At least Farek had tried. He had spent a week trying to make an appointment with Lord Thrane, but the grumpy man was always indisposed, and he never contacted Farek back. Farek started to worry that something may have happened to Thrane, but the lord had been spotted at a few social outings. He must have planned meticulously to avoid Farek each time.
Farek even started to frequent the Royal Whale, Thrane’s choice waterfront drinking establishment. Once, he had spotted Thrane at the bar, only to approach and find that he had mistaken an old man’s frame. He’d apologized and moved on.
His nights were spent doing one of three things: losing his sobriety to Norrey’s expertly prepared drinks, popularizing his own face at any number of Soros’s extravagant parties (he had to keep up appearances, of course), or walking the streets in the evening. Farek loved the feeling of the scuffed cobblestone beneath his feet, the salty wind blowing in his hair, and the colour of the sunsets on the horizon. More often than not, he settled a brawl in a tavern or scared off a cutpurse, before his walk took him home to Coin Hill.
Soon after the new moon began, during his second month home, Farek found his walk took him down to the waterfront. He often didn’t go this far, this late, because it was a long walk home. On a whim, he walked into the Royal Whale.
A man and woman were sitting together on the porch, faces pressed together and arms entwined. The inside of the establishment devolved, by this point of the evening, into erratic cloisters of card players and drunks. Two barmaids that Farek recognized as employees were just sitting amidst some men that were playing at dice. No one noticed him enter until he got to the bar, and sat down two stools from Thrane.
The lord scowled when he noticed Farek. He finished the remnants of his mug, and then reluctantly waved Farek to a private table, against the far wall. Embroidered curtains hung across half the opening of each, so he held it open for Farek to shuffle into one of the table’s seats. Thrane drifted into the second, and the blue cloth relaxed back into place.
As Lord Thrane got situated, Farek blinked wide eyes mockingly and said, “Why, Thrane, have you been ignoring me?”
Dorgan Thrane had recently had his wiry grey hair cut, but he ran his hand over his head as though it was still like it used to be. “Thought I should give you some time to settle in first. Seems strange that you wanted to talk to me immediately after returning from a half-year’s absence,” he said dryly, a smirk on his face. “A man might think he’s been desperately missed.”
“Yes, I think we need a drink,” Farek said, and stuck his head out of the curtain. A third barmaid was actually attending the tables. Farek called for her to bring them two beers. “It’s on me,” he said, to both her and Thrane.
When he returned to their privacy, Farek was greeted by Thrane’s grimace. “What do you want, Farek?”
“I want to know if you learned anything new about a mutual group of ours,” Farek said.
Thrane chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “First, tell me why I should bother sharing anything with you,” he said. “You never trusted me, but I have been loyal to House Gallendris through thick and thin. My mercenaries were once captured and questioned, and now my competitors, the real traitors of Soros, regularly meet with your sister. I am a leper, to your House, and I never deserved that.”
“Have you ever trusted me?” Farek asked, perturbed.
The man scoffed, but then closed his mouth when the barmaid walked up with their beers. After she left, Thrane leaned forward. “Of course I have,” he said. “When you brought back my would-be assassin, I could have doubted you from the very first day. Instead, I agreed to speak with you. I shared with you.”
Farek nodded. “And have I personally tried to see you harmed?”
“No,” Thrane said, with pursed lips and a fair amount of thought.
Farek put his hands on the tabletop. “I know that you have helped me in the past, Thrane. Don’t think I overlook such matters as something that is simply owed me. I’ve come to speak to you as man who wants to protect what is important to him. I come to you as an equal for the protection of Soros, my family, and my friends. Are you not interested in the same?”
Lord Thrane listened to Farek attentively, then took a drink and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms and nodded. “I am,” he said. “And I want to trust you again. Tell me, why does your sister work with Lord Mavagar? He was our enemy when you left.”
“Mavagar has come clean with his deeds,” Farek shared. “I believe my sister is keen on the to keep her enemies where she can see them, I suppose.”
Thrane lowered his jaw. “He came clean about his involvement with House Viodro, or something more?”
Farek chose that moment to take a drink from his mug. If he shared too much, it could damage his relationship with Mavagar, and jeopardize Jannia’s plans. If he shared too little, Thrane would feel he was hiding something. He took another drink to buy time, then set it on the table. Thrane raised his eyebrows, so Farek said what was on his mind. “We can’t share details like that in a bar,” he told Thrane. “There’s too many people involved. If you really want open communication between our families, let’s set up a meeting with Jannia.”
“A meeting?” Thrane asked. He blinked, as though he hadn’t considered it, but a brief smile flashed across his features before he hid it. “Set it up,” he said, sternly.
“As a parting gift, then,” Farek said, “Will you share anything you’ve learned about the Organization?”
Thrane reluctantly raised a hand and obliged him. “Your warnings about the Organization half a year ago inspired me to delve deeper, but none of my spies, nor the spies that my spies knew, knew anything about it. So, I made a slightly more drastic plan. I arranged a meeting.”
Farek smiled.
“I advertised, in the right circles, that I wanted to take a hit out on a Lord of Soros,” Thrane whispered. “But instead of bringing the name of a target with me to the meeting, I brought a veritable fortune, and I bought myself a member of the Organization.”
“You bought a member?” Farek asked, surprised. “I would expect a group called the Organization to have a better, well… ‘organization’ of do’s and do not’s.”
“Trust me, Farek,” Thrane said, but then he started to laugh. They had just had a conversation on that very phrase. He shook his head and got back on track: “But, really, trust me that this was one of the priciest transactions in my last ten years. I promised him I could pay him more, if he ever thought of betraying my trust—but I would be hard pressed to spare the funds. I can’t have a secret group arranging the deaths of those involved in my schemes. We would be a lot happier, and richer, if we dismantle this Organization.”
“For the second time today, I think we can both agree on that.” Farek peered into his half-emptied mug. “Must be something in these drinks.”
Thrane chuckled and jokingly sniffed his own. But then he leaned forward and lowered his tone again. “The biggest thing I have learned so far is that a foreigner paid for a contract on the late Lord Reeyan. It wasn’t a slighted Lord of Soros. My contact didn’t have a name, or was too paranoid to share it.” Thrane scowled and took a drink, then mumbled, “And I thought I was the paranoid type—this Organization is something else entirely.”
“That is precisely why we need to figure out what are their goals.”
“Agreed,” said the other lord. “I am trying to get a better idea of their formation, rather than recent hits, but it’s a slow process.”
Farek sighed. “Do you know the true reason Reeyan was targeted?”
The other lord only shrugged. “It was a hired kill, explicitly what the Organization does. Only the individual who paid the coin would know the reason why.”
There had to be something more to it than that. There had to be a motive, and Farek needed to know it. “You’re a smart man; if you had to take a guess, why would you kill him? I’ve only been told he’s an incorrigible flirt with a pension for married, high-status women.”
“That’s all the reason I had ever considered. The bastard slept with my wife, over a year ago,” Thrane said. He raised his hands, open-palmed. “I didn’t kill him. In my opinion, there’s nothing can undo something like that, and nothing can change the temptations we all feel. My marriage is an economic thing; it will endure.”
All Farek could think about was the time, close to a year ago, when he had sneaked into Thrane’s estate and witnessed the man making love to a woman in his cellar. A woman that was not his wife. Farek drank more beer. So even Thrane doesn’t know why Reeyan died, he thought, but he had learned that the Organization was involved.
“Have you learned anything else about the Organization?” Farek asked.
Thrane shook his head. “All of this is recent—what, month before last?”
“Then I’ll set up an appointment with my sister in a couple week,” Farek decided. “Maybe you’ll learn more in that time?”
“I hope so,” Thrane murmured and finished his beer.