Night's Cold Embrace

Chapter 3

Garrett sighed as he hoisted himself up and through a window of the clock tower. Things didn't exactly go as planned at the Northcrest manor. In all his years as a thief, he had seldom been detected. It hurt his pride more than it did his body, though. He could get out of most situations fairly unscathed.

After hopping into the tower, he strode over to his storage box and lifted the heavy lid up. There were only a few extra blunt arrows and food packets scattered inside. He needed to restock his supplies. As he rummaged through the chest, a faint tapping noise caught his attention. He followed the sound to the windowsill, where Jenivere stood pecking at the wooden frame to notify him of a new message. Garrett walked over and picked up the matchbox laying at her feet, drawing his hand back just before the magpie could peck at it. The bird cawed and fluttered its wings before taking flight and disappearing into the dark sky.

Garrett turned the matchbox, illuminated by the moonlight, over. Basso's rough writing was scrawled across the box in black ink.

Come by now. Need to talk.

-B

Basso wasn't usually this urgent in his messages. Something was amiss. Garrett tossed the light cardboard box into the brazier by the window, resolving to burn it when he returned. He needed to find out what Basso needed from him that was so dire.

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The dusky blue sky was tinged a light orange by the time Garrett reached Black Alley. He needed to make this visit quick if he was to return to the tower in the cover of the receding darkness.

Free to roam around without having to hide from the City Watch, Garrett righted himself. His knees ached slightly from being constantly strained when he crouched. He hoped he wasn't getting too old for the job.

The faint moans and cries of the sick and dying resonated throughout the dark alley. He walked past a few people muttering unintelligibly to themselves and pressing their fingertips to their eyelids. Others appeared to be avoiding everyone else, covering their mouths with cloth and sidestepping the shaking figures huddled on the ground.

He continued onward, his feet landing soundlessly on the damp, uneven road. He followed the path to Basso's office, using a wooden beam overhead to swing through a high open window. Basso was rummaging through one of the many boxes littering the floors and shelves of the room. He froze for a moment, then chuckled as he resumed shuffling through several letters and documents.

"Either I'm getting more alert or you're just getting sloppy."

Garrett scoffed and made his way towards Basso, taking in the familiar sight of the grotty office, the familiar musty smell, the familiar draft coming from the cracks in the ceiling. He removed the scripture form his belt, handing it to Basso as he approached him.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he said as he took the tome from Garrett with an appreciative nod. "Glad I can hire someone who actually knows what they're doing again."

"You called?" Garrett said as he leaned against the stone wall and folded his arms.

"Right, right..." Basso mumbled as he picked up the box and placed it on the ground. He wiped the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand and sighed before continuing.

"Listen, you know most of my sources are fairly reliable. They don't usually let me down, but it happens sometimes."

Garrett nodded, urging Basso to continue. He wondered where the man was going with this.

"Now I can't verify this myself, but some claim to have seen signs of... a regrouping of sorts."

"A regrouping?" Garrett pushed himself off of the wall to stand up straight.

"Some of those bastards who worked for Orion were seen talking together. Well, quite a lot of them apparently."

"The Graven? I thought the Watch took care of them." They did, after all, try to assassinate the Baron.

"Well, apparently not all of them."

Garrett paced the length of the room. A thousand questions flooded his mind. Orion was dead. Did the Graven delegate a new leader? Were they planning another attempt to overthrow the Baron? Did they even have enough people left to start another rebellion? Would they recruit new members? It certainly wouldn't be that difficult, seeing as antipathy towards the Baron was not a rarity amongst the majority of the townspeople.

"Hey," Basso spoke once Garrett opened his mouth. He raised his hands defensively. "I hate to admit this, but I'm not the person you should be asking if you want answers. I haven't gotten much word on this."

Basso walked over to his desk and began flipping through a small stack of papers.

Garrett paused for a moment, then swiftly made his way over to the window. He knew just the person to consult.

"Guess it'd be wishful thinking to hope that one day you'll use the front door, huh?" Basso muttered without raising his eyes from the desk.

Garrett pulled himself up through the window, swinging one leg through it.

"You know me, Basso. I never take the door if I don't have to." He replied before swinging his other leg over and jumping from the ledge.