Volume II

"Deogol has been dead now for a couple tendays and our guild has not advanced it's cause in Kurth," a slurred voice said from the end of the bar at Knifethrower's Inn. It was midday and as usual only the 'regular' crowd was present, sipping the cheap weak ale afforded to 'regulars' that frequented this safehouse of the Shadow Thieves.

"What of it? Do you not have enough to eat, Vûlkarron? A place to stay? A comfortable mat to rest your head?" Heliofax barked.

The Rashemi's eyes afixed upon an empty pewter stein that wobbled before it fell to the oaken floorboards behind the bar, spinning to a stop. The tan faced man raised an eyebrow, then sqinted and leaned for a better look. The aged book binding had opened, revealing a new second book appearing before his eyes.

"You're right, Heliofax, I have plenty to drink, perhaps too much so."

Heliofax the Black approached, his knife laden boots creeking the boards as he stepped over to pick up the Grimoire. "Hmmmmnph," he sighed, "Slyl's gotten through another one... brighter than I thought... I'd best be fixin' a room for his return."