Someone hammered on the door.

Kildare jolted out of sleep and slammed forward into the headboard. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands to his face. "Who is it?" he growled.

The door creaked open. "Hey, Kil..." Snitch stopped. "You all right?"

Kildare dropped his head back on the pillow. “I didn’t sleep so well.”

“Oh.” Snitch leaned against the door frame. Seemingly subconsciously, his fingers rapped an uneven rhythm on the wood for a moment before he said, “You know…I was drunk last night, so if you were awake thinking of what I said…”

“I know you didn’t mean it, that’s not—”

“No, I absolutely meant it,” Snitch interrupted. “I just shouldn’ta said it that way.”

Of course. He should’ve known that Snitch would never apologize for saying what was on his mind, drunk or not. Kildare shrugged. “I’d rather you get it off your chest then let it fester.”

Snitch paused in drumming his fingers, and made a face. “Aww, for once, I wish you’d stop it with the gracious leader thing and just take a swing at me. Show me what you really feel.”

“Snitch.” Kildare sat up slowly and ran his hands through his hair, then glared at the thief. “I do not want to have this conversation before I have kafe. Suffice it to say that I do mean what I said. No, I do not hold what you said against you. No, I do not want to punch you—yet. but I might unless you leave me alone until I can find some rotting kafe."

Snitch rolled his eyes and left the door swinging open without another comment.

Kildare got up and stretched, wincing as his shoulder and arm twinged. Serene had massaged his shoulders and neck last night, and while that had helped, his muscles were still a bit sore from crashing into the carriage two…no, three days ago now.

He pulled on a fresh shirt and pants and stumbled out of his bedroom. Fir sat at the table, spooning steaming oatmeal into his mouth, nearly dripping some onto his shirt as he flipped slowly through a book laid flat on the table.

“Any good this morning?” Kildare asked, sliding into the seat across from him and grabbing the only spoon and bowl left on the table. 

Fir looked up, eyebrows arched. “The food or the book?”

“The food, obviously.” Kildare gestured at the single block of text on the book’s open page. “You’re reading poetry now?”

Fir propped up the book so Kildare could see the title. “It’s a set of legends about Jakan Roliwyn. Some of them come in poem form.”

“That’s supposedly the guy who split the mountain of Lerem in two and let the sea flood half the land, isn’t it?” Snitch asked, shuffling deck of cards in his hands. "He was on one of the tapestries in Lord Datheil's keep."

“Supposedly. He's a popular myth with the Leremite nobility. Hey.” Fir pointed at the cards. “Rematch after I’m done with breakfast?”

Snitch grinned. “You lost five goldmarks to me last night, you really wanna loose more to me this morning?”

Mock looked up from her book. “You lost?”

“Barely. And I won back fifteen, anyway.” Fir snatched the cards from Snitch and shuffled them himself, flipping cards over and under his hands. He cut the deck into four stacks on the table, then shuffled them together, and then riffled them from one hand to the other. He raised one eyebrow and grinned. “Don’t you trust Lord Thorne, master of illusions? I can get it back.”

Mock glanced over at Kildare, wrinkles settling into place between her eyebrows. Kildare’s stomach sank. He’d missed something—somewhere in the last few months when he’d been so worried about Serene, he’d missed something. He’d have to talk to Mock later and figure out why she looked so concerned.

Snitch swept the deck of cards up and nudged Kildare out of the way. “I may not have fancy hands like you, but I can still beat Lord Thorne and his fancy magic tricks.” He flopped down on the bench across from Fir and started counting out cards.

Kildare moved the almost-empty pot of oatmeal away and gathered up the empty dishes and spoons sitting on the table. “I’ll take this downstairs. Try not to make his wallet hurt too much, Snitch.”

Fir made a shocked face, mouth hanging comically open, hand splayed on his chest. “My oldest, my dearest friend, the brother I longed for—you wound me with your lack of confidence.”

Kildare chuckled.

“I’ll help you.” Mock put her book down and grabbed the empty dishes from Kildare.

Kildare let her. It wasn’t as if the whole kit—the pot, the bowls and utensils, and the cloth napkins and hot pad—would be too much for him to carry down to the kitchens in one trip. But from her look earlier, and the earnest expression she was giving him now, he knew she wanted to talk to him.

Kildare swung the door open and followed Mock out into the hall. “So, what’s wrong?” he asked her in a low voice.

The charms in Mock’s hair chinked together softly as she looked at him. “Fir’s been gambling a lot more lately.”

Kildare frowned. When had Fir started gambling in the first place? He vaguely remembered Fir playing a few dice games when they were younger, perhaps seventeen or so. And he knew that the cards and the dice had been infrequent pursuits since then. His familiarity with cards had been one of the reasons they'd gone with the Lord and Lady Thorne scheme in the first place. But regularly gambling? “Is he loosing large amounts of money?”

Mock shook her head. “No, he hasn’t said anything about that. He hasn’t told you anything?”

Kildare shrugged. “No.”

“I thought you two were best friends. That’s surprising that he hasn’t told you.”

Was it his imagination, or was there a bit of bite to Mock’s words? A bit of scorn that he hadn’t noticed before. Kildare tried not to flinch. “Sometimes even best friends keep secrets, Mock. Especially if they’re ashamed of them.” His neck and cheeks flushed warm. Do I keep Serene a secret because…no. That’s stupid. He shoved the thought away and followed Mock down the stairs.

They carried the dirty dishes to the bar of the common room and set them down. Mock leaned on the bar and looked up at Kildare, mouth pursed to the side in thought. “I know we all have vices, Kil, but secrets? We don’t keep secrets from each other. We’re family.”

Kildare eased his hands into his pockets. “I’ll keep an eye on it, if you think I should.”

“I do.”

“And I’ll see if I can talk to him about it.” He cleared his throat. “There’s nothing else you can tell me? Explain why you’re worried?”

“No, I just…” She worried at her lower lip. “I just get the feeling that he’s stressed sometimes. I think we’ve all been stressed, honestly, but…Fir’s never really been this tense, you know?”

Kildare nodded, inwardly trying not to squirm. He hadn't noticed any of this. I've been neglecting everyone.

Mock sighed and rubbed at her forehead. "Maybe I'm just reading into too much right now. Maybe we're just all tired, between the last job, and the cold and the rain..." She gave Kildare a wan smile. "I'm going to go upstairs and make sure they're not squabbling over a single goldmark."

"Sure, I'll just make sure the bartender knows we returned these." Kildare gestured at the pot and bowls. "And maybe order some kafe. You want anything?"

She shook her head. "Thanks though."

As Mock turned and headed back up the stairs, Kildare slouched against the bar, tapping his fingers on the side. Secrets. Too many secrets.

"Kildare Wingard?"

He stiffened and looked up.

A Do'orite woman with long, silky white hair sat at a table not far away. She gestured him closer. "You are Kildare Wingard, are you not?"

Kildare nodded and glanced around the common room. The table the woman sat at was tucked between the fireplace and the bar and had a clear view of the door. She sat facing the door and had turned sideways to address him. The rest of the room was empty, although a tub of dirty dishes sat on an uncleaned table, along with a couple of sopping rags, suggested that the barkeep had begun cleaning up after the breakfast rush.

He tapped louder on the bar. "Barkeep!"

The man appeared from the kitchen. "Sir?"

"Kafe for me, with cream and honey. And for the lady..." Kildare glanced over at her.

She smiled. "Teshinn tea, please. Black, with honey."

The barkeep nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen. Kildare considered his seating options. He could sit beside the woman, able to see the front door, but the idea of being within easy arm reach of someone unknown made him nervous. 

The barkeeper reappeared from the kitchen, put two steaming mugs on the bar, then disappeared again.

Kildare straightened and walked to the opposite side of the table and sat down, back to the door. His neck itched, but he shrugged the feeling off. He handed the tea across to the woman, who took it with a nod and sipped at it.

Kildare blew across the surface of his drink, watching the white cream and brown kafe twist and swirl around each other in the mug. He glanced up across the table, watching as the woman took a sip of her drink, then placed it precisely centered in front of her on the table. 

"My name is Eras," the woman said, putting her mug down. "As you've probably guessed, I have a job proposal for you and your team, if you're open."

Kildare nodded and set his own drink down, resting his elbows on the table. "We just finished a job, and are considering our options from here." Best to not let her know they have nothing planned as of yet. "Let's hear your proposal."

"All right. We have a job in Rohondeish, a seaport on the Do'or coast. I'm not at liberty to give you the details myself, but I can tell you that it would pay very, very well." She paused.

Kildare waited, but the woman just sipped her tea, smiling. He leaned forward. "It's a nice start, but I'm going to need more information than that."

"What would you like to know?"

He thought for a moment. "Where would the job be taking place? And how much pay is 'very, very well'?"

Eras nodded. "There's a museum—more of an old city hall, really, that was gilded up and repurposed to be a museum—where the item in question is on display." She cocked her head to the side. "Surely an enterprising young man like yourself can work out the implications of such a location on your own."

Kildare nodded. A museum would have plenty of valuable pieces on display—small pieces, easily grabbed on the way to and from their primary target. Pieces that he could probably find a fence for without much trouble, or without having to sit on the item for very long. "Anything extra in the coffers is welcome."

"Really?" Eras said. "I was under the impression that you were very frugal."

He gestured to the kafe, then around the tavern, hoping it would be vague enough that she wouldn't press. "I have my little luxuries."

"Well, if it piques your interest..." She leaned forward. "How does a thousand goldmarks per team member sound?"

Kildare was really glad he hadn't taken a drink, otherwise he would have coughed it up into Eras's face. "A thousand?"

She shrugged. "My employer thinks that it would be a fair price. It will take...what, five or six days to travel from here to the coast? How many days to plan and execute the job? Given the expenses required and the difficulty of the job, we thought it was a fair price."

Generally, if there was the chance of getting other items during the job, their employers would offer a lower amount right off the bat. Sometimes, they'd accepted it. Lately, they could afford to be a bit more picky. But a thousand goldmarks each... Kildare struggled to keep his surprise from showing on his face. "Let me speak to my team, but I'm sure that we'd find this acceptable. When would we be finding out more?"

"My employer is a cautious man, as you can understand, Kildare. He's worried about rivals getting to his prize before him.” Her lips curved into a wicked smile. "So we'd prefer to keep the details under wraps until he has a chance to speak to you himself."

Kildare nodded, stood, picked up his kafe. "Where can I find you?"

She tapped the table's scarred surface.

He nodded and headed back up the stairs. A light, buoyant feeling expanded in his chest, and Kildare realized that his hands were trembling. A thousand goldmmarks for each of them, combined with whatever else he could lift, would not only be enough to buy Serene's contract—he could give them a nice little bit of starting money, for whatever they decided to do afterward. 

He rapped on the door to their room. As soon as Snitch opened it, Kildare blurted out, "I got another job offer."