The day after their arrival in Squora, Reem came to tell Farek that the town had agreed to allow visitors to use their alehouse. It would work out favourably for their income, and, according to Reem, show proper “Squora hospitality.” Farek made certain that at least two of his guards always stayed at the house with Polanar, but he went that night with Devender and Matek.
Farek managed to piece together the story of Lo Mallago’s sale from stories some locals at the alehouse told him. Squora had been the site of that meeting, too, between Lerran of Sheld and Matriarch Valakono. The villagers didn’t know about Lo Mallago of course. They knew only the parties that had attended, but Farek knew the rest. After Lerran returned to Sheld from this very town, the Matriarchs had schemed his downfall with the Grey Brethren. It still shamed Farek to know the dark deeds of his government, but he could only work toward avoiding them in Soros.
The townspeople didn’t speak much about the bandit threat on the Great Isle. Their safety was largely in the hands of their nearby allies, Sheld, and whoever endeavored to protect that city. Jendar, the sergeant in Squora, had worked to increase the size of their fighting force and regularly martialled his subordinates for training.
Over a few drinks, Farek asked Jendar about his bad experiences with magicians. He politely waited with this question until the second day, when Devender offered to remain at Reem’s place in lieu of one guard. Jendar kept his explanation short and sparse. He told Farek that he had been “loyal to the wrong people,” or that the people to whom he was loyal had crossed the wrong people. “Squora is a good place—it’s a good job,” Jendar said.
Farek liked the man and really understood where he was coming from—to suddenly face the true consequences of his own actions.
On the 19th, Ralla came to Farek with news. She burst in the front door of the house, and called, “Sir, someone’s coming up the river!”
Farek had Ayvim and Matek stay on guard, before heading out with Ralla and Devender. They made it to the main road before they spotted the rowboats on the Sko River. They accompanied a small galley flying a long sky-blue banner. The sigil they displayed was a large white circle overlapped with a small curved grey section. That was the Orrish falling onto the world, Farek knew. These were the Grey Brethren delegates.
“Out of the way, please,” a stern voice called. Farek and his friends hurried off the road, for a wagon was trundling along, pulled by two grey donkeys. Despite the reputation for its severity, the Barren Road seemed to always be bustling with passersby heading for Lo Mallago or Sheld. That, Farek figured, was probably the end of their meeting’s confidentiality.
The rowboats of the Atmos Septi moored a mile down the river from Squora and, after meeting on the banks with Reem, they began to set up camp in the dry grassland east of the village. There were thirty or forty people in their delegation—twenty of them were soldiers, a handful were servants, ten were priests with grey robes, and the remaining three wore grey robes with bright red or purple shoulder mantles.
From previous conversations, Farek knew that Devender had spent a few years studying in Saanazar. When asked about it, he had told Farek, “I don’t believe in their Sky God’s legitimacy any more than I do the legitimacy of the Eternal Emperor of the West.” Despite this, he recognized the massive institution that the Grey Brethren was, he respected the stability it brought to many regions, and he approved of their focus on scholarship.
Watching the delegation set up their camp, Farek asked his friend, “Do you know who those three are?”
“Those are some of the Archpriests,” he explained. “The religion is divided into the Five Creeds and those are their leaders. I don’t recognize two of them beyond their rank, but that man—with the greying beard—that’s the Speaker, Serand. He’s not technically an Archpriest, as the Speaker’s Creed is commanded by a different Archpriest, but he serves as a chairman of sorts on the Council of Archpriests. You could say he’s the leader of the whole religion.”
The Archpriests’ tents were the first to be assembled, and the esteemed men did not help with the work of their servants beyond that. One watched the town for a few moments, while the others had already retired into the privacy of their makeshift quarters. They had put on quite an arrival, but Farek knew the Matriarchs would likely match it when they reached Squora. He had expected them to have arrived already.
Of course, Farek had arrived from thin air without so much as a poof, so he couldn’t be one to judge the entrances of others.
Before Farek and his friends were done watching the newcomers’ business, a group of guards set out toward the alehouse. Farek led the way back to Reem’s home—though he would rather chat with the Grey Brethren guards, he had something else in mind.
When Farek marched through the door, Ayvim looked up from a game of cards with Matek. As soon as Farek started speaking, the cards were stacked and removed from the table. “Ayvim, Ralla, I want you two chatting with Grey Brethren guards over at the alehouse. Matek, you’re with me. It’s about time we spoke with Master ‘Harloss’ again.”
“And me?” Devender asked.
“Don’t go far,” Farek said, “Just in case.”
The door into the storeroom was unlocked with a small bronze key. Farek followed Matek into the room and stood quietly in front of Polanar for a moment. Their prisoner sat between crates with his hands tied in front of him, his feet tied to the chair legs, and his mouth gagged by a strip of cloth. Farek had been so angry that he almost had forgone this follow-up questioning, but now he wanted to have one more exchange with the slanted lord before turning him over to the inevitable arrival of Farek’s government.
“Remove the gag,” he told Matek.
Matek wasn’t gentle, but Polanar didn’t cry out. He worked his chapped lips, licked them, and then, looked back at the floor. Farek waited a moment, but the Lo Mallago lord said nothing. “You must know who I am by now,” Farek said.
“I do,” he said. His voice was quiet and his throat hoarse. “What I don’t know is why I’m still alive.”
Farek shook his head. “While you chose underhanded methods to hurt my family, I can’t seem to bring myself to stoop to your level.”
“So, am I to rot in some cell? Or will you hand me over to your queen crones?”
Farek lifted his shoulders in disbelief and frustration. “Yes, I think it’s only fitting that you should have to face the ‘queen crones’ who you despise so much.” He glanced at Matek, but shook his head when the guard, standing behind their prisoner, raised a hand to swat the disrespectful captive. Farek stepped closer to Polanar. “Did you really think you would get away with this?”
The middle-aged man shrugged as best he could in his restraints. “Oh, what does it matter?”
“You’ve murdered innocent people,” Farek snapped, “So I should hope this matters.”
“Innocent?” Polanar asked, raising his eyebrows. “Not one of us are innocent—down here we’re all just lying and scheming and killing. I had hoped to get away with the first—so that I could go on to kill your sisters, the Matriarchs, the spy masters, and all their damned friends next. Did I think I would survive all of that? Not really. So, get it over with, or let me get back to sleep.”
“My sister was innocent. She had no dealings with Lo Mallago. My servants were innocent. They fed my family to provide for their own,” Farek ranted. “It’s easy to say no one is innocent to justify horrible actions, but it takes a better man to recognize that not everyone deserves death because of mistakes or ignorance. You look like a man who has forfeited his life to laziness.”
Polanar listened dully, then looked down again. He had said all he cared to, it seemed.
Farek stepped closer again, forcing the prisoner to meet his eyes. Polanar’s greens were webbed with red lines and blue bags hung under each. Farek said, “Your death will be lazily delayed as fitting punishment for your lunacy.” Then he walked away. Devender’s words, three days past, had made it even more obvious to Farek. This was the right course of action.
Matek locked the door behind him as they left.