Page 65 of A Crown of Lies

Ruith reached out and seized the dagger before putting it flat against the table’s surface. “That depends entirely upon the information you bring to me. Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I am an elf, and I have a life in Brucia,” Aryn said, snatching the dagger. “I am as invested in this election as you are, and getting the right person for the job. Tell me, if the election were held today, who would you throw your support behind?”

“I can hardly say,” Ruith said with a snort and folded his arms. “The campaigning has just begun.”

“But you consider yourself a good judge of people. Guess.”

“I’m only a good judge when I have enough information to make a call, Aryn.”

“I know you wouldn’t support Redrock,” Aryn mused. “Craiggybottom’s trade interests and anti-slavery leanings align with yours. However, you know as well as I do his ideas are too radical and Redrock’s allies will kill every measure he puts forward. A Craiggybottom victory would usher in an era of stalemates and gridlocks here, so I doubt you would support him. That leaves Niro Wolfheart, your father’s pick.”

Ruith’s chair groaned as he shifted his weight. “I’m telling you, Aryn, I don’t know him. I know nothing about him, and I can see absolutely no reason my father would have elevated such a middling politician. His votes are generally safe, yes, but it wasn’t like Taratheil to err on the side ofsafe. Remember, he’s the one who toppled the monarchy in the first place, and invaded the human lands. If ever there was a radical Primarch, it was Taratheil. So why would he support someone so…boring?”

“There are other reasons a Primarch might choose his Voice,” Isheda said carefully.

Ruith leaned on a fist and looked over at him. “Like what?”

Isheda shrugged. “As a reward for loyalty, perhaps?”

The Crow snorted. “Clan Wolfheart and Clan Deepfrost were on opposite sides during the civil war. There’s bad blood between them. Loyalty is not the reason.”

“He might’ve done it to keep him close. Perhaps Taratheil thought of the Wolfhearts as a threat then,” Isheda offered.

“If he were the scheming type, there would be some evidence. There would be whispers, at the very least. Rumors. Aryn would have found something.” Ruith rubbed his eyes before sighing and lowering his hands to the table. “Forget it,” he said, standing.

Aryn frowned. “And where are you going?”

“To set up a meeting with the Voice of the Assembly. If you can’t find anything, then I’ll get a measure of him myself.” Ruith stepped away from his desk for the first time all morning.

ArynwaiteduntilRuithhad collected Faelyn, Will, and Brick for his trip into the city before catching Isheda’s eye again. He rose, leaving his seat in the courtyard behind. What he had to say to Isheda was best spoken behind closed doors, lest prying ears hear.

All elven clan houses were essentially built the same way. There were two inner courtyards, a public and a private one. The two floors of rooms surrounding the public courtyard were meant to receive and entertain guests, or housed the servants. Only the blood members of a clan could live in the apartments around the private courtyard, which meant every face looking down at Aryn was some member of Taratheil’s extended family.

Taratheil hadn’t had any children beyond Ruith, but he had incorporated the widows and orphans of the Turtlefall clan into Clan Deepfrost when he formed it. Some of those orphans grew up, becoming the heirs to Clan Turtlefall. They then moved away, and a once-defunct house was reborn. The widows, however, and some of the children had decided to stay under Taratheil’s protection rather than join their original clan house. They stood above, the survivors of Emperor Besshirou’s civil war, their children, and grandchildren. With a bag of gold, a marriage, and the stroke of a pen, Taratheil had saved hundreds.

And Ruith thought his father was not altruistic. Perhaps he had been, but Taratheil was also prideful.

In the center rear of every clan house stood the Lord’s Chamber. On the top level were his sleeping quarters, but on the lower floor was his private sanctuary. Ruith had not made any changes to Taratheil’s chamber. Actually, Aryn wasn’t even sure he’d even been in there. The Crow was being oddly particular about making no changes to his father’s things.

Aryn kicked off his shoes and opened the door, stepping into the darkened chamber, and paused. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised to see a room lined with books on one side and weapons on the other. Both represented the former Primarch’s personality in different ways.

He paced forward, more interested in the unfinished game of chess sitting on the table. White was winning, but only by a thin margin. Black could easily turn the tide in its favor with the right move. Aryn considered the pieces and reached to pick up the black king.

“I’m told chess isn’t your game,” said Isheda behind him.

“It isn’t. I prefer Go.” Aryn turned and found Isheda blocking the only exit. He smiled when he saw that Isheda had brought his sword. Did the Runecleaver think he could take him? Now that might be an interesting fight, but one for another day.

“They have some things in common, I suppose,” Isheda said, keen eyes carefully watching Aryn’s fingers as he plucked the king from the board. “Both require a deep understanding of your opponent and the ability to predict moves far in the future, to see all possible outcomes.”

“Yes, but in chess, only one piece matters. All the pawns, the queen, her knights, and everyone else exists only to serve and protect the king.” He tossed the black king to Isheda, who caught it in a fist. “In Go, the pieces are not limited by their movements. It’s all about placement and manipulating your opponent into making the wrong move when he knows full well what the right one is. Chess can only be played on the board. Go is played in the mind.”

Isheda considered the black king in his hand, turning it over before meeting Aryn’s eyes. “What is it you want?”

Aryn curled his fingers in. The posture looked relaxed, but it would allow him to draw one of his hidden daggers in a fraction of a second should things go awry. “You have information about Niro that you haven’t shared with the rest of us. Something that would be scandalous should it get out. I want to know what it is, and I want to know why you chose not to share that information with Ruith when he asked.”

Isheda considered Aryn for a long moment. Then he turned around, closed the door, and took another step closer. “Niro is my bastard.”

Aryn flinched at the news. Of all the things he’d expected to hear Isheda say, that was not among them. His mind raced with the implications. “That would mean he has Runecleaver blood.”

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