As he rode through the crowded streets of the Beggars’ Quarter he surveyed his own little kingdom and smiled, thinking he probably ruled as much of Krakandar as Mahkas Damaran. He ruled the night, at least. Since returning home eight years ago, with his reputation as a thief in Greenharbour preceding him, he’d been marked as the natural heir to the Thieves’ Guild leadership. Four years later, when old Dasha Larenan died at the hands of his much younger wife, who was looking for the fortune she was sure the old man was hiding from her, there was barely a voice raised in protest about his successor. Wrayan’s father, Calen Lightfinger, had been renowned as the best pickpocket in all of Krakandar while he was alive, and Wrayan had powerful friends that nobody in the Guild could match. Nor did they try. It wasn’t even a merit thing. Wrayan knew he got the job because even professional thieves appreciated that you simply couldn’t do better than a Sorcerers’ Collective–educated burglar with the nickname “Wrayan the Wraith”
