Lord Sha’s instructions for contacting one of his chief spies seemed needlessly convoluted. Nonetheless, Farek carried out the spy-craft as he had been told: he bought three apples from a particular market stall and asked the merchant if he could pay in Matriarch coins. The man scowled and told him, “No, only Grey Sea coins or Lo Mallago chips.” Farek shrugged and paid with Grey Sea coins.
After the seemingly pointless conversation, Farek’s instructions bid him wait in a nearby alley. Ayvim and Matek accompanied him so they chatted while they worked. They were disguised as dock workers, with baggy shirts, headbands, rough hair.
The man who eventually emerged from the depths of the dry alleyway was dressed even poorer. He wore tattered trousers and a stained waistcoat pulled over his sunburned skin. He smiled and bowed as he approached them, surprising Farek with perfect teeth. This was someone under a masterful disguise. “Who sent you?” he asked.
“Would you believe me if I said Sha himself?” Farek returned.
“That’s the only good answer,” the beggar said. “Where was he, last you saw?”
Farek raised one eyebrow. “Leaving the Gallendris estate,” he answered.
“Huh,” the spy leaned against the alley wall and looked Farek over once more. “Then you’ve just arrived here, I assume?” he questioned. “Haven’t heard Sha was done his work there, but if you knew he was there in the first place, I believe you were sent by him.”
“Glad to see I’m reputable somehow.”
The spy chuckled. “So, how can I help you, fine travellers?”
“What’s your name?” Farek asked.
“Reu.” The oily skinned man bowed again.
“Reu, have you been informed of what Sha has been doing at the Gallendris estate?” Farek asked. At a wave from him, his guards stepped a little farther away—not out of earshot, but enough to give the spy and Farek some space.
“Yes,” the spy replied. “He was questioning the saboteur.”
“Good,” Farek said. “Then I’m here to see if the saboteur is lying or not. You’ve been asked to look for Harloss by name alone, but now we have details. He is a man with short brown hair and an interlocking gold-chain-link arm clasp. He was protected by guards wearing the sigil of a blue hand.”
Reu’s eyes lit up at the last detail. “I… no, hmm.” The spy rubbed his chin and then spread his fingers to Farek. “Give me ten minutes—I must check my records.”
With a smile, Farek lifted one of the apples he had purchased and took a large bite. The man bowed again and hurried back down the alleyway. It looked as though it intersected another alley at the back, as well as a few back-doors of shops along the street. Farek watched him go, and then tossed the extra apples to his men, one to each.
They waited for at least twenty minutes before Reu returned. The spy was smiling again and started talking before he even reached Farek. “Lord Polanar has a sigil of a silver hand. His House is now in decline, thanks to the Rebel King and Polanar’s old allegiances before the Revolution. It is said that in his glory days, he honoured select members of his guards with a blue hand, representing their rank of distinction over the ordinary silver guards.”
At first Farek thought Harloss might have been Lord Polanar’s son, before doing the math. The Revolution had only been three or four years ago. The spy put his thoughts into words: “So the hunt for Harloss leads us to Polanar. Would you like the assistance of my fellow spies? We are on standing orders to assist in this investigation, until Lord Sha tells us otherwise.”
“That sounds delightful,” Farek assured him.
Reu nodded emphatically. “We’ll look into Polanar’s financials—see if he paid out the amount Lannon was given this year. Meet me here in two weeks. You know how to get in contact with me sooner, if you need.”
If I’m attending the treaty of the Grey Brethren and the Matriarchs, how much time do I have here? Farek wondered. He didn’t know when his sister would reply, but the voyage to Saanazar and back was close to a month—Farek would have at least that much time in Lo Mallago. With six weeks in a month, Farek could stand to wait two. He had already invited himself to dinner at Lord Wartha’s estate, to meet Ofena.
“May I ask you for some more information?” Farek asked.
“If it will help,” Reu agreed.
Farek smiled. “What can you tell me about House Wartha?”
Reu shrugged and crossed his arms again. “Their ironic—albeit tragic—story is pretty common knowledge here. Lord Wartha inherited his father’s debts and, as a young aristocrat, sold his childhood home, the town of Wartha Mull. The money paid for an estate in the city, a beautiful wife, and his next twenty years. Only—thirty years later, the new owners of Wartha Mull, House Jorath, discovered a massive gold vein in the mine.”
Oh my, Farek thought. He knew the rest of the story. House Jorath was killed off mysteriously and King Borik appointed Lord Reez Atho to rule Wartha Mull and its gold mine, which was still immensely profitable and feeding directly up to the Matriarchs. Some of that gold had even ended up in the Bank of Soros.
But Reu rolled his head side-to-side and belittled the tragedy. “Lord Wartha has been a successful business man, nonetheless. None but the wealthiest in Lo Mallago would mock his moment of misfortune now.”
“Perhaps it was luck that he didn’t discover it then,” Farek offered. “He may have met the same fate of Lord Jorath.”
“Perhaps,” the spy repeated, chuckling. “Likely, even.”
Though he assumed the Matriarchs had arranged Jorath’s death to fix their tribute from Borik, Farek decided to ask about it as well. “What really happened to House Jorath?”
Reu pursed his lips and considered how to answer. “How much do you know about the Rebel King?” he probed.
“I know he’s on the payroll of the Matriarchs now, though his original rise to power was orchestrated and funded by the Sheld criminal boss, Gharo,” Farek explained. This news was two years old.
The spy’s brows rose. “Not many know that much, even in our network. You must be very important to Lord Sha or the Empire, my friend.”
Farek had a fake name ready, but Reu didn’t ask. He smiled to the friendly collaborator and said, “Yes, we’re the best of friends.” It couldn’t be further from the truth.
Reu nodded. “I don’t know exactly what happened to Lord Jorath and his son, but I know enough to piece it together. They died before the Matriarchs dealt with Lerran of Sheld, which means the Matriarchs were not involved in the assassination. I suspect it was the Family of Sheld that did the deed.” After a moment, he shrugged and added, “But I could be wrong. There’s always some things above my pay.”
Farek grinned and extended his hand. “Thank you, nonetheless. And for your time.” He offered Reu a few coins. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
“As quick as I can, sir,” Reu replied, pocketing the tip. He waved to Matek and Ayvim, who were waiting patiently near the mouth of the alley, and then strode away into the shadows.
Farek watched him go and wondered, Why can’t spies in Soros be as friendly as he? All he had were unpleasant memories of Lord Thrane or worse—Sha.