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4 Nightal, the Year of the Wave (1364 DR)

SECOND QUARTER, INNARLITH

Willem stared at the tea in his cup, his head bent down, his shoulders stiff, his back aching. He tried to listen to Halina’s uncle prattle on about the responsibility of the aristocracy and the ascendancy of the masses, but all he wanted was to go home and sleep.

Halina reached out for his hand and he held hers. Her skin was soft and warm, but the touch brought a heaviness to his chest.

“Are you feeling all right, Willem?” she asked. Only then did he realize that Marek had stopped speaking.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I think I’m still exhausted from the move.”

“I’ve heard,” Marek said. “Shepherd’s Stride, isn’t it?”

Willem nodded. Shepherd’s Stride was one of the Second Quarter’s best addresses. The house was magnificent and would indebt him to Meykhati for years more-decades.

“It’s a lovely home,” Halina said.

A strange twinkle passed through Marek’s eyes when she said that, and Halina looked away from her uncle, confused and embarrassed. The heaviness in Willem’s chest grew worse.

They sat in a small parlor in the Thayans’ Second Quarter manor, sipping tea with the pretense of discussing wedding arrangements. Willem had worked harder than he had at anything in his life to change the subject and was both relieved and ashamed at having succeeded.

“I understand you live with your mother,” Marek said.

“She lives with me,” Willem retorted. He stopped and took a shallow breath.

“Of course she does,” the Thayan wizard acquiesced. “That’s generous of you. I assume there’s a brother to look after your holdings in Cormyr?”

Willem didn’t know what to say, so he took a sip of tea. It was a bitter black Thayan blend he practically had to choke down. There was no one left in Cormyr. They had no holdings. All the Korvan family-a family consisting only of he and his mother-owned was a debt to Meykhati, and he couldn’t help but think Marek Rymut knew that.

“An uncle, then,” Marek persisted. “It’s always convenient having a wealthy uncle to look after you, isn’t it? Halina can tell you all about that. Can’t you, dear?”

Halina wouldn’t look at him. She blushed and wrapped herself in her own arms, taking her hand back from Willem. He wanted to embrace her and drag her out of there. He didn’t even understand why, but the urge to rescue her from her uncle’s house was nearly overpowering.

“Halina?” Marek pressed.

“Yes, Uncle,” she said in a voice so small it was barely audible.

“Perhaps there is no uncle or brother left in … where was it?” Marek went on.

“Marsember,” Willem said.

“You do have a reputation of being a self-made man,” the wizard said. “Is that true, Willem? Are you a self-made man?”

“I like to think so, Master Rymut.”

“I told you to call me Marek.”

Willem met his eyes but immediately wilted away.

“Marek, yes,” he said. “I … I apologize.”

Willem looked at Halina, hoping she would say something to transition them out of the uncomfortable silence that followed. She only sat there as if made of slowly melting wax.

“Well, then, I’m sure my niece will benefit greatly from your ambition,” Marek said, “just as she’s benefited from mine.”

Willem nodded and was ashamed for having done so.

“I understand you came to Innarlith with another of your countrymen,” Marek went on. “A shipbuilder, I think, by the name of Devorast?”

Willem’s eyes narrowed. The sound of that name pronounced with a Thayan accent was somehow inappropriate. He hadn’t heard the name in a while.

“Willem?” Marek nudged.

“Oh, yes. Ivar Devorast.”

“Well, he’s making quite the stir. Have you heard?”

Willem shook his head. The last he’d heard Devorast had left Innarlith. Someone told him he’d gone off to the Great Rift to live with the dwarves, but then that never made any sense.

“Well, he’s captured the ear of our unfortunate ransar.”

Willem’s mind reeled. How had Devorast come up from the sad state he’d been in to having somehow won the ear of the ransar?

“Unfortunate?” Willem asked, instantly embarrassed for having latched onto that word.

“If what he’s considering is true, yes. Most unfortunate,” Marek replied. “Your friend Devorast has some odd ideas.”

“He’s not my friend,” Willem said.

“Good,” replied the Thayan with a smile. Halina looked at him and seemed to be trying to smile too, but she couldn’t. “I am your friend, though, aren’t I, Willem? Your friend, at least?”

“At least,” he admitted, looking at Halina to keep from wanting to run away.

“You know the services I provide?” the Thayan wizard asked.

“Magic items, yes,” said Willem. “Spells and suchlike?”

“And suchlike, yes. This … well, not friend, but former countryman of yours has an idea that should it come to pass will be most inconvenient for me. It would have an unfortunate impact on one particular part of those services-a big part.”

Willem nodded, hoping that he gave off the appearance of having any idea what the Thayan was talking about.

“Meykhati tells me that when the time comes, I will be able to depend on you,” Marek said.

Willem nodded and said, “If Senator Meykhati requires my help, he will get it, and if it harms Ivar Devorast in the process, well, then all the better.”

I thought I was done with him, he thought.

“Good,” Marek said, nodding and grinning. “Very, very good, Senator. I hope you will continue to take great care in choosing your friends.”

Marek stood and looked down at Halina. Willem was startled by the expression of open contempt on the wizard’s face. He looked at his niece as if she’d just crawled out from under a rock. Then he heaved a weary, disappointed sigh and returned his attention to Willem.

“Well, then, I must take my leave of you both. Perhaps next time we meet we’ll discuss the wedding, should that still be of interest to you.”

Willem stood and nodded a slight bow to the wizard, who looked at him so strangely he had trouble sorting it out.

Only after the door had closed behind Marek did Halina seem to relax even a little.

He doesn’t want me to marry her, Willem thought, but not because he thinks she’s too good for me.

Willem looked at his betrothed, who stared at him with damp, dull eyes. Her face always made him feel better, her touch always relaxed him, the warmth of her always made him feel safer.

But then, if Marek Rymut thought she wasn’t good enough for him….

“Willem?” she asked, her face all needy, almost pleading. “What are you thinking?”

He shook his head and sat in silence for a long time trying to think of a lie. She waited patiently while he thought and seemed entirely satisfied with what he finally came up with.

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