Relos Var, however, stayed. He watched the Hon leave, waited a few seconds, and then pulled up a seat next to Brother Qown. He opened a small gate with his usual graceful style and began pulling plates and cups from that small portal. Within seconds, Relos Var had filled the tabletop with steamed rice buns, Brother Qown’s favorite black truffle soup, and a steaming pot of tea.

“Oh, this isn’t necessary—”

“I rather think it is. You’re forgetting to eat, which isn’t like you.” Relos Var gave him an intent look. “I’m told you had some trouble while I was away.”

Brother Qown looked down at his hands, even as Relos Var began to pile up a plate with vegetable-stuffed buns and then ladled him a bowl of soup. “It was fine. Just weak men who wanted to feel strong.”

Relos Var smiled. “Yes, weak men are always the ones who cause problems, aren’t they?”

Brother Qown had the feeling a trap waited in that sentence, so he didn’t respond. He instead spent about two seconds contemplating if wanting to help himself to Relos Var’s food made him a bad person. Var had presented proper Eamithonian cuisine, the kind Qown would daydream about while reading in the Ice Demesne library. He decided no man, no matter how moral, could resist such a temptation. Qown began to eat.

The sorcerer put his hand on Brother Qown’s shoulder. “I’m also told you have been spending time with Thurvishar D’Lorus.”

Brother Qown set down the food. “Is that a problem?”

“Be careful. Thurvishar can’t be trusted any more than you.”

Brother Qown blinked. Could Relos Var mean—

“He’s gaeshed,” Relos Var said, just in case there had been any doubt. “Gaeshed by Gadrith the Twisted. If you ever run into a pale, slender man with D’Lorus black eyes, run the other way. He’s not your friend. He’s not anyone’s friend.”

“Oh gods,” Brother Qown said. “I did meet someone like that. I think—” He shuddered then, remembering the hungry stare of the pale man he’d met at Shadrag Gor. “Wait, Gadrith the Twisted? I thought Gadrith D’Lorus died.”

“It is very much to his benefit everyone thinks so. However, his house is useful to the Hon, and his libraries are useful to me, and he has—” Relos Var paused. “He has something important to me. Gadrith knows I won’t move against him while he possesses it.”

Brother Qown managed not to choke on his soup, managed not to show any reaction at all, but inside, his emotions churned. After all, if a talisman or artifact existed that could be used against Relos Var—and Gadrith had this in his possession—then perhaps Qown could find it—that is, if Brother Qown ever freed himself from Relos Var’s gaesh.