Surfeit of Thieves Content . " This looks interesting , " said Indyk , his eyes narrowing to observe the black caravan making its way to the spires of the secluded castle . A gaudy , alien coat of arms marked each carriage , the lacquer glistening in the light of the moons . " Who do you suppose they are ? " " They ' re obviously well - off , " smiled his partner , Heriah . " Perhaps some new Imperial Cult dedicated to the acquisition of wealth ? " " Go into town and find out what you can about the castle , " said Indyk . " I ' ll see if I can learn anything about who these strangers are . We meet on this hill tomorrow night . " Heriah had two great skills : picking locks and picking information . By dusk of the following day , she had returned to the hill . Indyk joined her an hour later . " The place is called Ald Olyra , " she explained . " It dates back to the second era when a collection of nobles built it to protect themselves during one of the epidemics . They didn ' t want any of the diseased masses to get into their midst and spread the plague , so they built up quite a sophisticated security system for the time . Of course , it ' s mostly fallen into ruin , but I have a good idea about what kind of locks and traps might still be operational . What did you find out ? " " I wasn ' t nearly so successful , " frowned Indyk . " No one seemed to have any idea about the group , even that that there [ sic ] were here . I was about to give up , but at the charterhouse , I met a monk who said that his masters were a hermetic group called the Order of St Eadnua . I talked to him for some time , this fellow name of Parathion , and it seems they ' re having some sort of ritual feast tonight . " " Are they wealthy ? " asked Heriah impatiently . " Embarrassingly so according to the fellow . But they ' re only at the castle for tonight . " " I have my picks on me , " winked Heriah . " Opportunity has smiled on us . " She drew a diagram of the castle in the dirt : the main hall and kitchen were near the front gate , and the stables and secured armory were in the back . The thieves had a system that never failed . Heriah would find a way into the castle and collect as much loot as possible , while Indyk provided the distraction . He waited until his partner had scaled the wall before rapping on the gate . Perhaps this time he would be a bard , or a lost adventurer . The details were most fun to improvise . Heriah heard Indyk talking to the woman who came to the gate , but she was too far away to hear the words exchanged . He was evidently successful : a moment later , she heard the door shut . The man had charm , she would give him that . Only a few of the traps and locks to the armory had been set . Undoubtedly , many of the keys had been lost in time . Whatever servants had been in charge of securing the Order ' s treasures had brought a few new locks to affix . It took extra time to maneuver the intricate hasps and bolts of the new traps before proceeding to the old but still working systems , but Heriah found her heart beating with anticipation . Whatever lay beyond the door , she thought , must be of sufficient value to merit such protection . When at last the door swung quietly open , the thief found her avaricious dreams paled to reality . A mountain of golden treasure , ancient relics glimmering with untapped magicka , weaponry of matchless quality , gemstones the size of her fist , row after row of strange potions , and stacks of valuable documents and scrolls . She was so enthralled by the sight , she did not hear the man behind her approach . " You must be Lady Tressed , " said the voice and she jumped . It was a monk in a black , hooded robe , intricately woven with silver and gold threads . For a moment , she could not speak . This was the sort of encounter that Indyk loved , but she could think to do nothing but nod her head with what she hoped looked like certainty . " I ' m afraid I ' m a little lost , " she stammered . " I can see that , " the man laughed . " That ' s the armory . I ' ll show you the way to the dining hall . We were afraid you weren ' t going to arrive . The feast is nearly over . " Heriah followed the monk across the courtyard , to the double doors leading to the dining hall . A robe identical to the one he was wearing hung on a hook outside , and he handed it to her with a knowing smile . She slipped it on . She mimicked him as she lowered the hood over her head and entered the hall . Torches illuminated the figures within around the large table . Each wore the uniform black robe that covered all features , and from the look of things , the feast was over . Empty plates , platters , and glasses filled every inch of the wood with only the faintest spots and dribbles of the food remaining . It was a breaking of a fast it seemed . For a moment , Heriah stopped to think about poor , lost Lady Tressed who had missed her opportunity for gluttony . The only unusual item on the table was its centerpiece : a huge golden hourglass which was on its last minute ' s worth of sand . Though each person looked alike , some were sleeping , some were chatting merrily to one another , and one was playing a lute . Indyk ' s lute , she noticed , and then noticed Indyk ' s ring on the man ' s finger . Heriah was suddenly grateful for the anonymity of the hood . Perhaps Indyk would not realize that it was she , and that she had blundered . " Tressed , " said the young man to the assembled , who turned as one to her and burst into applause . The conscious members of the Order arose to kiss her hand , and introduce themselves . " Nirdla . " " Suelec . " " Kyler . " The names got stranger . " Toniop . " " Htillyts . " " Noihtarap . " She could not help laughing : " I understand . It ' s all backwards . Your real names are Aldrin , Celeus , Relyk , Poinot , Styllith , Parathion . " " Of course , " said the young man . " Won ' t you have a seat ? " " Sey , " giggled Heriah , getting into the spirit of the masque and taking an empty chair . " I suppose that when the hourglass runs out , the backwards names go back to normal ? " " That ' s correct , Tressed , " said the woman next to her . " It ' s just one of our Order ' s little amusements . This castle seemed like the appropriately ironic venue for our feast , devised as it was to shun the plague victims who were , in their way , a walking dead . " Heriah felt herself light - headed from the odor of the torches , and bumped into the sleeping man next to her . He fell face forward onto the table . " Poor Esruoc Tsrif , " said a neighboring man , helping to prop the body up . " He ' s given us so much . " Heriah stumbled to her feet and began walking uncertainly for the front gate . " Where are you going , Tressed ? " asked one of the figures , his voice taking on an unpleasant mocking quality . " My name isn ' t Tressed , " she mumbled , gripping Indyk ' s arm . " I ' m sorry , partner . We need to go . " The last crumb of sand fell in the hour glass as the man pulled back his hood . It was not Indyk . It was not even human , but a stretched grotesquerie of a man with hungry eyes and a wide mouth filled with tusk - like fangs . Heriah fell back into the chair of the figure they called Esruoc Tsrif . His hood fell open , revealing the pallid , bloodless face of Indyk . As she began to scream , they fell on her . In her last living moment , Heriah finally spelled " Tressed " backwards .