I am alone again, still sitting here in steamfront. My friends have all gone. I need time to myself to think about what has just passed. I may be a rogue but I am not cold hearted. I have seen those that are truly masters of thievery, sitting atop their empires built from their triumphs, but they are devoid of all feelings, they have no �friends�. Only those that aren�t quite enemies yet. I on the other hand refuse to become that cold, which makes killing someone who was a friend once that much harder.
I obtained the tome from the Hate plane, and duely returned it to the gnome language master, Yendar. The little old man went into rapture over the old texts and lists of dates, only to be cut short went Renux appeared from nowhere and stole the translated text from his hands. I should have been more vigilant, I should not have been so lax in my observations and awearness. If only I had � arh well, this life would be a sorry one if I dwelt on all the �what ifs�.

The parchment, now translated, I returned to Stanos. I had not the nerve to speak of his daughter but simply handed over the worn paper.