Her fingers stroked the key hanging from the chain around her neck as her eyes scanned the paper before her. It was a habit and when she realized what she was doing, she hurriedly tucked it back under her shirt, glancing up to make sure no one had seen. Then she remembered that no one was around to see. This was her office and everyone knew that when the door was closed, she was not to be disturbed. No one broke this rule, not ever. It was funny, actually. She'd never thought up a suitable punishment for whoever dared to enter her office but her people had spread enough rumors of what would happen that they scared themselves away.
Smiling, she slipped the chain over her head and surveyed the small golden key. It was by no means her most valuable possession. She had glass jewelry that was worth more than this little key. It didn't open any lock. In fact it was useless. The only reason she carried it around was because of who had given it to her. Shaking her head to clear herself of old memories, she hung it back around her neck and tucked it under her shirt. There were more pressing things to worry about. Once again, she focused her attention on the paper lying on the desk before her.
The words on the paper would be gibberish to all but a few of the people living in Resmoor. It had been thought up only a few years ago and was called the Code, the language of the most brilliant thieves in the city. From her spies among the city guards, she knew that not even the code-breakers employed by the magistrate had been able to uncover the secrets of the Code. She, however, had been taught personally by the man who invented it. It was a short message and she had read it so many times now that she had memorized it.
"It comes by river in the dark of the moon."
Whatever "it" was, it was arriving by the Resmoor River in two days, when the moon was new. The problem was, she didn't know what "it" was. And she hated that. She ran this part of Resmoor. If she didn't know what was arriving in her city, through her river, at her docks, then she wasn't doing her job correctly.
Tugging at the short braid she had pulled over her shoulder, she picked up the paper, tore it into strips, and fed the strips into the fire flickering cheerfully in the hearth behind her.
Smiling, she slipped the chain over her head and surveyed the small golden key. It was by no means her most valuable possession. She had glass jewelry that was worth more than this little key. It didn't open any lock. In fact it was useless. The only reason she carried it around was because of who had given it to her. Shaking her head to clear herself of old memories, she hung it back around her neck and tucked it under her shirt. There were more pressing things to worry about. Once again, she focused her attention on the paper lying on the desk before her.
The words on the paper would be gibberish to all but a few of the people living in Resmoor. It had been thought up only a few years ago and was called the Code, the language of the most brilliant thieves in the city. From her spies among the city guards, she knew that not even the code-breakers employed by the magistrate had been able to uncover the secrets of the Code. She, however, had been taught personally by the man who invented it. It was a short message and she had read it so many times now that she had memorized it.
"It comes by river in the dark of the moon."
Whatever "it" was, it was arriving by the Resmoor River in two days, when the moon was new. The problem was, she didn't know what "it" was. And she hated that. She ran this part of Resmoor. If she didn't know what was arriving in her city, through her river, at her docks, then she wasn't doing her job correctly.
Tugging at the short braid she had pulled over her shoulder, she picked up the paper, tore it into strips, and fed the strips into the fire flickering cheerfully in the hearth behind her.
