I do not say so out of fear. I’ve told kings their princes were brats with more snot than brains.”
“I can hurt you worse than any king,” Thren said, but his comment lacked teeth.
“You should see Vaelor’s dungeon, sometime,” Robert said. “But yes, your son was intelligent and receptive, and most importantly he held no anger for being subjected to the room’s darkness. At least, not when he found out it wasn’t a punishment. A few more torches and I’ll give him some books to read.”
“The smoke won’t kill him, will it?” Thren asked as he glanced at the door.
“There are tiny vents in the ceiling,” Robert said as he hobbled toward a chair. “I have done this a hundred times, guildmaster, so do not worry. After so long in isolation, his mind will be craving my knowledge. Hopefully when his time with me is done, he will remember this level of focus and concentration and mimic it in more chaotic environments.”
Thren pulled his hood over his face and bowed.
“You were expensive,” he said. “As the Trifect grows poorer, so do we.”
“Whether coin, gem, or food, a thief will always have something to steal.”
Thren’s eyes seemed to twinkle at that.
“Well worth the coin,” he said.
The guildmaster bowed, turned, and then vanished into the dark streets of Veldaren. Robert tossed his cane aside and walked without limp to the far side. He poured himself a drink. With a grunt of pleasure, he sat down and gulped down half of the liquid.
He expected more time to pass, but it seemed people had gotten more impatient as Robert grew older. Two thumps against the outside of the door were his only warning before the plainly-dressed man with only the barest hints of gray in his hair entered the living room. His simple face was marred by a scar curling from his left eye to his ear. He did his best to hide it with the hood of his cloak, but Robert had seen it many times before and knew it was there.
“Did Thren leave pleased?” the man asked as he sat down opposite Robert.
“Indeed,” Robert said, letting a bit of his irritation bleed into his voice. “Though I think that pleasure would have faded had he seen the king’s advisor sneaking into my home.”
“I was not spotted,” the man said with an indignant sniff. “Of that, I am certain.”
“With Thren Felhorn you can never be certain,” Robert said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Now what brings you here, Gerand Crold?”
The advisor nodded toward a door. Beyond it was the room Aaron remained within.
“He can’t hear us, can he?” Gerand asked.
“Of course not. Now answer my question.”
Gerand wiped a hand over his cleanly shaven face and let his tone harden.
“For a man living by the king’s grace alone, you seem rather rude to his servants. Should I whisper in his ear how uncooperative you’re being in this endeavor?”
“Whisper all you want,” Robert said. “I am not afraid of that little whelp. He sees spooks in the shadows and jumps with every clap of thunder.”
Gerand’s eyes narrowed.
“Dangerous words, old man. Your life won’t last much longer carrying on with such recklessness.”
“My life is nearing its end whether I am reckless or not,” Robert said before finishing his drink. “I whisper and plot behind Thren Felhorn’s back. I may as well act like the dead man I am.”
When Gerand laughed, his opinion was clear. “You put too much stock in that man’s abilities. He’s getting older, and he is far from the demigod the laymen whisper about when drunk. But if my presence here scares you so, then I will hurry along. Besides, my wife is waiting for me, and she promised a young red-head for us to play with to celebrate my thirtieth birthday.”
Robert rolled his eyes. The boorish advisor was always bragging about his exploits, a third of which were probably true. They were Gerand’s favorite stalling tactic when he wanted to linger, observe, and distract his companions. What he was stalling for, Robert didn’t have a clue.
“We Haerns have no carnal interests,” Robert said, rising from his chair with an exaggerated wince of pain. Gerand saw this and immediately took the cup, offering to fill it instead.
“We just pop right out of our mud fields,” Robert continued. “Ever hear that slurp when your boot gets stuck and you have to force it out? That’s us, making another Haern.”
“Amusing,” Gerand said as he handed Robert the glass. “So did you come from