Ralan galloped straight through the Old Quarter towards the gate to the southwest of the city. The buildings and streets were mostly a blur as he swept by, but he could still make out majestic architecture, solid old masonry, and well-kempt streets. Despite the common title of being the "Wretched Quarter," this side of the Great River wasn't wretched so much as old. Ralan had to admit that the Old Quarter was shabby, but there was a solidity about it that he found noble.

It made him think of the lessons he had been taught by his tutor in his parents' mansion in the Upper Triangle—he had said that the residents of the city moved across the river because the fields had died, and the mines had run out of iron and coal. Without its lifeblood, the original city had decayed to its current state of wretchedness. Those that left behind were criminals or those that refused to work hard enough to establish a homestead in the new part of the city. As a result, they lived in squalor, with murder and burglary a common occurrence.

At least, that's what Ralan had been taught.

Some of the pieces made sense to him. If the old city ran out of food there was no choice but to leave, but did it really run out of food? Clearly some people stayed behind. Also, it was an open secret that the hard workers that did the dirtiest and most menial of jobs lived in the Wretched Quarter. There was no way they were lazy. So what was going on? Ralan was starting to think it had more to do with inequality and greed.

One of the missing pieces that Ralan now understood was that the Thieves Guild ran the Old Quarter. They fed and took care of the residents, by stealing food and clothing from the other guilds. That made him think that the Ash Fields were probably truly ash, and that the mines on this side of the river were also empty. It was also clear that no one in Ness realized this.

All of the complex pieces that made the Old Quarter run in secrecy, pieces that Guildmaster Pietro had built over his long life, were now in Ralan's hands. He had ridden through the Founders Day parade thinking that he was being punished, but the reality was that he was now in charge of the lives of many people. It was overwhelming.

Ralan caught the looks of many faces as he rushed by, his Black outfit generating smiles and not disdain, fear, or hatred. What happened to the Old Quarter, and its residents? How did they come to rely on the Black of the Thieves and not the White of the Knights? Ralan committed himself to finding out when he returned from his current mission, which was to stop Karch from negotiating an assassination with the Outlanders.

Alard had given him the most basic of guidance: There was a smaller gate that led to the Plains at the end of the main thoroughfare that went from the Great Bridge and through Founder's Square. Ralan was to go through the gate and then head to the northwest until he hit the main road to the Outlands. At that point he would track down Karch and shadow him to see what he could find out about his mission and, if possible, stop him. How he was to do that was unknown, which suited Ralan fine.

At one point Alard handed Ralan a small ring with a single Onyx stone in it. It fit his pinky finger perfectly. "I was hoping to do this at an official ceremony, but you have made that impossible." Alard sounded annoyed. "This is the official seal of the Thieves Guild. It identifies you as the Guildmaster. It will help you with the Outlanders. They are suspicious of everyone from Ness, but Guildmaster Pietro and I have earned their trust through the years."

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"Thank you, Alard." Ralan looked at it as he slipped it on his finger. "This is a seal? There is nothing but a smooth black stone. How can this be a seal?"

Alard smiled. "Our seal is much like the guild itself, inscrutable and seemingly with no productive use."

Ralan held up his hand. "I will wear it with pride."

"There is one other thing."

"Yes?"

"The Ranger Guild and I have had our differences. They see the Thieves Guild as your brother does—a joke for the populace to enjoy—however, the Guildmaster, Quinto, hates me from my days as a Knight."

"So, avoid the Rangers?"

"I would recommend that, yes."

"What did you do?" I remembered Saxe's and others' comments describing Alard as a coward or a traitor.

"That is a tale for another day."

And with that exchange Ralan had all the information for his mission that he was to get. Ralan approached the gate and smiled. He had spent his whole life causing harmless mischief. He loved the outraged looks of the officious jerks he had taken down a peg or two. Here he was doing the same thing, only the mischief had much greater consequence, and he was actually helping people.

Ralan paused as he approached the gate. A massive tower made of what looked like raw stone from the mountain itself rose high into the air on his left. It was far larger than the Merchant Tower. That is my new home, Ralan thought.

He had expected the tower to be in a state of decay. Pietro hadn't lived there, and as far as Ralan knew it had been empty for decades, yet it was as clean and solid as if it were well-cared for. Far above him, Ralan could see a balcony. He looked forward to standing on it and surveying the city some day. But, for now, he had a mission.

The gate was not far from the tower. It was small but solid—about twelve feet high and similarly wide. It was dwarfed by its sister gate on the other side of the river near the Knight Tower, yet this smaller counterpart was still strong and thick, a combination of iron and wood.

Two men in armor approached from an alcove in the Wall near the gate. They looked like the White Guard members who manned the wall—they wore armor and bore heavy weapons—but they were wearing Black, not White. "Hail, what is your name and business?" one of the guards asked.

"I am Ralan, the Guildmaster Thief. I am on a mission to the Outlands." Ralan held up his hand, palm facing himself, so that the two could see the guild seal. The two stepped aside, one to the left and the other to the right, and bowed. "It is an honor to meet the new Guildmaster," the one on the left said.

Bowing his head, Ralan replied, "The honor is mine. You serve the guild well. What are your names?"

"Bell," said the one on the left.

"Carich," said the one on the right. Ralan nodded to them.

He started ahead, but paused as he passed the two guards. "How far is the main road to the Outlands?"

"It is far. We avoid the Wall where the White Guard patrols, so this path goes far to the west before turning north to join the main. Much of it is through rocky paths, and the crossing over the river is often too deep for passage. Take care with your horse's footing."

Ralan looked up. "The Knight Guild doesn't patrol the wall in this direction?"

Carich replied, "They don't cross the river. The old Wall is considered haunted."

"Are you saying the Knight Guild leaves the city unprotected?"

With a chuckle, Bell motioned over his shoulder toward the city. "They believe it unnecessary. The river would be a natural obstruction, and the Great Bridge is well-defended."

"Plus, the Ranger Guild is active in the Plains. They would give the Knights time to prepare a defense," Carich added.

"What is the likelihood of me running into the Ranger Guild?"

"Pretty high, but they leave us alone. They don't seem to care much about what happens inside the city."

Ralan nodded. "Thank you for your help. Be well!" And with a kick, Ralan and his horse lunged forward and through the gate. For the first time in his life, Ralan was outside the city.

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