![]() Thieves were the lowest sort of scum on Kekon, and grave robbers were lower than that. His eyes, in the sun-shriveled hollows of his face, darted fearfully about the shadows of the shrubbery and tombstones. Night security doesn’t arrive for another half hour.” The three of them were alone, but Nuno spoke in a hurried whisper. “Here.” He thrust a black garbage bag at Bero. The groundskeeper, Nuno, met them at the gate five minutes before the official closing time. So even though Bero and Mudt had taken the precaution of carrying no light, there was no one to take notice of their arrival at the cemetery. The streets of Janloon were unusually quiet out of respect, people were forgoing their usual activities and staying home, hanging ceremonial spirit guiding lamps in their windows to honor the passing of Kaul Seningtun-national war hero, patriarch of the No Peak clan, the Torch of Kekon. The cool, dry days of late winter had not yet given way to the incessant rain of spring, and low clouds obscured the rising moon over the tops of the trees in Widow’s Park. ![]() Only someone with little regard for his own life would consider it, but if one was that sort of person, then tonight was the moment of opportunity. ![]() ![]() It was madness to rob the grave of a Green Bone. ![]()
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