“It’s none of your business, but he is,” Matthew said.
“It is my business, Matthew.” Romeo sighed. “However, it seems you are intent on being stubborn, and I don’t wish for this to go on all night. The three of you can come in.”
The room behind the curtain had sagging ceilings and stunk of mold. In the past mummers had used this very room to practice their lines, perfecting the illusion they would then present to the theater crowd. The brothers gestured to the round table at the center of the room, and everyone sat down. Matthew was a mess; his blood still pumped from the failed assassination, and he could not come to grips with the fact that the Conningtons had yet to play their hand. At any moment he expected one of them to pull out a crossbow and drive a dart into his chest.
Romeo and Cleo sat across from them, reapplying powder to their faces as the newcomers watched. Matthew waited, counting his breaths, while Moira spun the handle of her shortsword and Bren nervously rapped his fingers on the table. Blood from the bodyguard’s injured arm dripped to the floor.
Finally, Romeo put down his compact and lifted his eyes to his guests.
“I hope you are satisfied with this show of good faith,” he said. “We are in this room unarmed, whereas each of you carries a weapon. If you wished, you could cut us down in seconds…though our men would run you through when they found out. Do you believe now that we did not try to kill you tonight?”
“We’ll see,” Matthew grumbled. “Talk.”
“You asked for an explanation, so here it is,” he said. “These are trying times, Matthew. As I said, the world has changed.”
“Things change all the time,” Matthew said. “Like when you took over your family business.”
“Such harsh words,” said Cleo with a grimace. “True, but harsh. However, our ascension to power brought about a decade of expansion and profit for both our families, no matter the…er, disagreements between us. This new change, on the other hand, has not been lucrative for those of our ilk. In fact, it could very well mean the end of everything we’ve worked for.”
Matthew leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. Moira mirrored him.
“I have a question for you, Matthew,” said Romeo. “In the six months since the attack on Haven, have your profits increased or decreased?”
“Why?”
“Humor us.”
“Of course they’ve lessened,” he replied, rubbing his forehead. “The realm prepares for war. It is to be expected.”
Cleo smirked. “Ah, Matthew, how very partisan of you. The sacrifices you make in the name of your god are truly admirable.”
It was impossible to ignore his sarcasm.
“Yet answer me this,” added Romeo. “Did these ‘sacrifices’ begin after the attack or before our beloved deity returned from his extended sojourn?”
Matthew thought on it a moment. His frayed nerves began to knit back together, a sense of looming dread taking its place.
“Before,” he answered. “The conscription has been going on for more than a year.”
“Oh, yes,” said Cleo, clapping his hands together. “He is beginning to see, Brother! Now tell me this, Matthew; do you love Karak?”
“Well, yes,” he said, hesitant. “Without him, we would not have all we do.”
Moira laughed from beside him.
“Have you ever met Karak?” asked Romeo.
Matthew shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Of course not. He left Neldar before I was born.”
“Yet he has since returned, has he not? Has he not come calling on you in this city, which is perhaps the greatest in the realm? When it came time for the war against his brother, did he ever formally request your services?”
“Of course not. He is a god, and my duty to him is preordained.”
The brothers glanced at each other and sighed.
Cleo switched his focus to the lithe woman with the sword. “Tell me, dearest Moira, what does Karak preach to his children? What is the greatest wisdom our loving god bestowed on his flock? You were a member of the First Families. Though your dislike for Karak is plain and you are obviously no longer ageless, surely that wisdom hasn’t left you.”
“All mankind is free to live their lives as they choose, but they must make their own way, build their own wealth, and claim responsibility for their own actions,” Moira spoke.
Matthew’s frustration grew with each additional sentence of vague innuendo. He lifted his hand, drawing all eyes to him.
“What does this have to do with anything?” he asked. “Did you really ask me to come here secretly, to make myself vulnerable without my full guard, to discuss religion? I thought this was about business.”
“Directness!” shouted Cleo with glee. “Our lovely Matthew is learning!”
“Very well,” said Romeo. He took a deep breath and continued: “Despite this talk of Karak and war, my first question to you was the most important. I will give you the honor of peeking inside the thing that matters most to us-our coffers. Since this whole sordid affair began, our well has run dry. The three armories we operate are being overseen by Karak’s young acolytes, and every ounce of steel is being molded into whatever our lovely deity’s army needs. Whereas once the kingdom-not to mention my fellow merchants-paid handsomely for our products, our smiths are now working day and night without pay. Yet we, the captains of industry, must surely receive compensation for all the resources we offer, correct?”
“Wrong!” said Cleo, picking up where his brother left off. “We who have kept the kingdom running for the last fifty years are left to suffer as our laborers and products are taken from us in the name of war. Our pockets have been emptied, yet our people have needs. Homes are in need of repair, levees are in need of advancement, ships require patching, and many of the people under our care require medicine. These goods are running low.”
“Are you telling me you have no hidden reserves?” said Matthew with a laugh. “You two don’t strike me as the sort who go unprepared.”
Romeo nodded. “Our people in Riverrun and Felwood are hardly starving, but with each passing day, the reserves we do have become ever sparser, and since most of our current laborers are womenfolk who have little experience tilling fields or raising the side of a barn, we will not be able to keep up with demand for long.” He grinned. “You know this as well as I, Matthew, for we walked through Port Lancaster on our way here. Your people, your women, are starving in the streets.”
Matthew grimaced.
“And it won’t get better, dear Matthew,” said Cleo. “This war has yet to even begin, and look how much it has cost us. Once the fighting starts, who knows how long it will last? One year? Five? Ten? And we, the most capable of all Neldar, will bear the brunt of keeping the people fed and clothed and alive. Karak will take and take until we have no more to give, and then what? When the war is over, and it is time to rebuild our nation, we will be decimated. There will be others who wish to take what we once had, and we will be in no position to stop them. If you think that unrealistic, consider the brigands who are even now running about the country. They already take what they want outside our townships. What happens when they realize we are too weak to defend ourselves?”
Matthew wrung his hands together. “What you say might be true, is true, but what are we to do about it?”
A sly grin came over Cleo’s face, but it was Romeo who answered.
“We must ensure that Karak doesn’t win,” he said.
Moira laughed aloud as Matthew pushed himself away from the table in shock.
“What?” he exclaimed.
“We are resourceful people,” Cleo said with a shrug. “In this time of strife we must set aside our differences and bond together to face a common enemy…who unfortunately happens to be our god. If we do, we just might retain the lives we have built for ourselves when all has been said and done.”