I do not think this counts as lucky.
Inric sighs at the memory, and wriggles his hands behind his back, testing the shackles. They are just locked, which is a relief. Just Copper to worry about. Do they really have him? How would they know about him if not?
He pushes that from his mind and returns to the mysterious names Prytanis had asked about. Ahl Serin. Sa Ayen. The Sa estuary.
Which were the coastal clanholds? He counts them off in his mind. Tor-Ayanath. Cal-Anvirin. Menethel. Asteveril. Osh-Antarath. Sarayan.
And stops. Sarayan. Of course.
They would have the records. They hold their memories close. And their grudges closer still.