Time seemed to slow as Gilmir winced, half expecting an arrow in his back. Hobble had some magical abilities. He had shown signs of being what the elves called a moon mage, with the ability to manipulate shadow and air. However, his skill was limited thus far, and in a sealed chamber, it was hard to manipulate the air to great effect.

It would be a complete and utter failure if he, a highly trained elven assassin, was struck down by a mere human archer while hanging on the wall like some simple burglar. He could feel no change in the air and imagined projectiles speeding towards his exposed back. Channeling all his anger and desperation, he struck the glass once more. The window shattered, and time sped up.

“Duck!” Hobble shouted, as a gust of wind flowed in through the shattered window.

Gilmir didn’t know exactly what the halfling meant by ‘duck’ while they were hanging on a wall, nor did he understand why. However, he did his best and dropped down until he hung from the windowsill. In the next moment, it all became clear. Wind howled around his ears, and shattered glass burst from the window, spraying into the room.

Something nicked Gilmir’s arm, but he couldn't tell if it was an arrow or a shard of glass.

“Let’s go,” Hobble said and pulled himself up onto the window ledge.

In the next moment, the halfling was gone, and the wind stopped. Falling stars! If one of the archers had an arrow ready, Gilmir would be like a sitting duck, as the humans were fond of saying. He pulled himself up and dove out of the window as an arrow slammed into the wall beside him.

Diving towards the ground about a story below him, Gilmir tucked his feet and turned midair. He landed on his feet a moment later.

Hobble grinned at him. “All good?”

“Yes, let’s get out of here,” Gilmir said and set off towards a narrow alley at the end of the building.

They skidded around the corner and stopped. Three men were blocking their way. The man in the middle was tall, middle-aged, with stylish, old-fashioned clothes. Gilmir recognized him. It was Manfred, the unsettling creature he had seen in the thief’s guild leader’s office. Shifting his gaze, he realized he knew the two other men also. The one to the right was called Dipper, if his memory served him, and the other Gilmir had named Weasel when they last met.

“Manfred, Dipper, Weasel,” Gilmir said and nodded at the men.

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“My name is not—,” Weasel began, but was cut off by the tall man.

“Master Gilmir, what brings thee to this place at such an hour?” Manfred inquired with a measured, aristocratic tone.

“Listen,” Gilmir said, “I would love to stay and chat, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. We have a dinner appointment.”

“I surmise that in scarce 120 beats, the guards shall breach yon door and hasten into the alley behind thee. Shouldst thou wish to avoid entrapment, I implore thee to converse.”

Hobble glanced from Manfred to Gilmir and back to the other men. Gilmir could feel the thousand questions on the halfling’s tongue. Ignoring his skeptical friend, Gilmir considered why the thieves were there, but reckoned he and Hobble had been observed entering the city and the guild had sent someone to check on them. How the guild had found them was another question, but not the most pressing matter. “We had a job,” he said at last.

“In the temple, perchance?” Manfred asked.

Gilmir shrugged.

“The guildmaster doth seek enlightenment regarding thy venture. Thou art obliged to accompany us forthwith,” Manfred declared.

Gilmir glanced at Hobble, who looked back at him with a 'what's going on?' expression on his face.

“A mere sixty beats remain,” Manfred said.

Gilmir heard running feet from behind them. The temple guards would be spilling into the alley at any moment.

“An alliance with the guards we shall form, and apprehend thee, shouldst thou decline our company forthwith,” Manfred stated.

“What will happen to us?” Hobble asked.

“That, I cannot proclaim. The guildmaster shall determine thy fate post thy explanation of tonight’s affairs,” Manfred said.

The sounds of running feet grew louder, and Hobble glanced over his shoulder.

Gilmir knew the guild would not be happy and wasn’t sure it was a wise move to follow these men. He was positive they could get past the two humans, but he was uncertain about this Manfred creature. He was not normal. Gilmir suspected he was some sort of undead, and it was impossible to guess his powers. His clothes, and his manner of speaking, suggested he was old. Really old. That alone suggested that he was powerful. Taking into consideration his calm confidence and matter-of-fact communication… Gilmir reasoned that this was not the time to test the creature's limits.

“Within ten beats, chaos shall reign in this alley, marked by clashing steel and spilled blood,” Manfred said and licked his lips. Not in a nervous way, but indicative of something else.

Gilmir resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder and spoke. “Fine. We will follow.”

Manfred moved in a blur. In the next beat, he stood by the wall to the side and held up a door. A door where there had been just a plain wall moments earlier.

“Then let us depart with haste,” he said.

The two thieves disappeared into the opening, and Hobble followed. Gilmir threw a glance toward the alley opening as he slipped in the door and could see the first guards rounding the corner.

Manfred followed and closed the door behind him, swift and soundless.

They stood in a small room with a winding staircase as the only feature.

“Lead the way, Master Dipper,” Manfred commanded.