It had been a long week, settling into his new office, and Lerran was almost ready for a break. As Gadra was speaking, he was looking at his new desk, once battering ram, and its random scratches. He would need to get it sanded and polished, he decided. They had already repaired the doors of Gharo’s old office.
“I can do it,” Gadra said. “Put me in charge of our smuggling ops.”
Lerran sighed. “I need you to take care of the Lo Mallago project. You’re the one I trust the most for it.”
Gadra rolled her eyes and sipped the malt she had poured for herself. “That was Father’s project,” she said. “I’ve no interest in his interests.”
“But the Family does. There is money, and influence, and power to be had in running that city. And we don’t want Father to have that,” Lerran explained. “Go to Lo Mallago. Reaffirm our allegiance with the revolutionaries and make sure Father isn’t involved. The pay will be good, and it’ll be temporary.”
Gadra said nothing, and drank more in frustration.
“Before you know it, you’ll be home again, running that city like Father did, from a desk.”
“Fine,” Gadra said. “But the pay had better be really good.”
Lerran shook his head and took a drink again. He needed a heavier drink. He’d been meeting with everyone, from the three property guard captains—whose loyalty was critically relevant—to members of the Lord Employers of the city itself. Isar was now his personal guard as well.
“I’ll leave in a few days,” Gadra said, at last. “And I’ll be taking an escort.”
“Of course,” Lerran said. He smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything else for my sister.”
She excused herself, and he heard her talking to Eseveer outside the office; his other sister was still content as secretary of his business. Lerran stood up and cleared off the paperwork from his desk. He glanced at Gharo’s safe, still locked, near the curtained windows of the office; he’d have to get a locksmith in. The Family employed a few.
His business for the day finally complete, Lerran exited the mansion and strode down the porch into the front courtyard. To his left, a handful of barracks spanned toward the compound’s wall, while to the right was the stable and then the Emerald Eye tavern. He marched past the horse stalls and climbed the stilted stairs of the inn. It was mid-afternoon and the drinking house was a little more busy than the last time he had been there.
To his surprise, he saw Paksis was still there. The strange woman was sitting at a corner table now, staring sullenly at employees of the Family who were playing a game of cards nearby. She noticed Lerran as he walked into the room, and nodded to him, before looking back down into her drink.
He needed to figure her out. At the bar, he asked for a rye and another of whatever Paksis was drinking. Presented with two wooden cups, he strode across the room. He paused beside her table; she looked up with a little surprise. “Can I join you?” he asked.
“Alright,” she said.
He sat down, and slid her beer across the table to her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I hear the name Lerran now carries more weight… I wasn’t sure if I should stay when I heard the sounds of fighting last week. Not that fighting scares me, but… never mind.”
“But, what?” Lerran asked, irked. Her lack of answers was so irritating to him.
Paksis blinked. “You’re persistent…”
“And you’re not telling me a thing,” Lerran asked.
Paksis took a drink, finishing off the cup she had already been holding. “My only concern is why you might want to know my past. You’re a complete stranger… But ultimately, it doesn’t matter to me. There’s nothing you can do about me anyway.”
“I just like getting to know people who visit,” Lerran said.
Paksis laughed. “Fine. But not here. I’ll tell you a fantastical story, in private.”
“Let’s go for a walk then,” Lerran said. He took another sip of his rye, then stood up. The card players nearby had quieted down a bit since their chief had appeared in the room.
Paksis blinked. “I’ve got another whole beer here,” she said.
“No one will stop us,” Lerran said, picking up his cup. They walked down the stairs together to the first floor of the tavern. It was a lot busier, nosier and more smoky down there. The air smelled like twenty different things, but it was a lot fresher as they approached the front door.
Outside, it had started to drizzle, but not much.
“So, you’re not afraid of a fight, and you’re trying to forget your past…” Lerran began, after a moment.
Paksis just took a drink. For a few more minutes they walked in silence. There was a garden planted behind the inn, that followed the outside wall of the estate around the mansion to the barracks, though there was a busy training field on that side of the property. They passed a few flowering trees. Then she spoke up. “I used to live in High Raena. I grew up there, I had a family there. I can’t remember how long ago it was… I can’t remember anything about it, aside from that. I was taken, and that’s what I remember.”
“Taken,” Lerran repeated.
“I didn’t always look like this,” she explained. “The people who captured me changed me. They messed with my thoughts too, trying to make me someone else… They were creating weapons; I wasn’t the only one. There were three of us, though there may be more now.”
“Sounds like an interesting past… What do you mean ‘they were creating weapons’?”
“I’m stronger than anyone you’ve met before,” she said. “I’m fast too. I remember everything in vivid detail, since then. I can tell you about ever person I’ve seen since I’ve been here. And good luck trying to kill me.”
Concerned, Lerran asked, “What do you mean ‘kill you’?”
Paksis smiled. “I meant only that among my abilities, I’m difficult to harm…”
“What are you talking about?” Lerran asked, and he drank a big mouthful of his rye. This stranger had gone from odd to likely short of her faculties.
“Watch,” she said. She finished off her beer quickly, and then held out her hand with the wooden cup held between her fingers. With a squeeze, she collapsed the cup into splinters, then dropped the broken pieces into the grass.
Lerran blinked. “Guess we should go back and get another round.” He finished his and tried the same, but couldn’t even bend his mug. They started walking back toward the Emerald Eye.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Paksis said. “And honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you think I’m mad. Those magicians who did this to me, they had plans for me. I’ve… done things I should not have, but I feel like I was asleep until that happened… Now I just don’t want to go back.”
“What kind of things…?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Paksis said, quickly. Then she spoke more introspectively. “I’m different now. Virn had the right idea… I should have listened to him.”
“Who is Virn?” Lerran asked.
Paksis sighed. He worried he was bothering her, but if what she said of her strengths was true, she could stop talking anytime. She explained, “He was the youngest of us, the most recent changed human. He decided to flee, but neither I nor Nerediil went with him. Then they started training us to hunt him down… that’s how I got away.”
They were almost back at the inn, when a messenger in green came running up. He was holding a sealed letter and said, “Master Lerran, this just came for you. Someone brought it to the guards at the gate, said your eyes only.”
Lerran took the letter, but tucked it away. “Thank you,” he said, dismissing the errand runner. He looked at Paksis.
“Thank you for your kindness,” Paksis said. “I won’t keep you from your business.”
Lerran smiled and climbed the front steps with her. He stepped inside but one step, and raised a hand to the barkeep. A quick gesture to Paksis ensured she’d get her next drink from them on Lerran’s authority alone. “I’ll talk to you again soon,” he told her, as she went to find a table again. Before he left, he had them refill his own cup.
He decided to head back to his office before reading the new correspondence. He nodded to Eseveer as he passed her in the hall. “Back again?” she asked. She kept her brown hair short, and had a small red tattoo on her shoulder, visible within her wide-collared, loose hanging shirt.
“Just for a letter,” he said. He closed his office door, shrugged out of his stiff black jacket, and sat down. With the dagger on his desk, he slit the unmarked wax seal, and opened the folded parchment.
“To Lerran of Sheld,” he read quietly. “You have completed your side of our bargain, by claiming control of your Family. I will now uphold my side.”
He checked the signature before continuing. Havard’s name was displayed boldly at the bottom of the page. He continued to read: “Your brother Renado and your uncle Vanci were caught during the hurricane that rocked the Grey Sea earlier this year. I’m sure you remember it. They chose risk over certain death, and set anchor at the Isle of Dusk. That place is a sacred place for magicians, unclaimed ground even from such manipulative claimants. Rather than deal with Vanci and Renado, they cast a spell to send that ship to its destination. Sheld. Your brother and uncle will reappear in your harbour, unharmed, though I cannot say when. Teleportation is a tricky mistress. Havard.”
Lerran set down the letter. He didn’t know how much he could believe of the plotting Kedar man. There were layers of religion, magic, secrecy, and ulterior motives that shrouded Havard’s Brothers entirely. Nonetheless, Lerran felt a great relief at the assurance that his brother and uncle were still alive. And that they would return.
He glanced around his Father’s office. Ren sure find a lot of differences in his home when he returned.