[MilesBeyond]

Killian cursed as he was abruptly wakened by a splash of water to his face.

"Come on, the Master wants to see you." The man with whom he shared a room stood over him, empty water bucket in hand.

"You know, Nalen," Killian grunted, "the gods created a tenth hell just for you."

"Good," Nalen laughed. "I look forward to sharing a drink with you there. Now come on, you know you can't keep them waiting. I'll keep you company on the way."

Killian gave a quick grin in spite of himself, and rose from his now soaked sheets. The two cut a sharp contrast as they walked the narrow halls. Nalen, tall with white-blond hair and clear blue eyes, was every inch the Damaran aside from his once-fair skin that had now been tinged with the sun. Killian, on the other hand, was of average height at best, and his brown hair and eyes and slightly dark skin presented the sort of ethnic ambiguity that was the product of Telflamm's cosmopolitanism. His surname was Damaran, of course, but his skin suggested that this had been mixed somewhere along the way with Mulhorandi or Tuigan - or perhaps both - and a slight cast to his eyes indicated that there may, at one point, have been a Kara-Turan involved.

"So what kept you sleeping so late today, anyway?" Nalen asked

"Late?"

Nalen laughed. "My friend, it's several hours past midday."

Killian shrugged. "I honestly can't remember, although this may have something to do with it." He then groped around in his pockets, eventually producing a large, gaudy necklace.

Nalen laughed again. It was a warm, easy sound that projected a sort of magnetism that seemed to pull people in around him. Of course, in sharing a room with him Killian had discovered that this laugh was quite well-practiced. "Well I hope you pilfered that before you drowned yourself in ale, and not after. Otherwise we could have half the city banging down our doors."

They finally reached a room with a bored-looking functionary sitting hunched over a desk. "Killian Surkov to see Master Nisha," he prompted, after several minutes of being ignored. The functionary glanced up and indicated that he should go in with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Good luck in there, Killian," Nalen said before slipping back into the corridor.

Master Nisha was, in fact, a mistress, but as the title was honourary rather than descriptive she had not seen fit to change it. She stood facing her window as Killian walked in, and he inwardly sighed. She only stared out the window when she was about to give a tongue-lashing.

"Was that Nalen with you, Surkov? Nalen Dotsk?" Killian rolled his eyes. She already knew the answer, and moreover, she already knew that he knew that. Finally he responded "Yes, Master."

"Have you ever thought it strange that you and Dotsk room together even though senior students such as yourselves are usually given their own rooms?" Killian did everything he could to hold in his exasperated groan. He had thought that strange initially, but after having been lectured on the topic several times by Nisha and others his curiosity had mysteriously vanished.

"You see, Surkov, we founded this institution for a reason. The Shadowmasters are often described as a guild of thieves, but we are so much more than that. We are the ruling power here in Telflamm, and that makes us the ruling power in Thesk, as well - not to mention the controllers of one of the single most lucrative and important trade arteries in all the Realms. What this means, Surkov, is that we need more than thieves. We need factors, administrators, diplomats, leaders - and that's why we founded this institution. Thieves are our soldiers, but an army needs more than soldiers. An army needs officers, and this academy exists to train those officers."

Killian had tuned her out almost as soon as she had started talking. He'd heard this lecture more times than he could count, and the shock of being awakened with water was beginning to wear off, leaving him with a pounding headache and a distinct sense that the question of vomit was not one of "if," but "when."

"You were brought here, Surkov, because your superiours saw great promise in you. You are not only a gifted burglar and pickpocket, but you have within you a spark for leadership that, if fanned into a flame, could be of great service to the guild. However, Surkov, you are, without a doubt, the single most apathetic individual to ever grace these halls with your questionable presence. You are like a child, interested only in your own petty amusements. We saw great promise in you, Surkov, and we still do, but a promise that is not fulfilled is worse than a lie."

Killian roused himself briefly as, for a moment, Nisha seemed to be on the verge of delivering an ultimatum. However, she instead launched into one of the lectures he hated the most.

"Surkov, we put you with Dotsk because we were hoping he would be a good influence on you. He is one of the most talented thieves we have ever seen, yes, but he is so much more than that. He is diligent in his studies, a master of etiquette, and his knowledge and skill in politics, languages, economics, writing, music, and cuisine makes him suited to serve in nearly any locale in nearly any capacity. He is kind, even affectionate, to his friends, but disposes of his enemies with ruthless efficiency. He is exceedingly loyal to the guild, but is not afraid to question his orders when he thinks he sees a better solution. In short, he is everything we had in mind when we founded this institution, and he is everything you are not. We have been patient with you, Surkov, because we see greatness in you, but we will not be patient forever. Learn from his example, or you shall soon find yourself freelancing."

Killian shuddered. In Telflamm, and particularly among the Shadowmasters, "freelancing" was simply another way of saying "having your throat slit."

Nisha turned from the window and looked at him for the first time. She was taller than him, with long, black hair that hung to her waist and a whip-like frame. Her face, though not particularly old, had grown care-worn from her myriad duties to the guild, and now she took every ounce of that stress and poured it into her gaze, transferring it to Killian as she said "I trust that I have made myself clear."

"Yes, Master," he replied, sighing.

Killian tried to make himself feel guilty as he walked back to his room, but he found that as much as he knew this was important, he simply didn't care. He sighed again. This hangover certainly wasn't helping matters, either.

He arrived back at the room he shared with Nalen to see a bottle sitting on his writing table.

"Nish had that look in her eyes when she told me to go get you, so I figured you might need something to make you feel better. Besides, as much as I enjoyed splashing water over you, there's a part of me that feels bad about it."

Killian took a pull from the bottle before setting it down and thanking Nalen. Inwardly, he shrugged helplessly. As much as he hated being compared to him, he really couldn't bring himself to dislike the man.

As his headache began to clear, he started to consider things. Nisha had been direct enough - either he changes, or he dies. But changing was a lot of hard work, and an abiding hatred of that sort of thing was the reason he'd taken up thievery in the first place. He sighed and took a larger swing from the bottle.

Ah, well. What could he do?

[MilesBeyond]

"Killian Surkov!" a shrill, piercing voice cut through the silence.

Killian groaned. He was sitting at his desk, leaning back on his chair with the front two legs completely off the ground. He'd sat down there with the intention of reading, but found the book sufficiently dull that every time he got to the second sentence, he'd lost interest and had to go re-read the first sentence. While he now likely had "Calimport, a burgeoning city on the western coast and the capital of Calimshan, is one of the largest trade centers in the world" burned into his mind for eternity, he'd instead chosen to occupy his evening by fiddling with a practice lock he'd "acquired" from a smith a few streets over. The job he was contracted to do wouldn't begin for another few hours yet, and he had nothing else to occupy his time. Well, there was something else, but -

"Killian! Killian are you even listening to me?" the voice came again. He sighed and looked at the door, already knowing who would be there. Standing in the doorway were Torvald and Sariah, two hangers-on that followed Nalen everywhere. "He's your own roommate and you didn't even go to the banquet in his honour!" Sariah continued. "Do you even know what he did?"

As a matter of fact, Killian had no idea why they were recognizing Nalen this time. "If I say yes," he said, "will you leave me alone?"

Sariah heaved an infuriated sigh "Really, Killian, would it kill you to pay attention for once in your life? Nalen Dotsk - I'm sure you've heard of him, you know, he's the one you live with? He saved the school, and maybe even the entire guild! One of the other students - Davoran, who if you ask me has always been trouble - was plotting against the masters! He'd made contact with another guild! He'd hatched an entire scheme to have the Masters killed and to use this very school as an entry point for agents from Amn! Oh, but you'll never guess who stopped them!"

Killian gave some pretense of thinking about it for a moment before saying in his characteristic monotonous tone, "Elminster, shapeshifted into a squirrel, riding a Tarrasque."

Sariah shot him a withering look. "Oh, look who thinks he's clever. No, idiot, it was Nalen!"

"He was brilliant!" Torvald breathed, almost reverently. "Sariah and Nalen and I had talked about it and we'd thought that Davoran was acting a little suspiciously lately, so we were all keeping an eye on him. Anyway, one night Sariah and I were on our way to the rations hall when we happened to see him ducking around in the shadows."

"Well, this is a thieves' academy" Killian drawled. "Maybe he was looking for extra credit."

Sariah glared at him again while Torvald continued as though nothing had happened. "We were going to go get Nalen but then we remembered that he had class, so we thought we'd look in on it ourselves. We followed him to a warehouse where he met with someone who said he was from the Shadow Thieves! We were so surprised that we gasped, and -"

"I'm sorry," Killian said, "the Shadow Thieves? First, they're nearly halfway around the world, and second, what sort of idiot would reveal his identity to some third-rate adolescent thief? There's no way he was actually from the Shadow Thieves."

"Well," Sariah said acidly, "Nalen thinks he was from the Shadow Thieves, and he's a lot smarter than you are, Killian! And besides, we should know, they took us captive! We were taken to some secret holding cell underneath the warehouse, but Nalen - oh, he's so clever! - soon became worried that we'd disappeared, and managed to track us down!"

"He comes strolling in there, bold as day" Torvald took up the story, "and tells the Shadow Thief that he's caught wind of his scheme and wants in, for the right price. The Shadow Thief is immediately taken in, and tells Nalen exactly what's going on. Well, once Nalen has the story, he doesn't even blink! He takes out his dagger and drives it into the Shadow Thief's heart, then he pulls out another one and smashes Davoran over the head with it. He sets us free and takes Davoran's unconscious body to the Masters and tells them exactly what was going on!"

"Oh, he was so brave!" Sariah breathed. "You could do well to learn a thing from him or two, you know."

As Killian rolled his eyes, a voice echoed from down the hallway "Torvald! Sariah! There you are! We're all going out to celebrate some more!"

"Oh, why, of course, Nalen!" Sariah gushed. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, would we, Torvald?"

"What are you doing here, anyway? You two weren't bothering Killian, were you?" Nalen had now joined Torvald and Sariah in the doorway.

"He didn't even come out to your banquet!"

"Well of course he didn't! Trust me, when you've been here as long as he and I have, these sorts of things become horribly boring. I'm actually envious of him, to tell you the truth." Nalen winked at Killian. In spite of himself, Killian couldn't help but grin back.

"Oh, Nalen," Sariah laughed, "you're just awful, you know that? Let's go."

Killian tried to make himself comfortable after the three had walked away, but the conversation had set him off enough that he found that he couldn't. "Idiots," he thought to himself. Finding himself too restless to do anything else, he decided to leave for the job early, hoping he might have an opportunity to case the place.


Killian felt a satisfying pounding in his chest as he carefully felt around inside the lock with his picks. The trouble with thievery, he'd discovered, was that the constant tension and thrill made everything else in life comparatively dull. He never really felt alive except for when he was on a job. Or drunk, he amended grudgingly. The lock gave a satisfying click and the door gave way. He'd arrived at the building several hours before the job was due to begin, and reasoned that if he could get in and get out quickly enough, he could pilfer most of the really valuable goods with his companions none the wiser. The best take, he thought to himself, is the one that you haven't got to share.


He was a little surprised upon entering the home to hear the sound of voices. It was supposed to have been empty. Ah well, he shrugged. That's the price you pay for trying to do things early. He wasn't too concerned. The voices seemed to be coming from beneath him, and the fact that all of the candles on the ground floor had been blown out meant that there probably wasn't anyone around - and besides, moving unseen and unheard was his specialty. He exalted as he ghosted through the rooms, the few locks that sought to bar his way were as nothing before his cunning and skill. Hang the academy, hang Nalen's sycophants, hang the guild, for that matter. There he was nothing but an underachieving disappointment, a mediocre student who couldn't distinguish himself. But here, in this house, in these shadows, he was as a god. All the barriers in his way fell before him and he took what he pleased.


The stairs, however, would be a problem. That was the difficulty with these sorts of jobs, he thought. Only the richest could afford more than one story to their home, but they had a tendency to keep their wealth near their bed, and they had a tendency to sleep on the highest story - and stairs are noisy tend provide very little in the way of hiding spots or escape routes should someone happen by. It wasn't all that hard to pick out which steps were safe and which might belt out a loud creak, but doing so was slow going, and Killian was, by nature, a highly impatient sort. He began to slowly and carefully pick his way up the steps. As he was nearing the top, he noticed at the very last moment that the step he was about to put his foot on was sagging somewhat. Grinning congratulatory, he put his foot down on the step above it, instead.

"That's as far as you go!" came a voice from the bottom of the stairs.

Killian cursed.