The morning air of Squora was cooler than Farek had expected. The dry stretch of the Barren Road brought a chill each night, like a portent of the blistering heat to come when the sun rose. That ominous impression persisted for Farek’s walk through the village roads. His father’s sword was strapped to his waist. When he had buckled it to his belt the day before, he had not expected to need it. Today, he didn’t know what to expect.
Coranno and Erril had already arrived at the Squora Town Hall, as well as Ghomal of Eastpoint. Coranno waved for one of the kitchen staff to pour Farek a mug of coffee from a pitcher. Then, one of Coranno’s personal aides sampled the drink. At last, it was passed to Farek—after the process which could have, and should have, saved Matriarch Haladia’s life.
Before he sat down with his mead, Farek glanced at Ghomal. The Councillor strode back and forth along the empty Grey Brethren table, occasionally pausing to tug on the braided ponytail of his thick black hair. His elite protector stood nearby, arms crossed, gazing out from the frame of a thick beard—he locked eyes with Farek, then returned his concerned expression to his anxious boss.
“Ghomal,” Farek said, and the Councillor paused, regarding Farek with deep-set grey eyes. “What do you think of all this? Do you agree with our assessment, that the Brethren are victims of a set-up?”
“How can we face an enemy that can kill us even here, in the midst of secrecy and security?” Ghomal ranted. He returned to his pacing. “This was a mistake. My position in Eastpoint is far more vulnerable than the Matriarchs or the Archpriests. I have made myself a target!”
“We are all targets regardless,” Farek said. He had seen it a dozen times over the last year or two—simply being a person of authority put a bullseye on his back. “The people behind this don’t seem to be the kind who want to bargain or make peace. They will simply take what they want.”
“I suspect whoever did this imagined pitting the Atmos Septi against the Empire of Noress,” Erril pointed out. “We each control significant fleets and land…. I doubt our enemy could accomplish as much by acting against you or Eastpoint.”
Coranno rubbed the tabletop with a calloused hand and glowered at Erril. “Assuming that our real enemy isn’t camped on the outskirts of this very town…”
Ghomal caught Coranno’s line like a sign from the sky. “Wait, do you think there is a chance that the Grey Brethren are behind it?” he questioned intently. Erril glanced at Farek with a dismayed expression.
“We don’t know anything and it’s useless to suspect each other right now,” Farek snapped, interrupting the General and Councillor’s spiralling tirade. “The whole point of this attack was to split us up. If the Grey Brethren did it for some mad reason, then all they would have to do is feign ignorance and flee, saying that their lives are at risk, too. That would be an easy out, but they’ve been cooperative instead. Besides that, they had nothing to gain, losing their best chance to strike up a powerful deal with the Matriarchs.”
“There are a dozen other reasons they did not flee,” the Grand General said, continuing his tale of conspiracy. “They came here to show us the consequences of not allying with their god. See, now you both are more likely to agree blindly to such a preposterous indoctrination—”
Speaker Serand entered the Town Hall without warning, and Coranno cut himself short. It was unclear what the priest had heard. His two Archpriests entered behind him.
“Thank you for coming, Brothers,” Farek intoned. He held out a hand toward their seats and finally sat down himself.
As he claimed a central seat at the second table, Serand bowed politely and said, “I apologize for our tardiness. I sought communion with Atmos, given recent events. In light of yesterday’s tragedies, we would like to offer a more lenient proposal. Let us plan a truce and an investigation to get to the bottom of this savage attack. Then, we may discuss the terms of our alliance in safety, when the time is right.”
Farek nodded. “I think, given the situation, this is the best we can do. Everything will have been wasted if we don’t work together in some way.”
Erril tipped his head approvingly, while Coranno continued to scowl. The old General’s theory—that this was all a ruthless conversion method—fell flat against Serand’s apparent willingness to do away with such bargaining chips.
“I think we must be transparent in this matter,” the Speaker said. “I suggest we each send a representative to join and observe one another’s investigations. For example, Archpriest Hartho and some guards would be willing to accompany your party back to Noress.” Hartho, of the Sage’s Creed, hardly looked thrilled by this prospect. Serand added, “As a measure of good faith.”
“Coranno, could we send one of your men to accompany the Speaker and his group back to Saanazar?”
Erril spoke on the heels of Farek’s words. “No, we should send someone of authority,” he said. He smiled at Farek—not meaning to undermine his words in a malicious way. “Archpriest Hartho is surrendering himself to our hospitality. Given the circumstances, I suspect he may fear a prison in his near future. We should offer something of similar selflessness.”
“Of kind?” Coranno asked, incredulously. “You’re suggesting a governor or a Noressi lord go with these… priests.” He said the last word with forced politeness.
“Who do you suggest?” Farek asked Erril.
“I could go,” Erril said, “if you think Matriarch Valakono would allow it. I can lend my skills to determining Archpriest Morrus’ innocence, if the Creeds allow me to assist.” Serand agreed with a quick bow of his head.
“I think we need you to report to Valakono,” Farek said. “The General may face punitive measures if his failure is not explained, and I am only one voice. In fact, I think it may be impractical to send any of us three.” He was thinking out loud. How could they send someone from Noress without first reporting? They could not. “We should report to Noress first, then make this exchange of investigators.”
“And permit the Brethren to leave unhindered? What of transparency then?” Coranno objected.
“We cannot ask Hartho to accompany us without giving Serand a guest of similar significance,” Erril insisted. The thin man held a glass of wine, though it was morning. Farek had yet to see him drink from it.
“Perhaps we should arrange a shorter venture first, while many of us remain here in Squora,” Archpriest Par said. “Myself and the Speaker may remain with whomever you choose, while Hartho and the others report to your Matriarch and choose a delegate to accompany us to Saanazar.”
Ghomal nodded approvingly. “I could accept these terms. In Squora, your matched military strength enforces peace. I will remain here until this tense truce is resolved.”
Coranno begrudgingly grunted his agreement.
Farek’s greatest fear with this plan was to return to Squora to find Coranno’s anger had gotten the better of his reason. What if the General acted against the Speaker and Archpriest Par? His moodiness could undermine all their work and play into the assassin’s plans. He and Erril would need to discuss this with Coranno to ensure he kept the peace. And all of this was a waste of time—the war would not wait for yet another mystery to be solved.
“Are we in agreement?” Erril asked, glancing expectantly at Farek.
Farek nodded reluctantly and rose to his feet. “Many more lives than just your own rest in your hands—be wise, sirs. We will be as quick as we can with Valakono and return.”
After the meeting was adjourned, Farek and his fellow delegates returned to the camp on the west side of the river, to discuss their decision—and to urge Coranno to have patience. Later, Farek asked Ralla if she would remain in Squora to be his eyes and ears. Devender, Matek, and Ayvim would be accompanying Farek to Noress-That-Was; their prisoner, Polanar, would be brought to the capital to face Valakono’s judgement. Farek ordered Ralla to report to Lo Mallago by foot if Squora fell into chaos or bloodlust. The next two days were full of logistical debate—which ship and how many guards would sail to Noress with an Archpriest as their guest? Then, at last, Farek set sail for his homeland, once again.