At Norrey’s Pub, Farek finally found his trustee guards and adventurers. They were a talkative bunch, though it could have been on account of already emptying a handful of white drinking horns. Matek spotted Farek first, and they all insisted on buying a drink for him before he arrived—that meant three drinks. Norrey chuckled and obliged, then gave them some space.
He finished the first while asking what they were each up to. Diaren spoke with pride that he had recently taken up reading, but Sievus and Matek hurriedly pointed out that he sometimes asked the merchants or employees he’s guarding what some of the words were.
Sievus leaned back on his bar stool and told Farek about his own exploits. It turned out that he had invested most of the money from their sizeable journey to the Great Isle into the Bank and was already gaining interest payments on it.
Farek grinned. “Smart man,” he said. “What about Matek?”
The others grinned, but forced Matek to reluctantly explain himself. After his brush with death, it seemed, the mercenary was trying to find a woman to fall in love with. He frequented taverns and parties and any other social outing he could find, though he didn’t like large groups.
“A man of romance,” Farek teased. Then he leaned back in his chair and slid the envelope from his pocket. He had written a very important letter, earlier that day. It was more than a brief distraction from his dull financial work; it was addressed to Gravagan. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news, my friends.”
“What is it?” they asked in unison.
Farek didn’t tell them the contents. He would tell them where to go—to Aloor, where Gravagan had said he would go last year, where he had said a contact could be found to reach him. But he didn’t tell them the questions he had written inside. He had asked who Tarro was, the man who had lived in the House of Kiaraka, now scourging that land with bandits. He had asked what of Gravagan’s prophesy. And, in postscript, he had asked if Gravagan knew anything of the magician Devender Akursh, who now asked the Gallendris household to trust him.
“I’m going to have Diaren and Matek deliver this letter overseas,” Farek told them. He watched as Matek’s face skewed, then chuckled. “I meant Diaren and Sievus. After all, we need to add to that investment fund, right?”
Sievus grinned. “We do indeed. Make me rich, milord.”
“I intend to,” Farek said.
Matek, the relieved romantic, took a drink of his ale. “Thank you, sir. I just might be able to meet someone before you get me killed…”
Farek gasped. “I would never! I like to think our adventures defy death itself. Think of all the women you’d attract if you told them our heroic stories of robbing drunk men in the streets and setting buildings ablaze.”
“That makes me sound like a no-good scoundrel,” Matek grumbled.
“Well you have to have a way with words much like myself,” Farek replied.
This brought laughter from all three of his friends. Defensively, he asked them what the matter was, and Diaren explained, “Begging your pardon, sir, but doesn’t the money also help?”
Farek scowled. “It never hurts,” he admitted, “but I’d like to think I’m the real treasure.” Even Norrey joined in all the hollering laughter, that time. Farek shrugged and started his second beer.