“What is in the box?” Leander stammered.

Sulla leaned down to speak privately his ear.

“When I was in the Kinshra I made copies of certain secret documents. These documents contain sensitive information concerning a number of wealthy people and their organisations, from here all the way to Kandarin. In diplomacy, the Kinshra often have to persuade influential people to aid their cause, and blackmail has proved a most effective tool.” He stood again. “Now I have that tool. And I will use it.”

“The Kinshra will kill you for it!”

“They would kill me anyway, if they could. Meanwhile, I can have a little fun wrecking their spy networks-for a small profit-can’t I?” He looked into the distance. “I think I will start in Varrock. There is wealth there, wealth owned by people whose names appear in those documents.”

With that, Sulla brought his boot into Leander’s chin with a sharp crack. The thief’s head jerked, and he slumped into unconsciousness.

“Why don’t we kill him?” Jerrod whispered.

“No,” Sulla said. “We need his men’s loyalty, at least for now, and killing him might be too much for them to stomach. Besides…” He looked warily around him. “Lone travellers don’t last long out here-especially unconscious ones.”

A moment later, with Jerrod’s aid, Sulla clambered into a saddle. The werewolf stepped away and pulled his cloak about him, hiding his face as he returned to his human form. Once he had done so, he climbed up behind Sulla. He never rode alone-no horse would tolerate it, and he was as uncomfortable with the beasts as they were with him.

“We ride south to Varrock-if we make haste, we can be there in time for Midsummer,” Sulla said. “Our destination is an estate to the east of the city. The owner has lands that range from the River Salve to the edges of the city itself. There I will send a message to an old acquaintance of mine, the leader of the Phoenix Gang.”