“What’s going on?” he asked, deciding stealth and silence were pointless with the Hawks howling bloody murder. He heard the sound of scuffling, then rattling of weaponry. When he reached where the shop opened up into various displays of blades, hilts, and machinery, he stopped. There was another door in the back, and it was open. Moonlight shone through, falling upon bodies that lay crumpled about. At first Biggs thought them Ash guildmembers, but then he saw their cloaks and knew otherwise. Standing over them was a man.

“Who the fuck are you?” asked Biggs.

The man looked up and smiled. His skin was dark, and his long hair darker. He wore the red robes of a wizard, though he held a dagger in hand instead of a staff. Blood dripped from its edge. Covering his features was a mask of gray cloth pulled tight across his face, with two large slits to allow sight. His brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“I have no name,” said the intruder with blood on his hands. “But if Karak asks who sent you to his Abyss, tell him the Council’s reaper, the outcast, or the dark man in red.”

He was chuckling, and the sound raised the hairs on the back of Biggs’s neck.

“You’re crazy,” he said. “You know who you just killed? You’ll have the fury of the Hawk Guild come down on you.”

He was blustering, of course. He’d made a quick count of the bodies, and knew that besides him and Kenny, only two others remained alive in the smithy. Still, he couldn’t act weak. It took all his concentration to keep the dagger from shaking in his hand.

The stranger made a flicking motion, flinging tiny globs of blood. Biggs swore as they flecked across his shirt and pants.