nothing worse than crossing a grieving wife.
'Who knows the dark thoughts of the greedy and grasping among us?' Grozier answered solemnly, pacing back and forth in front of the couple, his cape swirling about the somber doublet of black brocade he wore with each turn he made. A matching hat, rather ridiculous in appearance but of suitable style for the occasion, was canted at an angle atop the man's tight gray curls.
He looks like a burned peacock, Falagh decided, though he could hardly blame the man. Mestel's own outfit was hardly less foppish, though he had thankfully abandoned the jaunty hat, choosing instead to leave his perfectly trimmed blue-black hair uncovered.
Grand Trabbar Lavant, whose bloated bulk spilled over the sides of the high-backed chair he occupied, sat off to one side, letting Grozier hold center stage for the moment. The priest of the Temple of Waukeen seemed to be the most self-assured of the three, studying his own slipper-adorned feet in a knowing way. Falagh began to understand that Lavant, and not Grozier Talricci, was the true guiding force behind all that had transpired before Lobra's involvement.
Both the Waukeenar and Grozier seemed to ignore the wizard they had brought with them-or rather, who had brought them both there. Grozier had called him Bartimus, right before telling the man to find a quiet spot and stay out of the way. The paunchy fellow sat in a corner in the shadows, constantly pushing his spectacles up his nose and muttering to himself with a foolish half smile on his face. Every time Lobra sobbed aloud, Bartimus winced and stared, as though she had interrupted some deep contemplation.
Falagh chuckled very softly to himself, finding the wizard a bit amusing, in a ridiculous sort of way.
'Why did he have to kill them?' Lobra asked, flopping back against the seat next to Falagh, sweeping her lustrous black wavy hair behind one ear with her other hand, her face a look of helpless pain.
At the earnestness of her second question, Grozier Talricci turned and knelt down in front of Lobra. 'Perhaps Vambran Matrell somehow considered his family superior to yours and in his arrogance, could not bear the thought of what he considered to be some lesser scion courting his sister. Or perhaps he simply wished to sabotage the alliance his uncle and brother had made, desiring control of House Matrell for his own, and found murder'-and with that word, he motioned in the direction of the twin coffins resting in state-'to be his most reliable and straightforward tool. Whatever the scurrilous dog's reasons, he has affronted all of us.'
Lobra glanced toward the caskets and shook her head miserably. Falagh reached over and gently took his wife's hand in both of his, giving it a comforting squeeze and pat. The gesture caused Lobra to turn back to him, staring into his eyes desperately, as though she needed him to tell her that it was all going to be undone, that Anista and Denrick weren't truly dead at all. Falagh had already tried every imaginable soothing gesture he could think of to assuage her pain, but she would not be placated. So he only returned her gaze, saying nothing. She fell against his arm, buried her face against his shoulder, and succumbed to her sobbing again.
'We all grieve for your loss, of course,' Grand Trabbar Lavant said from his high-backed chair. Falagh turned to look at the heavyset priest, who had his hands folded together, his fingers interlaced across his ample stomach. The Grand Trabbar continued to stare at the floor in front of him with that thoughtful, if somewhat distant, mien. 'To have both a mother and brother taken from you at the same time is a terrible tragedy… simply terrible. And with the man most directly responsible for it running free, well…' Lavant said, leaving the thought hanging.
Lobra sat up again, wiping the fresh tears from her cheeks with her handkerchief. Falagh could see her visage of misery transformed into one of hatred, and she shifted away from him and toward the front of her couch, sitting regally. The woman settled her hands into her lap, though she held them clenched into delicate fists.
Very good, Falagh thought, recognizing the priest's subtle manipulations. Move past what's done, and address what is still to be done.
The Grand Trabbar rose ponderously from his seat and carefully smoothed his gem-studded cream and crimson robes about himself, then he moved to stand next to Grozier, who still knelt in front of Lobra.
'If you want to see justice done, consider our cause,' the priest said, resting one hand on the kneeling man's shoulder so he could bend forward slightly and emphasize his words. 'With your help, we can not only see your mother's and brother's vision continue to move forward, but we can take steps to rectify this horrible grievance committed against you by House Matrell.'
'But I cannot make these decisions!' the woman wailed. 'I know nothing of managing these affairs. Mother always-' and Lobra choked on her words, her body shuddering in another silent sob as she covered her face with her handkerchief again. Falagh patted his wife's back as she shook in sorrow.
When Lobra had regained her composure once more, she continued with a sniff. 'Others have always handled things. And I am not next in ascension, anyway; Jerephin is the head of the House, now.'
'Lobra, sweetheart,' Falagh said at last, finding it the right moment to add his own encouragement to the words of the two men beseeching his wife. 'How many years has it been since anyone heard from Jerephin? Five, six?'
'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
'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
