Free 06 - Rule of Thieves by C. Greenwood

of a hawk, looking a little too large for her face. There was nothing striking about her, I decided. She was neither lovely nor plain.
    I turned my attention to the man seated at the Praetor’s other side.
    “What about the fellow with the long copper hair?” I asked. “Is he anybody important?”
    I didn’t know why, but it seemed to me there was something almost sinister in his face and even his posture. His eyebrows were so fair they were nearly invisible at this distance, making his forehead high and bare. His elaborate clothing and his position close to the Praetor suggested a person of significance. But he turned his shoulder to the others at the table, hinting at some secret or perhaps not-so-secret hostility toward his companions.
    Lorea explained he was Counselor Torg Branek, the Praetor’s most trusted adviser. Lowering her voice, she added that he had the reputation of a man not to be trusted. People said he hungered for power and coveted the governorship of the province if anything should ever befall the Praetor.
    I eyed the advisor and wondered just how important influence was to him. Enough to remove anyone else who might divide the Praetor’s attention? Martyn had said it was someone close to the Praetor who wanted me out of the way. This Torg Branek looked capable of such a plot, and from Lorea’s description of him, it might not be out of his character.
    “Tell me about the new Fist captain,” I suggested.
    I didn’t know what made me ask about Terrac. I already knew him better than anyone here possibly could.
    Lorea said, “Aye, well, he’s been promoted since the retirement of the former captain, Delecarte. He gets the job done, defending us against those pale-skinned savages, and that’s all we want.”
    I watched Terrac across the room, seeing him fumble with a tray a servant handed him, then knock over the tankard of the person seated beside him. It was obvious he was still struggling to adapt to his one-handed state. Knowing how he must hate for the Praetor and those other people to see him as weak or clumsy, my cheeks burned for him. Then I reminded myself it was quite likely he knew more about my recent arrest than he admitted to, and I stopped being sorry for him. I no longer believed him guilty of working against me, but he hadn’t been very forthcoming either. It would not greatly surprise me to learn he was protecting someone.
    There was one other person at the Praetor’s table who interested me, a handsome young man whom the others seemed to ignore. All but Lady Morwena, whose longing looks aimed in his direction left no doubt of her admiration. From what I could see, he returned both the glances and the feeling.
    Lorea recovered her chattiness to introduce him as Asmund Summerdale, another counselor to the Praetor, but one no one took seriously. Except the young women, she added with a wink. She took him very seriously indeed. Unfortunately for Counselor Summerdale, his fellow counselors and the Praetor were less enthralled with him, and it was only his family connections that assured his position.
    Briefly, Lorea summed up all the others at the head table, various advisers, minor nobles, and a retired soldier. The graying soldier was the former Fist captain, Delecarte, whose position Terrac had so recently assumed. I vaguely remembered having seen Delecarte a few times in the past, but I hadn’t taken much note of him then. And there was no time to ask for further information on him now. Most everyone had finished their meals, and the great hall was emptying except for a handful of servants who stayed behind to clean up.
    I headed back to my room, trying to remember all the turns that had brought me here. I followed the direction I thought was right only to find myself soon lost in a series of corridors that looked remarkably alike. This was a quiet part of the keep. I had passed no one in the halls for some time.
    As I wandered, lost, I gradually became aware of an