There was blue water in the Stormy Sea, and over the Orrish, and green water in Copper Cove. The Grey Sea was as dark as it had been named and Farek had heard that the Sea of Origins was grey too. But nowhere else had pale red water than Raider’s Bay. The waves lapped pink against the hull of the Royal Crester, as the familiar coin ship cut out of the river and into the Bay.
It was a foggy day for Lord Gallendris’ return. His comrades and he watched as the big square rooves of Soros came into view, fading through the curtain-like clouds of Var Nordos one-by-one. It was the middle of wet season—Farek was surprised it wasn’t raining, as it had for most of their voyage along the coast from Noress. When at last they landed on the docks, a gentle drizzle had begun.
The Crester’s crew scurried to get the ship moored properly and drop the gangplank for their exodus. Farek waved farewell to Captain Tunwal as Diaren chuckled with one of the sailors he had known for years. The Crester handled shipping the Matriarch’s coin to and from Noress-That-Was.
“Half a year,” Farek muttered as he stood on the docks, looking up at the slope of Coin Hill, casting its shadow across the harbour district. He scratched his beard and looked at Matek. “No amount of thanks will be sufficient for the loyalty of you three,” he said. He clapped Sievus on the back. “Now go, see your families and friends, and rest.”
“You too, sir,” Matek said. “I’m sure we’ll see you again soon enough.”
“He should be so lucky,” Diaren said. He turned his face and waved a hand beneath the beard he had started to grow recently. It was spotty, curly, and a general mess. Farek laughed, and started his walk through the City of Sorrows.
He opted to take Katak Krazo despite its midday busyness. The way ran straight through a half-dozen town squares, through the market district, and up to the open archway up to Coin Hill. Though Farek started out in the middle of the road, by the third wagon that pushed through the crowded passersby, he began to follow the wall of buildings on the side. He passed a few market stalls, where he purchased a plantain. He ate slices off it using the small knife at his belt, and kept walking at a casual pace. The market guards—each of different employ—watched him cautiously, seeing just a tall armed man minding his time as he walked. He suspected some might have recognized him if it wasn’t for the beard.
That wasn’t the case for Artoc, the bouncer. As Farek walked up the slope onto Coin Hill, the side of Norrey’s Pub came into view. Artoc rose off his seat when he saw Farek, squinting through the thin fog to make sure it was Farek. Then he waved and pointed inside to ask if he should fetch Norrey. Farek shook his head and raised a few fingers to indicate he’d be by later.
There were four guards waiting inside the Gallendris’ courtyard, among all the other staff and soldiers. These four wore red sword emblems of House Mavagar. Farek raised an eyebrow but quickly walked inside without making a fuss.
Farek first priority was a bath. He went to his quarters, finding one of his usual servants on the way, and had the staff in the bathing room pour some warm water into the pool. He was tempted to relax as soon as the fresh water rose over his stomach, but he instead set to work scrubbing away the salty grime from his arms and neck. He washed his hair with tallow soap and washed it out in a washbowl they brought for him.
After redressing in his favourite linen shirt and his barkcloth coat, Farek ran some perfume through his hair and dabbed the back of his neck. He oiled his beard and gave his moustache a little style. His scabbard buckled into its familiar place smoothly and he marched out of the bathing chamber.
A few minutes later, and up a few stairs, Farek burst through the doors of his sister’s office and proclaimed, “The prodigal brother returns!”
Paral Mavagar was sitting adjacent to Jannia’s desk. The two looked up in surprise, and stared at Farek for a moment before reacting. “Farek!” Jannia exclaimed after a moment. She stood up. “Welcome back. I had almost resolved to send out a search party.”
Jannia crossed the room to give Farek an embrace, while Paral looked down awkwardly. Jannia hesitated a moment, but Farek grabbed her in a tight hug. “It’s good to be home,” he said. She mumbled against his shoulder that she was glad he was. When they separated, Farek glanced at Lord Mavagar. “I hope you don’t mind a touching family reunion.”
“It’s good see, in all honesty. It seems families are torn apart more often than sewn together, these days,” Paral said, smiling.
Farek gave Jannia a raised eyebrow. “So, what’s been happening?”
“A lot has changed, since you’ve been gone,” explained his sister as she leaned back against her desk. The Mazaar wore a thin black blouse and two thin golden bracelets, which jingled as she parted her hair away from her eyes.
Paral nodded. “We work together now, Farek.”
“Hmmm.” Farek folded his arms.
Lord Mavagar took a deep breath and gestured the other chair in front of Jannia’s desk. Before Farek sat, he looked back at Jannia’s servant, waiting near the closed doors. “I’ll need a whiskey, I think,” he said.
Jannia smiled reassuringly and gave Farek a nod.
Paral launched into his explanation as Farek sank into the free chair. “I’ve made mistakes, and Jannia has shared with me how you felt the brunt of them. It’s true, I have plotted against you both, and I’ve plotted against the Matriarchs too.” Farek’s drink appeared, so Paral took a sip of his own before going on. “I walked a dangerous line. I could have been killed when Matriarch Belsara was found out, if the wrong names were spoken. Now all I can do is try to stay on the right side of that line.” He slashed the air with his hand, making an imaginary line.
“Didn’t want to be burned by the fire, hmm? Forgive me if I speak plainly, but that’s a rather cowardly way to excuse one’s actions,” Farek said. Remembering Jannia’s presence and her nodding approval, he added, “Although I must confess I have no idea what you have done to make up for it.”
Paral shrugged as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Would a heartfelt apology make any more difference than the facts?”
“No. Words don’t hold their own weight these days,” Farek murmured. “So what have you done, Lord Mavagar?”
Paral needed a drink, after that, but Jannia spoke up. “Paral provided invaluable information in the capture of several other conspirators in Noress-That-Was. And he has given us a lot of information from his own networks. We now have a clearer picture of what happened with those strange financial transactions last year, for starters.”
“Last week, Lord Reeyan was found dead in his bed,” Paral told him. “Poisoned. That is what I came here to discuss today, before you walked in.”
Reeyan was an intermediate lord in Soros. Farek had not heard anything of note from the man in years. “Is this the first incident of poisoning or have their been other targets?” Farek asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“It was quite abrupt, actually. It’s been two Moons since Lady Belsara was hanged in Noress,” Jannia explained.
“And he’s not one of the afore-mentioned conspirators.” Paral sipped his own drink while Farek drank more whisky.
Jannia watched him tilt the glass and blinked. “You’ve just arrived home and here we are, submerging you with details that can wait. Settle in, we can resume this tomorrow or the next day. The investigation is ongoing.”
Farek stood up. “That’s a wonderful idea,” he said. He finished the drink and set the glass down on his sister’s desk. “Where’s Simi?”
“Her quarters or some tavern,” Jannia said, smirking. “I haven’t heard from her today.”
“Then if you’ll excuse me,” Farek said.
“Of course,” the strange duo replied. Paral added, “I hope you’ll come to see my usefulness in the coming days.”
Farek only nodded. He closed the door quietly behind him.
He had a few letters to send out. First, he found Dallan, an assistant with the property’s finances, and ordered a bonus payment of coin to each of his fellow adventurers and guards. Then he dispatched a courier to find his sister Simi: ‘If you could grace me with your marvellous presence, I would be most pleased to have such a loving sister’; and another letter to Silea: ‘If you do not hate my guts, I would like to talk to you.’ There was little excuse for being gone half a year, especially when he had accomplished so little at the House of Kiaraka.
At last, Farek sank into the cushions of his bed and let out the longest sigh. Then, without missing a beat, Simi knocked on the door and barged in, to exclaim she had thought he was dead and it was good that he wasn’t.