“To cover your losses,” he whispered before following Harruq down into the depths of the Spider Guild.

A s they descended the stairs, two thieves ambushed from either side. Harruq jumped, landing hard at the bottom. Haern smashed his feet into his attacker’s face. The man staggered back, blood pouring from his nose. Haern took his feet out from underneath with a sweeping kick. Twin sabers buried into his heart as he fell.

Harruq drew his blades, relishing the surge of power they offered. His attacker rushed him, his dagger thrusting. The half-orc smacked it aside like a toy. The longer reach of his swords was too much an advantage. The thief fell before him, several gaping wounds in his chest.

“You ever been down here?” Harruq asked, glancing around. They were in a tiny room filled with dusty barrels and crates.

“Yes, a long time ago.”

The assassin approached what appeared to be a bare stone wall. He traced the subtle indents of the bricks with his fingers.

“Here,” he whispered. He stepped back and pointed at a particular section. “We need a new door.”

“With pleasure,” Harruq said. He tucked his shoulder and ran right through the false wall, showering rock and stone everywhere. Haern dashed in as dust clouded the air, his swords drawn and his eyes searching. All about were plush cushions, silver platters of food, exquisite dining tables lined with black and scarlet patterns, and several private rooms adjacent the main floor. There should have been lords and nobles, scantily clad women and wealthy merchants, trading, dealing, and bribing one another with pleasures of flesh, powder, and coin. Instead, the room was dark and empty.

“Everyone go home for the night?” Harruq asked.

Haern shook his head, his eyes still darting. “The pleasures are partaken here night and day. I fear we made a great error, Harruq.”

“I’d say so,” called the barkeep from the top of the stairs. “Thanks for the coin, by the way.”