“Who?” Laurie asked. “Why?”

Torgar looked to the symbol at his feet, drawn in Keenan blood.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Give her to me!” Madelyn cried, her sudden outburst startling.

Torgar carefully stepped across the gore-coated floor, gladly handing Tori over. All he felt was rage. Having a child in his hands didn’t seem right.

“I’ll find out who did this,” he said. “I promise I’ll make him pay a thousand times over.”

Little comfort for any of them, but it didn’t matter. The assassin had left his calling card, and because of that, it would be his death. Few crossed a member of the Trifect and lived. As Laurie and Madelyn were led away from the scene, Torgar stabbed his sword into the very center of the symbol, which seemed vaguely familiar. He’d seen it before, years ago, or at least heard it discussed. And then it hit.

A single open eye, drawn in the victim’s blood.

“The Watcher,” whispered Torgar.

1

Haern pulled his hood low over his head and tied his sabers to his belt as the leader of the mercenaries, the wizard Tarlak, sat at his desk and watched.

“Do you want our help?” Tarlak asked, picking a bit of dirt off his yellow robe.

“No,” Haern said, shaking his head. “This one needs to be a message for the underworld of the city. I’ll do this on my own.”

Tarlak nodded, as if not surprised.

“What about Alyssa?”

Haern tightened the clasp of his cloak. They’d heard word that Alyssa planned some sort of retaliation against the thief guilds, though the reason had been unclear. Their source was fairly respected in the Gemcroft household, so much so they had to take it seriously. There was to be a meeting to discuss the circumstances at their mansion, at some unknown point in the night.

“After,” Haern said. “I’m sure you understand.”