They were serving a delicious combination of palm wine and millet wafers laden with slices of fruit or cold meat, and Farek spent his first few minutes at the auction enjoying the hospitality of New Mallam’s wealthy. Of course, most of the nobility of the city had departed on the Baron’s dry-season raid. They were represented here today by stewards and contested by the wealthy merchants and their lower peers.
“Is the wine supposed to be this bitter?” Matek asked.
Farek grinned. “You’ve never had it before?” It wasn’t a particularly wealthy beverage, but was served with style here. Of course, on Var Nordos, the prevalence of small marsh trees and dense bushes prevented the beverage from being as common as it was in other places.
The items on auction were spread around the exterior of a grand meeting hall, on display even though it wasn’t a silent auction. A large group had begun to follow the auctioneer around the room, bidding on each item as attention focused on it. Farek heard some of the prices—they were lower than house closure auctions he’d attended on behalf of the Bank of Soros, but they were often more than he could manage with his strained funds.
Most of the inexpensive items were things of less note. The Ageless Academy had been specific in seeking an item of mysterious origin or mysterious capability. A fool’s errand, surely, Farek thought.
He was pleasantly surprised when the auction reached a handful of the late Lord Breelin’s more eclectic possessions. His sword, said to be unbreakable and painful to even the slightest touch, quickly rose to about four times all of Farek’s remaining gold. The ebb of bids drowned out the sound of his chewing as he devoured another slab of millet decorated with a lime slice. After a moment, the locally famed finally sold and a servant in a long black robe pressed a folded page onto the hilt: “Sold”.
“What if we can’t buy an item?” Sievus asked, leaning toward Farek’s ear.
Farek frowned. “Then we won’t be able to give that item to the Academy,” he muttered tersely and followed the group of bidders to the next table. The room was full of those socializing, so their exchange did not stand out. It seemed a casual affair where many could pay attention to the auction only at the tables that appealed to them.
The auctioneer, a man with a silver and black wave of hair hiding his scalp and a moustache that dwarfed Farek’s, uttered an explanation as they were shown a worn leather-bound book. The plain cover was only decorated with a waving borderline, embossed into the firm texture. “You see how the pages in this book are blank? They are not. Each person who writes in this book will only see their own words. In theory, many, many individuals could etch their secrets on its pages, never to be seen by another soul save themselves. It is said that Lord Breelin kept a journal amongst its pages, never to be seen now that he rests in the peaceful world after. Bidding will begin at a hundred.”
In Grey Sea currency, Farek had twice that. He eagerly raised his hand and got a nod from the auctioneer. Another followed, quickly, and another. Farek outbid them again, at a hundred fifty. “Two hundred,” called another, to be raised a few more times. Farek’s hopes sunk. He couldn’t afford these amounts. He was likely the wealthiest man in this room, thanks to his family’s service. But here, he was a traveller who had stretched his journey longer than planned and offered a bonus pay to a healer who had saved his friend’s life.
He let the auction party move to the next table without following them, staring at the book and it’s ‘sold’ sign blankly.
“Sir?” Matek asked, while Diaren curiously listened to both the next bid and their words.
Farek made a decision, a risky one. “Sievus,” he said. “Find a way out of this room without being noticed. I’d like you to start a fire somewhere… Don’t burn the place down. We just need some smoke and some chaos.”
Now it was all three of his men who leaned toward him and inquired, “Sir?”
Farek nodded. “Do it. When the room empties, we’ll head for the door with them, but then double back to snag this book. Should be able to find another to swap for its place.”
“Some action,” Sievus said, as he turned to go. Farek also heard his muttering though. “Madder than robbing a drunk lord in the streets? Who knows?”
The wait seemed to stretch on for an hour. Farek worried the auction would close before the distraction began. But as they waited in the midst of the bidding lords and ladies, a trail of smoke began to ease out of the hallway. Immediately, a guard called out, “There’s some smoke here. Everyone please head for the door in an orderly way.”
As Farek and his men started to move with the crowd, he eyed the other guards that had been posted in the great hall before. Rather than ushering the crowd out, they began grabbing items from the tables to store them safely in prepared boxes or loose cloth sacks. They wouldn’t get a single item if they didn’t act now. Farek quickly broke off from the group, tossed pouch from his belt toward the book’s table and then slowly knelt to pick it up. The guards had glanced at him, but seeing that he was just reclaiming a dropped object, they quickly returned to their work.
Farek stood up, grabbed the book and spun toward the door, blocking sight of it with both his arms as he carried it in conjoined palms. In the hallway, as he joined with his friends once more, he let the note that read ‘sold’ drop to the ground near the hem of a tall tapestry.
Sievus was waiting amidst the displeased crowd in front of the estate. Whatever he had done had sent trails of smoke out of a few exits, but there was clearly no danger yet posed to the mansion itself. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Farek and shook his head in concern. “Let’s just walk toward that side gate,” Farek said, leading the way through the throngs of irked nobles.
“There’s been a theft!” a guard shouted, mere seconds later. A handful of the well-dressed but armed sentries filed out of the estate’s front door, but Farek and his men moved briskly for the side door before they were in any true danger.
When they opened the door, someone shouted, “Over there!”, and the real chase began. Farek and his men ran down the first alley they came upon, many paces ahead of the guards. They chose a few odd turns and even cut through the rear door of a tavern. They didn’t stop their deceptive route through New Mallam until they reached the gate leading down to the harbour.
“Not the Ageless Academy?” Diaren asked, panting for breath as they started down the slope toward their inn on the waterfront.
Farek shook his head grimly. “Like I said before: if we can’t afford it, we won’t be able to trade it to them. They’d hear of this theft and know we duped them.”
His words hung quietly in the air for a few paces. The question of why they’d stolen the book was not asked—Farek chose to take it as a sign of good faith on his subordinates’ parts, but it probably had more to do with their weariness from crossing a sizeable town so quickly. He spoke up again when they were even further from the city’s gate on the hill. “No, my friends, we’ll be setting sail on the morning tide. That shop of the strange will offer me a trade for this book, I hope, and then we can return to the Ageless Academy at last. All for the House of Kiaraka.”