Page 87 of Shield of Fire

Mathi raised his eyebrows, amusement evident. “They control earth and stone—what else did you think they’d do?”

I waved a hand to the man at my side. “Run the black markets.”

“That’s what the Lùtair line does, not the other six,” Mathi said. “When it comes to brutal reputations, however, the Eadevane have it all over the Lùtair.”

“Meaning what?” I said. “They’re a mining company—they’d have to play within certain rules, wouldn’t they? Bribery and corruption will surely only get you so far in this day and age.”

“In this day and age, the means of bribery and corruption might be less obvious,” Mathi said, “but trust me when I say there remain plenty of authorities with their snouts in the trough.”

I raised my eyebrows, amusement rising. “That sounds an awful lot like the voice of experience talking.”

Mathi smiled and didn’t bother denying it.

I returned my gaze to the destruction. “The captive we interviewed outside Cynwrig’s building said this was all about revenge. I guess the next question has to be, what did Afran Eadevane—and his company—do to our elves? This is about more than revenge for Gilda’s treatment at Afran’s hands.”

“Gilda worked for Afran?” Mathi said sharply. “When?”

“Quite a few years ago,” Cynwrig said. “Gilda never reported Afran’s violence, and he has the power and money to silence anyone else who might have been inclined to do so.”

“How did you—” Mathi stopped. “The building collapse loosened tongues.”

Cynwrig nodded, though the glint in his eyes suggested it was more likely his utter fury that loosened those tongues.

“Which means,” I said, “that Halak, and whoever Keelakm truly is, are connected not only by Gilda, but whatever tragedy resulted from Eadevane’s actions.”

Cynwrig nodded again. “I’ve already contacted my people and ordered an urgent search through the archives. Given our suspicions Halak is from the Cloondeash encampment, I’ve requested the search concentrate on any developments Eadevane might have had in that area.”

“Except that Halak, at the very least, came to Deva for work when he was young.”

“Young by our terms,” Lugh said. “Possibly not young by his.”

Which was true enough. I’d never been overly concerned about actual ages when it came to elven partners because of the differences in lifespans. “Do we think their destruction ends with Afran? Or will they go after the whole damn family?”

“You’re obviously not aware of the Myrkálfar motto,” Mathi said dryly. “Kill one of ours, and we’ll take all yours.”

“Isn’t that the Ljósálfar motto?”

“Their motto,” Cynwrig said blandly, “is fuck with our businesses, and we’ll fuck with you.”

I just about choked on my chip. As mottos went, both summed up the different outlook of the two groups damnably well. “Has Afran got brothers and sisters?”

“One of each. They were all advised after the destruction of my building to be on guard.” Cynwrig shrugged and motioned for another round of drinks. “I doubt they took much notice.”

“Maybe now,” I said, waving a hand toward the TV, “they will.”

“Or they’ll simply use the opportunity to claim Afran’s position as sole company director,” Cynwrig said. “None of the siblings liked each other, and the only thing uniting the younger two was their hatred for Afran.”

“He wasn’t well-liked by anyone,” Mathi said. “But the company was too powerful for most to go up against.”

I scooped up more chips. “Meaning your company has clashed swords with him a few times?”

“Only the once.”

“Who won?”

“He won the battle; we won the war.”

“Afran’s oldest sibling did not heed the Ljósálfar motto,” Cynwrig said. “Which is why Afran’s oldest sibling no longer exists.”

---