Thief's Covenant

"This will go easier," he told her, hefting the mallet, "if you don`t fight."
"Probably," she agreed, slamming her shins with crushing force up between Brock`s legs and into one of his few tender spots. "But 'easy' is boring." She smiled at the shocked expressions of the other enforcers, even as their boss slid to the floor with an agonizing whimper. "Wouldn`t you agree, boys?"
They needed only seconds to shake off their stupor, to advance on the tiny thief, snarls on their faces and blades in their fist. But in those precious moments of confusion, Widdershins rolled backward, rising to her feet in the center of the table, rapier in hand.

The boulevard was the border between two worlds. Behind, the square, squat buildings of the district`s shop. They, like most of the city`s newer construction, were of cheap stone or haphazardly painted wood, all business. Before her, a row of manors. Slope roofs, ornate cornices and buttresses, fluted gutters and snarling gargoyles, all in marble or whitewashed stone, all old enough to have acquired an arrogance utterly independent of those who dwelt within. The straight angles and lines of poverty facing off against the graceful arches of wealth.