The next few hours of Farek’s life were almost as confusing and depressing as the meeting of governments had been. Coranno tried having Devender teleport the dreadful news to Matriarch Valakono, but their agreed-upon lockdown of Squora prevented even that. The Grey Brethren were helping with manning a ring of patrols around the town, and sending a letter—even by carrier pigeon—would likely be prevented by archers.
Erril ranted about possible strategies for convincing the Grey Brethren to agree to an alliance without bartering for religious reformation. Farek asked if he could speak with the two later, and they invited him to their large pavilion that evening.
Reem had Jendar and the town watch going door-to-door. When Farek questioned him, Reem admitted he had never even heard of the poison before.
When Farek finally got back to Reem’s home, his guards asked what was happening. In response, Farek grabbed a chair from the main living area and hurled it against the wall, smashing it to pieces.
Once he had calmed down, he and his guards discussed all that had transpired. Matek shared that he had seen nothing out of the ordinary until Haladia drank the poison—on the contrary, he had been impressed by the ease with which the strangers had settled into a discussion for their future. Farek suspected that none of the parties in attendance had enough motivation for this crime. A dead Matriarch at a secret meeting was a bold statement.
Later, Farek and Matek crossed Squora to the west bank. Matek joined Coranno’s guards outside the pavilion, while Farek joined Erril and Coranno within.
“Gentlemen, I will speak plainly,” he began. Erril was already paying attention, but Coranno looked up from a map he had been studying—as if seeing the location of the military factions was somehow affected by Haladia’s sudden death. “Forgive my rudeness, but I have to ask two questions of you both. Erril, why are you here and not Lord Sha?”
Erril raised his eyebrows. He quickly replied. “Lord Sha is cleaning up a mess he made. In truth, he’s been losing the favour of the Matriarchs. Or… just the Matriarch now, I suppose.”
Coranno added, “Erril was instrumental in our last treaty with the Grey Brethren.”
Not good enough, Farek thought. “And what mess was Sha digging himself out of?”
Coranno scowled. The old man had almost no hair left, and kept his weathered jowls shaved as closely as he could. “Why the Matriarchs allowed you to come is beyond me,” he said. “Needless to say, Lord Sha’s business is beyond your privilege.”
Before Farek could heatedly reply, Erril held up both his hands, palms-out. “Farek has already been a great help, considering the circumstances. No need to be rude.”
Coranno shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He grabbed a glass of whiskey from the table and sipped it sullenly.
“He was at my home a few weeks ago,” Farek said, “and I’ve had the misfortune to see his work. I was merely curious, Coranno.”
“Theirs is a sloppy, cowardly business,” Coranno said, glaring at Erril.
“Regardless… do forgive me for what I ask next,” Farek said. “Is there any reason that Matriarch Valakono would want Haladia dead?”
Coranno stood up aggressively, but then paused, considering it. He sat back down. “I would say there’s not a chance,” he began, “but I’ve now lost two monarchs during my service, so what do I know?”
“Erril?”
The spy master tilted his head. “I still don’t see it. I don’t think it was her. This, to me, seems like the actions of a reckless, vindictive third party. Or even the work of our enemy across the sea. I just… I don’t know how they would have learned of this. Does the bandit horde employ spies?”
“The bandit horde may have a lot more then we realize.” Farek sat down near Coranno and poured himself a cup of the whiskey the General was drinking.
“It’s true. Did you know they are commanded by a magician?” Erril asked, pacing around. The canvas carpet showed he had already been pacing quite a persistent route around the tent.
Farek wished Sievus and Diaren had come along with the Matriarchs—what did they learn? Of course, Farek already knew about the magician who commanded the bandits. Not only had there been rumours, but Farek had been there, at the House of Kiaraka, at the start of all this. He glanced at Erril, thinking suddenly that this was his chance to clarify what he had long suspected. “Do you know more about this magician?”
“They say he’s the same magician who crushed the rebellion in Bellasa, in 1407.”
Coranno interjected with confusion. “That would make him what, ninety years old? Why would cutthroats follow him?”
Erril nodded. “He doesn’t look it. The bandits boast he’s their immortal bandit king.”
Tarro looked about sixty, Farek thought. But, Tarro had seemed like the sort to embrace the reputation of “immortal bandit king.” Regardless, whoever commanded their enemy was a mighty force.
“What about this Harloss character?” Erril asked. “Did you ever find him?”
Farek smiled. “Yes, actually. He’s at my quarters as we speak.”
“What?” Coranno asked. He nearly spilled his drink as he sat up straight. “Gods. Did he do this?”
“Hardly. He’s been guarded all night and day, and tied up like a pig.”
“He could have hired multiple assassins before you captured him,” Erril said, slowly. But then he shook his head. “It is a stretch. Damn it. I can’t get any answers while stuck here under guard like this. We need to force the alliance, quickly, and then investigate this further.”
“Considering he didn’t know I captured him when I did, I doubt it,” Farek said. He took a sip of his whiskey. It was a strong malt, more than he was used to drinking. “I brought him here to receive judgement from a Matriarch. I don’t suppose you have time for a trial, Coranno?”
The Grand General chuckled. He still wore his ceremonial armour—likely because he was waiting for an assassin to jump out at any moment. “Until we turn this town inside and out, I would be eager for it, let me say. Although, perhaps we should wait and see what Matriarch Valakono would want done with him? You tracked Harloss to Lo Mallago with Lord Sha’s permission, so I will yield to your decision on the matter.”
Farek bit his lip. He so badly wanted to shed responsibility here. He could just hand Polanar over to Coranno and be done with it. Or better yet, ask Coranno to take Polanar back to Valakono. But it could never be easy for Farek—he needed to see this through to the end. “This may be a selfish matter on my part, but may I accompany you back, Coranno?”
“Certainly. We expected you to return to Lo Mallago and continue your investigation, not to mention our other priorities there,” Coranno began, “but everything has changed now. Another reputable voice to report all this to Valakono would be most welcome.”
A sword rang out, from the other side of town. It was followed by another, and then a scream. The sounds of combat lasted only as long as it took for Farek and his colleagues to stumble out of the tent in a daze. The commotion had come from the north side of the town, equally as far from the Grey Brethren camp as their own. Coranno didn’t wait for a raft—he splashed through the shallows of the Sko River with his sword drawn. Farek followed, his boots filling with cool water. The sunset had left only a slight gleam of orange behind them, so the silver moon lit their way through Squora’s simple streets. Erril caught up soon enough, carrying a crossbow he had found in one of the tents.
They came upon the slaughter by the torchlight of an alarmed town watchman. There were six men scattered in the tall grass, pooled amidst blood and bugs. One man, wearing the circular sign of the Orrish, still lived—judging from the red stain of his torso, he would not for long. Farek grabbed the torch from the town guard as he stepped into the midst of the carnage. These men were all Grey Brethren—a patrol—except one. The man in the middle of them all was dressed in plain servant clothes; his dark hair glistened with blood, and, Farek realized by looking closely, he had an earring in one ear.
“We spotted him <cough> from the road,” the survivor said, and Farek looked over to see him. “He was trying to escape <cough> the underbrush. Then he turned on us… he… he wanted to die, I swear it. Fought like a snake.”
One of Coranno’s soldiers tore a traveller’s pack from the dead assassin’s body. More soldiers were running over, a mix of Grey Brethren and Noressi. They gave one another a wide berth, especially after seeing the dead warriors of Atmos in the trampled grassland. Speaker Serand shoved through the ranks to regard Farek and Coranno aghast. “What’s happened here?” he demanded.
“I think your men found our wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Farek said, showing his empty right hand as a sign of peace. He held the torch higher for all to see.
“Is he one of the villagers?” Ghomal asked, approaching with his lone protector.
“Reem?” Farek asked. “Matek, go find Reem.”
“I wouldn’t say he is,” Erril muttered, holding up the cloth sack. He started rummaging through, tossing aside provisions and a water canteen. He then removed a jar of thick yellow liquid and gently passed it to a soldier. Then, looking back into the sack, he sighed with anticipation. He removed a crumpled scroll. “Ah,” he said. “I would say this is a Grey Brethren seal.”
Farek stepped closer and examined the grey wax for its mark. There was a capital “M” and two swords embossed in the wax. “What does it say?” he asked.
Erril scanned the document quickly. “Orders to kill Matriarch Valakono in Squora,” he explained. He showed Coranno briefly. “It urges expediency in lieu of the date of our meeting. It arranges pay before and after—in Saanazar, ‘where we met,’ it says.”
“No signature,” Coranno pointed out.
Serand held out his hand next, and the General reluctantly passed the assassination orders. He tightened the roll of the document once more in order to compare the broken halves of the seal. “That’s Archpriest Morrus’ mark,” the Speaker said with surprise. He quickly skimmed the letter’s contents, then spread his hands. “Look around—this is a poor attempt to point blame. Why would the assassin kill our men if he was hired by one? Why no signature, but only a wax sigil, conveniently carried on his person?”
Farek pursed his lips. He was inclined to agree with Serand. “Erril?” he asked.
The gaunt spymaster shrugged. “It’s amateur all over,” he explained. “Not the assassin, but the logic here. If this is a double-bluff… gods, I’m the only spy with whom the Grey Brethren have worked who would be able to pull it off. No, I’m inclined to agree with the Speaker. This assassin had the letter to plant it and happened to get caught instead.”
“Someone is trying very hard to have us at each other’s throats,” Farek murmured.
“They are,” Serand agreed. “Assuming I live to return to Saanazar, I will make it a priority to investigate the location of Morrus’ signet ring. For all our sake’s, we must learn who this is.”
For a moment, they watched the Grey Brethren soldiers arranging the slain guards for burial. Then Erril said, “It’s late. Let us reconvene in the town hall tomorrow morning, yes?”
Serand nodded, though Coranno looked at Farek expectantly.
Farek only looked down at the slashed bodies. “Yes,” he said, “though I won’t get much sleep tonight.”
“None of us will,” Archpriest Par added, standing among the guards behind Speaker Serand.
Two of Coranno’s guards carried torches as they escorted Farek and his peers back toward their camp. Farek remembered his original eagerness to attend such an important meeting. Now he remembered why he hated politics. There were too many enemies, and too few trustworthy allies.
Coranno walked with a scowl hewn into his features. “Damned spies and their games,” he mumbled. “Bluffs and double-bluffs and forged letters… It’s all lies.”
“Wouldn’t be spies otherwise,” Farek said, though he didn’t disagree.
Erril’s voice replied with urgent genuineness. “It wasn’t them, General. I’m sure of it and you need to be, too. Serand is innocent of today’s crimes.” The spy led the way with a brisk pace.
Farek was too exhausted to voice his agreement… or even to seriously consider Erril’s logic. Matek finally caught up, having left Reem at the site of the crime, and reported to his lord again. Together, Farek and Matek set out for their quarters in Squora. Hopefully the sunrise would bring new clarity to their deliberations.