No matter how many times Farek saw the Bank of Soros from the land approach, he would never get used to it. He had spent years working in the waterfront, seeing the miles of winding streets and uneven storeyed buildings that covered the lowland before Coin Hill and its lofty estates. From the rear, the shape of the city became more apparent. If Soros was an egg, then Coin Hill was its yolk, off-centre and protected by only a small band of residential and commercial districts.
He walked down the rocky slope with his comrades and watched the magical perspective while he still could. There were no walls around the city, but as they descended the last stretch of the slope onto the flatland, the building faces seemed to conjoin to create one. His estate, among others, still rose above and gleamed in the sunshine.
“Twice?” Diaren asked.
Sievus nodded. “Twice. He just refused to believe that I was better than him.” The warrior’s words turned into a groan as he shifted the pack on his shoulders.
“Something’s to be said for perseverance,” Farek muttered. They all knew that in a real fight, perseverance usually meant death.
The others chuckled, but it was Diaren who made a come-back. “Is that how you get a girl like yours, my lord? Not sure if I could persevere all that long with curves like hers…”
“Very well,” Farek said, interrupting their laughter. “Diaren gets pack duty until we’re home.”
The jokester bit his tongue and sighed. They paused for a moment while Sievus released the heaviest pack and accepted the lighter load that Diaren bore. As Diaren shouldered his new burden, he eyed Farek and said, “How come you never get this one?”
Farek wasn’t wearing any pack at all. He smiled at Diaren and said, “Oh, Silea keeps my hands full. You can’t imagine.”
Matek and Sievus leered loud “Oh’s!” and Diaren smiled through his scowl. Farek’s smile faded sooner than the rest, as his mind wandered once more to the trinket he palmed in his pocket. The gold wolf ring of the Organization had been weighing on him this whole journey, but the colours of the public city streets took his mind off it in no time.
A new worry started to occur to him. Though he wasn’t fully invested quite yet, he hoped Silea hadn’t grown impatient after his two or three week’s absence. He sure wished she’d still be his handful after this.
Artoc was standing at his post in front of Norrey’s pub, as usual, when Farek and his boys marched by. He raised a few fingers in a quiet wave, discreet enough not to call out. Farek gave him a nod in reply. There was no sign of Jannia, or Simi, or even Captain Vergo, in the foyer of his home. And no Silea either.
When Farek started to climb the stairs, he spotted Jannia through the door of the upstairs meeting room. Though she was speaking with a merchant through the open door, she raised one finger and crossed to stick her head into the hallway. “Welcome back,” she said. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Farek said. “I suppose.”
“You going to tell me what it was all about?” she asked.
Farek sighed. “Maybe sometime, but I’m tired.” He kept walking and Jannia went back into her meeting. Farek kept going, though the feeling of discouragement that had hid outside of his senses all morning had begun to cause a sinking in his stomach. None of this had gone how it was supposed to and there was no way to pick up his spirits.
He nodded to the guard at his door and raised an eyebrow when the man smiled at him. Inside his quarters, he pulled off his boots and unbuckled his sword. He froze, sword in hand, when someone moved in the doorway to his bedroom. Silea stood there, wearing only one of his shirts. “I showed myself in,” she said, her black hair bobbing and catching in the collar of his shirt. “I hope that’s alright.”
Farek smiled and dropped his scabbard, weapon and all. “How did you know?” he asked. His lover smiled, shrugged, and backed into the bedroom. Farek followed as soon as he could trip over his discarded boots.