“Never mind. We have a problem.”

Haern leaned forward, scanning the documents and maps littering Tarlak’s desk. “What is it?”

The wizard sighed and collapsed in his chair. “I don’t know what it is, and that’s the problem. Something big is going on. When was the last time any of our contacts gave you information worth a damn?”

A hand ran through the golden hair as he thought. “Two months at least. Maybe three. Are you worried my network has been compromised?”

“In a way, yes.”

Tarlak leaned forward, propping his chin on his fists. “The guilds are planning something, something that makes our bribes weak by comparison. Our contacts have suddenly grown stupid. What could all five guilds be working on that benefits everyone from top to bottom?”

“Nothing,” Haern said. “Only a return to the days of old would carry such charm.”

“So who stands in the way of returning back to the days of fleecing the rich and robbing the merchants?”

“The heads of all the guilds are owned mind and soul by the nobles,” Haern said. “They wouldn’t dare risk losing the protection money they earn.”

“Even if they could earn more by taking it?”

Haern shrugged. “There’d be the risk of being caught, having the other guilds cannibalize and destroy them, and of course, there’s me. Any chance would require complete cooperation of four guild masters, possibly all five.”

Tarlak nodded. He had come to the same conclusion.

“And that is the problem, Haern. One of your guys, Hensley, has passed us word that an attempt on guildmaster Thren will be made in two days.”

“Why, to replace him with his second in command?”

Tarlak picked up a glass full of violet liquid and drank. Smacking his lips, he put it back down and spoke.

“Perhaps. It fits, doesn’t it? Cooperation is needed, so the lower underlings, thinking a tougher leader might get them more money, arrange to have their current guildmaster killed. He is owned by the nobles, after all.”