My return to Bardok’s home is strangely similar to the first time I visited, only this time the man sitting across from me in the darkened carriage is far more terrifying than the Black Scholar.
The carriage pauses at the city gates, but the guards on duty wave it through after speaking to one of the accompanying riders. It’s late night now, the streets mostly quiet, and no one takes much note of our passing. I press myself into the corner of my bench, keeping my gaze on the thief lord opposite me.
Bardok heaves himself to his feet as we clatter to a stop before his house. Standing, he takes up most of the central space of the carriage, his shoulders hunched and his head bent to keep from hitting the roof. He clambers down and says to the men waiting there, “Take her to the cells. I’ll w
