"Dusty Monk - The Cloak & The Dagger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Monk Dusty)

"Well," Barak continued. "I am in your debt. And I am a man who repays his debts. What is it you plan
to do?"

"It's really not your concern," the thief sighed. "Look.. I'd love to stay and chat with you, but those rogues
will be on us in about ten seconds."

"It is my business!" Barak insisted. "Those men attacked me as well. If you know what's going on.. and if
you intend to go after them.. you're going to need help. And I am helping you."

The thief stood and looked at Barak in silence for a moment -- as if sizing him up. Finally, he sighed.
"All right. Let's go. We'll have to stay out of site until tonight. I know a place." He turned and took off
down the alleyway.

"Oh -- by the way," Barak called after the thief as he took off after him. "My name's Barak. Barak
Taranton."

"Great," the thief said over his shoulder as he cut out of the alley and ducked into another one. "My
name's Devon. And if you don't stop hollering and start running, your name's going to be splitgut!"

Barak crouched in the shadows with Devon at the base of the house. It was well past midnight. The
sorcerer's dark robes and the thief's black leather made the pair virtually invisible in the darkness. They
were in the watergarden district of Port Kaleer, hiding between two of the district's many large homes
and mansions. Across the street ran a row of similar houses, each one attempting to out do the other in its
opulence. Their attention was focused on one of the homes in the middle of the row -- a sizeable estate in
its own right, but unremarkable against the others. The mansion was cloaked in darkness. Barak could
just barely make out the form of a man leaning against the wall near the estate's main door.

"Is that the only one?" Barak whispered.

"On the outside, yeah," Devon returned. "But there'll be three more inside -- Lacroft's personal guard.
However, only one will be on duty at a time, patrolling the house."

Barak nodded. Lacroft. Apparently, he was head of the local thieves guild. Inwardly, Barak shook his
head. He didn't much like the idea of attempting to take out the head of the guild. Those men didn't get
into those positions by being sloppy or incompetent. But Devon had been insistent. The two of them had
spent the afternoon hiding out in the berth of an abandoned fishing boat. During that time, Devon had
explained that he was a member of the thieves guild, and that the theft of Barak's cloak had been a guild
sanctioned job. But it had been a setup. It had been guild thieves that had attacked them. Devon was
sure of this. That could only mean one thing. Lacroft had wanted Devon removed. So Devon intended to
find out why. He had been in the guild for a long time, and never once had he crossed Lacroft. He had to
know why the guildmaster had ordered his assassination. So together Barak and Devon had come up
with a plan. And now here they were. Across from Lacroft's personal residence, in the dead of the night.

Devon turned back to Barak. "Ready?" he whispered. Barak nodded. He began the series of intricate
gestures, and whispered the incantation, his voice barely audible. When he finished, he gestured towards
the far corner of Lacroft's mansion.

A large crash sounded there. The guard at the door was on his feet in an instance, peering into the
darkness.