Page 75 of The War of Four Winters

He moved to a nearby shelf, selecting a heavy tome without hesitation despite the dim light. "The Primarch forgets that institutional memory is long. Some of us remember what he was before power changed him." He placed the book on a small table. "This contains detailed maps of the service corridors beneath the Assembly Hall, including maintenance tunnels rarely used since the Third Dynasty."

My surprise must have shown on my face, for the archivist's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. "Not all rebellion requires a sword, Lord Consort. Some of us fight with knowledge instead." He gestured to the book. "Take it. Return it if you survive what comes."

"Why help us?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

The archivist's gaze became distant. "I served two kings and Queen Siriyama briefly before the Primarch. Recorded their decrees, archived their declarations, documented their legacies." His eyes refocused, sharp with centuries of observation. "Ruith Starfall is the first potential ruler in three generations who ever bothered to read down here as a boy. I remember him coming here often years ago." He inclined his head slightly. "The Archives follow no faction, but we recognize a single truth. Those who do not study history are doomed never to learn from it."

"Thank you," I said, genuine gratitude in my voice.

"I was never here," the archivist replied, already turning away. "And neither were you."

"Regardless, we can't remain here," I said, gathering our documents. "They'll return, and next time they won't be deterred by procedural objections."

Niro nodded. "We need a secure location to continue our work. Somewhere they wouldn't think to look for us."

I stared at the Assembly map spread before us, at the intricate layout of D'thallanar's political heart. "What about the Duskfel clan residence? With the house decimated from within, it likely stands empty. They'd never think to search an abandoned building."

"Potentially," Niro considered, studying the map. "But access would be difficult. After the tragedy, Tarathiel ordered the residence sealed."

"What about House Craiggybottom, then?" I suggested, indicating their location on the map. "They've been openly supporting Ruith from the beginning. If anyone would welcome us, it would be them."

"An excellent choice," Niro agreed, his expression lightening slightly. "They're looked down upon by the traditional houses, but their very position as outsiders makes them perfect allies for us now."

"Will they risk housing us? Tarathiel must know of their support for Ruith."

Niro considered for a moment. "Captain Seagrave already took a significant risk helping us reach Ruith. But the Craiggybottoms have always been pragmatic. They understand that standing with Ruith means standing against Tarathiel."

"We have little choice," I said, gathering our materials. "If we're discovered here, everything ends."

We collected our documents, tucking the archivist's borrowed tome securely inside Niro's robes. Moving through the Archives' maze-like corridors required careful navigation. Twice we froze at the distant sound of voices, pressing ourselves into alcoves until the danger passed.

The archivist had indicated a servants' exit that would lead us to the lower levels of the Assembly complex. Unlike the grand entryways guarded day and night, this modest door was designed for the endless flow of clerks, messengers, and maintenance staff that kept D'thallanar's bureaucracy functioning.

The chill of winter pricked at my skin as we stepped outside. The Hall of Wisdom, which housed the Assembly, rose like an island fortress behind us. Unlike other structures in the city, the Hall stood on its own circular island, surrounded by a deep moat that could accommodate large shipping vessels. Massive bridges connected it to the mainland, engineering marvels that could be raised to allow ships passage or lowered for processions of dignitaries.

The Craiggybottom clan house was near the merchant quarter. We'd need to cross through several other clan territories to reach it. Our journey took us first through the Deepfrost district, closest to the Assembly Hall. Tarathiel's personal territory gleamed with wealth and power, silver-blue banners bearing evergreen symbols hanging from every building. Guards in ceremonial armor patrolled the immaculate streets, their expressions stern in the lantern light.

Beyond lay the Runecleaver district, eerily quiet since Vinolia's death. Their blood oak symbol, once proudly displayed throughout their territory, now seemed to loom ominously over empty streets. Many windows remained dark, their occupants having either fled to the countryside or been purged in Katyr's consolidation of power.

The farther we moved from the center, the more evidence we saw of the brutal hierarchy that governed elven society. By the time we reached the outer rings, we passed increasing numbers of human slaves. They moved with downcast eyes, mindful of the guards, who watched for any sign of disobedience.

I kept my head down, acutely aware that my disguise might not withstand scrutiny. The collar scars on my neck, carefully hidden beneath my high collar, seemed to burn as if newly made. Had Ruith not claimed me, I might have been among those shuffling figures, another piece of property in this ancient city built on subjugation.

"The Craiggybottom district lies just before the merchant quarter," Niro explained as we approached the outer ring. "Being established as a guild rather than a blood clan, they were granted territorial rights only after significant contribution to elven commerce."

The transition to Craiggybottom territory was striking. Where other districts maintained careful aesthetic uniformity dictated by clan leadership, this area exploded with diverse architectural influences. Buildings of various styles clustered together, showing inspiration from across the known world. The streets, while less pristine than those of the inner rings, bustled with more genuine energy despite the late hour.

"There," Niro said, nodding toward a sprawling compound near the district's edge where it bordered the merchant quarter. "The Craiggybottom guild house."

The guild compound stood in stark contrast to the ancestral seats of blood clans. Where traditional houses displayed their power through imposing uniformity, Craiggybottom embraced a vibrant diversity that reflected its unique status. The complex resembled a small village unto itself. Buildings of various styles clustered around communal spaces, reflecting the patchwork nature of a community built on membership rather than birth. Lanterns in a rainbow of colors illuminated the streets, creating a festive atmosphere despite the late hour.

The central building bore nautical influences with its curved roofs, facades decorated with stylized sea creatures carved by artisans from diverse backgrounds. Blue banners displaying the clan's sail-and-star emblem hung alongside flags representing member families and allied trading partners from distant shores.

Guards watched our approach, their posture alert but lacking the rigid formality of traditional house sentries. Their uniforms showed practical variation rather than strict uniformity, though all bore the distinctive indigo sash marking them as Craiggybottom defenders. Unlike the matched ceremonial weapons of blood clan guards, these carried practical tools of diverse origins—evidence of a house that valued function over form.

"State your business," the senior guard called as we reached the gate. Her bright red hair marked her as partly Yeutish.

Niro stepped forward, bowing. "We bring urgent communication for Representative Seagrave from an ally within the Assembly."

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