And that is how I know you are coming after me, Kara-Meir. You, Gar’rth, and that barbarian priestess. You are so near. Soon, we shall start our journey south, to Varrock, to complete this plan of Jerrod’s undead master. And I will be there to see it.

He dreamt, as he had on a thousand other occasions, of what he would do to Kara-Meir and her friends if ever they came under his power again.

I will be there to see it!

Leander the thief watched as his men sweated from the work, but made no move to assist them.

The ground was hard from the dry summer. They had travelled east all morning to reach their destination-a parched plain where only sickly-coloured vegetation grew. Farther south, the land undulated in a series of long wide barrows until their view was finally barred by a small range of hills. Beyond that, Sulla knew, was Varrock.

“Can’t they dig any faster?” he demanded. The thief just stared.

“I would ask you to help,” he said, “only I don’t think your handiwork would be of any use.” He smiled at his taunt.

Suddenly a cry from one of the bandits silenced them. The man drove his spade into the ground, where it struck a metallic surface with a loud clang. All attention turned to where he stood.

“Dig it out!” Leander commanded. The men dug furiously before dragging a box from the earth. Leander knelt by the lock, examining it intently.

“You’ll need the key,” Sulla advised.

Leander smiled and pulled an object from his pouch.

“Be patient my mysterious friend, and see how a genuine thief deals with such a simple barrier.” Deftly, he inserted his pick and listened, carefully teasing the teeth of the lock.