The table was set with plates of garlic seared venison, bowls of moist fruit, and a basket of fresh bread. The aroma made Farek’s stomach growl and, he had eaten only an hour ago. Long-neck flasks of cider and ale were companioned by pots of gravy and beakers of honey, while a small bowl of sugary jam cornered the main nourishments.
Lannon had been sitting in front of the table for nearly twenty minutes before Farek casually entered. Farek chose a honeyed date from one of the small dishes and popped it into his mouth. He smirked at its sweetness and settled into the armchair across from his starved captive. Lannon regarded Farek dully and said nothing, so Farek leaned forward and poured a single goblet of red wine. He leaned back again, sipping it.
After what felt like five minutes had passed, Lannon finally snarled and settled into a rant. “Don’t you get it? The little amount you have been feeding me is the amount of food I will eat every day for the rest of my life, if I tell you a single one of my secrets. No one would hire me again, not for any job. Assuming you even let me live—or the people who hired me do.” Then, scowling and leaning back, the malnourished captive mumbled amidst his breath, “So eat up your feast, your lordship. I’ll learn contentment with meagre morsels.”
Farek blinked. “I could give you no food at all, but I have not. Instead, I lay a feast before you and you tell me you are content without it? I assume when you are hired you are paid for your services. Or are you just ‘content’ to do it for a few coins?”
“No one hires a snitch.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Farek urged. “You and I both know your reputation was ruined the moment I caught you. Tell me what you know, and you can have everything on this table.”
Lannon chuckled. “Just so I can have one lavish last supper? You are right, my reputation is ruined. Probably my life too. By all the gods, how would one meal change that?”
“I never said what would happen after you eat this. For all you know, you get to walk out of here with a full belly, or you could die hungry.”
Lannon let out a long sigh. He was tied to his own chair, an inch or two shorter than Farek’s. He looked down, still ignoring the laden table. After a moment he said, “We’re going in circles, milord. There’s nothing for me when I walk out of here. I have as much to look forward to in this room as I do on a sailboat or the road.”
“You don’t value your own freedom? Who cares about reputation when you can decide who you will be today, or the day after, or the next week?” Farek asked, leaning forward. “In here you’re only one thing and I can promise you that you’ll never be anything else.”
“Would you rather give up your position in your family, your wealth, reputation, name, and become a beggar, impoverished and miserable? Or die a swift death after a life of thrill?”
Farek let the criminal’s words hang in the air unanswered for a moment. He let the man think he was persuading Farek in some way, then pointed out, “I don’t believe I’d be a beggar, or if I did I wouldn’t be for very long. I’m beginning to think you are a very pessimistic man.”
“If you were a mass murderer, you would surely live as a beggar for as many days as you had left,” Lannon growled. He ground his teeth in frustration. They were going in circles.
Farek shrugged. “I could put you on a boat and send you far away from here to start a new life with enough money to make something of yourself again.” He started to pour more wine.
Lannon sighed emphatically and shook his arms against their braces. “Now we’re talking!” he exclaimed. “I want five thousand Grey Sea coins and the fastest galley you can find.”
With a scoff, Farek leaned back with his full goblet. Five thousand was a fortune. It was close to a third the amount that the Matriarchs had paid to the crime family of Sheld in order to purchase the city of Lo Mallago. It only made sense when Farek considered the math. Lannon wanted to live comfortably for another forty years, likely.
“Five thousand is hardly inconspicuous,” Farek argued. “It would be stolen, or you would be killed before you could even spend any of it.”
“You leave that to me,” Lannon said, winking.
“You have to tell me everything, then,” Farek bartered. He was paying for a damned fortune of intelligence, if he was paying a single pence of it.
Lannon nodded solemnly. “When I am on a ship with the coins, I will.” He leaned forward and contorted his voice like a paranoid person. “Face-to-face, so you can still kill me if I bite my tongue or st-stutter.”
“You have to be jesting,” Farek laughed. “You would be one of the grandest investments I have ever paid for—I need to know what I am buying. Tell me one thing in exchange for this food, as a starting point.”
“I will tell you one thing to seal the deal, not for your food. For the ship and the coin.”
Farek took a sip of his wine and started to smile. “Not a chance. I have a better idea. You tell me one thing now and I make sure you are treated nicely when I give you to my sister. See if you can convince her of your price. The Mazaar of Soros drives the hardest bargain on Var Nordos. Torturously so, you might say.”
For a moment, Lannon was quiet enough that Farek could hear his strained breathing.
“Gods…” the captive murmured.
Farek shrugged.
Then Lannon leaned forward and spat toward him. “I hope whoever tried, tries again and both your sisters get blown to pieces. Then after you’re done with me, they’ll come for you and you’ll wish you had agreed to my deal. You’ll pray to all the gods for it to end….” Lannon’s tirade devolved into cussing and threats of death. He strained upward against his bonds, ropes cutting into his skin.
“What kind of person pays five thousand to a murderer? You didn’t even try to make it feasible.” Farek started to stand up.
Lannon’s foaming mouth continued to spew profanities. As he yanked against his bindings, Lannon managed to shake his chair far enough forward that he could slam his head forward. Blood splattered from his nose, and he looked up at Farek bewildered. “I’m never going to talk, you leprous fool! Never!” He slammed his face down again, just as the guards burst in from the door and rushed to restrain him.
Farek let his breath out slowly and flung his hand dismissively. “Get some more guards. We shouldn’t let this food go to waste,” he told the soldiers as they dragged the prisoner, kicking and screaming, out of the cell.
Later, as he reflected about the dramatic questioning, Farek decided that, though he may have broken Lannon, he had broken him in the wrong way. He doubted he would be able to gain anything from the rabid man without resorting to even more drastic means—means that would render any coerced insights untrustworthy. At dinner, he told Devender to pack his belongings and prepare Matek for travel; it was time to return to Soros.