Blade might have named Tomello to run the Fins’ day to day operations, but that didn’t mean the older rogues respected him. Alziri had wanted the job and many thought it should have gone to him …


“That’s the third one this month,” Alziri complained in that accusatorial tone of his.  The older rogue had never quite accepted that Blade had named Tomello to take over after Kaizal last year.  The guild needed a strong second, Blade couldn’t be there day in and day out, and Tomello had felt honored that Blade thought so highly of him.  Until that day, he hadn’t even known that Blade knew his name.  Alziri had thought the position would be his.  He and Kaizal had been good friends and had entered the guild at about the same time.  If Blade had picked him, no one would have complained and a few would have cheered.  Alziri claimed that noble blood watered the roots of his family tree and Tomello believed him, as much for his I’m-better attitude as his fair skin, which for the guild was as rare as a virgin in Tintammil.  The glow from the lamps lighting the warehouse’s office lighting wasn’t dim enough to hide Alziri’s sneer.

“I’m painfully aware,” Tomello answered.  He was leaning back in a big leather chair with his feet on the desk.  The desk was new.  For the chair, he had to thank his predecessor.  The paperwork filling the book cases, shelves and filing cabinets lining the room dated back to the guild’s early days.

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