I peered at the scrap of parchment while Kian ate thick slices of the local bread with evident relish. The stuff was rather good, but I had always been taught to approach bread carefully. The map was little more than a few quick lines drawn with a charcoal stick. A sketch of what looked to be a manor house, a few quick notations which obviously correlated to number of watchmen and change of shifts. I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. It was clumsy, in Tilea any assassin worth his salt would have memorized the information and destroyed the note, but these were unsophisticated lands, without an elevated culture of how to kill each other with maximum artistic flair.

"He must have been planning to kill the Baron, no burglar would have the watch information," I concluded, "no chance the fellow is alive to question?" Kian shook his head as he chewed.

"Cwushed skaal," he managed around a mouthful of bread. I tutted again, though I could hardly blame Kian for refusing to pull his punches. Doubtless the assassin wouldn't have shed many tears for a dead priest in a back alley.

"I suppose we ought to warn the Baron," I concluded. If there was one assassin sent their might be more. I didn't know anything of the politics of this places, but I found it was rarely the just cause that stooped to hiring killers to knife someone in their beds. Besides someone was bound to have seen something, and it would go ill for us if the Baron thought we were withholding vital information. And there was always the chance he might have some halfway decent wine...