“There are many questions you should ask, though one is the most obvious and most important. Think, boy.”

Aaron’s eyes flitted from the torchlight to the old man.

“Who are the Trifect,” he asked.

“Who is what? Speak up, I’m a flea’s jump away from deaf.”

“The Trifect,” Aaron nearly shouted. “Who are they?”

“That is an excellent question,” Robert said. “They have a saying, ‘after the gods, us.’ When Karak and Ashhur were banished by the goddess, the land was a devastated mess. Countries fractured, people rebelled, and pillagers marched up and down the coasts. Three wealthy men formed an alliance to protect their assets. Five hundred years ago they formed their sigil of an eagle perched on a golden branch, and they’ve been loyal to it ever since.”

He paused and rubbed his beard. The torch switched hands.

“A question for you, boy: why do they want the thief guilds dead?”

The question was not difficult. The sigil was the answer.

“They never let go of their gold,” Aaron said. “Yet we take it from them.”

“Precisely,” Robert said. “To be sure, they’ll spend their gold, sometimes frivolously and without good reason. They never give it away willingly, not ever. They tolerated the thief guilds for many centuries as their three families grew in power. Now they control nearly all of Neldar with their wealth. For the longest of times they viewed the guilds as a nuisance, nothing more. That changed. Tell me why, boy; that is your next question.”

This one was tougher. Aaron went over the words of his master. His memory was sharp, and at last he remembered a comment that seemed appropriate.

“My father amassed a legendary amount of wealth,” he said. He smiled, proud of figuring out the answer. “He must have taken too much from the Trifect and was no longer a nuisance.”