When Farek asked if Matek could remain on account of his witnessing Polanar’s crimes, Matriarch Valakono waved her ring-laden fingers. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not believe there is much more to discuss about Polanar. Your man should remain in the hall with the other guards, unless needed.”
“Very well,” Farek replied. He gave Matek a nod and was promptly left alone with Valakono and Sha.
Their meeting had been served with wine and platters of fruit and bread. Farek took one sip of his wine and put the glass down. He wanted to stay sober for this conversation.
“On the matter of Polanar, I believe a swift execution at a discreet location would be best,” Valakono said, decisively. “Lord Sha and his oversight of the Lo Mallago venture assure me that a public execution would be difficult to explain to the other nobility in the city.”
Farek suppressed a sigh of relief. “Who will attend the execution?”
Sha—his normal smart-ass self—said, “An executioner.”
Even Valakono gave the Lord of Insight a glare. “Would you like to attend?” she asked. She held a glass of wine herself. All three had been sampled by a taster.
Farek nodded. “Yes. I need to see this through.”
Valakono and Sha shared a quick glance. Sha nodded, then drank from his own glass. The Matriarch inclined her head to Farek. “We’ll send a man to your quarters when the preparations are made—likely for the last day of the Moon.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Farek turned his glass between his fingers, but didn’t drink again. He was so tired, he just wanted at least one issue to be resolved.
Valakono let the conversation pause for a moment, then moved on: “I continue to struggle with the decision before us,” she said, at last. “It seems inevitable that we will face further assassination attempts, betrayals, and turncoats, as we face such a daunting adversary to the south. The more I think about it, the more I agree with your sentiments, Farek. We would be chasing shadows in vain while a real enemy looms.”
Lord Sha’s head wove, half-nod, half-shake. “Ignoring such dangers would be reckless though.”
Farek nodded. “Of course. Have you given more thought to my idea of conflicting information that is being spread about by spies? Fake letters, fake meeting rooms, fake decisions. All this will slow down their decisions as well.”
“My military advisors—in light of Coranno’s continued absence—urge that this would severely inhibit our capabilities to fight or act as allies,” Valakono said. “I must agree with them. I think the key to proceeding is simply increased security. We need our leaders to be protected, not confused.”
“There is nothing simple about protecting against the unexpected,” quipped Lord Sha.
The Matriarch nodded. “So how would you advise we accomplish just that?”
Lord Sha quietly rubbed his silvering brown beard. Farek didn’t have much to offer in the area of protection, so he waited. After a moment, the Lord of Insight gave a suggestion. “We would need a truly fearsome force. Even more than the Order of the Storm,” he said, referencing the highest order of defenders of the Atmos Septi. “And we need a list of policies for everyone with importance—to be followed to the letter. I mean, rigorous policies. Every meal and drink tested, procedures for protection when relieving oneself, secured couriers, rosters of acceptable guests. These policies would be known only to our valued hierarchy and to this… deadly order of guards.” Another moment passed as Sha continued to contemplate their discussion. “Your Highness, I still would advise that a better approach would be to hunt Haladia’s assassins down and make an example of them.”
Farek sighed. “By all means, try to find these assassins, but anyone would make an example of them. Sha, are you thinking these pirates can be intimidated?”
“The pirate fleet could not possibly be behind this attack,” Sha defended. “What would they gain by striking months before their earliest possible move against Radregar or Var Nordos? Any damage their assassin would have caused would be repaired by then. No, I agree with Master Erril—this is the work of a vengeful third party. We hunt them down, kill them, their families, their damned servants. Yes, this would delay the alliance or pre-emptive action against the Great Isle, but it would save us so much time in a year or two, if this war lasts. It would deter further schemes on our side of the battle lines.”
Valakono raised her hand to stop Lord Sha from speaking even more than that. “Enough,” she said. “Doing as you say would be playing directly into the plans of these assassins.”
“Only if we fail,” Lord Sha interjected.
“Enough!” Valakono barked, slamming her hand down.
Farek rubbed his forehead and pushed back in his chair. The Matriarch was right—Farek knew firsthand how much time could be wasted by chasing down assassins. That was what had brought him to the House of Kiaraka and Tarro’s threshold in the first place. “I agree we should keep security tight. But chasing assassins is foolish. The best way to catch one is to have one in your midst. Perhaps we could stage something to lure them to us.”
Sha took a sip of her wine. “If the man responsible for Haladia’s death did not come himself and die on the edge of Squora Village, then why would he show himself to any other bait? Even the vulnerability of another Matriarch would only warrant him hire another pawn.”
Valakono let him finish his words this time. “How would we acquire such an elite guard, as you earlier suggested? Hiring? Training those we have who already loyal?”
“It seems dangerous to simply hire one,” Lord Sha said, “at least through conventional means. Any man or woman we paid money would accept a greater amount of money from our enemies. We would need to train those already loyal. Or consider securing guards through a more complex deal. A political arrangement where there is more than money to be gained by the preservation of Noressi life.”
“Such as?” Valakono asked.
Farek listened intently. Lord Sha had a few ideas he hadn’t thought of: “We could offer permanent tenure for a mercenary company. Shelter and food on top of their pay for as long as none of our hierarchy are assassinated,” Sha said. “Or we negotiate a deal with another faction on Gethra who has reason to want the bandits dead—a faction we trust more than the Grey Brethren.”
“Who are you thinking of?” Farek asked.
“There is word of civil war in central Radregar, but between Elpan, Ith, and Vagren, is a dozen sizeable fighting forces. Providing one with capital and security would surely mean more for them than it would for a common mercenary or guard,” the spymaster said. “They are in no position to threaten us or wish us harm, simply because of geography. Similarly distant is the Empire of Numa’nakres, which has stood in peace and without major assassinations for the last two centuries. They have iron weapons and famous warriors. I’m not certain what we could offer as a bargain, but we have nothing to fear from them. Closer afield are the rumours surrounding the new government in Varravar—men and women capable of breaking down walls with their bare hands. It might be worth looking into that option.”
Farek raised his eyebrows. Intriguing, he thought. The people of Numa’nakres had always fascinated him, sailing by in their self-sufficient coupled barges.
“These all sound like they are worth considering,” Valakono said. “I would like you to look into it. Get Erril’s help, if you two can stomach working together—or even if you can’t. I would like to know what each would likely require for bargaining before we propose such a deal.”
Lord Sha inclined his head.
“Will you send word for the General to return?” Farek asked the aged ruler.
Valakono nodded. “Erril told me that Archpriest Hartho accompanied you here in order to begin an arrangement of exchanged investigators. We should decide who will be sent to Saanazar before we relieve those posted in Squora,” Valakono said. “I did say the assassins should be investigated—I just do not intend to commit sizable resources to a lengthy hunt. I have asked Erril to select a spy to go in his stead, so he may focus his efforts on our newer plans.”
Farek finally took a second sip of his wine. It seemed they had decided a direction, for better or for worse. He wondered where his future would take him, now that he was not chasing assassins anymore. Would he fight in the war, captaining a valiant warship? Or would he remain a delegate, trying to get factions to work together, like he had done in Squora? For the hundredth time he wondered if it was truly Tarro that commanded the Great Isle armies. If it was, Tarro was an unhinged madman. Who started a war over a small case of arson?
“The other matter weighing on my mind is that of succession,” Valakono said, surprising her advisors. “Haladia had two daughters and a son, so we could proceed with the system of inheritance. However, that will not replace Belsara’s seat. I need to carefully consider how to rebuild our government without stirring up too much unrest in our ranks.”
Farek raised his eyebrows. He had thought this meeting was done. He set down his wine glass once again.
Valakono turned to face him. “Farek, I need your honesty. Would your sister be offended if I overlooked her for such a promotion? I need the Bank of Soros running as it always has if we are to fight a war.”
Farek picked up his wine glass on cue. Someone else might become Matriarch before Jannia? he thought. It was more than just Jannia though. If Farek’s sister were coronated, Farek and Simi would become proper royalty as well. Their children, gods-willing, would continue the royal lineage as well. To be passed over for this opportunity would have been a punishment in another circumstance. Even Lord Sha was blinking and glancing between Farek and the Matriarch. Farek knew his sister would leap at the opportunity, but instead he said, “I think she would want this, but I would advise asking her first. She should make the choice to decline, if she decides. That way there would be no animosity since she had made her own choice. Make it clear that ill-will has no bearing in this matter.”
“Very straightforward,” Valakono said. “Thank you for speaking to this. I know how earnestly your family has served this government. Until I decide how to proceed, please respect the privacy of this meeting chamber. That goes for both of you.”
“Of course,” Farek said, bowing his head. “And Your Highness… I was not sure if anyone has said this to you yet. But I am sorry for the loss of Haladia.”
“Thank you,” the Matriarch said, her voice low and earnest. “I ruled for 50 years with Haladia and Belsara. I was their senior, but have outlived them. Once I make these decisions—war and successors—then there will be time to mourn. Our people still do not know she was taken from them.”
Farek nodded empathetically. Valakono was a tough woman, but she seemed rational and more grounded than Lord Sha—or so Farek hoped. This Matriarch would steer them through the troubled waters ahead. Meeting adjourned, Farek stood up and went to tell his men that Polanar would soon be executed.