When Yarlaith opened the door to his house, another thought struck Morrígan. “Yarlaith, what will the villagers do now with The Bear being closed and all?

Despite the seriousness in his tone earlier, Yarlaith laughed. “Well, Gods forbid they’re forced to abstain for a little while! But with these recent developments in the capital, I suspect sobriety will be the least of their worries.”

Chapter 4:

Farris Silvertongue

It didn’t take Farris long to track down his informant at the waterfront; Old Donal rarely strayed far from the docklands of Cruachan.

Farris found Donal picking through the contents of a discarded crate of spoiled fruit by the pier. The little hair he had left was as thin and fair as his skin, so the beggar was easily mistaken as a Human.

That’s strange. It’s past noon, and he’s still sober.

“Is that you, Donal?” he called. “You’re paid far too well to be feasting on scraps.”

Old Donal snorted. “Ha! Scraps? These Humans are fools to be throwing away such ripe food.” He picked up one particularly brown apple. “Some of ’em have even started fermentin’!”

Farris grinned as he scanned the docks. The scent of freshly caught fish rose up to meet his nostrils, as mongers and merchants crowded the wharfs below. A single longboat stood tall out over the quay, while dozens of thickset men busied themselves with its cargo. No airships were tied up at the dock, though, for only the southern waterfront was large enough to house the colossal Simian crafts.

“I’ve got another job for you,” said Farris, keeping his voice low but his tone amiable. “Perhaps the most important job you’ll be given this side of winter. If you succeed before nightfall, I’ll pay you double.”

Old Donal turned to face Farris, wet pieces of fruit dripping from his lips. “Must be special, but I’m a busy man. Can’t be expected to drop everything at such short notice, y’know? How about tripling me pay, and I’ll even share some of this fine produce with ye?”

He took another moist bite from the apple, chewing loudly as Farris pretended to consider his offer.

“Fine,” he said. It wasn’t as if Donal was being paid very much in the first place. “Three times your usual fee. The job is simple, but our time is short. I need you to find out everything you know about a Simian named Chester.”

Donal paused and raised a single, sceptic eyebrow.

“That’s all?”

“More or less. He’ll be travelling as a passenger on The Glory of Penance tomorrow.”

Donal’s pensive eyes glanced towards the sky. “She’s just arrived today. A beauty of a sight, so she is. You should be sure to catch a glimpse ’fore she sets off.”

Noted. I might even make a day of it.

“There’s one snag, though,” said Donal, a smile curling from his lips.

Farris sighed. “And what would that be?”

“The Glory isn’t a ferry-ship. It’s got cabins and such, but no passengers. I could get a list of her cargo no bother, though.”

Farris swore to himself. Sin’s stones! Chester was meant to be travelling as a passenger. The more Farris thought on the king’s words earlier that morning, the less sense they made. Don’t they even know what kind of ship I’m supposed to be on?

“Just find out what you can about Chester.” said Farris. “I’ll return here at sunset.”

Donal laughed. “That long? Sure, I’ll be able to tell you everythin’ about him by then, from the food he had for breakfast, to the name of the last woman he fucked!”

***

Although Farris lived just a hundred yards away from Derelith’s Pawn and Brokers, he still felt a familiar surge of excitement when he pushed through those old wooden doors. Once the base of operations for the Simian dissidents of the city, today it was completely empty save for Derelith, its proprietor.

“Farris Silvertongue! How the Holy Hell are you?”

He bolted around the counter to greet Farris with an enthusiastic handshake. As they shook, Farris’s eyes were drawn towards a golden chain sparkling against Derelith’s white shirt. The chain held a gold pendant, triangular, with three crooked spirals in the centre.

“It’s been too long Farris. Far too long!” he said, eventually releasing Farris’s hand. Derelith was a clean-shaven young Human and certainly didn’t seem the type to run an illegitimate business, fencing and laundering for the Thieves’ Guild of Cruachan. As quickly as it had appeared, the look of pure glee and excitement vanished from Derelith’s face.

“But, are you sure it’s wise to return? Even after all this time? We’re still on a hiatus here, you know, as far as the City Guard are concerned. What with the Guild being disbanded and—”

“I am well aware of our current situation,” cut in Farris. “Only a matter of grave concern would bring me here.”

The pawnbroker’s expression darkened further. “And what would that be?”

“You mean you don’t know?” asked Farris, irritated and surprised. “Aren’t you still in contact with Penance?”

“Of course, and the Silverback himself has been keeping me filled in on your actions with the Crown. Last I heard the king trusted you enough to take that bottle of poisoned thainol Samson brewed up. They say that the Móráin line will be put to an end soon, ’cause of you. But if you ask me, I reckon it would have been easier to just kill the ol’ bollocks.”

“Well, it seems that’s exactly what the Silverback tried to do. Last night. There was a failed assassination attempt on the king.”

Derelith’s brow furrowed. “No… no, that’s not possible. Wasn’t the whole point of this operation to keep him old and infertile? To what end, I don’t know, but the Silverback insisted this was how we fight them.”

“Indeed,” said Farris. “And I didn’t spend the past three years digging through old medical records on the royal family to have the Silverback ignore all the information we sent him.”

Derelith shook his head. “I told you before, Farris. It’s a tough pill to swallow. An immortal king?”

“Immortal kings. The Church has been teaching this for a long time, Derelith. The king’s sacred bloodline is kept pure and intact by a gift of immortality, passed on from father to son since Móráin the First was born to Lord Seletoth. They call it Divine Penetrance.”

Derelith wrinkled his nose. “I thought you didn’t believe in any of that shit.”

Farris didn’t answer. Debating religion was not what he came here to do.

And I don’t even know what to believe anymore.

“The Silverback saw my evidence,” said Farris. “And that was enough to convince him all of this is real.”

“Well, it looks like he changed his mind.”

“Fool!” Farris roared, baring his fangs at Derelith. “They tried to kill the king with hitmen! They attacked him as he was being escorted through the tunnels. They killed Santos, too, along with his Simian guards.”

Derelith shrank back in fear. “No!” he whispered. He held a pale hand to his face. “There’s no way… he wouldn’t harm Santos! They’ve had their disagreements, sure, but skies above, he’s Nicole’s father!”

“Well, he’s dead. The king’s preparing for war, and he’s planning to strike Penance, directly. I’m flying out with four other agents of the Crown tomorrow morning to stage the attack. I just need to send a quick crystal-wave to the Silverback.”

Whatever colour remained in Derelith’s face faded. “I won’t have access to another crystallographer for another three days, Farris. Two, if I threaten some of the right people.”