Darian wasn't sure about any of it.

The job itself seemed solid, lucrative enough to be worth the effort, and it was plain to see that the boy had done his due diligence on it. Darian expected nothing less from his apprentice. He had trained Dog after all, had himself survived the lethal gauntlet that was Alaric's training. He was no less exacting with those he trained.

Something just didn't feel right; a faint prickling hanging just above his skin, tugging ever so faintly at the hairs on his neck and arms. It wasn't nerves. Nerves he could handle. Nerves he understood. This was something different. A lifetime living in the shadows had given him a sixth sense for danger, and this job had that stench all over it.

Was it something Dog had said? Something in the way that he had said it? Had he been too quick to answer when Darian questioned him on the finer points of his plan? Darian expected Dog to have answers to those questions, he'd have been disappointed if he didn't. But had they seemed too crafted? Designed to make the job even more appealing to him?

Badb! He was getting paranoid. Dog had never given him a reason to doubt his loyalty before, why start doubting now?

And shiver ran down his back and he briefly considered slipping away and calling the job off. No job was worth losing your freedom over, and he hadn't stayed in the game this long by taking unnecessary risks. Especially when his gut was screaming at him to back away.

He slipped further back into the shadows, pressing his back into the corner formed by a wooden fence and the stone wall of the building to his left, and peered back down the alley through the rotting slats of the old, buckled cart he was hiding behind.

Slowing his breath, he let his senses quest outwards, absorbing every minute bit of information about his surroundings, before mentally filtering out the unnecessary and irrelevant.

One by one, he discarded those; the rattle of carriages and carts out on the main street, drunken singing from a nearby tavern, the sounds of an early fight from another, the less than convincing moans of a prostitute emanating from a window further down the darkened alley, a woman berating her husband, his clumsy, drunken explanations in response, a hungry dog barking, a shingle shifting on the roof above and to the right, the wind...

Darian's hand slipped to the knife at his hip, and he crouched closer to the ground behind the cart.

His knee sank into something soft, wet and uncomfortably warm. Fuc... he stifled the curse, forcing his frustration out in a slow measured breath as he stared up at the roof of the building across the alley. Perhaps his instincts were right, and he was being followed after all. His gut twisted; anyone who was able to follow him that closely without detection was a serious threat. It meant Alaric. No one outside the guild was that good.

His doubts in the job flared again as he loosened the blade in its sheath.

It was too late to back away now. Whoever was following him was too close and had the advantage of the high ground. Even if he could slip away unnoticed, there would be others, concealed and waiting to pick up his trail.

He slid lower to the ground, grimacing as his knee slid further into the stinking slop.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Dog, the boy was like a son to him.

He shrugged uncomfortably as reviewed the plan in his mind again.

Everything seemed in order, the plan, the implementation, the guard patrols, the layouts. It all matched with his own reconnaissance. So much so, he felt a pang of jealousy that he hadn't created in.

But what if? He cursed at the voices in his head. The plan was solid. So why was he second guessing himself? Second guessing his apprentice?

The moment he had seen the plans he had made several minor changes to ensure his own escape window. As much as he cared for Dog, these were details he would never share. Such things got people killed.

When they regrouped before entering the building, he would make a few small suggestions, nudges to the original plan that would set up and secure his route out. And if it was a setup? At least he would be prepared. He trusted himself to get himself out, regardless of Dog's skill.

He sighed. That was his decision then.

He ran his hands lightly up his body as he stood, checking the collection knives, picks and tools stashed in hidden pockets.

The action was second nature to him but he allowed himself an extra few seconds for security. It didn't pay to be careless.

Darian glanced up at the roof opposite again, scanning for signs of his tail. Nothing. He held his breath. It was drawing close to his rendezvous time with Dog. If he didn't move soon, the job was a non-starter, but he didn't feel comfortable knowing there was someone else out there watching.

A dog barked somewhere to the west and Darian stiffened as a small shadow flitted across a patch of moonlight opposite him. Movement. The faint sound of a shingle shifting. The soft scraping of fabric against rough stone. Darian narrowed his eyes, focusing on a small section of the eave.

There!

For an instant, something had been silhouetted against the silvered clouds. Moving down.

Leather and fabric against stone.

Whoever had been up there was making their way down to the alley.

They were good. But not good enough.

A boot hit the ground further down the narrow space.

Darian's hand slipped to his ankle, and slowly drew a short knife from its sheath.

The shadow straightened and turned towards the street, putting its back to Darian.

Mouthing a silent prayer to the gods, Darian slipped from his hiding place and approached the figure, sizing him up as he moved. They were small in stature, the set of their shoulders and back bordering on childlike. But they stood confidently at ease, at home in the shadows.

Stepping up behind the shadow, Darian brought the knife up, and simultaneously wrapped his free arm across their chest. He pulled his tail close, pressing the knife against their throat. He leaned forward, bringing his mouth next to their ear, and whispered savagely'

'Give me a reason.'

The boy, as Darian could now see, didn't so much as twitch. A smile curled across his lips, and he snorted in laughter.

'I should have known better than to try and get the better of you. Master.'

Darian grimaced and shoved the boy roughly against the alley wall.

'Fuck, Dog. What were you thinking? I could have killed you!' He bent and slipped the blade back into its sheath and turned to face his apprentice.

Dog pushed himself off the ground, groaning as his shoulder took his weight.

'I wasn't thinking anything. I was excited. My first real job. I got here early and everything. I didn't even know you were down here until you shoved that knife against my throat.' His hand instinctively moved the the thin red line on his throat where the Darian's knife had pressed just moments before.

'I don't know how you did it, I was watching the alley the whole time.'

Darian shook his head. 'You know, I would have preferred if you were trying to tail me. Now you just seem incompetent. remind me to get you working harder on tracking and concealment.'

Dog shook his head and studied his feet, shoulders slumped.

'Come on, we've got a job to do.' Darian didn't regret his harsh words. The boy was part of a dangerous world now, and if he wasn't careful, he wouldn't be part of it for much longer. But his own paranoia stung. What was it about this job that had him so on edge. He jerked his head to the mouth of the alley, and Dog shifted back to readiness, although he stubbornly refused to meet Darian's eye.

~~~

The target building stood on a large plot off the main market square, high walls encircled the surrounding garden and grounds. The main entrance was guarded by a double wrought iron gate, a small gate house just beyond, stationed by a tired looking guard, who seemed days away from retirement. The building itself was large for the city, and well kept. The walls were clean brickwork, covered in patches with a carefully cultivated lacework of ivy. A high-peaked roof towered over the walls.

Hoods drawn up, protection against both prying eyes and the growing winter chill, the thieves circled the outer wall. Darian already know the layout of the house and grounds, both from the plans Dog had acquired, and his own reconnoitring, but he wanted to be sure. An extra guard, staff loitering in the garden or an unexpected evening visit from a tradesman could derail their plan disastrously. Darian was relieved that he didn't note any unexpected activity, but was disheartened to see the small trade entrance at the rear of the property had been locked a barred for the night. A thick iron gate preventing access to the solid oak door, no doubt barred on the inside as well. The owner clearly of their security.

Darian had known as much. The estate was one of the wealthiest in the city, but sometimes you got lucky. Not tonight though.

Only one way in and out. The twelve-foot wall that surrounded the grounds. Well, that and a small sewer grate, located two streets over. But he had kept that little bit of information to himself. There was a similar access grate in the cellar of the house. He had verified that for himself, and had been pleased to see that as a matter of security, it had been overlooked. That access point had been barred once, but years of effluent from the city had corroded the thick iron bars and they had long since fallen away.

Under other circumstances, he would have made that his point of entry. But their objective was on the fourth floor. Moving through five floors of the building, silently and unseen, wasn't impossible. But increased the risk significantly. Darian had always found the most direct route best, especially when it was impossible to accurately know what was going on inside.

Finishing their walk around, they hung back from the rear of the estate, huddled in the doorway of a wine merchant across the street. Darian peered up at the house cautiously from under his hood.

The inside man had done his job, a small window on the top floor, to the back of the building was open.

Twelve feet up the wall, thirty from the external wall to the house. Roughly the same from the ground to the window. The guards patrolled the garden in ten minute intervals. More than enough time for him to make the climb. Inside was a different story. The owner didn't like armed guards in the house, so there were no internal patrols to worry about. But that left unpredictable activity from the occupants.

Once inside they needed to be quick.

End of the Corridor, turn left, third door on the right. He repeated the directions to himself.

He had about thirteen minutes, twelve if he really wanted to play it safe, to get back over the wall and onto the street. There wouldn't be any time for uncertainty or hesitation.

Darian took a deep breath and nodded to Dog. They crossed the road quickly and put their backs to the wall. Looking up, Darian quickly fixed a path up the wall in his head, scanning for cracks and chinks in the mortar. It was well maintained, so not the easiest climb he had ever made, but with Dog there to give him an initial boost, it would only be a few seconds of effort.

He tilted his head and closed his eyes, listening for activity on the other side of the wall.

One, two, three, four...

His mental count started automatically, it would reset again once he started the climb, and then again when he entered and exited the house. Alaric was a meticulous planner, down to the second, and under his tutelage Darian had developed an infallible internal clock, to the point that he unconsciously timed almost everything he did.

Eighty-Three.

Footsteps. Two sets, and the low murmur of idle talk. Darian listened as the footstep grew closer, then slowly faded as they turned the corner.

This was it.

One. Two. Three. Four.

His mental countdown reset and he turned towards the wall. Dog stooped down next to him and cupped his hands together.

Darian took a deep breath and planted his boot in Dog's palms, surging upwards as his apprentice boosted him. His fingers slipped into a crack in the mortar he had spied earlier and he pulled himself up and found a foothold in one smooth motion. His eyes found the next weak point and he reached up, already locking onto his next handhold as his fingers found a slightly out of plumb brick. One more quick surge and his lead hand found the top of the wall. He paused for a second as he felt the crunch of glass through the leather palm of his glove. No motion below. He reached up with his other hand and planted his feet against the wall.

Using his grip on the ledge, he leaned back, then pulled himself forward, vaulting his legs over the wall and spinning to come to rest on the other side. Using his feet to cushion the impact against the wall, he fell into a dead hang, then dropped to the ground on the other side; his knees bending to cushion the impact. Darian barely heard sound of his landing himself.

Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.

He allowed himself another few seconds, making sure his landing hadn't alerted anyone to his presence, then proceeded straight across the lawn to the wall of the house itself.

He looked up the expanse of tidy masonry, plotting a route to the open window above. A harder climb that the outer wall. A mature cluster of ivy snaked up the wall to his right, a quick tug reassured Darian that it would hold his weight, but it culminated about a yard and a half from the open window. He would have to jump.

Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.

Another breath and he used the ivy to pull himself up the side of the wall. Pausing at each stop to gauge the strength of the vine.

Halfway up the wall, he saw a shadow flash past the next window above and he flattened himself to the wall below the sill.

Fifty-two. Fifty-three. Fifty-four.

Darian took a breath, whoever was inside passed the window and he listened as the footsteps receded to his right.

He reached up and climbed past the window.

Sixty-six. Sixty-Seven. Sixty-eight.

And he was there. The open window was to his left, just over the yard and a half he had gauged from the ground. The sill was narrow, but still enough for him to get a good grip. The brick wall still was yielding any useful footholds, but the gaps between the bricks would at least allow him enough purchase to pull himself up. He glanced down once, to make sure no guards had wandered into the vicinity, then bracing his legs against the wall, flung himself across the gap. His gloved hands caught the protruding bricks and he stifled a groan as his weight pulled on his already stretched shoulders.

Eighty-one. eighty-two. Eighty-three.

Another breath and Darian pulled himself up with a burst of strength, pushing himself onto his palms as his shoulders passed the bottom of the window. He swung his right leg up and over the sill and slipped backwards in through the window, flattening himself against the opposite wall. He glanced up and down the hall.

Five seconds to catch his breath from the climb and he was moving. He reached the end of the corridor and turned to the left, walking around the corner as if he belonged there, his right hand hovering by a knife at his belt.

One-hundred-ten. One-hundred-eleven- One-hundred-twelve.

Still clear.

Third door on the right.

Darian moved straight to the room and slipped inside, knife at the ready. Empty.

He sighed in relief, and scanning the room even as he eased the door closed behind him.

One-hundred-twenty. One-hundred-twenty-one. One-hundred-twenty-two.

If the intel Dog had gathered was correct, the safe was behind the first portrait to the left on the wall to the right of the door.

He moved the painting from the wall and slipped the picks from his pocket.

Taking a moment to appraise the lock, he unrolled the leather pouch on the floor. It was a good lock. Above the ability of most burglars. Definitely of almost everyone without training in the guild. Darian smiled. When he was younger, he used to pick ten locks just like this before breakfast. It was either that, or he didn't eat. He selected his tools and went to work.

One-hundred-forty-three. One-hundred-forty-four. One-hundred-forty-five.

The mechanism clicked and the door swung open. He grabbed the leather bag inside the safe, taking a quick look to verify the contents, then closed it up and rehung the painting.

One-hundred-sixty.

He moved to the door and stepped back out into the hallway.

Two guards were waiting at the intersection.

~~~

Waiting. Not patrolling.

Fuck.

He cursed and ran straight at them. They flinched at the directness of his assault, and he was on them before they could reach for their blades. A knife in each hand, he rushed into the gap and stabbed downwards, blades sliding into the backs of their knees.

He whipped has arms wide as he pushed past, cutting through tendons. The two men screamed in pain as they collapsed to the floor, but Darian was already gone. He glanced back down the hallway he had entered, the window was now barred and shuttered.

Plan B, he turned to the stairs.

He took the steps five at a time and swung over the banister halfway down, rolling as he hit the floor to cushion his landing. He could hear the guards clattering on the stairs above, and there was shouting coming from the landing below. Three more flights down to the ground floor and then one more to the basement. There would be guards at all the exits. His heart was hammering in his chest now. This was bad.

Plans B, C, D and E were all discarded immediately. He wouldn't be getting through any of the main entrances to the house. Badb, he'd be lucky to even reach the stairs to the cellar now.

Darian peered down the stairs, the men weren't in position yet. He need to move fast, to keep that advantage. He closed his eyes and took a breath, then levered himself over the side of the stairs and dropped to the next landing. He landed hard and stumbled but managed to keep his balance.

He had landed just behind a cluster of four guards headed for the stairs.

Looks like at least one of the gods is looking out for me tonight.

He reached into a pouch at his belt as the men turned towards him, and threw a fistful of powder across their faces. They blinked in surprise for a second, then swords clattered to the ground and they were pawing at their faces and groaning.

Powder of Rosehip. They would have difficulty seeing anything for a few days. Still, it was a better outcome for them than the two hamstrung guards on the upper floor.

Darian didn't stop though, as soon as the powder was released, he was already on the other side of the hallway, and vaulting down to the next landing.

This one was clear, the guards must have rushed to the third floor, looking to head him off. He rushed to the stairs, bounding down the steps in two hops before stopping to get his bearings.

The cellar stairs was next to the kitchens. At the back of the house, to the left side of the entrance door.

He circled around the staircase to his right and crashed full speed into the door ahead of him.

His shoulder exploding in pain as it impacted the solid wood, but the hinges gave way and the door splintered open. The hall was narrower here, clearly a service area for the staff. Less room for the guards to attack him, but also easier for him to be barricaded in.

Darian ran towards the back of the house. The guards were now swarming the entrance hall, he could hear the clatter of their armour and weapons as they approached.

He risked a glance back to check the hallway behind him, but was forced to jerk back and skid to a halt as he heard someone in the hall ahead of him.

A brute of a man, almost as wide as the corridor, had stepped out from the kitchen ahead. Darian's attacker wouldn't have much mobility in the confined space, but he carried a long spear. Even restricted to thrusts and stabs, Darian was at a severe disadvantage.

He felt panic bubbling in his chest. He was well and truly trapped. The guard grinned grotesquely, his tongue pressing against broken and missing teeth, as he shifted his stance and moved to advance on him.

Darian took a deep breath, and glanced back over his shoulder as if considering his options.

Three-hundred-ninety-two.

That damn internal counting!

He let his breath out in one long rush, releasing conscious thought and falling back on years of drills and training.

He turned back to the guard, and started to crouch, then without warning whipping upwards, releasing the dagger from his ankle in one swift motion. The blade flashed towards the guards face, but he saw it coming and turned to the side.

The gambit had worked in Darian's favour however, and the man was forced to raise his spearhead as his balance shifted backwards.

Darian sprang forward, low and just under the reach of the guard's weapon.

He stabbed upwards with another knife, a short diagonal thrust, that slid under the breastplate and entered the guards body just above his crotch. The guard's eyes bulged, attempting to scream through the blood leaking from his mouth. Darian twisted the blade and then used his momentum to pull sharply to the right as he passed the man. Something wet hit the ground, splattering the walls with gore before the unfortunate guard followed it. Landing heavily on the rough floorboards.

Darian continued running, wiping his bloodstained hand along the wall as he went.

Three dead. Four incapacitated. Damn, he was going to owe the god's a fortune after tonight if he got away.

He skidded to a halt outside the kitchen door, a short hallway, nothing more than a nook turned off the the right. A rough wooden door stood at the end.

Must be the cellar door.

He could hear the guards clamouring back down the hallway. If he was wrong, and it turned out to be a broom closet, he was done for.

Turning towards the door, he reached out and and pulled it open, his heart pounding in his ears and his blood so high he almost ripped it from its hinges.

Cold, rough-hewn stone steps led down into shadow.

Darian sighed audibly in relief as he took the steps three at a time. It was almost in complete darkness, but hesitation now would kill him faster than a short tumble. His breath burned in his chest, and his right ankle was starting to stiffen, aching from his earlier acrobatics. He was almost out though. As close a call as he ever had. And also probably his last in the city. Some of those guards had seen his face. And someone had alerted them to his presence. Compromised was too mild a word to describe what had happened.

He reached the bottom of the steps and stumbled when his foot hit level ground. He pawed at the ground with his hands as he fell forward, keeping himself upright through an indecent combination of determination and luck.

Back wall. The grate is against the back wall.

Stumbling through the darkness, he probed the ground with his feet, using his hands to feel for the wall ahead. They touched the solid stone wall first, and he shuffled along its length, waiting for the flagstones to give way to metal.

Come on for Badb's sake. I'll give you my first born, and my second. Not that he was planning on having children. Fuck it Badb, I'll even throw my bloody wife into the deal. Not that he had any plans in that direction either.

His foot scraped against metal, and he crouched down, grabbing hold of the cold iron bars.

He pulled, and nearly wrenched his shoulders from their sockets. He pulled again. Not even a little give. When he had scouted the escape route, the grate had been loose.

Somewhere behind him in the darkness, he heard the sound of metal scraping on flint, and a torch flared to life.

Darian stood and turned. He had been played. He knew who he was going to see even before the tall, lithe man stepped out of the shadows behind a row of wine barrels.

Alaric.

And beside him. Dog. His mangy cur of an apprentice. Former apprentice, he corrected himself.

"Fancy meeting you here Darian. It's been a while. Far too long if you ask me."

"Fuck you Alaric."

"Now, now. Is that any way to speak to a prospective patron Darian? I have a proposition for you. And judging from your situation. You are going to have to listen."

The Thiefmaster smiled wide. The flickering light from the torch casting his face in angular shadows.

Five-hundred-seventeen. Five-hundred-eighteen. Five-hundred-nineteen.

Not even ten minutes.

Not even ten minutes and the life he had forged for himself was shattered