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Rodrick glanced over his shoulder, a small frown crossing over his features. His hand shifted down to the sword at his side as the door creaked open and a man clad in black clothes stepped into the common room. His face was concealed by a metal mask and gray hair hung around his face. A guild badge sat on his chest — a single silver line.

The man’s eyes flicked to Rodrick instantly. He wasn’t so much as bothered by the darkness of the Devil’s Den. Rodrick’s eyes narrowed even further.

“Can I help you?” Rodrick asked, stepping off the stairs and getting to flat ground.

“Yes, I believe you can.” The man’s voice was like the whispering wind. Rodrick’s hair stood on end. There was something off about him. He couldn’t place what it was, but his instincts had yet to lead him wrong.

“I’m afraid it might have to wait,” Rodrick said with an easygoing laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “The inn is closed. We’re undergoing some construction right now. Maybe you’d like to come back in a few days?”

“My business is not with the inn,” the man replied. “I am looking for someone. Perhaps you can help me.”

“And who would that be?” Rodrick asked. He stepped around a table and approached the intruder, coming to a stop several feet away. There weren’t any visible weapons on the man’s body, but that didn’t mean he was armed. If anything, it only made Rodrick’s suspicion grow.

Nobody walked around unarmed. When you couldn’t find someone’s weapons, it meant they were hidden — or already lodged in your back.

“A contact,” the man said. “Are you aware of a woman by the name of Magda?”

Rodrick’s head tilted to the side. Confusion mingled with his wariness. He’d long since memorized the names of everyone in his network. The closer he was with them, the better the information tended to be.

But what would Magda have to do with this guy? He’s no street beggar.

“Let’s say I am,” Rodrick said. “What of it?”

“Then I believe I come bearing a referral in her name.” The man hooked his heel around the leg of a chair and pulled it out. He lowered himself into it and interlaced his fingers, placing his hands on top of the table.

Rodrick’s eyes narrowed.

That’s not a coincidence. That’s the sign of a peaceful meeting that assassins use to show they’re only looking to speak and don’t want to fight. The books in the Inquisitor’s libraries were pretty clear that it was a common symbol among different guilds.

I need to get information, and that means playing along.

“What are you looking for?” Rodrick asked, walking over to the table and sitting down across from the assassin. He made no moves to interlace his fingers. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help you, but I can hear you out.”

He couldn’t help but notice that the chopping noises coming from the kitchen had stopped. Lillia wasn’t cooking anymore. That set some of Rodrick’s concern at ease. She was aware of their unwelcome guest.

“You represent the information network.” The assassin didn’t phrase his words as a question.

“You might have to be clearer,” Rodrick said. He kept his tone even and measured his expression to ensure no information would slip through. It was inevitable that word would get out about the network — he hadn’t exactly tried to hide it. He’d basically left an open offer to every beggar and thief in Milten.

But this was no mere thief, and Rodrick wasn’t about to give anything up until he knew what the man’s goals were.

“I do not have time for games. I seek to hire your network. I am not here to cause you harm or injury, but my patience is thin. Do not play games with me. If you are the one I seek, state it. If not, direct me to them. I will not ask twice.”

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“I know what you’re looking for, but I’m just a go-between,” Rodrick said. “The Devil’s Den serves everyone. We don’t care who you are or what your goals are, and that includes some people who have desires to keep themselves hidden.”

“Then you can help me.”

“Possibly. I can hear you out. That’s all I’ll promise.”

“Acceptable. Then you can pass a message along,” the assassin said, leaning forward in his seat. “I am in search of an item, and I will pay handsomely for its retrieval. I have already drawn on the aid of the Ardent Guild, but they have proven to be incompetent.”

Rodrick tilted his head to the side. It took a force of will to keep himself from chuckling. The Ardent Guild’s network probably would have been more effective if half of their leads weren’t getting free food and drink from him.

“They are historically incompetent.”

“I had thought you may think as much. You are part of the Menagerie.” It was another statement.

“I am,” Rodrick confirmed. “What of it?”

“I make it a point to keep myself familiar with any new guilds that make it onto the Secret Eye’s ranking list.” The skin around the man’s eyes creased with what could have either been a smile or a sneer. “And yours is quite small. Stealing a first clear right out from under their noses is… impressive for a group your size.”

“I’ll pass your kind words along to our guild leader,” Rodrick said smoothly. The assassin was poking to see if his network and the Menagerie were one and the same, but he had no plans of revealing that information. “Are you here to hire the Menagerie or the network that runs from the inn? All we do is manage the space. We don’t care about what business is done here. We don’t mix the two up.”

“I see. Then I will cut to the point once more. You — the network for which you claim to pass information on to — I do not care which. I seek an item. If you can retrieve it for me, I will reward you greatly for it.”

“Well, I’m still not giving any promises, but what’s the item?” Rodrick asked.

“It is called a Dungeon Heart. An object with an immense magical signature that resembles its namesake. It would be entirely useless to anyone within this city, but I have a desire to have it returned to me. I gave it as a gift some time ago, and now I would like it back.”

Dungeon Heart? He can’t — no, he definitely does. The big creepy thing Arwin brought back and fused into his smithy. If it’s a gift, then this bastard was related to Jessen. Friends or allies with him at the minimum.

Rodrick’s spine prickled, but he didn’t let his posture or expression shift in the slightest. There was no doubt in his mind that the nameless assassin was watching his every move in search for recognition.

“What sort of reward would you be offering for something like this?” Rodrick asked.

“I will destroy the Ardent Guild and hand you the deed to the ruins of their guildhouse,” the assassin replied. “I trust that should be sufficient motivation for the Menagerie.”

“And for the information network?”

A flicker of displeasure passed through the assassin’s features. He’d been hoping Rodrick would slip up and reveal that their desires were one and the same — or perhaps he just wanted Rodrick to think that.

Damn. Can’t tell what this guy is thinking.

“They may name their price. I suspect I will be able to meet it, so long as it is reasonable. If it is not, I will be displeased.”

“I see,” Rodrick said. “Well, I’ll pass your offer along. What name do you go by and how can I find you?”

“You may call me Twelve. I will return in four days. Locate the heart by then if you wish any sort of reward — and I suggest you work quickly. You are not the only one to whom I have reached out.”

Yeah, but I bet we’re the only ones that actually have the thing you’re looking for. Not that I’m giving this guy shit. Anyone that was friends with Jessen can kick sand.

“Good to know,” Rodrick said. “If I’ve got any information for you, I can pass it along when you return.”

“Very good.” Twelve rose from his seat. His hands dropped to his sides and he inclined his head. “Watch over yourself.”

Twelve’s body twisted into streamers of black smoke and flooded out the door. It was a threat, and not even a thinly veiled one. Rodrick waited silently for several moments, then carefully rose from his spot at the table and headed over to the door, closing it.

Well, now I know what the Ardent Guild has been searching for. This guy is trouble. I’m going to have to figure out what guild he’s from if I want to level the playing field a little more — and I need to warn Arwin to make sure nobody finds out about that damn heart.

Lillia stepped out of the kitchen, holding a large black pan in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“How much did you overhear?”

“All of it but the start,” Lillia replied. “Is he—”

Rodrick nodded. “Yeah. We might be running out of time to relax. I trust you can tell he’s gone?”

“Yeah. I can feel the people in my inn and he’s not here anymore.”

“Good. Then we’ve got to start getting ready. The Ardent Guild’s network is crippled, but they’re big and have a lot of money. There are people smart enough to put two and two together with Jessen’s death and the fall of the Iron Hounds. It won’t be long until Twelve realizes that he’s just tried to hire the people that have his item.”

“Do you know what guild he’s from?” Lillia asked.

“Not yet, but I plan on finding out.” Rodrick’s expression darkened and he looked back to the door. “And, in the meantime, we’re going to have to prepare ourselves. We better fill the others in and figure out how we plan to handle this. This might just be instinct talking, but I don’t think Twelve is someone we can deal with in the same way we’ve handled other threats.”

“I think you might be right,” Lillia said, a frown etching across her features. “But that doesn’t mean we’re without options. Figure out what guild he’s from. I’ll let Arwin know what’s going on. The Menagerie might be small, but we’re not helpless. Twelve is sorely mistaken if he thinks we’re just going to give up anything we won from putting that dog Jessen down.”