Tass spent the New Year with him, first in the feast hall in the Family estate, with his siblings, aunt Mara, and a handful of trusted attendants, but later in private. They opened a bottle of 1461 red port and shared it on the balcony as they watched the sun set. Later, they retired to the bedroom.
But after a week of easing back into things, Lerran was once again so busy he felt like a captive in his office. Might as well lock myself in the basement cell, he thought.
He finished reading the paper that Eseveer had written up, and signed it in the bottom right corner with his name. He folded the parchment into thirds, and sealed it with a dab of green wax from the brass pitcher kept over a candle and the eye emblem ring that rested next to it. The document promised an award of a thousand erans to anyone who brought him the head of a mutineer from Storm’s recent fiasco.
Someone tapped on his door and Lerran called, “Come in.” It was his twin. He had to immediately correct himself. Antha was his half-sister, not his twin. They looked similar to one another and had believed that lie for most of their lives, so it was hard to break the habit. “What is it?”
Antha was wearing her city watch uniform, complete with chainmail and leather shoulder pauldrons. Her hand rested comfortably on her sword’s pommel, and she marched in with the grace of an expert swordswoman. “You asked me to report back to you about the Grey Brethren.”
“Are they back at it? Preaching in the streets?” Lerran asked, concerned.
“No,” Antha said. As she continued her report, Lerran poured them both a mug of rum from his drinking stand. “They haven’t left the city altogether, but they are limited themselves to their temple once again. Accounts from my spies indicate that they still proclaim fire and brimstone against your name and our Family, but they continue this only in front of the devout followers that seek them out there.”
They both sat down as she talked, on either side of his desk.
Lerran sneered, and took a drink. After he swallowed, he looked back at Antha, who lifted her own mug. He said, “Fine. They will keep it to themselves, or I’ll hold true on my threat of a hanging. Keep eyes on that temple, Antha. Those letters last year were a declaration of war.”
Antha nodded. She took another drink. “I will. They’re fools if they actually think they can make us leave. Sheld is just our web, if we’re a spider.”
“And not entirely at our own fault,” Lerran said. “Not that anyone will believe that Okarnan acted of his own volition. Hah. If he did act of his own volition. My point is, we had nothing to do with it!”
Someone else knocked on his door, and Eseveer stuck her head in. “A guard just brought this. A letter from the Borik.” The Rebel King.
“Bring it to me,” Lerran said. Eseveer crossed the large office gracefully, her sandals pressing through the sword-pattered red carpet. She passed from the shadowed end of the office into the sunlight that angled in through the windows on Lerran’s left side. That whole wall was almost all windows, covered by panes of glass imported from the west. She set the letter in his hand, still sealed with the Rebel King’s bird of prey sigil.
Lerran cracked it open and scanned the letter’s contents. A moment later, he read them aloud to his siblings. “New Year’s greetings, Master Lerran of Sheld. I am writing you with good news and bad. In the nearby village of Wartha Mull, the old quartz mine has made an incredible discovery. Gold. While the details of the size and depth of this formation remain unclear, a noteworthy supply of gold (some five thousand Raderans) has already appeared in Lo Mallago, under sale by the Jorath family. And therein lies the ill tidings. Jorath has been a formidable opponent of mine for years, but they are one of Lo Mallago’s oldest families, impossible to uproot by my own forces, and his House controls Wartha Mull completely. You will not see any profit from the new gold mine, unless action is taken. Furthermore, if this supply of gold is as abundant as it appears, House Jorath will soon contest me for leadership of Lo Mallago. Please advise at your earliest opportunity. —Borik, the Rebel King.”
Antha sighed, while Lerran took a drink of his rum. The latter spoke again, as soon as he could. “Just as we order Erril to rekindle the plan of selling Lo Mallago, this.” He tossed the letter onto the tabletop in frustration.
“What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to go to Lo Mallago,” Lerran said.
Eseveer’s jaw dropped. “You?”
Lerran set down his mug of rum and sat up in his chair. “It’s about time I stretch my legs, and also about time I see what Father made of Lo Mallago for myself.”
“What if it’s a trap?” Antha asked. “You’d best bring a whole company of our soldiers.”
Lerran shrugged. “Or Paksis,” he said. He had told his siblings of her strength, though they had heard accounts of it from Isar too. He had witnessed the same feats in Worker’s Rise months ago. “I’ll go talk to her. In my absence, you and Tass will run the business.”
Antha nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll go prepare some guards for you. I think Isar ought to remain though?”
“I think you’re right,” Lerran said. “But I want Kolt with me too. He was with me on the voyage to Kedar, and he’s proved his worth with a number of promotions since. Eseveer, prepare any documents you need me to look over before I go. It’ll be a few days preparation, but don’t waste any time.”
She bobbed her head and withdrew as Lerran finished his rum. Antha looked at him. “Anything else?” she asked.
Lerran shrugged. “Things change like the weather in Sheld… Try to hold things together until I return, please.” He smirked, and brushed past her on his way to the Emerald Eye tavern. Time to recruit Paksis, yet again.