Cailring arrived at the gate to the Kierston Lumberyard at the appointed time, shortly after dawn. Chancy, Untrul, his son, and two more heavily armed guild members accompanied him. Cailring was disappointed when Entreri had not shown up as he had promised. Both his lieutenants had expressed their dislike of the man, and one of them had snuck into his room last night with the intent of ending his stay with the guild, but the assassin had not been home. In fact, no one had seen the man since the previous night.

Cailring was also perturbed that Kierston had not shown up yet. He was just about to suggest that they enter the lumberyard when the owner finally walked through the gate, followed closely by Entreri.

“Artemis!” Cailring was too shocked to use his nickname for the man. “What are you doing?”

“I have taken the liberties of doing a little negotiating with our friend here,” Entreri replied. “It turns out he is very cooperative.”

“How dare you proceed in the guild's name!” Untrul shouted. “Why you ar-”

“Shut up, will you!” Entreri bit back. “Will you let me tell you what we've worked out before you criticize my methods? Kierston has agreed to sell you his entire logging company under one condition: your son must marry his daughter as soon as possible, and the two will run the company together.”

Cailring could not say anything. He just stared dumbfounded. He did not know if he should laugh at the preposterous claim or not, but with the way Kierston was hanging his head in shame, Cailring almost believed it.

“I figure this way everyone is happy,” Entreri continued. “Your son gets what he wants. Kierston's daughter gets what she wants. You increase the guild's holdings by an extraordinary amount. Kierston keeps the company in his family and yet retains a very substantial payment.”

“And what was the price you agreed on?” Cailring asked, seeing the catch. There was no way his guild had enough money on hand to pay off Kierston.

“I've taken care of it,” Entreri smiled.

“With your own money?” Cailring asked but then remembered the obvious.

“Not exactly,” Entreri said. “It was quite a hefty sum. I'm sure Kierston will be busy the rest of the week counting it.”

Cailring was immediately furious that Entreri was so flamboyantly giving away his treasure to his worst enemy, but then he stepped back and looked at the situation. Riechen’s report showed enough gold in this mysterious treasure cavern to supply several kingdoms for hundreds of years. Though he was sure Entreri had dipped liberally into it to pay off Kierston, he doubted the difference would even be measurable as a percentage of the whole.

Then he looked at what he had gained. Everyone in the city knew that almost all of Kierston's wealth came from this lumberyard, and now it was his. Plus, his son would be able to marry a noble daughter, raising his own name even more than it was.

Cailring slowly nodded. “What about his men? Will they willingly accept a new owner?”

“I'm afraid you'll have to hire a few new men,” Entreri explained. “Kierston's foremen suffered a few accidents tonight.”

Cailring nodded, missing nothing. He would have to have a long talk with this Artemis fellow before he killed everyone else in town.

The next few days were busy. Cailring promoted a few of the loggers to foremen and, under advisement, increased everyone's pay by 25 percent. The result was a much more dedicated workforce that produced one of the best river shipments on record.

The wedding went smoothly. The local temple was distinctly divided down the center aisle, with Cailring's people on one side and Kierston's on the other. The banquet afterward took place at the lumberyard, and it was the last time Kierston or either of his two sons would ever stand on the property.

The social promotion was also good. Cailring had mixed with the upper class before but had always done so as the head of the thieving guild. Now he did so as the father of a legitimate businessman. Though Griecen, his son, officially owned the logging company, Cailring ran it, and everyone knew it.

There was one problem, or more accurately, six problems: the bodies. Five of them were found the day of the ownership transfer, the sixth one a few days later, tangled in the rope netting in the river.

The dead foremen were not mourned, but they were examined. Porrik had so many cuts and stab wounds covering his body that most of Cailring's people bet he would have died even if Entreri had stopped his beating of the man halfway through. They figured the only thing that had kept the big man fighting through the fight was pure adrenaline.

The other two men had only one mark on them. Granted, in both cases, the killing wound was traumatic and gruesome, but there was only one. They had been killed with efficiency.

Porrik had been a huge man, known for the way he pummeled not only trees but anyone who riled him while drunk. Entreri had killed him in like fashion, beating him to within an inch of his life and then pushing him a foot further. Shreik and Lorance had been opposites, cool and calculating. Entreri had treated them as such. The assassin had beat each man at his own game and had done so without obtaining one scratch.

While no one mourned the city guards either, Cailring and his people were worried. One had drowned while another had been crushed beneath a pile of logs. Both of these could be passed off as accidents, leaving the city to explain why they had men on patrol inside Kierston's Lumberyard.

The only thing keeping the guild from making that accusation was that the third guard had his throat cut open with two other blade wounds. The city guards knew what had happened, and the guild knew what had happened, but neither could levy charges against the other because they were both dirty.

Cailring knew the city guard would come for answers eventually. Three of their men were missing, and while Lionel Cairon, the chief of the city guards, had been the one to accept the bribe and assign the men, he would soon come to his senses and say that they had been acting on their own. Killing a city guard, regardless of the man's activity during his death, was a capital offense.

Cailring was scared. He had no problem offering the city guards Entreri as the murderer, but it was not the guards that frightened him. Cailring knocked on the door to Entreri's room once and entered. The killer was sitting in a chair juggling five gemstones, each worth about two months’ pay for one of his men.

“Please come in,” Entreri said, rising from his chair and bowing slightly, never stopping his juggling act. “It helps tune your muscles and your mind,” Entreri said, “the juggling does. It allows you to act reflexively while both your mind and body remain in control.”

Entreri fired all five gems towards his bed. They landed in a small pile at the foot of it, less than three feet from where Cailring stood. “Go ahead,” Entreri said, gesturing to the stones, “their yours.”

“The city is talking.”

“Let them talk. What do they know?”

“They know enough,” Cailring said sharply. “They know that my ownership of the lumberyard, while legal in all respects, did not come about through 'normal' negotiations. They know that three of their guards died that night, and they are holding me responsible.”

“The guards put themselves in harm's way,” Entreri replied. “They had no right to be there.”

“That's not how the city sees it. Sure, they know the guards should not have been there, but that does not change the fact that even though they were illegal, they were still city guards, and you killed them.”

“No one knows I exist.”

“And that only makes it harder for me,” Cailring said. “No one knows about the foremen except the Kierstons and a few of the lumberjacks, but that won't last. When that comes out, people will know that six fighting men died the night before we took control of the lumber yard. No one will believe me when I tell them it was one of my men who acted without my knowledge. One man can't take down six, especially six trained fighters.

“Instead of your actions being seen for what they were, people will say that I orchestrated a violent take-over involving half my guild. Oh, the stories will grow, have no doubt. And when they do, my credibility will disappear, and all my enemies will make accusations against me that will be believed. I will be ruined.”

“What do you want me to do?” Entreri asked.

“Don't kill anyone else!” Cailring said firmly. “You are too violent. There are other ways to do business in this city. Our only hope is that Borrel and Torrin, the two brothers you beat up, tell the story how it happened. They are known for their bar talk, though rarely are they believed.”

Cailring picked up one of the gems from the bed and looked at it closely. “I need you to stay low and keep out of sight. Until this all blows over. I will figure a way out.”

“If the guards come to you, will you give me up to them?”

Cailring looked at Entreri, knowing there was only one correct answer. He wisely stayed silent.

“If you do,” Entreri said quietly, “you will do so at the cost of your own life.”

It was a threat that needed a response. No one should be allowed to talk to the guild master like that. Cailring did not reply, for he knew it was not really a threat. It was reality.

That night, Entreri sat in the tavern, the cowl on his cloak pulled over his head. This was not Cailring's tavern or one of Kierston's, but Entreri did not want to make his face a familiar one anywhere. He sat at a table in the corner, watching the bar intently. A man sat there, drinking heavily. The man was young but big. He wore nice clothes, and his face was covered with bruises. His name was Borrel Kierston.

Entreri had followed him here, wishing to know exactly how much this man talked about what had happened. Entreri was too far away in the crowded, noisy tavern to hear what the man said, but he could read lips and body gestures well enough to know what was going on. The bartender insisted on some payment before giving Borrel his next drink.

“I think ye've had enough,” the barkeep said, “though even if you were to continue, I'd like to see some coin first.”

Borrel was beyond drunk. He held up his hand to stop the bartender, even though the man had already finished his speech. “Say no more, say no more, good man. I understand.” Keeping his one hand up, he reached into a pocket. The man's face went through a variety of expressions as his clumsy fingers examined each item in his apparently vast pocket.

Suddenly Borrel's eyes lit up as his fingers settled on something of interest. He yanked the item out of his pocket and held it before the bartender. “Will this do?”

Entreri took one look at the item, cursed, and got up from his table.

The bartender's jaw dropped open at the sight of the black sapphire gem. The older man's eyes seemed to lose themselves in the sparkle of the precious stone. It was worth about a year's worth of drinks, though the way Borrel consumed alcohol, maybe only a month's worth.

Before Entreri could get to the stupid Kierston boy, someone else beat him to it. A strong hand clamped onto Borrel's wrist. “That's a fascinating stone, boy. Mind telling me where you got it?”

Entreri slowed his approach to the bar, taking stock of this new participant. It was a woman. Her hands were not delicate, nor were her features. Her eyes were hard and her jaw firm. She used her hands to make a living and was not embarrassed by the fact.

“I said,” she repeated, twisting the arm holding the sapphire, so it was between her and Borrel, “where did you get this?”

“Excuse me,” Entreri said, matching the woman's tone, “is something a matter here?”

“Nothing that involves you, stranger,” she said without looking at Entreri. “I have business with Kierston here.”

“So do I,” Entreri said, slapping down a dozen coins on the bar to pay for whatever Borrel had drunk with a nice tip leftover. “He has had too much to drink, and I am going to take him home.”

Borrel was in a daze, his eyes shifting from his gem to the woman who held his wrist in a grip he could not quite comprehend. He still had not recognized Entreri's presence behind him.

The woman looked away from Borrel and his gem for the first time to regard Entreri. “We really must be going,” Entreri told her. “Perhaps you can continue this conversation later. Maybe when Kierston here is sober.”

“Maybe I should be talking to you then,” she said, finally releasing Borrel's arm. The young man held his arm in the same position, trapped by the glitter of his own gem. “Maybe I should be asking you why you are so protective of where our young friend found this gem?”

“Why should you care where he found it?” Entreri asked, looking around the bar with his eyes. They were attracting a bit of attention.

“Probably because I belong to Karenstoch's Prospectors Guild, and if I find out that Kierston or his sons have been doing unsanctioned mining in the mountains or have stolen from my guild, there will be serious repercussions.”

A prospectors guild? Entreri did not know if this was a chance to smear Kierston's name or if he should collect the young man and usher him outside. He did not have the opportunity to decide.

“No, no mine,” Borrel was talking again if you could call his drunken mumblings talking. “We didn't mine this. It was given to us.” Entreri was desperately tugging on the man now, but the woman held him back. “Yes, it was given to us. As payment, yes, that was it.”

Borrel's mind was working overtime to come up with the answer he was searching for. Entreri was working twice as hard to tug the big man away, but his limp body and the strong arm of the prospector held him back. Entreri would generally have no problem getting Borrel out of the bar, but to do so, he would have to cause the woman bodily harm. In Calimport, most women needed a good beating, and it was often encouraged. Here, Entreri thought a few people might object to it.

“Cailring!” Borrel finally said a little too loudly. “Cailring paid this to us.”

“It's time to go, son,” Entreri said, yanking hard on the man. He stumbled away from the bar under Entreri's strength.

The woman let go of him. “That's it, isn't it? You don't work for Kierston. You work for Cailring. He's been stealing gems from our mountains.”

“Hey,” Borrel complained, picking himself off the floor. “Watch it bud-” the young man froze as he locked eyes with Entreri. The man became instantly sober and dropped the gem in shock.

The prospector wasted no time with this new encounter but deftly swept up the dropped item and slinked out of the bar. Entreri wished to do the same but found himself suddenly surrounded by a crowd of people.

“It was you!” Borrel shouted. “You are the one! You killed them all!”

“What's going on here?” a voice from the crowd asked.

Entreri turned to see a soldier step into the small circle around the two men at the bar. Entreri cursed silently when he saw the crest of the city guard on the man's vest. “Nothing, officer,” Entreri said calmly. “This man has had too much to drink and is turning wild. If you let me take him outside, we ca-” Entreri reached for Borrel's arm, but the young man retreated violently.

“No! Get away from me! You are the devil! You killed them all!”

“Speak some sense, boy!” the guard interrupted Borrel's string of shouts.

“That night in the lumberyard,” Borrel started, and Entreri knew the game was up, “that night he killed all the men.”

“What men?” the guard insisted, and Entreri could see three more city guards working their way through the crowd. The guards knew what men. They knew they had lost three men in the lumberyard; they just wanted Borrel to say it.

“He killed the foremen, and he killed the guards, and he-”

That was all he needed to say. He did not even need to say which guards. The city guards required a scapegoat for their dead men, and now they had one. The main guard turned to extract a confession from Entreri, but the assassin was already on the move.

There was no way Entreri would be able to leave through the crowd without killing an awful lot of them, so instead, he stepped up on a barstool and vaulted over the bar. He smashed a few drinks in his leap, but he had a clear path to the back door. He pushed through the double doors and found himself in a poorly lit stock room.

Behind him, Entreri could hear the noise of a pursuit being organized. He ran through the well-stocked shelves, pulling them down behind him to clutter anyone's path who gave direct chase. It took him a moment to find the door to the back alley, and Entreri had a few worries there would not be one. There was, and he burst through it.

He looked down the alley quickly. One end was closed off, while the other was filled with city guards. Entreri ran toward the dead end, weaving as he did. He saw one and then two crossbow bolts skip off the wall in front of him. He ran right into the corner and performed the same move he had done when fighting Porrik.

Entreri planted one foot on the tavern's back wall, leaped up, and pushed off the wall that closed in the alley with the other foot. The maneuver brought him eight feet into the air, and he grabbed onto a window ledge on the tavern’s second floor. Without slowing, he heaved himself up and led with his head as he broke through the window.

Entreri somersaulted through the window and landed in an already occupied bed. The couple had been vigorously involved in something before the assassin's dramatic entrance, and even though he showered their insufficiently clothed bodies with broken glass and fell on top of them, he did little to slow their pace.

Entreri rolled off the bed and into a run, opening the door in front of him without bothering to turn the knob. He ran down the hall, ignoring the varied activities and sounds coming from the rooms on either side of him. The steps at the end of the hall went up and down. Entreri went up.

He did not stop until he reached the fourth, and top, floor. This part of the building was furnished with private apartments, but privacy didn’t concern the assassin. He burst through the first door he came to. If he remembered correctly, the adjacent building was one story shorter.

Entreri paid little mind to the old lady that yelled at him as he ran through her living room and leaped through her window. Entreri pushed off hard on the windowsill and easily cleared the ten-foot gap between buildings. He landed as light as a cat on the graveled top of the other building.

Entreri took a moment to get his bearings. The skyline of this city varied dramatically in most parts, but this area was near the river, where the buildings began to decrease in size and turned into houses. Entreri looked about to try and figure out which way he should run when he heard a shout from behind him. He spun about and saw two guards standing at the window he had just leaped from.

“He's here!”

Entreri did not have time to make a choice and just ran. The next building in line was the same height, and Entreri leaped for it without thinking. He barely caught the ledge of the roof with his fingertips, hoisted himself up, and continued running.

Behind him, he could hear the two guards yelling out street names and buildings that Entreri did not recognize. He did not recognize the names, but he understood the intent. They were herding him.

As he came to the next ledge, his choices were clear. There were two buildings to which he could leap. One was the same height, while the other was one story lower, a dangerous jump. Entreri knew which route they wanted him to take. Instead, he took off his cloak and tossed it off the building.

“Let them think I can't jump,” he said to himself and then turned toward the shorter building.

When Entreri had worked with the dark elves of Menzoberranzon, they had given him a magical cape that was capable of flight. He no longer had that cape, and although his current one was not magic, it had a practical use.

Entreri leaped off the building, several stories in the air, reaching back and grabbing the corners of his cape. The black cape snapped tight against the wind and slowed his descent somewhat. He landed on the rooftop in a controlled roll.

The assassin got up slowly, worried that he might have just sprained his ankle. He tested it and decided it was only slightly twisted. He stood up and could hear the river plainly now. He ran to the next and last building in line, jumping the small gap with little difficulty. There was open-air before him now, but Entreri raced to the edge of the building and threw himself off. He grabbed onto his cape again, gliding through the night air over the short docks, and then plunged into the river.

Entreri entered the lumberyard through the forest, trusting that the gates were guarded by now. After immerging from the river, he had stolen another black cloak and used it to slink across the log cleaning area. He made his way to the equipment shed right away. His time in this city was quickly nearing its end. He always carried his weapons and the dragon tooth cylinder with him, but he would need a few more supplies if he were going to hit the road.

He was busy getting what he needed when he heard a sound behind him. It was the click of a crossbow bolt being locked into place. Entreri dropped the rope he had been coiling and turned around slowly. Cailring stood there with four other men; two had crossbows trained on him.

“The city guard is at my gate demanding that I hand you over to them,” Cailring said.

“Tell them I'm not here, and you don't know where I am,” Entreri replied.

“Why don't you go tell them yourself,” Cailring said. “Drop your weapons and turn around.”

Entreri leveled a gaze at Cailring that made the big man very nervous. “Remember what I said would happen if you turned me in?”

“Drop your weapons and turn around!”

Entreri slowly drew his sword, dropped it on the floor, and turned around.

“Your fancy dagger too!”

Entreri sighed. He had more than one dagger on him. With his back still turned to the five men behind him. He took a blade from inside his shirt and balanced it carefully on his shoulder under his new cloak. In the same motion, he pulled his jeweled dagger and dropped it on the floor.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Entreri did as he was told and looked at the floor where an approaching shadow told him a thief with a piece of rope was walking towards him. Entreri waited until the man was right on top of him and casually shrugged his shoulders. The dagger that he had balanced on his shoulder fell off, traveled down the long sleeve of his cloak and into his waiting hand.

The thief preparing to tie the assassin was shocked when a dagger magically appeared in Entreri's hand. He had no time to react as Entreri struck blindly backward, slicing the man through the gut. He spun around as soon as his blade hit flesh, pulling the weapon out as he did.

Both crossbowmen fired instinctively, hitting the already wounded thief in the back. Entreri spun the dying man and shoved him in the direction of one of the crossbowmen. The targeted shooter had already begun to fumble with another bolt and discharged it prematurely into the bulk of the man that tackled him a second later.

Entreri fired his secondary dagger at the other crossbowman. He was working on another bolt too, but receiving a knife in the throat hampered him more than a little. The fourth thief charged the unarmed assassin. Entreri was never unarmed.

The thief swung his long sword in a broad sweep. Entreri swiftly stepped forward inside the attack, deflecting the swipe with a chop to one arm while delivering a punch to the man's face with his other hand. He stumbled, and Entreri brought a knee up into his groin. The thief doubled over now, his sword arm going limp. Entreri delivered a right and left to the man's vulnerable jaw, and he fell like a sack of grain, out cold.

The first crossbowman had untangled himself from the body of the first theif, but his crossbow was broken. Instead, he grabbed a sword from the dead man and, against better judgment, charged Entreri.

The assassin stooped to pick up his weapons and met the man's charge. The thief struck high and fast, trying to chop off Entreri's head. The two swords clashed back and forth rapidly high in the air for several moments before the thief jumped back. He smiled at being able to fend off the deadly man in the initial sequence and then fell over dead, an ugly red stain growing quickly on his vest. The thief had been so preoccupied with his attack he had forgotten Entreri used two weapons and had not even felt it when the jeweled dagger did its dirty work.

The man Entreri had knocked down with his fists stirred at his feet, and the assassin drove his dirk down aggressively into the back of his neck. He did not even bother to wipe off his blades as he walked away from the scene, his eyes never leaving Cailring. The guild master had never seen Entreri fight other than their first meeting. Truly this man was the devil.

Entreri feasted off the fear he saw in Cailring's eyes. “You remember what I said?” Entreri asked. Cailring was too frightened even to nod, his whole body quivering in terror. “I've changed my mind. I'm going to let you live knowing that if you had accepted me, you could have been the greatest man in this entire city. I want you to know that you made the first move against me. I'm going to let you live with the knowledge that somewhere in the mountain range to the northwest is a cavern containing a dead dragon and his treasure hoard. You will never find it.”

Entreri walked right past the stunned man. Without turning around, he said, “Oh, and I wouldn't spend the little trinkets I've given you so far too openly. I believe the prospectors’ guild is on to you.”

The yard wall was not meant to be climbed, but Entreri had no intention of using the gate with the hoard of city guards waiting for him. He scaled the wall and slipped silently back into the city. Entreri found it much easier to move through dark streets when he knew no one was magically searching him out.

Against rational thought, Entreri crept through the streets back to the thieving guild's main headquarters. The city guards had this building staked out as well, but Entreri found his way into the building with little trouble and undetected. His room was also guarded, but the room above it was not, and Entreri purposefully left his window unlocked.

Once inside his room, Entreri quickly opened his dragon tooth portal and shoved several of Riechen's history and geography books into the distant cavern. Entreri grinned as he was fully becoming aware of the incredible gift LaValle had given him.

Entreri was back on the streets of the city within minutes. He needed to leave town, but before he did, he needed to attend to one small piece of business.

“Sir,” the city guard saluted before his chief, “we tracked the killer to the Cailring Lumberyard, but . . .”

Lionel Cairon, the chief of the city guards, knew what the man was going to say and cut him off as he stood up from his desk and walked to a window in the main guardhouse. He looked out onto the dark streets five stories below.

“Sir?” the guard still stood at attention behind him.

“Do you know where he is?” Cairon asked without turning around.

The man shook his head, but the chief did not need to turn around to get his answer. “He killed four more of Cailring's men,” the man explained. The chief did turn around at this. Hadn't the man been a member of the thieving guild? What kind of animal turns on his own guild members? “We found Cailring lying on the ground in front of his equipment shed where the other four had been killed. He seemed uninjured, but he was shaken badly. He swore he had seen the devil.”

“The devil,” Cairon scoffed under his breath. “He is only one man. Find him.”

“He might be planning to leave the city,” the guard dared to hope.

“Then you better order a perimeter around the city. I want him caught!”

“Yes, sir.” The guard turned and left, leaving the chief alone in the office.

“Only one man,” he muttered under his breath. He moved to the side of the room where a pot of coffee sat. He poured himself a cup and moved toward his private quarters in the back of the office. “They can't catch one man,” he continued to mumble.

Though he mocked his men's effort, inwardly, he wondered what type of man could best four of Cailring's men at once. Where had Cailring been hiding him all this time? There were a lot of unanswered questions.

The chief entered his room and moved to light the lamp. “You better hope he hasn't left the city yet,” he said to himself.

“Don't worry; I haven't.”

Cairon reacted on instinct, hurling his hot cup of coffee at the voice even before he turned. The mug shattered against the wall. Cairon reached for the sword that hung over his bed and turned to look at the rest of the room. It was dark, and the wind blew in from both windows of this corner room.

There was a flutter of motion to the left, but only the curtains moved when he turned to investigate. The door slammed suddenly, but again, there was nothing there when he looked a second later. Another flutter of cloth came from behind him but knowing where the second window in the room was, he did not turn. Cold steel nestled sharply against his throat.

“You should've turned this time.”

Cairon tried to bring his sword up but felt suddenly weak, and his sword clattered to the floor. The jeweled dagger pressed firmly against his neck, barely scratching him, but stealing his life force nonetheless. “A-a-a-rtemis?” Cairon had gotten the name from Cailring.

“At your service,” the assassin replied. “Why are you hunting me? What have I done?”

The chief could not think. He could not move. He could only answer the questions this man asked of him. He felt as if he had no choice in the matter. His life was forfeit either way. He had never felt this helpless. “You killed the guards.”

“They had involved themselves in a business that was not their own. They got in the way. It was their own fault.”

The chief of the guards wanted to speak. He wanted to defend his men, but he couldn’t. Not only was this killer right, but he was also holding the chief's life in his hands, and Cairon did not feel like pressing his luck.

“I am going to leave now. When I am gone, you will order your guards to call off their search. If you do not, I will return, and your family will be cut into little tiny pieces before your eyes. Then I'll do the same to you. Do you understand?”

The chief did not answer right away. Entreri cut the man across the collar. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the petrified man squeaked. His legs and bladder were suddenly weak, and Entreri let him slip out of his grasp and fall to his knees. Entreri took a step back and kicked him in the back of the head. Before Cairon could even think about getting back up, Entreri was out of the room. The chief did not get up. His men would find him the following day much like they had found Cailring: crumpled on the floor in a pool of his own sweat, mumbling that he had seen the devil. In Cairon's case, he had never actually seen the assassin, so his mind created horrible images that haunted his dreams till morning.