within the year. Don't get me wrong – you're doing a rather marvelous job of pissing your fellow Lords off, but I can't properly reward you at this year's bestowing ceremony for all your efforts if you've gone and gotten yourself assassinated.”

“You're referring to the many thefts about town, I take it?” I asked.

“Precisely. I mean, I admire your gumption, but do try to pace yourself, will you? At least four dozen thefts in the past three months, according to my sources . . . you must be due for a vacation or something.”

“Highness, while I am humbled to know that you believe I am skilled enough to accomplish what you're suggesting, I feel I must confess to you that I am not the individual behind these particular thefts.”

“Indeed? Well really, how shocking,” Tenarreau said, sounding extremely unsurprised.

Whatever his sources, Tenarreau's ability to stay abreast of what was happening around him was truly impressive.

“Yes, Highness. In fact, I myself am among his victims. I was in the process of finding more out about this fellow and tracking him down when you . . . indicated that you required my presence.”

“I see. Well, how extraordinary . . . the legendary Lord Vincent Tucat falling victim to a mysterious burglar, one who dresses up as a ghostly spirit before stealing sensitive keepsakes and other items that Lords would kill to get back. Truly unfortunate that more people don't know you're not behind this rash of thefts, neh?”

He knew the bit about the wraith costume too. How the hell did he do that? Seriously, the sheer amount of information he had at his disposal was almost eerie.

“I would agree, Highness. I'm hoping to discover more about this thief so that I might nab the culprit, perhaps put my fellow Lords in a slightly less murderous mood.”

“Quite a fine plan, I must say – it increases the likelihood of your continued survival tremendously. So, do tell . . . what have you discovered thus far? Your use of the words 'fellow' suggests that you at least know something I don't.”

I briefly described my encounters with the young thief and the various theories that had developed over the past week, omitting certain details the Prince didn't need to know (but quite possibly knew anyways), such as Theo's involvement and Talia's presence on the rooftops the night before. I talked at length about those things that I still didn't understand, such as the boy's ability to seemingly defy gravity, or appearing to move in one direction while actually going in another. Tenarreau listened attentively, nodding thoughtfully from time to time as I briefly explained the reasoning behind my theories and various deductions.

“Fascinating,” he said, finally. “If any other Lord had tried telling me that they'd observed a rag-clad boy soaring through the air and landing gently upon the ground three stories below him, I would have politely suggested they cut down on the number of candles they were burning each morning, or to avoid the use of any recreational substances that might be responsible for confounding their senses. A young man, you said?”

“Yes, Highness. He couldn't have been more than sixteen or so.”

“Ah, they grow up so quick, don't they? One moment they're scampering about with toy swords, and the next they're breaking into impossibly well secured keeps and wreaking havoc among the aristocracy. Boys will be boys, I suppose. Still, I would very much like to have a chat with this young man. Do you think that you could arrange to bring him by in the next day or two? Unharmed, of course.”

I blinked at him, perplexed.

“Me, Highness? Bring him here?”

“Of course. You do seem to be the one who has come closest to tracking him down, after all.”

Tenarreau's job was to keep the city of Harael running as smoothly as possible, and sometimes that meant involving himself directly in the affairs of Lords. To do a proper job of it, he required all the information he could get, from a variety of different sources. While nobody knew exactly what sort of resources the Prince had at his disposal, I began to suspect that there was at least one resource that he suddenly found himself interested in acquiring – a young boy who seemed able to defy gravity. He'd end up another tool in the Prince's arsenal, I would guess.

A tool like me. I scowled at that thought.

“I don't even know where he might be, much less who this kid is! As much as I'd love to formally introduce you two, Highness, clearing my name and getting my father's book back is all I'm really hoping to accomplish this next little while.”

“Oh, you don't have to stop hunting down your precious book, Tucat,” he smiled with an easy grin. “No, by all means, continue looking for it. I just wished for you to understand that retrieving it was now your second priority.”

“Highness, I-”

“And after you're done that, of course, I'm sure that there'll be all sorts of time for idle chit-chat, various discussions of an unrelated nature, stuff like that.”

It was very hard to maintain my neutral expression, as well as my composure. I hadn't so much as laid a finger on this kid – hadn't said more than “Hey . . . wait!” to him as he casually leapt around and did things that I would have considered impossible, and here I was being asked to capture him. Unharmed. In two days.

I just wanted my book back and to clear my name, after which I didn't care what happened to this 'wraith'. He was someone else's problem as far as I was concerned. With the multitude of other things I was attempting to manage, why was I the one being sent out to catch this impossibly quick kid?

Because I was damned good, that's why. And because the Prince knew he was holding all the cards needed to make me do exactly as he asked.

I unclenched my fingers once I realized they were curling into fists. Head bowed slightly, I took several deep breaths and put on as placid an expression as circumstances would allow. Lifting my eyes back to those of my Prince, I quietly started counting backwards from twenty in order to calm myself, making a note of the look of arrogant amusement he was giving me.

Twenty . . . nineteen . . .

I forced my face into a grin, the kind you put on so you don't end up accidentally sharing a few of your more murderous expressions.

“Well,” I smiled, with an audible sigh of resignation, “I suppose I'd better get about it then. Tomorrow or the next day, you said?”

“Indeed. If you do catch him tonight, feel free to stop by earlier. I feared it might be a shade optimistic, so I didn't bother mentioning that possibility,” Tenarreau replied. He gave me a look that seemed to ask 'See? Isn't that generous of me?'

Sixteen . . . fifteen . . . my grin got a touch wider.

“Indeed. Well, I shall just have to do my best then. What sort of assistance can I count on from you? I'll most certainly find any that you have to offer most helpful when it comes to capturing this kid unharmed.”

“Help?” He furrowed his brow at me and smirked. “Lord Tucat, are you saying that you lack the ability to locate and neutralize a young boy dressed in rags?”

Eleven . . . ten . . .

“Without assistance, it may take a while longer than two days, Highness,” I said, trying not to hiss the words at him or sound too snarky.

“Well, I have no doubt that you'll try your hardest. Do try to hurry, though . . . I have this feeling that in a couple of days time I may have forgotten whatever it was you were wishing to discuss with me.”

The corners of my mouth felt like they were hovering over my cheekbones, I was grinning so fiercely.

“At the very least, Highness, can I count on you to confirm with some of the other Lords that I'm not responsible for these various thefts? I might find this kid a little difficult to catch if I'm lying dead in an alley somewhere.”

“True, but if I told any of them that their items had not been stolen by yourself, and were instead stolen by this young man, they might take it upon themselves to start chasing him around, perhaps damaging him in the process. Unharmed, Tucat.” He smirked. “In fact, once I have him here I may just ask him how he was treated, see if you were rude to him or called him any nasty names.”

Three . . . two . . .

“Must be nice, having a leash like mine in your collection,” I said rather bitingly, surprising myself. The scowl I'd been successful at keeping off my face had somehow found a way to get into my voice.

He cocked his head at me, still looking amused, and his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.

“Yes, isn't it useful? Depending on the outcome of the next few days, I may have to spend some time pondering whether I'm tired of having it handy. Marvelously effective tool, don't you think?”

He waved to me with the back of his hand, dismissing me.

I bowed low to him as I stepped back away from the throne to leave, not out of any particular respect, but because if I continued to look him in the eye I knew I'd end up saying some things that might get me in a great deal of trouble. After five steps, I stood and turned to the door, walking towards the exit at a brisk pace.

Cocky little son of a bitch.

Allowing the scowl I'd been suppressing to make an appearance, I quietly stalked into the antechamber and past the guards, fuming. I was under his thumb, and he knew it. He wanted me to know that he knew it – that his hand held the ball of string that I was desperately clawing at, and that I was unable to leap high enough to reach it on my own. His words contained elements that were part hint, part blackmail, part nudge, and part smug little asshole who was making me dance simply because he could.

I was suddenly in a mood, one that was not very helpful at all. Never attempt to engage in things that require delicacy or clear thinking when you're angry enough to kill a bone-wolf with your teeth. You end up doing very stupid, irrational things . . . such as, well, attempting to kill a bone-wolf with your teeth.

And the whole thing had been such a colossal waste of time, too . . . time that could have been spent tracking down this kid. Sure, his capture wasn't a priority before, but if circumstances allowed I would have done something to make sure this young nuisance could be tracked, or reigned in, or something. Sure, whatever happened wouldn't be my fault, but it wasn't like I wanted anything bad to happen to this kid. I mean, I'm not a monster.

Sending for me, then forcing me to wait two hours just so he could re-assert his authority over me, tell me to do something that unnecessarily complicated my life, quite possibly something I was going to do anyways . . . well, let's say that the Prince wasn't exactly on my list of favorite people suddenly.

In fact . . .

“Excuse me,” I called out, turning to face the two guards at the door, struck by a rather childish (but extremely amusing) notion. “I was wondering if perhaps you could direct me to the facilities. I find myself needing to splash a bit of water on my face.”

Both guards looked at each other. One of them sighed softly.

“I'll go,” the one on the left said, obviously due to some sort of agreement between them, the details of which meant that it was his turn to perform some task they shared. He took a step forward and clicked his heels together, nodding at me. “If you will please follow me - I am required to accompany you, my Lord.”

“Really? Whatever for?”

He looked uncomfortable for a moment, and I saw his forearm unconsciously rub against the leather pouch attached to his belt, as if to ensure it was still there.

It appeared that my reputation as a thief preceded me.

“Oh please,” I said, waving my hand dismissively as I glanced at some of the finery located in the antechamber and immediate hallway, “I can find my way. Your presence isn't really necessary.”

Or adequate, I thought to myself.

“I apologize, my Lord . . . my orders come from the Prince.” He gestured towards a nearby hallway. “This way, Lord Tucat.”

I walked down the hallway towards the palace baths in silence, under the watchful eyes of the nameless guard. I'd stop periodically, admiring some painting adorning the hallway or inspecting some vase that was perched on a nearby plinth or table, taking my time, all the while being closely monitored by the large, imposing fellow who was following so close he was practically stepping on my heels.

He even accompanied me into the bathroom, where I made a production of freshening up in front of him, going through a variety of towels and other expensive looking toiletry items adorning the countertops. He was pretty good at keeping an eye on me, too. Since he'd begun accompanying me I hadn't been able to steal anything . . . aside from a silver letter opener, a small gold cup and saucer, two phials of perfume, a small winged statuette, a gold-plated dedication marker for one of the hallway paintings, three tiny glass mirrors in gold frames, two frighteningly expensive looking crystal goblets, and a small bejeweled dagger that, until recently, had been sitting in the sheath adorning the belt of the attentive guard-fellow standing beside me.

We walked back down the hallway towards the palace exit. My escort seemed pleased with the job of watching me that he'd done, and I was fairly happy with the various treasures that I'd stowed in various pockets, now attempting to walk without drawing too much attention to them, a smile on my face.

Supremely childish, I know. Still, it seemed adequate to the task of diffusing my dark mood, and it made me feel a bit better about my encounter with the Prince. If I was going to be inconvenienced and toyed with, I was going to exact some form of revenge, petty and childish though it may have been.

There wasn't much point to the exercise, aside from blowing off some steam. I knew I probably wasn't going to be able to sell any of these things – no doubt they'd been marked with the Prince's seal, somewhere, which all but guaranteed that no fence with half a brain would even touch the things. If a fence encountered someone trying to sell an item that was marked with a Lord's seal, the most they were likely going to do was offer to return it to the Lord in question, with complete anonymity and a minimum of fuss. If someone tried to sell an item marked with the Prince's seal, they would likely look at them as if they'd gone insane.

Still, we'd see what was marked and what wasn't once I was safely out of the palace. Not many people would suspect that a thief might take the trouble to pry a gold-plated dedication marker off the wall, or take steps to guard against it. If the items were marked, that was fine . . . I'd hand them over to a fence or something, maybe break into a Lord's keep and leave various items lying around somewhere, just for fun. Of course, if any item wasn't marked, I'd take great pleasure in fencing it . . . in taking what meager money I could get for it and-

I stopped in my tracks so suddenly that the guard practically plowed into me, knocking me forward half a step.

He apologized, even as he was quickly patting himself down to ensure that nothing had suddenly gone missing from his person. I realized he'd probably notice his cutlery was missing in a moment or two.

“Here, you must have dropped this,” I said, thinking furiously, casually pulling out the fellow's dagger and holding it out to him handle first. He tried to cover his surprise, accepting the proffered weapon with a nod and a perplexed expression. He continued to pat himself down thoroughly, looking much more uncertain than he had been a few moments ago. I wasn't really paying him much attention though, as I was too busy putting a few things together, allowing revelation to dawn.

The unmarked items . . . they made sense. This kid was stealing ridiculously personal and sensitive items from Lords, stuff that was certain to be marked by the Lords who owned them. He was also stealing other stuff, small knick-nacks, things of no relative import. The kid, dressed in rags and obviously not what you would consider rich, was pawning them . . . hanging on to the important stuff, but stealing other things that weren't so important and likely unmarked, using the sale of these other items to finance his next burglary, or buy food, or . . . well, something. The precise details regarding what he was doing with the money wasn't important.

The fact that he was dealing with fences was.

I had first-hand knowledge of some of the unmarked knick-nacks he'd recently stolen, myself and Theo being among his most recent victims. I had no doubt that I'd be able to identify any one of these various items if I were to encounter them while browsing through a fence's goods.

I'd spotted this kid on my territory, and given where he'd stashed his various trophies it was likely that if he were to go to a fence, it would be one of mine.

Perhaps I didn't need to heroically hunt down a ghostly specter on stormy rooftops after all. Perhaps all that was required was a bit of legwork and a quick word with some of the fences operating in my territory. They didn't make a great deal of money, and usually a small jingle of coin was enough for them to cheerfully discuss anything you happened to want to talk about. At great length.

Maybe I wasn't in such bad shape after all.

I left the now-flustered guard behind me and walked briskly out of the palace doors, intent on getting to my carriage and back to my territory while there was still some daylight to be had.