Theodore’s keep is within view of mine, the dark-stoned structure located perhaps a little more than a city block away from Tucat Keep.

As a youngster, once the quarantine of my keep had been lifted, I had been placed in the temporary foster care of the Haundsing family while my keep was cleansed of all traces of the rose blight plague, bodies were properly interred, and my sanity was scrutinized.

I had spent almost half of a year with the Haundsing household, which, aside from various servants and house knights, consisted of Theodore and his mother, Lachia. I remember my time and activities in their keep with extreme fondness, and not simply because of the isolation of the years before.

Theodore had never had a brother, and had lost his father years before I became an orphan. We were both rather lost, each of us having been forced by circumstance to grow up far too quickly.

And so despite the fact that we might have been considered too old for such things, we both eagerly squeezed years of what we assumed was proper brotherly activity into those months.

Long story short – we’re both experts at the game of ‘Hide and Seek’

The hundreds of hiding places I'd found in his keep were often so good that I had to call out to him as he passed me for the fourth or fifth time, emerging from the shadows and causing him to jump with a start. Considering how hard I was to find when an observant guy like Theodore was actually looking around for me, it was comparatively easy to avoid people such as chambermaids, servants, house knights and the like. Even in the middle of the day.

Even now, as a full-grown adult.

I found myself filled with nostalgia, stifling a childish giggle as Lord Theodore Haundsing walked right past me. I was glad to see him finally descending the stairwell I'd hidden in, as the ledge I was perched on was cramped, my legs were beginning to complain vigorously, and the only company I'd had for the past half hour was a stone gargoyle.

“Theo!” I whispered, loudly.

The twitch of his shoulders as he spun around combined with the look of alarm on his face very nearly caused me to break into peals of laughter. I suddenly felt as though I were a teenager once more.

“Who-” he began, hand reaching for his sword.

“Theo, it's me! It's Vincent!” I whispered as I stood up slightly and away from the statue that obscured me, half to reveal myself and half because my legs demanded it. I rubbed them with a pained expression, attempting to encourage blood circulation.

“It - Vincent? You ... what in the name of Hades' hammock are you doing in here?” he said in a whispered voice that was so loud it likely carried his words nearly as far as if he'd spoken plainly.

“I had to talk to you about something.”

“Baal's bleeding bastard, Vince! I-”

“Shhhhh!” I hissed, making downward gestures with my open palms. “We probably don't want to attract notice from your household. I don't think either of us have an excuse prepared that would explain us conversing freely in the middle of your keep.”

“Well,” he said, voice dropping to an urgent, annoyed whisper, “that's true. How did you even get in here? What in all the gods' names could be so damned important that you'd risk your own neck just to see me?”

“As to the former, if I told you how I got in here, you'd just go and put some extra security there, and I couldn't very well use it the next time, could I? As to the latter, I've...” I trailed off, uncertain how to express my concerns.

“You're paranoid - again - aren't you?” He didn't phrase it as a question, and he didn't quite roll his eyes as he said it.

“Theodore - we're thieves. This is a city ruled by thieves. You and I are Thief Lords, in fact, for whom paranoia is a survival instinct.”

“Well, what is it then? What's got your hair all twisted now? What couldn't have waited until tomorrow evening?”

I told him in a hushed voice about my encounter with Lord Teuring in the Circles that afternoon, glossing over some of the more amusing details for the sake of brevity. He raised his eyebrows a couple of times as I described the young fellow's attempt to catch his falling blade and subsequent injury to his hand. His expression barely changed once I got to the swords.

“Bah. He needs swords, obviously, if he thinks he's going to be fighting you himself. Did you think he'd bring a pair of sticks? Or a fork? You're making a bit of a fuss about spotting two swords inside of a building that probably houses thousands of swords, aren't you?”

“I'm not the only one who made a big deal out of these swords,” I said. “I barely got a look before he came rushing over to cover them ... and there was something different about how he acted right then.”

“Different? How?”

“I don't know, exactly. Sometimes when he's posturing and blustering it’s like an obnoxious kind of childish pique, but this seemed to really annoy him.”

“So, maybe the swords are heirlooms of some sort. Maybe he felt you were being disrespectful, just wandering over and handling them like that. It isn't exactly polite to just rummage through someone's possessions right in front of them.”

“You had to see the swords though, Theo. They were magnificent. If they were heirlooms, you would hardly want them to leave your keep. What's that one sword you have, the one that you told me you'd never use sword-on-sword in case it were to get damaged? I saw it once.”

“Haundeuse? The one crafted by the Knothills?”

“Yeah, that one. Just seeing these blades put me in mind of the very first time you showed me that sword of yours. I’d been amazed to even consider how much work had gone into making it. Same feeling with these.”

Theodore started to laugh. I started to get annoyed.

“Theo, could you please be serious?” I snapped.

“Oh, it's hard,” he said, shaking his head. “Your mind works in truly unusual ways when you're all wound up before a fight, I've never seen anything quite like it. You're concerned that this kid who cut himself right in front of you might be carrying two priceless Knothill swords around with him, when everything we know about him suggests that not only his he poor as a mouse, but that he doesn't even know how to fence? This is good, even for you.”

“What were they doing there then? Explain how it is that a kid like him has two swords like that, in a scenario that makes sense.”

“Well, they're not Knothill swords, that's for sure ... probably cheap knock-offs, fancy looking trash. The fellow needs swords if he's going to fight you, Vincent. He'd been down at the Circles all day, you'd said ... what if he was picking them up?”

I shook my head. “Too expensive. They could have been knock-offs, sure – I'm no expert at spotting these things, but I do know quality when I see it. So as knock-offs go, these weren't cheap. And, if he bought the swords that morning, why is he fighting the duel himself if he's got that kind of money sitting around?”

“Vincent...” he began, shaking his head sadly.

“Well? Give me some other reason, something plausible!”

“They were the instructor's, maybe?”

“Why would Teuring have gotten upset, if that were the case?”

Theo frowned slightly.

“Okay, maybe they're heirlooms, like I said. Gods, Vince, you and I both have family stuff that's been collecting dust over generations. What if this kid was going through some of the family belongings, stumbles upon the swords, figures he'll spare himself the expense of buying new ones and get trained with the swords he has? Maybe he was down there to buy a practice foil with the same weight and balance as those swords.”

“Heirlooms are for people who can afford to keep them. This kid didn't have matching tablecloths, for crying out loud. Nobody, no matter how significant the heirloom, lets a fortune in sculpted metal sit in an attic collecting dust while they live in relative poverty. Even his clothing required some serious examination by a qualified tailor, it fit him so poorly,” I said, making a mental note to keep my voice down at that point, as I realized that the discussion was causing me to become forgetful of where I was. “And that's another thing. Your keepsakes, such as the sword and other things handed down to you ... what makes them keepsakes exactly?”

“Errr, that kind of sums it up, doesn't it? They were handed down to me from-”

“Yes, yes, but why exactly were they handed down? They had something to do with family, didn't they? They're important. Your tablecloths, wall hangings, candleholders, they've all got something to do with wolves, your family symbol. Your sword has the family crest displayed somewhere on it, or a wolf motif if I recall.”

“Both. Well, yes, obviously if we were to pay someone a small fortune to create something for our family, we'd prefer it if our crest was displayed, or the family were referred to somehow.” He paused, thoughtfully. “Doesn't have to be, though. Tables, furnishings, the like. You can have a favorite chair from your childhood, one that someone special sat in whenever they played a game of Roc'la against you, any sort of item that you associated with good times.”

“Yeah, but a sword? Even my blunted practice blades have an engraving of my family crest on them. If you've already had a seal made for yourself or your merchant, apparently getting that same relief pattern stamped into another piece of metal is simplicity itself. Why-”

“Milord Haundsing?” an unfamiliar female voice called up from just outside the stairwell entrance.

We both froze. Theodore looked stricken and waved at me with the backs of his hands in a shoo-ing gesture. I practically dove back behind the statue I’d first concealed myself with and went still.

“Yes?” Theodore said, attempting to sound natural.

“Milord, is there something the matter? I heard voices.”

I couldn't place the voice, and I didn't want to peek around my stone guardian in order to catch a glimpse, just in case she had entered the stairwell.

“No, no ... nothing's the matter. I was just ... err,” he began uncomfortably.

“Talking?” said the unknown female.

“Yes.”

There was a long pause.

“To ... yourself?”

“To the, uh, statue ... actually.”

There was an even longer pause that made me a tad nervous.

“Talking. To the statue,” the voice finally said.

“As it were, yes,” Theo finished lamely.

There was yet another significant pause. I cursed silently as I felt a cramp begin to form once more in my legs.

“Are you feeling alright, sir?”

“Yes, of course. I'm feeling...” he trailed off.

“Milord?”

“Actually, no. No, I haven't been feeling good come to think of it, and I might know the reason. Judinae, could you please have a talk with your fellow knights about the burning of flitleaf while in the keep?”

“Sir?” The voice, which apparently belonged to a girl named Judinae, sounded puzzled.

“I've been getting rather lightheaded and dizzy lately, and when it's been happening I've been noticing a pronounced haze in my study, and the distinct odor of flitleaf. It must be affecting me, since I don't ordinarily touch the stuff. And I think we both know exactly where it's coming from.”

“I ... that is to say-” she began, sounding a little less suspicious and a little more flustered. “The other knights said you didn't mind that sort of thing.”

“I don't mind, provided that at least some effort to ventilate the smoke is made. I mean, ye gods woman! Are they making bonfires out of the stuff? I'm an entire floor up from the off-duty mess hall. You'd think that would provide some measure of protection, and yet here I am talking to statues! I can't wait to see what kind of a mess I've made of this week's budget, which I was attempting to sort out in my study.”

“Milord, I'm sure they had no idea. I shall talk to the other knights about this immediately.”

“See that you do. The last thing I suspect your fellow knights want would be for me to make some critical miscalculation regarding their weekly stipend, accidental or no.”

“Well ... yes sir.”

“Oh also,” he added, seeming much more relaxed, “could you fetch me one of those heavy lemon cakes from the kitchen, bring it back to the study for me? I find myself suddenly famished for some odd reason.”

There was a knowing chuckle. “Yes Milord.”

I waited in breathless silence until I heard Theo say “Okay, she's gone. You can come out again.”

“Whew,” I said, peeking my head out from behind the stony knee of the winged figure that scowled imperiously above me. “That was smoothly done.”

“What, the flitleaf thing? Bah, I'm pretty sure that she didn't buy it. Doubtless she suspects that I'm engaged in a clandestine meeting with a paramour, secret love or some such thing. At any rate, she's a smart one, and won't be back here anytime soon if she suspects that I'm in the middle of something.”

“You made up that bit about the smoke?”

“No, I've actually been meaning to mention something about the burning of flitleaf to my knights anyways, a bunch of them have been acting twitchy and paranoid lately. Speaking of paranoia ... you were saying?”

“I- right, the swords. Theo, I'm just saying it doesn't make sense. The kid has two – two – amazingly well crafted swords. If they're heirlooms, why is his family symbol not present somewhere on them? Why the leaves around the guard? Why didn't he sell one in order to spruce up his place, make his announcement dinner more impressive? For that matter, why isn't he selling one in order to buy the services of a duelist?”

He shrugged at me. “Maybe they're not his to sell?”

“That doesn’t strike you as odd? If they're not his then whose are they, and what is he doing with them? If he's being supported by another Lord, then which one, and why? Why would they give him swords and not offer to help in other ways?”

“I just don't think it's as big a deal as you make it out to be, Vince. They're only swords, after all. Everyone's got at least one.”

“It's about questions that don't have proper answers! Look, if you were to go hunting with someone who had claimed they'd never hunted in their life, and they showed up with a bow that could easily launch an arrow farther than a man can see on a clear day, you wouldn't think something was amiss?”

“I'd figure they were rich, and had tried to impress me with an expensive bow, but yeah ... I guess I would figure that was a little odd.”

“That's what I'm trying to say!” I said plaintively. “It's odd, Theo, and I hate odd. There's something about this situation that doesn't make sense. Why did this kid come after me in the first place? He's never done anything noteworthy before. Why him, and why me?”

“Maybe he'd heard you were an easy target.”

“Am I?”

“No.”

“Correct ... and I don't exactly hide that fact. So where would he have heard something like that? How would he get information to that effect, and from whom?”

“Errr.” He stopped to consider that one. “Someone who didn't much care for him?”

“And that little possibility doesn't strike you as being important? What if I'm being used, Theo? Maybe Teuring is actually a victim in all of this? What if he was set up?”

Theo snorted derisively. “To what end?”

“How should I know? I've only come up with that particular notion myself. But think about it ... what if someone wanted to set up Teuring but didn't want their own hands getting dirty? What if Teuring is simply a distraction to keep me occupied, for that matter?”

“Unlikely to the point of being laughable, Vincent.”

“But possible, and what's more it might actually make a small measure of sense, much more so than a young Lord believing that I would be a promising target for his first foray into Haraelian politics. There are other little things that seem to support something like that as well.”

“Such as?”

“You received information prior to the break-in about Teuring wishing to use your territory as a staging area. You can't even be sure that it was someone from Teuring's household that you were speaking to that night, can you? He wore a mask, if I recall. At the banquet I discovered that at least two others knew something of Teuring's plan as well, Lord Cleaver and Lord Marcsun, both of whom neighbor my territory.”

I watched his thick eyebrows rise in surprise and then furrow, and he appeared to be uncertain for the first time in the entire conversation. “You think the information was planted? Why didn't you mention this earlier?”

“May have been planted, and it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time. It was just odd, that many people knowing about it ... but what if I were supposed to have found out? Why else would so many people know about it before it happened? If I hadn't heard about it from you, chances were still good I'd hear about it some other way.”

“So what are you suggesting is going on?”

“I don't really know,” I said, feeling my shoulders slump slightly, “but I need to know more. What made Teuring think it would be a good idea to rob me? Who does he know? The swords might tell us more about what's going on, and you're the most knowledgeable person I know when it comes to that stuff. Why, I know blacksmiths who wish they knew as much about swords as you.”

“Heh. If I wasn't already convinced you considered this important, that bit of flattery would have given it away.” He chuck-led. “So, what exactly do we do?”

“Well, you were part of his original plan, right? Wouldn't it make sense if you went down to the Circles, a fellow swordsman who hates my guts, to give him some pointers? Fawn over his swords, ask him the history behind them, that sort of thing?”

“But if you said that the information was planted, he may not have even used my territory. He may not even know who I am.”

“Which,” I pointed out, “would tell us something. Confirm that he wasn't aware that I was being tipped off.”

“I see,” he said, nodding. “Get close enough to evaluate him, strike up a conversation, try to get him to talk about who gave him the swords, stuff like that. Down at the Circles you say?”

“Yeah. If you went down first thing tomorrow, I-”

“What, first thing? In the morning?!” Theo asked incredulously.

“Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but-”

“You'd better believe it's a lot to ask! Stones, Vincent! Do you know when the last time I had to wake up before the dueling hour was?”

“Theo, please. For me?”

He scowled at me, which I figure was only half in jest.

“Fine,” he said, finally. “You owe me something considerable.”

“How about I give you a detailed description of how I got into your keep?”

Theodore appeared to ponder the matter, lightly combing his short beard with his fingers.

“And dinner,” he said. “Something large and steak-like. This whole thing is probably nothing, but if I'm going to spend a whole day coddling an arrogant wanna-be swordsman, in addition to an evening spent trying to cure you of your paranoia afterwards, you're going to have your chef make it worth my while.”