Rays of sunlight streamed in the open window of the Gallendris Mansion and caught in the imported glass cup that sat on the table in front of Farek. Scattered dots of light arrayed themselves against his shoulders, the table, and the walls on either side of him. He turned the cup and the light shimmered.
“Are you listening to me?” asked Jannia, who had summoned both of her sibling for a meeting this day.
Farek rolled his eyes, and looked up at his sister. She sat across from him, with the letter she had read unfolded in front of her. Farek nodded. “I am,” he said. “The Three Matriarchs are arranging a meeting to discuss a major financial exchange and you want us to play a part.”
“Not all of us,” Jann said.
“… of course,” Simisar muttered. His sister lounged nearby, with her feet up on the table and her braided hair hanging off the back of her chair. She fiddled with one strand of it as she looked at Farek. “We’re not important enough to play a part.”
“Actually,” Jann said. “You’re not. Farek will be in charge of our affairs here in Soros while I am gone on this endeavor. Simi, you’ll continue doing whatever it is that you do in all those taverns and all those late nights.”
“Thanks, sis,” Farek’s younger sister said, and she stood up in an exaggerated gesture. “I’ll be going to do that now, I think. Good day. And to you, Farek.”
Farek blinked, and smiled. “Sister,” he said with a gentle nod. Then he took a drink from the glass cup, and the scattered streams of sunlight blinked away from the heavy wooden door that banged closed behind Simi. When he lowered the cup, he looked back at Jann, who was patiently waiting for his opinion. “Are they really going to do it?” he asked. “Pay a crime syndicate for a city?”
The letter from the Matriarchs had suggested they intended to consider it at least. A mobster named Gharo had claimed that the infamous Rebel King of Lo Mallago was a result of his own prodding, and that the Rebel King worked for him. Now, through a chain of spies and secretive merchants, Lerran of Sheld was offering to sell Lo Mallago to the decayed Empire of Noress-That-Was.
Jann shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time that cities have changed hands in a financial exchange,” she said. “Though nothing like that has happened in our lifetimes. The Matriarchs are desperate. Their city is falling into the sea, and Soros will one day be the new capital. But we do not have the ocean access of Noress-That-Was, and an empire based in Soros would need Lo Mallago to expand. In my theory, at least.”
Farek nodded and took another drink.
Jann folded up the letter and gracefully stepped over to her nearby desk to put it away. A warm breeze drifted through the window, pulling at her dark hair ever so slightly. She turned back to him, but leaned on the desk instead of sitting at the table again. “Will you do it? Rule Soros in my absence? I won’t be leaving until we hear of a confirmed time and place, but I need someone to be ready to replace me at a moment’s notice. There’ll be a lot of public audience to hear, some trade negotiations to oversee, and maybe even some justice to declare.”
Farek sighed. In the past he had preferred to leave the affairs of the corrupt land in his peripheral vision, but the words of Gravagan, concerning assassins seeking Lord Thrane and arson to be committed by Farek himself, had stirred something in Farek. It could be as simple as a reminder to care. On top of all that, Farek had never been one to shirk his duty.
“I can handle all that. Don’t worry about Soros, worry about how much money the Matriarchs want to give away to brigands,” Farek replied. “And you know me, I regularly declare justice at our warehouse of grave importance.” Her support of Farek’s abilities, no matter how driven by her own necessity, was a nice thing to see manifest.