The road to Soros had proven familiar to Therelin. It was in the hills and ridges along the north coast of Var Nordos that he had once appeared, windswept and confused, after Master Nolicrin of Saanazar had teleported him away. That had been the first time that Gethra had pushed back against Therelin’s quest for knowledge. Now, as they sought out the home of House Gallendris, it seemed a stark warning that answers often kept company with danger.
Before departing Noress-That-Was, Therelin had learned what he could from Lord Dakhu. He hadn’t bothered looking into the Gallendris bloodline as Dakhu had claimed his Archives might hold—unlike Tarro, it was Lord Gallendris’ recent history that most concerned Therelin. Erril had claimed that he had told Gallendris of the House of Kiaraka just two years prior.
Heading toward Soros by the strangely familiar road, Therelin had found himself sad to depart the company of his fellow researcher—even with Kren in tow. Of all those with status in Gethra, Dakhu was the closest Therelin had come to truly trusting someone again.
From his trustworthy researching friend, Therelin had learned that House Gallendris ruled the city and the Bank of Soros. To his surprise, it was Lord Gallendris’ elder sister that held most of the power of the name. Dakhu had also suggested that Therelin could connect with a tinkerer named Yolen—a man who had many times sought research in the Archives in Noress-That-Was. Yolen was by no means well-known to Dakhu—they had only spoken as acquaintances—but Dakhu had said that his impression of the tinkerer was of a man driven by science, not politics. He did, however, note that Yolen was no magician, and could therefore not converse about things known only behind the limits of the Tether.
The road from the capital brought Therelin and Kren past a few outlying ranches and mining bases before they arrived at a large stone wall. The gate admitted them to the wealthy part of town—and Therelin had seen little like it since his departure from Keth.
Here, on a hill, lay estates more opulent than anything he had seen in Noress-That-Was—which was a city of ruins by comparison. While select temples and institutions in Saanazar—or the Castles of the Matriarchs in Noress—had been cared for in similar ways, there had been no single street that resembled the entirety of this district. Every garden wall that Therelin passed was covered in vines—but not untamed ones. The orchards and fountains he saw were without weed or crevice, respectively. The people dressed in silks and fine linens, or more eclectic clothing made from tree bark pulp or flax.
Therelin and Kren had quickly realized there were few passersby that resembled them, beyond the servants and slaves. They realized then that they would not find accommodations they could afford here.
Travelling deeper into Soros they had found the hill of the wealthy district descended into a much larger city. It was nothing in scale compared to Saanazar or Noress-That-Was, but it was far larger than simply the rich quarter. To the south lay a lowland and an apparent slum. Even from the vantage of the hill, holes in roofs and walls were apparent and broken statues could be seen. However, in the western direction they faced, there lay a town of middling quality—and beyond it was the waterfront. Soros was built on a lake or bay, it seemed.
They avoided the slum for now—even in daylight there were shouts and sounds of brawling—and toured the middle-class district and the waterfront. Therelin had had to pause when he had reached the shore—the water was a pinkish red! When he had asked a passerby about it, the sailor had smiled and told him that Raider’s Bay had been red since the war in the ancient days of the Old Empire. Therelin knew better than to believe this—even with his knowledge of herbs alone, he could change the hue of water with ease, and blood would not persist in a body of moving water for nearly fifteen hundred years. Still, he had no idea what was making the water such a shade.
In the mid-town district, Therelin and Kren had found accommodation at an affordable tavern called the Silver Bell Tower. Master Modrane—the proprietor and barkeep—hired Kren on to help in the kitchen in exchange for room and board. Therelin, on the other hand, would have to pay—so he quickly made some apothecary connections and resumed his familiar work foraging for herbs in the surrounding countryside.
A few days after their arrival—long enough to appear as familiar at the Bell Tower—Kren asked Master Modrane, “Any word of Lord Gallendris recently? I heard he was helping out with the war front.”
The barkeep stopped wiping the bar and leaned against it instead, eyeing the two magicians. He was a middle-aged man with a large head that was the roundest Therelin had ever seen. “News came a few weeks ago that he had struck a deal with the Joyous King. Most of the Raderan Coast is involved now. Nothing since though, gods protect him.”
The Joyous King—as Therelin had learned—was the ruler of a city known as High Raena, at the depths of a great strait between Sheld and Saanazar. Kren glanced at Therelin—it was news, but not news that aided their mission. Lord Gallendris was out of their reach for any direct questions.
It was a near-empty common room, so Therelin chipped into the conversation, too. “Do you know how he got involved in the war effort?”
Modrane frowned thoughtfully. “Oh—well, he was asked to attend the first meeting with the Grey Brethren. Then there was the assassination of the Matriarch, may she rest in glory, and after that he volunteered to help however he could.”
Therelin had heard of this, too: Matriarch Haladia had been assassinated a year earlier, when enemies of the Empire had meddled with the early attempts to strike a union with the Grey Brethren. Driven by the threats of war, that alliance had still proceeded, despite the tragic loss of one of Noress’ leaders. Now, Matriarch Valakono ruled alone.
Kren got back to work and Therelin finished his morning meal.
Over the next few days, the two magicians struck up conversations with the regular patrons of the common room. They learned that, as far as lords go, the Gallendris’ were an upstanding and fair family. Like any upper-class House, however, they were involved in a measure of scheming, plotting, and statecraft. Therelin also heard a comment that, “there’s a reason the poor district is called ‘Debtor’s Down’.” When pushed for an explanation, he was told that the Bank of Soros held what many would consider “too much wealth.” After all, they learned the upper-class district was called Coin Hill.
A few guards were persuaded to mention that House Gallendris did have enemies among the other Houses. Apparently unrelated was the explosion that had rocked the estate just over a year ago—leaving the youngest sister of the family scarred and disfigured. No one was clear on who was directly responsible for the attack, but the assumption ran in the same vein as the assassins of Matriarch Haladia. Therelin found himself wondering if he should consider House Gallendris as potential allies instead of potential enemies—had Tarro caused that explosion? Regardless, the rulers of Soros had hunted the saboteur with a vengeance.
The timeline was starting to grow more clear. Two years ago, Erril had told Lord Gallendris of the House of Kiaraka. Then, a little over a year and a half ago, the war had broken out near New Mallam—and Kiaraka. Lastly, a little over a year ago, assassins had tried to kill members of House Gallendris here in Soros. It was not hard to imagine a bout of retaliations between Gallendris and Tarro.
Therelin planned to check in with the tinkerer Yolen, as Lord Dakhu had suggested—but then he might approach House Gallendris directly. If they had suffered at the hands of Tarro and the corsair fleets of the Great Isle, perhaps they would be forthcoming with their knowledge of the events that had transpired these last few years.