"Yes, but-"
"No 'buts,' darling. Jerephin is not here to make decisions, and he may never come back. The House needs a leader. You can do this." Falagh reached out and took Lobra's chin in his hand, turning her to look at him squarely. "You must."
Falagh could see the uncertainty, the hesitation, playing across Lobra's face as she considered his words. It was clear to the man that she did not have the first inkling about what she should do. She desperately wanted to have others make those choices for her.
Yes, Falagh mused silently, almost smiling. Let us help you decide. And the Mestels can be rid of the bastard Matrells once and for all.
Finally, her lip trembling, Lobra Pharaboldi turned back from her husband and faced Grozier and Lavant. She sat up a little straighter, forcing a look of determination onto her face. The grieving woman took a deep breath and, with a gentle pat from her husband to reassure her, gave a slight nod.
"Yes," she said, her voice nearly cracking. "You still have House Pharaboldi at your disposal. Let the plan go forward."
Falagh could see Grozier visibly relax his shoulders at the words, and the Grand Trabbar stood up straight again, nodding.
"Excellent," the priest said as Grozier climbed to his feet beside him. "We now have almost all the funds necessary to-"
"You will make him pay," Lobra said, causing the Grand Trabbar to snap his mouth shut in surprise at the interruption. "Vambran Matrell will account for his crimes," the woman added, giving both men in front of her a level look.
"Certainly," Grand Trabbar Lavant said sagely, folding his hands across his midsection and resting them on his stomach again. "We already have a few plans in place to deal with-"
"Promise me," Lobra cut in again, rising to her own feet, her eyes wide with intensity. "Promise me right now that you will punish him. I want him to hurt. Promise me."
Neither man spoke for a long moment, taken aback by the sudden fire in Lobra's countenance. Finally, the Grand Trabbar nodded.
"Good," Lobra replied at last, seeming to wilt from her former rage. "Then I trust that you and my husband can work out whatever arrangements are necessary. I must go and rest now," she said, her voice small and distant. She began drifting absently toward the door leading out of the room.
"Of course," Grozier said, almost too quickly, making Falagh frown.
Hoping to find the upper hand in negotiating with me, the scion of House Mestel thought. I think not.
"Yes, Lobra, darling," her husband urged. "Go rest. These gentlemen and I will finish up." And Falagh motioned for a servant who had appeared discreetly in the doorway to take care of his wife.
"Now, gentlemen," Lavant said as soon as Lobra had departed. "We have some details to attend to."
"Do not think me the wretched, grieving fool, Waukeenar," Falagh said, giving both men a piercing gaze. "My mind is not addled with grief over the loss of those two," and he waved casually in the direction of the coffins. "If you are to see one copper of my wife's wealth, then you are going to have to convince me that House Matrell will no longer be a thorn in your-or our-sides again. Ever."
Grozier seemed taken aback by the man's forceful words, and his mouth worked silently for several seconds, vainly seeking words that would assure Falagh.
"That is precisely why we also need your assistance," Grand Trabbar Lavant said. "If we are to eliminate Vambran Matrell's meddling-indeed, if we are to eradicate the mercenary's entire household-we are going to have to take some very clever, subtle steps."
"My help?" Falagh asked, ignoring Grozier and giving the priest his full attention. "What do I have that you want?"
"Why, your family's naval might, of course," Lavant replied, a hint of a smile on his face. "In all its wondrous forms. I think it's time Vambran Matrell met with a tragic accident at sea."
Falagh began to stroke his mustache again, unable to avoid a smile himself. "Yes, of course," he said at last. "I think I might know how just such a catastrophe could occur."
"It would seem that your financial woes have been alleviated, then," Grand Trabbar Lavant said, casually examining a finely wrought statue of a mermaid lounging upon a shard of rock jutting forth from a frothy sea. "Lobra was not so hard to convince. We told her what she wanted to hear." The sculpture was of silver inlaid with emerald and lapis, and it sat upon a pedestal in an alcove in one wall of Grozier's drawing room.
Bartimus watched from across the chamber as the priest plucked the delicate mermaid from her perch and studied the craftsmanship. Lavant held it in the light of a nearby lantern hanging from a hook set into the wall and peered closely at the underside, possibly looking for the artist's symbol etched into the silver.
The mage longed to return to his study, for he had research that still beckoned him before he would retire for the night. He knew, however, that he would have to magically return Lavant to his own quarters in the temple beforehand, so he stood patiently and waited as the other two men discussed their meeting with Lobra Pharaboldi.
"Yes, so it would seem," Grozier agreed absently. "She was never a bright one, but that was almost too easy. And Falagh was more than happy to offer additional Mestel resources, wasn't he?" the man added, sipping at a mug of chilled wine while he sat in one of his two most comfortable chairs.
Bartimus loved those chairs, with their deep cushions and matching footrests, but he had not been invited to sit, so he stood in a corner, leaning against a bookshelf and watching enviously.
I need to get a chair like those for my own rooms, the mage thought. Good for reading.
"Well, I expected the Mestels to jump at any chance to upend the Matrell household. Obiron the bastard became quite an insult to his half-brother Aulaumaer Mestel, because of all the success House Matrell enjoyed. Old Manycoins has always wanted to see Obiron's descendants dropped right back into the sewers whence they crawled, a fitting end to their upstart ways. So yes, Falagh was eager to get in good with his great uncle by contributing to the downfall of House Matrell."
Grozier nodded and shrugged.
"And yet you are still unhappy," the Grand Trabbar said reproachfully, replacing the statue and turning to face his accomplice. "Our army is in the field, sweeping all rivals out of the Nunwood. Sufficient funds are in place now to control the logging industry. We can move forward with our plans, but you sit there and brood."
Grozier snorted as he took another swallow from his mug, then he set the vessel down rather abruptly upon a side table, sloshing some of the dark liquid onto his hand. "That whelp Matrell has ruined my reputation in the city," the man said in disgust, rising and beginning to pace. "I went from being the architect of a magnificent business alliance, standing on the verge of greatness, to a near-prisoner in my own estate, all in a matter of three days. Now next to no one will consider doing business with House Talricci. All the creditors are demanding immediate payment for my other ventures."
"A minor setback, nothing more," the Grand Trabbar replied, moving to sit in the other comfortable chair. "With such a sizeable army already in our control, these new funds are more than enough to keep the mercenaries loyal to us for the entire campaign year. Remember, it is not a simple plan we've constructed, and you must have patience.