Adam tucked the folded parchment into his pocket and turned toward the door. His voice was calm, unhurried.
"We'll be in touch."
Croft's pale eyes followed him. "See that you are. I don't like waiting."
Derrick's hand remained on his sword hilt as Adam and Isolde slipped past him, their footsteps silent on the polished floor. The door clicked shut behind them.
Kurt stepped closer to Croft's desk, his dark eyes watchful. "Do you think they'll succeed, Master?"
Croft reached for his glass of water, took a slow sip, then set it down. His weathered fingers traced the rim.
"The man... he's something beyond what we've seen. Did you feel it? When he looked at me?"
Kurt nodded slowly. "His presence was... heavy. Like standing at the edge of a cliff."
Croft's lips curved beneath his mustache. "Exactly."
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
