The Golden Tree really did have nice rooms. It was a shame that the Ratter wasn't in one of them right now. Still, the few hours of sleep she caught before sundown had left her refreshed and ready for the next part of her job. Well, technically, it wasn't her job, but she considered it a part of the service she provided.

She was currently waiting in a dark alley, her eyes on The Ringing Bell tavern. Only a crescent moon illuminated the alley, the minuscule amount of light possible making her effectively invisible in the night. As the tavernkeeper had said, no one was in the building right now. Of course, that made it a potential target for all manner of mischief, and the Ratter wasn't certain if the warning she'd given would be enough. If nothing happened tonight, she could rest easy the next few days while she waited for her teacher to return from his tasks, provided he did so. Tonight was critical, though: Some men, her teacher had taught her, will immediately fold if threatened. Other men required proof that the threat would be carried out.

So, she was waiting in a dark alley, watching to see if there was a need to follow up on her threat from this morning. She idly felt at her pouch, confirming that her guild identification was in her pouch. The Guildmaster had warned her that for the foreseeable future, she should carry it with her at all hours that she was out of doors. Dark events were unfolding, and he couldn't guarantee her safety if she didn't take the proper precautions. She didn't know exactly what might be going on, but since she carried it with her at all times anyway, it wasn't a problem.

She tensed when she felt the vibrations behind her. Something had just dropped soundlessly from up above, and the vibrations of its footsteps told her that it was coming up behind her. Her master was capable of such a feat, but few others that she could think of. Remembering what the Guildmaster had told her, she carefully raised her hands to show that they were empty, then quietly asked, "Are you a Crow?"

After a moment, a reply came. "Yes. How did you know I was behind you?" It wasn't anything spoken, the words simply appeared in her head. The Crows were famed for silent efficiency. She supposed that psychic communication would be a good way to organize their operations without being overheard.

She calmly replied, her voice still a whisper, "I felt your landing through my feet."

There was a sensation in her head, a feeling of mirth that she took to be the Crow's equivalent of a chuckle. "Very impressive," appeared in her mind.

Ignoring the compliment, the Ratter said, "I'm with the Adventurer's Guild. I have my identification on me, in my pouch. May I produce it?"

The words that came to her mind were "Do so. Don't turn around."

Never taking her eyes off of the tavern, the Ratter extracted her guild badge from her pouch and held it up. It was taken, then after a moment, returned. The words in her mind said, "You're very young to be an adventurer."

"I've been assured that I'll grow out of it," came her reply. This met with another mirthful feeling.

The words in her head asked, "What is your business here?"

Keeping her voice down, she replied, "This morning, members of the Ratcatchers Guild tried to strongarm the owner of that tavern into using them instead of the Adventurers Guild. I was hired to remove all the rats, and I embarrassed the Ratcatchers in front of the tavernkeeper and threatened them if they tried anything else. I'm making sure that no one does anything stupid." Guildmaster Rhodes had promised to take care of things, but even if the Ratcatchers Guild didn't officially sanction anything, that didn't necessarily mean all was well. That big brute had looked the type to hold a grudge, after all.

The words in her head stated, "You're very diligent," followed by a feeling of approval.

Her quiet reply was, "It's my first job for the guild. It looks bad on me if anything bad happens before the job is done." This was met with another feeling of approval.

At that moment, the big brute from earlier today stumbled into sight. He was clearly inebriated and carrying a large jug in his hands. The smell of lamp oil from the jug struggled against the strong smell of alcohol, only barely coming out ahead. The Ratter tensed, but a hand came down on her shoulder, followed by more words in her head.

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"Wait. Let him incriminate himself fully, and then we'll handle it."

The Ratter relaxed, then nodded. This was technically a matter for the law to handle. The law was here. Therefore, they could handle this.

The big lug was taking a moment to look around, trying to make sure no one was watching. He looked directly down the alley where the Ratter and the Crow were waiting, but saw nothing. The night was dark, and the goon's night vision was poor. After assuring himself of his solitude, he set down the jug and began fumbling at his pouch, before pulling out a flint and steel. He reached down to pick up the jug of oil again.

And as soon as his fingers touched the jug, a trio of dark shapes landed beside him, and with quick, sharp movements and a flash of blades, the man went down bonelessly in a heap. So quick and abrupt was the attack that the goon needed several seconds before he let out a pained scream. It took several more seconds for the Ratter to realize what the three Crows had just done.

They'd severed the man's tendons with surgical precision. There had been almost no blood, and the man was otherwise unharmed, but nothing short of direct divine intervention was going to allow the man to move again.

The Ratter prized her night vision, but she could make out nothing of the shapes of the three figures before her. Obviously some kind of magic, but she wasn't sure of what. Her master had once told her of a magic item called the Cloak of Shadows, which could render anyone who wore it invisible in anything but a direct light, but this was different. Instead of being invisible, the three were like shadows given substance, even if it was indistinct.

One of the Crows, his voice calm, stated aloud, "Arson, even attempted arson while clearly inebriated, is a capital crime. The punishment for said crime is immolation. That means being burned to ashes if the word 'immolation' is beyond your understanding. You have been caught in the act, and under martial law, we are authorized to render such punishment without the need for a trial when the guilt is clear and undeniable. The only mercy we have to offer is that we can kill you first, then burn your corpse."

If the thug could have moved, he'd likely have curled into a ball and whimpered. Instead, he simply whimpered pathetically.

The Crow continued, two green lights emerging from where the eyes on the figure would be, stating, "I will ask you a few questions. Answer honestly, and we'll kill you quickly. Lie, and we'll tie you to a stake in the city square and set you ablaze." The Crow paused, then asked, "Did the guildmaster of the Ratcatchers Guild send you to burn down this tavern?"

The thug managed to shake his head. For a moment, the Crow's eyes turned blue and he seemed to nod. "Good," he said. After a moment, he asked, "Did you know the tavern was empty?"

The thug nodded as enthusiastically as his crippled state allowed. The Crow's eyes flashed blue again. After a moment, the Crow said, "Now, pay attention, because this is a tricky question: If anyone had been in the tavern, would you still have tried to burn it down?"

The thug shook his head vehemently, and the Crow's eyes flashed blood red. The thug immediately whimpered, knowing what was coming.

The Crow pulled out something sharp, silvery, and shaped like a billhook, then slammed it into the thug's shoulder. "I warned you about lying, but to be fair," the Crow stated, "you'd be burning alive for that one even if you'd answered honestly." With nothing more than that, the trio began moving in the direction of the city square, hauling the shrieking, pleading thug with them. One of them carried the jug of lamp oil the thug had brought, the other his flint and steel. One might argue it to be poetic justice, but most people don't realize just how horrible being burned at the stake can be.

The hand at the Ratter's shoulder lifted, and the words appeared in her head, "Our job here is done, as is yours. I'll have a Crow stationed to keep an eye on this place in case of further trouble. I'll escort you home. Where are you staying?"

"The Golden Tree," the Ratter replied, nodding. She took care to ignore the cries and pleading of the thug. The man was a drunk and an idiot, and he'd no doubt been warned by his guildmaster that there would be consequences for doing anything stupid. Sadly, the thug was incapable of doing anything that wasn't stupid and was now paying the price for it.

"Very well," the words in her head said. "Thank you for your service."

"And thank you for yours," the Ratter said, as the pair began moving in the direction of the Golden Tree.

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"Flock Leader," the words in the Crow's head reported, "the reprobate has been dealt with. We are returning to our patrol."

Escorting the Ratter to their inn, the Flock Leader replied, "Acknowledged. I'm escorting the young adventurer back to their residence, then I'll rejoin you on patrol. Also, mark this young one as a possible future candidate for the Crows. Anyone who can detect the presence of a Crow from behind in the dead of night is worth keeping an eye on."

"Acknowledged."