Trifect want all the thief guilds dead, and I myself am a member.”
“More than a member,” Robert said as he put his book down and shifted the torch to his other hand. “The heir to Thren Felhorn, one of the most feared men in all of Veldaren. Some say he is the finest thief to walk the land of Dezrel.”
“Is he?” Aaron asked.
“I don’t know enough of such matters to have a worthwhile opinion,” Robert said. “Though I know he has lived a long time, and the wealth he amassed in his younger years was legendary.”
Silence came over them. Aaron looked about the room, but it was bare and covered with shadows. He felt as if his teacher waited for him to speak, but he knew not what to say. His gaze lingered on the torchlight as Robert spat to the side.
“There are many questions you should ask, though one is the most obvious and most important. Think, boy.”
Aaron’s eyes flitted from the torchlight to the old man.
“Who are the Trifect,” he asked.
“Who is what? Speak up, I’m a flea’s jump away from deaf.”
“The Trifect,” Aaron nearly shouted. “Who are they?”
“That is an excellent question,” Robert said. “They have a saying, ‘after the gods, us.’ When Karak and Ashhur were banished by the goddess, the land was a devastated mess. Countries fractured, people rebelled, and pillagers marched up and down the coasts. Three wealthy men formed an alliance to protect their assets. Five hundred years ago they formed their sigil of an eagle perched on a golden branch, and they’ve been loyal to it ever since.”
He paused and rubbed his beard. The torch switched hands.
“A question for you, boy: why do they want the thief guilds dead?”
The question was not difficult. The sigil was the answer.
“They never let go of their gold,” Aaron said. “Yet we take it from them.”
“Precisely,” Robert said. “To be sure, they’ll spend their gold, sometimes frivolously and without good reason. They never give it away willingly, not ever. They tolerated the thief guilds for many centuries as their three families grew in power. Now they control nearly all of Neldar with their wealth. For the longest of times they viewed the guilds as a nuisance, nothing more. That changed. Tell me why, boy; that is your next question.”
This one was tougher. Aaron went over the words of his master. His memory was sharp, and at last he remembered a comment that seemed appropriate.
“My father amassed a legendary amount of wealth,” he said. He smiled, proud of figuring out the answer. “He must have taken too much from the Trifect and was no longer a nuisance.”
“He was a threat,” Robert agreed. “And he was wealthy. Worse, though, was that his prestige was uniting the other guilds. Mostly your father tempted the stronger members and brought them into his fold, but about eight years ago he started making promises, threats, bribes, and even assassinations to bring about the leaders he needed. As a united presence, he thought the Trifect would not be strong enough to bring them down.”
The old man opened his book, which turned out to not be a book at all. The inside was hollow, containing some hard cheese and dried meat. It took all of Aaron’s willpower to keep from lunging for the food. From his time with his teacher, he knew such a rash, discourteous action would be rebuked.
“Take it,” Robert said. “You have honored me well with your attention.”
Aaron didn’t need to be told twice. The old man rose to his feet and walked to the door.
“I will return,” he said. His fingers brushed over a slot in the wall too fast for Aaron to see. He heard a soft pop, and then a tiny jut of metal sprung outward. Robert slid the torch through the metal, fastening it to the wall.
“Thank you,” Aaron said, thrilled to know the torchlight would remain.
“Think on this,” Robert said. “Eight years ago, your father united the guilds. Five years ago, war broke out between them and the Trifect. What caused your father’s failure?”
The door opened, bright light flooded in, and then the old man was gone.
Thren was waiting for Robert not far from the door. They were inside a large and tastefully decorated home. Thren leaned against the wall, positioned so he could see both entrances to the living room.
“You told me the first session was the most important,” Thren said, his arms crossed over his chest. “How did my son perform?”