The heavy wooden doors of the Mazaar’s office swung open as a servant let Farek enter. He’d been working hard the day before to catch up on his responsibilities, but could not put off informing his sister of Lord Thrane’s grumbling exit two days past. Though he was entering her office, she spoke first.
“How did things go with Lord Thrane?” Jannia asked, tossing her quill down on a scrap of ink-stained cloth. Continue reading Farek 19
A table with two drinking horns, a two-thirds burned candle crowned by columns of untouched wax, and an uncomfortable silence separated the two lords that met in the Royal Whale that day. Lord Dorgan Thrane sat there, with his arms crossed and a scowl on, while Lord Gallendris wore his long hair back in a suave knot and waited for the old man’s word. Continue reading Farek 18
One of the few benefits of Farek’s new administrative position was his proximity to the family records. The prince of Soros didn’t quite realize it at first—after all, who considered a dusty roomful of self-published books was a positive?—but after a few weeks hunched over a desk, his wandering thoughts had led him to an insight. In an old record book, he found mention of Master Gravagan. The details were a little vague, but just as the sorcerer had told him many months ago, Gravagan had helped both Farek’s mother and his mother’s father. Continue reading Farek 17
Jungle rooks were pecking at some shredded bird carcass on one of the nearby shingled eaves. The stairs that Farek descended soon sent the rooks out of sight, but the disguised man could still hear the beck of their beaks and their squeaks. This was one of the lower-income boroughs of Soros and Farek had to keep his wits about him as he stepped over the crossed legs of a bearded, sweat-stained tramp, resting against a wall, and through a veil of gnarled vines that clung to a rotten support beam overhead. Continue reading Farek 16
The innkeeper shoved two mugs across the table, and the man seated next to Farek took one. Dorgan Thrane smoothed his greying brown hair back with one hand while he palmed the drink. Then Farek led the way to a table near the window of the Royal Whale. They peered out into the afternoon ocean, before the two lords turned to look at one another.
“Why’d you distract me from my beloved warehouse?” Farek asked. Continue reading Farek 15
Some days, when watching ships entering and departing the harbours of Sheld was not boring enough, Farek would instead get his fix for dullness by listening to the breeze in the shutters of his sister’s office while she prattled on about the economics of Var Nordos, their rocky, humid isle.
“Farek?” Jannia asked. “Are you even listening?” Continue reading Farek 14
Lord Gallendris had not been to many parties over the last few months, but it was important to him to keep up appearances. As his activities in the streets, his disguises, and his plans with Lord Thrane continued, Farek knew how it was important to remain—to the public—as the heavy drinking, flirtatious brother of the Mazaar.
In Soros, such public affairs were attended on a nightly basis. Continue reading Farek 13
Lord Thrane finally found Farek for that drink they had agreed to share. Lord Gallendris was on his way home when he’d been stopped by the older man. Farek followed Thrane’s suggestion and they sought out a bar known as the Royal Whale, the finest of the maritime locations in Soros. Their meeting in the streets reminded Farek of news he’d received recently. News that might change everything. Continue reading Farek 12
Farek wore a muddy green robe and creased beige amongst the throngs of commoners. He stumbled between a woman in a long, wide blue dress and a man with a large wooden shield hanging from his back. Shields were only used by the valiant knights on the Great Isle, where the scattered forests gave them plenty of space to line of stage silly battle sports. The man had come far. Not nearly as far as Farek, who had only marched down from Coin Hill, bought this cheap disguise in the bog farm market where the citizens of Var Nordos sold tarragon, verbena, and dill from the southern swamps. He had descended to Lord Thrane’s estate once again, but was allowed onto the grounds by the main gate. Continue reading Farek 11
In the stables of House Thrane, two servants split a bail of green hay with big wooden forks and distributed it amongst several of the stalls. There was a wind that day, and the barn creaked during a particularly strong gust. Sawdust and bugs fell from the beams over the young men’s heads, as did a few scattered drops of water. One of them hummed a quiet tune as he worked, and patted the sides of a big black steed. The beast looked like a Yurnese purebred, brought across the Stormy Sea from the continent at great expense. Continue reading Farek 10