Close Call

Close Call

"We gonna git caught," whispered Tiny, glancing over his shoulder toward the footsteps growing nearer.

Skrie heard the guard as she worked the lock. An almost inaudible ~snick~ reached her ears, and the handle responded to her touch. The hinges were on the inside, so the halfling prayed to Tymora they wouldn't squeal when she pushed the door open. She and her half-orc partner slipped into the office.

"Trust me," the novice cleric winked up at her friend. He was as big as she was small, and they made a great team.

Their task this night was to plant a document proving that Councilman Worthen had embezzled thousands of platinum from the treasure. While it was true the Councilman had taken the money, he had always paid it back--with a generous amount of interest. The problem was, Worthen had rebuffed the guild master one time too many. Now was time to sow distrust.

Skrie crept to the mayor's desk while Tiny listened at the door. The cleric checked for magic before adding the parchment to a pile awaiting his approval in the morning. The pair then searched the room for the secret passage they heard Mayor Simkin used to attend private meetings.

The two froze as the door handle jiggled. Skrie touched her friend and uttered a word. He melted into the shadows as the guard stuck a torch into the room and looked around. Seeing nothing, he shut the door, and they heard the lock click.

"Let's get out of here," said Skrie. Tiny nodded.

By the time the halfling regained her composure, the half-orc had the door unlocked and had looked down the passage back the way they came.

"All clear," he growled. "We go home."

An hour later, they were back in their hovel.