The note said to be here at nine this night. I paused in the doorway and surveyed the crowd. A man signaled me from one of the back booths, and I headed towards him. I slid into the booth. "What do you want me for?"

"Rob the Warlock," he said, gesturing to a man at the bar.

I shifted in my seat to study him. Sandy brown hair was tied tightly back. His clothes were black, quality fabric I judged with a thief's eye for appraisal. A lined cloak of forest green hung from his shoulders. One hand held a mug of the taverns mead. He appeared absorbed in conversation with his neighbor.

"Why don't you go over and introduce yourself," my contact suggested.

I looked at him in surprise. "You want me to do it now?" I asked, confused. Stealing from any magic user was dangerous. My clients usually preferred to be far away, in case anything went wrong.

He nodded. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," I assured him. Pushing back the wooden chair, I weaved my way through the crowded inn. I slipped between the Warlock and his friend, bumping into him. "Sorry," I murmured, avoiding his eyes. Dropping a few coins on the counter, I ordered a drink. I ignored the conversation, waiting for the barmaid to deliver it. Brushing past the Warlock on my way back, I deftly removed his coin pouch. I returned to the booth, smiling.

"I think that went well."

He nodded, and waved to someone behind me. "I'm glad. We have a difficult job for you."

I frowned. "We?" Twisting to see who he had called over, I gasped. The Warlock loomed above me.

"Here's the thief, Rob," my contact said, standing to greet him.
I bolted, at least I tried to. The Warlock caught my arm in grip like iron. I licked my lips in nervousness. "I can explain." His brown eyes held mine, mesmerizing me. The next thing I knew, I was waking up. My head hurt and everything seemed blurry.

I examined my new surroundings. Everything appeared distorted. "Hello?" I called.

"Ribbit."