Randor glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t you have it yet?”
Mork shook his head. “Almost. If you think it’s so easy, we could trade roles.”
Randor glared at him, but held his tongue. The door’s lock clicking open gave him some relief, but they had to move before the guards returned.
Mork pushed the door open and smiled, putting his tools back in his pocket. “Told you I’m good.”
“You mean, you were good, don’t you?” The Queen stood smiling within the room with a contingent of guards. “Seize them and bring me the thief’s fingers. They’ll make wonderful trinkets.”