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right on time, Artek Ar'talen."
    Artek blinked away the fog in his head and saw that he was lying on a thick, expensive-looking rug. A sharp stench of lightning hung in the air.
    Artek jumped up, but the action was never completed. Brilliant energy crackled through the air, and a blood-red aura sprang up around him, pinning his limbs to his sides and rooting his feet to the floor. He was not outside at all, but in a small chamber filled with rich tapestries, gilded wood, and many other ostentatious displays of wealth and taste. Artek choked for air, feeling as if the breath were being squeezed out of him. Struggling, he lifted his head to gaze upon the faces of his new captors.
    They were a curious duo: a nobleman and a wizard. Effort racked the wizard's face as he concentrated on the spell of binding. Between his dark robe, hooked nose, and bald head, he looked like a great vulture. In contrast, the nobleman was strikingly handsome, with sharp green eyes and dark hair tied back from his high brow with a black ribbon. He was clad all in purple velvet and silver silk and, in a sophisticated affectation, had tucked his right hand beneath the breast of his long coat. He regarded Artek with calm but keen interest.
    "Allow me to introduce myself," the nobleman said in a smooth voice. "I am Lord Darien, scion of House Thal, high advisor to the Circle of Nobles." He inclined his head ever so slightly.
    Artek stared at the man as his thief's intuition made a sudden leap. "You," he spat between clenched teeth. "You're the one they were taking me to see."
    Darien nodded, drawing a step closer. "That is correct. You see, I have a bargain to offer you, Ar'talen. It would be a simple transaction-freedom from this prison in exchange for your services. Are you interested to hear more? If not, don't hesitate to say so, and I will be happy to deliver you back into the hands of the guards…"
    Artek swore inwardly. Why did nobles always enjoy playing such games, manipulating common people as if they were merely pieces on a lanceboard?
    "Calling the guards won't be necessary," he said. "And you can tell your hired vulture to call off his spell. I won't be going anywhere. You have my word."
    Darien turned to the wizard. "You heard him, Melthis. Remove the spell of binding."
    The wizard gaped at him. "But my lord, surely it is unwise to trust this scoundrel."
    Sparks of ire flashed in Darien's eyes. "Do you question my orders, Melthis?"
    The wizard's face blanched. "Of course not, my lord," he said fawningly.
    Hastily, Melthis weaved his thin hands in an intricate gesture, and the shimmering aura surrounding Artek vanished. He staggered, then caught his balance, drawing in a deep breath of relief.
    Darien led the way to a table in the center of the small chamber. He sat in a cushioned chair and motioned for Artek to take the chair opposite him. Melthis hovered two paces behind his master, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe.
    "I imagine you are wondering how I brought you here," Darien began.
    Artek only gazed at him silently. That was exactly what he was wondering, but he did not want to give the lord the satisfaction of hearing it.
    "You see, I have made a study of your colorful career, Ar'talen," Darien went on. He pressed his shapely hands into a steeple before him. "I learned all I could of your daring exploits, and by so doing I have come to know you. I was certain that, once you were outside your magically warded cell, you would attempt an escape. By plotting the course on which the guards would lead you, and by studying parallels in your past work, I predicted the route that you would take. From there, it was a simple matter to have Melthis bring you here." A smile coiled about his lips. "I must say, I am gratified to see my prediction proved so accurate."
    This caught Artek entirely off guard. Was he really so simple that his actions could be guessed by one who had merely examined his past work?
    "I don't know what you want of me,