Buildings flitted by the window of my carriage as we left the palace, and I had Tarryl take a different route than normal. I had a few unscheduled meetings with a couple of Fences that worked near Tucat Keep, having decided that I would check in with a few of them on my way back home.

Fences were an odd bunch, probably because of the nature of their business. It took a certain sort of person to be successful at that kind of thing, and that sort of person was almost always a little quirky. Sometimes they were fun to deal with, sometimes not.

Six months ago, before the unexpected expansion of the property I was responsible for, I'd had a total of three fences working in my modest-sized territory. I knew them by name back then, and was fairly comfortable with the relationship I'd maintained with each. It was best to keep your relationship with fences on positive terms, considering that these were the fellows who kept their eye out for property that had been magically marked with the symbol of your family name. Visiting those three odd fellows had become part of the weekly routine I'd settled comfortably into at the time.

That was six months ago.

I now had twenty-seven fences working for me. And that was after two of them had moved away once I'd taken possession of my new territory.

Visiting each of them regularly was no longer feasible, and in order to keep them all happy I'd ended up trimming a significant portion of the monthly tithes they paid me. Generally speaking, if you're a tenant, the only thing that's better than a decent face-to-face relationship with your Lord is a non-existent one . . . and when it's accompanied by a generous discount, there's very little to complain about.

My fences' shops were spread out over my territory, and visiting all of them and checking their inventory for my stolen knick-nacks was going to take time, although Cyrus would probably be able to help out. Theo might manage to help covertly as well, looking for those few inconsequential items that had been stolen from him without seeming to be doing so.

Theo would have to stick to territory that bordered his. A Lord could theoretically go anywhere in Harael he wanted, but if he was poking around territory that he didn't personally manage, people started talking. Speculation regarding their reasons for being there often times ran rampant, sometimes causing a problem where none had existed. Standing outside a shop, inside of a restaurant, even walking down a particular street that didn't belong to you could lead to serious misunderstandings eventually. It was always worthwhile to think about what those types of activities might mean to other Lords if word ever reached their ears.

Of course, I knew that Theo wasn't going to try to muscle into my territory, but everyone else (my own house knights included) would probably be put on edge and suspect the worst. Best if that sort of thing were avoided, really.

As I traveled in my carriage towards the shop of one of my old fences whose shop was nearby Tucat Keep, I started planning out the best way to divide my territory amongst the three of us so that we could cover ground effectively. There was a chance Theo might still be in my basement, working with Cyrus or helping him go over the items that had been retrieved, so I wanted to get back quickly so I could share the news and begin the hunt for the stolen trinkets as soon as possible. With my luck, it was overwhelmingly likely that if we did discover anything, it would only be after visiting the twenty-fifth fence, or the twenty-sixth.

So, imagine my enormous surprise as I stood there staring at Theodore's jeweled statue, the same one I'd given him just over three years ago, which was sitting in the display window of a fellow named Garrett – a friendly and trouble-free tenant of mine, the very first fence on my list.

At first I couldn't quite believe it, standing there outside of his small, sun-battered shop, looking through the lone shop window. The small wolf-like dog statue was staring up at me with its ruby-red eyes, sitting atop the beige satin cloth that had been draped on the display counter.

I'd hastily stopped staring at it once I realized I was doing so, and made a point of letting my eyes linger over various other items in the display, just in case he or someone else was watching. Then, I entered Garrett's shop as casually as I could manage.

He was busy talking with a customer, but he spied me entering and gave me a quick nod in acknowledgment, barely interrupting his sales negotiations as he did so. I nodded back, making a gesture with my hand that suggested I wasn't in a hurry and could wait for him to finish. He smiled and nodded to me appreciatively, and then turned his full attention back to the fellow he was talking to, a short man who appeared to be interested in buying a well worn silver trumpet.

I began inspecting some of the other items in his shop, trying to look as casual and unhurried as possible.

In his jewelry section, I saw a well-polished brooch with filigree that appeared to have been expertly bent back into its proper shape, in addition to a suspiciously familiar silver ring. The ring didn't have a scorch mark on it anywhere I could see, but because of how it was mounted I couldn't see more than half of it, so I assumed it was hidden. That, or maybe Garrett had better luck removing the scorch mark than I had . . .

I think I was successful at looking uninterested as I patiently waited for the two men to finish their negotiations, keeping a tight reign on my excitement and not appearing too anxious. I had a good relationship with Garrett, a fence who I still managed to visit when circumstances allowed, and who would probably be more than happy to tell me anything I wanted to know.

After ten minutes of waiting patiently, I found it very hard not to walk up to the counter and buy the damned trumpet for Garrett's customer, who appeared more interested in haggling over the silver instrument than playing it. I gritted my teeth and smiled, continuing to stand there, wearing my best “Oh look, I'm being patient” face.

It only took about five minutes more before the two men shook hands, and gold was exchanged for silver, as it were. Both men seemed pleased with how things had turned out, the trumpet's new owner leaving the shop with a smile on his face.

Negotiations over with, Garrett turned his smile to me and made it wider.

“Lord Tucat! Good to see you, Milord!” he beamed.

“Garrett! Hope you made out well just now. I could certainly use the extra coin,” I smiled back.

“Bloody fool, has no idea,” he smirked, lowering his voice just a tad. “He comes in every week, buying anything even resembling a genuine Hau-veluschi horn. I've actually had to start going to other shops and buying whatever could reasonably pass as a Hau-veluschi and hiding them in the corners, sprinkling a bit of dust on them, or making them look like they've been neglected and cast aside. He easily spends three times what I've paid for every horn, each and every week!”

I laughed easily and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You're a natural at this sort of thing. You've got the gift, I swear,” I said, as I always did when he told me these stories. I'd been telling him stuff like that for years – despite the fact that he'd never seemed to make enough money to move out of his abused, battered shop in the entire time I'd known him. Still, he seemed happy with where he was and what he was doing, and really, wasn't that what mattered?

“So, what can I do for you today, Milord? I hope you're here to do a touch of shopping yourself – you're not the only one who could use some extra coin,” he said, cheerfully.

“You know, now that you mention it, I do find myself in the mood to buy a few things. Some very specific things, actually, a couple of which I've already found amongst your collection as I was waiting.”

“Truly!” He beamed at me. “Well, I've made a pretty decent profit off that horn, I could probably see fit to let you have a couple items at cost. What tickles your fancy today, Milord?”

“Oh, I don't know if I'd go so far as say that my 'fancy' was tickled, but I did spy some tolerably nice stuff. Stuff of mine, in fact.”

He blanched visibly at the last of my words.

“M-Milord! I wouldn't dream of trafficking any . . . I assure you that I inspect all of the goods that come in here! I'm never short of greyberry candles, and I never fail to-”

“Garrett, relax,” I said, holding my palms up disarmingly. “You're not in any sort of trouble. These items weren't marked - you did nothing wrong. If I suspected you were guilty of something like that, this conversation would have begun much differently.”

“I . . . if there's anything here that happens to belong to you, by all means retrieve it! I'd be unable to sleep tonight knowing that I had sold something that had been stolen from you, Milord. You need but to identify them, and the items are yours, free of charge.”

“Now, now . . . I follow the rules just like anyone else. If some stuff of mine has been nicked and wasn't marked, you certainly shouldn't be the one who has to pay for it, should you?”

After a few moments he was smiling at me, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You're a Lord like no other, Milord,” he said, a note of sincere gratitude in his voice. “I've been telling others so for many years. I think it's wonderful that you're getting the recognition you finally deserve, I really do.”

I nodded at the statement, taking it in the spirit it had probably been intended. Doubtless the fine nuances of city politics were not something he was too familiar with, and I didn't have the time to point out the particulars of my situation to him, or tell him what I really thought of my 'success' of recent months.

“Thank you, Garrett. Well then, you need but to tell me how much you're charging for this particular item, and we can call it a deal. I shan't even haggle with you on it,” I grinned. Then, I tilted my head to the side and gave him an inquisitive look. “I would, of course, like to find out a little something about the thief who stole it. Personal matter between him and I, you understand.”

Garrett looked uncomfortable for a split second, but relaxed into a grin and nodded to me.

“Aye Milord. You've done enough for me and mine over the years, and even though giving up a seller is not the sort of thing I'd ordinarily do, I suppose I'm obliged to. You don't ask for much from me, that's for certain.”

“Excellent. Just what I like to hear,” I said, walking slowly over to the jewelry display and plucking the silver ring from its stand, bringing it back to the counter and holding it out for him to see. The scorch mark was nowhere to be seen, suggesting that Garrett knew a little bit more about jewelry restoration than I did.

He looked puzzled for a moment, smiled, and took the ring from my hand in order to more closely inspect it.

“Not quite sure how you would have recognized it, Milord. A ring, silver, fairly plain pattern on it . . . I've got dozens just like it. Might be a little more difficult to provide you with the name of the person who brought it to me, considering how common items like this are. I doubt I can even recall how long ago I might have traded for it. Memory's not what it used to be,” he said, inspecting it. Then, as though he'd just become aware of something, he gave me a mildly urgent look. “It - Milord, that was not me trying to negotiate with you, I assure you. I'm . . . I mean, I know how that must have sounded just now, but I'm not trying to squeeze copper from you, honest. I just really may not-”

“I know, Garrett. It's fine, I know what you meant. Not to worry . . . this probably would have surfaced in the past day or two, more recently than some of the other items sitting about your shop. And I might not have recognized it myself, had I not spent hours staring at the bloody thing while trying to remove a particularly ugly scorch mark from one side of it. Funny story how that happened, if you've got a moment. You see, I was-”

I stopped talking when I noticed that he'd become several shades paler upon hearing about the scorch mark, hands slowly lowering the ring to the countertop and gently setting it on the hard surface, like it had suddenly become poisonous. I looked a question at him.

“I'm sorry, Milord. I don't recognize this. It . . . I think it was brought to me several months ago.”

I made a mental note and filed it away for future reference – if ever I wished to rob Garrett of everything he owned, I would merely have to invite him to a game of cards. He was quite possibly the worst liar I'd ever met.

“Garrett,” I said, gently, “how long has it been since you first started operating out of my territory?”

“It-” he began, stopping to take a deep breath, looking like a man who has just realized he's in a great deal of trouble.

“And in all that time,” I continued, lazily inspecting the contents of his shop over my shoulder, “you've never dealt with me in anything but an honest and forthright fashion. Except, of course, that one time when I was sick with the coral pox, and you commented on how well I was looking.” I shook my head sadly. “Not once. Do you know how rare that is, Garrett?”

“I think-”

“And for you to blow it all, here and now . . . well, that just doesn't seem right. No, I shall forget that you even attempted that just now, and let you try again. Now,” I said, picking the ring up between my thumb and forefinger and holding it in front of him, “who brought this to you?”

He began to tremble.

“Milord, it . . . it's simply a ring. Like any other ring, surely! You can have it back, if it belongs to you!”

I simply stared at him, holding the ring out before him, watching as he became more and more uncomfortable.

“Who?” I asked after a long, tense minute.

“Milord, please . . . I can't!”

“That's twice you've said something incorrect, Garrett, and in the span of only a few minutes. Won't is what you meant to say, wasn't it? That's much, much different from can't. You see, can't suggests the possibility that you don't actually have the information that I'm looking for, an entirely forgivable sort of thing. Won't suggests something far, far less forgivable,” I said, gesturing towards the ring with my head. “Start. Talking.”

I watched him wrestle with the various things he was having to consider, obviously not enjoying the position he was finding himself in. As this was going on I began trying to compile a list of all the possible reasons why he, a relatively decent sort of bloke, someone who had cheerfully agreed to share the name of the thief mere minutes ago, was suddenly reluctant to cooperate with his Lord. Generally speaking, there were only a few possibilities.

“Milord, I'm sorry. If it were anything else, any other object, I swear I would tell you who brought it to me! Any other. Gods steal my voice if I lie,” he said, making a quick throat-slashing gesture with his thumb.

“Indeed? Well, I suppose that'll have to do then,” I said, making my way back to the jewelry display as I pocketed the ring. “It is merely a ring, after all, and you obviously have very strong reasons for not wanting to tell me, or you'd have done so. Any other object, you said?”

“Yes, Milord!” he practically panted, exhaling explosively and sounding very relieved.

A few moments later, I tossed Theodore's brooch, the one that had recently undergone filigree repair, onto the wooden countertop.

Garrett looked as though he were about to cry.

“If you have a similar problem with this one, I could pick a third item for you to try. Say, the dog in the window? The one that bears a striking resemblance to a wolf? Let's try that one - three's a charm, after all.”

“Milord, I-” he began, shaking his head in a distressed fashion.

“Garrett, Garrett,” I said, shaking my own head sadly, deciding to explore some of the different possibilities that might be causing his reluctance. “We've done so well, you and I, and I'd hate to see anything damage our working relationship. Has someone threatened you? Do you fear for your safety, is that it? I assure you that nobody will know you told me anything, and I can make a few arrangements to make sure you're safe afterwards if you're truly worried. Possibly I might take care of whatever matter you're involved with myself, if it's serious enough.”

He shook his head 'no', lips pressed tightly together. He didn't appear to be trying to lie to me, even taking into account just how recently I'd become an expert in assessing whether he was telling the truth. I hadn't really thought physical violence would be the case here, but this 'wraith' kid could be working for someone.

Well, he wasn't scared for his life, or being threatened. One down.

“Not in that kind of trouble then? Well, that's good to hear. There are other sorts of problems that can make a man reluctant to share . . . let's see if we can do something about that.” I gestured a thumb at the window. “Ring, brooch, and statue. How much for all three? Not as your Lord, but as a regular guy. You know, if I were a customer coming in off the street . . .”

He worried his lips nervously for a moment before replying.

“The, uh, ring . . . is silver. Reasonable quality, no stone. The brooch has some good workmanship, silver filigree, but the center stone is simply engraved jasper. The statue has nice rubies, brilliant cut. Eighteen gold for the three to start, and then allowing myself to get talked down to fifteen. But, Milord, I've already told you . . . if they're yours, feel free to-”

He stopped talking once I'd carefully placed a stack of gold marks on the counter. About two-hundred or so.

“I'm quite certain you're mistaken about the statue. Platinum, if I'm any judge. Something like that'd be worth around two-hundred and . . . fifty?”

I watched his face as I counted out an additional fifty gold marks on the table. From what I could remember of his books, the small fortune before him was easily more than his nondescript shop was capable of bringing in during even his busiest three months of the year. If he was involved in an awkward business arrangement, or something money-related that kept him from discussing the identity of whoever had brought him these items, no doubt a quick two-fifty could go a fair ways toward correcting that.

“Milord, that statue can't possibly be worth that much. Even if it were platinum, I-”

“Look very closely, you'll see it's actually a much better quality item than you might first think. Deal of a lifetime, that. Very wolf-like, too. And the only other thing I'm asking for,” I said, waving a gesture at the coins on the table, “is the name of your supplier, so that I might acquire others like it, if you catch my drift. A private meeting with the fellow would be even better, if you could arrange it.”

Garrett licked his lips nervously, again. I made another mental note that I filed under the category of 'card-playing with Garrett' - he always licked his lips when seriously considering something.

I saw his eyes return to the pile of gold marks again and again. He wasn't going to be able to say 'no' to that.

I had him.

“Milord,” he pleaded, “I cannot. I beg you to understand . . .”

Or not.

Another possibility down – he wasn't having financial troubles, or if he was that wasn't what was preventing him from sharing the information with me. I hastily reviewed the other possibilities I could think of, ones that had nothing to do with threats of violence or owing money. Off the top of my head, I could only think of one.

He was protecting someone.

Trust me to find the only fence in all of Harael who walked the moral high ground. Most would cheerfully agree to sell their mother to a passing stranger if the price was right. Still, perhaps that was the reason why Garrett was one of the only fences in my territory who I still visited with semi-regularity. He was a fairly honest (for a fence) and decent sort of bloke.

If he were protecting this young thief, or if he didn't wish to do something that might result in harm coming to him, he probably had a reason. If he had a good reason, one that was good enough that he would deny his extremely reasonable Lord a request for a simple tidbit of information, then he probably knew a great deal about this kid. More than I did, at the very least.

There was no question that I'd eventually get the information from him, or have him lead me to it. The only real question was how.

All of this flashed through my head in an instant.

“Garrett,” I said, favoring him with a much more serious, solemn look, “let me see if I can make this easier for you. You bought these three items from a young boy, probably sixteen or so. Someone you would recognize if you saw again. Long-ish brown hair, skinny, pale . . . believes that tattered clothing will be making a comeback in fashion circles. Am I right?”

I was right. He looked distressed, and I began to wonder if the reason Garrett never managed to save up enough money to improve his shop was because he actually decided to play cards every now and again.

“Now, no doubt you know more about certain aspects of this situation than I do, but I feel I should tell you a few things you may not know. This young fellow has gotten himself into a spot of rather serious trouble with some very angry gentlemen. While I may be considered one of the angry gentlemen in question, I'm actually the best chance he's got to come out of this okay. Tenarreau himself wishes to have a talk with the boy, and has told me I'm responsible for his welfare – making certain that he doesn't become injured, or worse, as a result of his actions.”

“Oh, gods,” Garrett said, his face slack with disbelief. “He's gone and robbed the Prince?”

“What? Oh, no . . . nothing like that. No, not even I would be foolhardy enough to try something like that,” I said, making a quick mental note to empty my pockets of the various valuables I'd nicked from the palace just as soon as an opportunity presented itself. “However, in addition to those trinkets he's sold you, he's stolen some very, very serious stuff – things that several Lords would kill to get back. And that's not an exaggeration. Of these Lords, I can honestly say that I'm the only one with an interest in him making it out of this whole situation alive.”

Not precisely a lie, even if those other Lords I mentioned didn't exactly know about the existence of this kid.

Garrett probably wasn't having the best afternoon suddenly. He stood there, looking extremely conflicted. I decided that his whole lip-licking habit was beginning to bug me.

I let him stand there, thinking, and waited for him to form some sort of response. I'd probably given him too much information already, and I wanted to see if my guess about his situation was completely off the mark before attempting some alternate means of persuasion. A decent enough guy, he was the sort who might take it upon himself to look out for a troubled kid.

Turning down two-hundred and fifty gold was a surprise though. Either Garrett had a very overdeveloped streak of kindness in him, or there was some aspect of his situation I wasn't reading properly.

“Milord, I-” he began, appearing to come to a decision and then stopping himself, mid-sentence.

I continued to wait patiently, suppressing a sudden urge to begin cuffing him repeatedly.

“It's a lot to ask, Milord, I know, but . . . I beg of you - may I go and talk to the boy? Perhaps see what I can do to convince him of the need to speak with you? I fear that if anyone other than those he trusts were to approach him, he may react poorly or otherwise make himself impossible to reach by any means.”

I did my best to look like the sort of guy who would never even consider the possibility of tailing someone as they left their shop.

“He did strike me as the nervous sort,” I sighed. “Well, if that's the best you feel you can give me then I suppose it will have to do. Doubtless you understand that the Prince is holding me personally responsible for what might happen to this lad, and that if something should go amiss, or if he should disappear entirely, I shall be rather upset with how tight-lipped you've been on the matter.”

He seemed a little more relieved than worried, which made me a shade more optimistic. If he didn't believe that reasoning with the boy stood a chance, he would have looked more worried than he did.

“I understand, Milord. I . . . Lord Tucat, you can't know how grateful I am to be-”

“Yes, yes,” I waved my hand, allowing my voice to sound a touch annoyed. “When is the soonest you'll be able to meet with him? Time is in extraordinarily short supply at the moment, and not just for me.”

“Tonight, Milord. Say, around eight bells. I can't rightly say where he'll be before then.”

“You'll be here, minding your shop until then?”

“Aye Milord.”

He was either telling me the truth, or he'd somehow managed to improve his ability to lie a hundred-fold. Eight bells was about two hours from now, which suited me just fine. I had some rather hasty preparations to make all of a sudden. I could feel excitement begin to stir in my chest.

“Good,” I nodded, trying to appear as though I considered the matter settled. “Please tell him that I'll be at Tucat Keep by the time you're done speaking with him, and that he'll merely need to identify himself to my guards to gain entrance. If he's nervous and wishes for you to accompany him, I shall not mind.”

“You're very gracious, Milord,” he said.

“Well, not so gracious,” I said, hand reaching out to carefully sweep the stacks of gold marks towards my end of the counter. “You do understand that this is no longer on the table, given how extraordinarily understanding I'm being about this request of yours?”

He bobbed his head in acknowledgment, trying not to look too wistful as I retrieved my money from the counter. After a moment, I sighed and counted out fifteen gold marks, sliding the coins towards him with two fingers of my left hand.

“For the brooch, ring, and dog statue. Fifteen after haggling, I believe you said. And,” I added, struck with a sudden thought, “I would like anything unusual that he may have sold you, or used as a deposit for a loan. And I think you may know exactly what I mean by 'unusual' . . .”

I didn't, really, but my gamble paid off. He gave a guilty start and looked supremely uncomfortable. Then, after a few moments thought, he gave a small sigh and turned to the wall behind him, keys jingling their way out of his pocket.

While his back was turned, I took the opportunity to pull Talia's tracking gem from my vest pocket. Silently, I tossed it at Garrett's back and prayed. It caught nicely.

Garrett was focused on unlocking his cache of valuables, so he didn't appear to notice. Various locks and alarms were disabled, and he had his wall safe open a few moments later.

Shortly after, he presented me with an odd-looking sort of, well, stone egg, I suppose. It was perfectly smooth and glossy, except for some strips of metal that had been recessed into it, in addition to odd symbols that had been etched into one side. It was small enough that it fit comfortably in the palm of my hand.

“Well, that certainly qualifies as 'unusual', doesn't it?” I said, frowning at the odd, green-ish thing. “What is it?”

“I don't know, Milord. He didn't tell me at the time, he merely needed some money a few weeks back. I was assured at the time that it's extremely valuable, which I don't doubt in the least.”

I pondered the object. “And how much were you considering charging for it?”

“I truly have no idea, Milord. I knew he'd be wanting it back, eventually, so I was simply hanging on to it as collateral. Since I have no idea what it does or even what it is, I don't know what I'd be able to sell it for.”

“How much did you loan him for it?”

“About forty grey marks, Milord.”

I counted an additional four gold out onto the table and pushed it towards him, taking the object that he held. It was lighter than stone would have been, but seemed very solid.

“I'll hold this for you, for the moment. If he should wish it back, either of you can let me know. Sound good?”

“It . . . yes, Milord,” he said, uncomfortably.

Slipping the strange object into my pocket, I smiled a tight-lipped smile at him. I was actually about to leave just then, when something occurred to me.

There was a certain reputation that a Lord had to keep up, the appearance of strength and, occasionally, ruthlessness. If word got around that you were weak, or made too many concessions, your ability to manage people suffered. Never leave a tenant thinking they've gotten the better of you - that was one of the first basic rules when it came to maintaining authority. Appearing weak was the last thing I needed right now, all things considered.

He'd just denied me, his Lord, information that I wanted. Not the note I wanted to end this conversation on, no matter how much I may have liked Garrett as a person.

“Well, that's good then. Oh, before I go, there are two questions that I need answers to. And I do feel it necessary to tell you this – if I even suspect that you're lying to me when you answer these two questions, I swear to the gods of war and vengeance that everything you hold dear will reside in Tucat Keep by week's end. I require that you provide me with answers to these questions, instantly, or your life becomes a nightmare from which you'll never wake. Do we have an understanding?”

Garrett nodded, eyes widening just a bit.

“Alright. First, you will tell me this kid's name.” I raised my hand to cut off his protests. “First name only - I understand that you wish to protect this young man, and to approach him your own way. However, if I do see this kid again, I wish to be able to address him as something other than 'Hey, you!'”

He licked his lips yet again before speaking.

“Connor,” he said, his voice quiet. “His first name is Connor.”

“Excellent. Connor. Very good. And as for the second, I really do have to know . . . nay, I must know-”

Garrett looked extremely worried, taking a half-step backwards as I leaned forward over the counter at him, looking him intently in the eye. My hand reached into my pocket, and I produced the silver ring from it, holding it before him and giving him my best steely-eyed glare.

“How the deuce did you get that scorch mark off? I mean, I swear,” I said, shaking my head slightly, “I tried absolutely everything I could think of to get this bloody thing clean!”