Free The RuneLords by David Farland

among our kind: Good deeds portend good fortune."
    Gaborn considered the words "our kind." Though the Days were human, they considered themselves as creatures apart. Perhaps they were right.
    Their service to the Time Lords required great sacrifices. They forsook home and family, loyalties to any king. Instead, these mysterious men and women simply studied the great lords, wrote the chronicles, published the deeds of a man's life when he died, and in all other ways remained aloof from common politics.
    Yet Gaborn did not entirely trust these watchers, with their secretive smiles. They only feigned aloofness in the affairs of men, of that Gaborn felt certain. Every Runelord was followed by a Days who recorded his words and deeds. Sometimes, when two Days met, they reported to one another in coded phrases. Gaborn's ancestors had been studying the Days for generations, trying to break their codes.
    But how aloof were they really? Gaborn suspected that the Days had sometimes betrayed secrets to enemy kings. Certain battles could only have been won on the advice of informers--informers who were probably Days. Yet if as a group the Days took sides in wars between nations, neither Gaborn nor anyone else had ever been able to determine where the Days placed their allegiance.
    No discernible battle lines were drawn. Evil kings prospered from Days' spying as often as did good. And no king could escape them. Some kings had tried ridding themselves of the Days, either through assassination or banishment. But such kings never reigned for another season. As a group, the Days were too powerful. Any king who dared strike down one Days would discover just how much information a Days' partner could divulge. Distressing information would be revealed to enemy kings, fortunes would be ruined, peasants would revolt.
    No one could defy the Days. Nor did Gaborn feel certain that any man should want to do so. An old adage went, "A man who will not bear scrutiny cannot bear a crown." It was said that those words were given by the Glories themselves, when the Days were first partnered to the kings. "A Runelord should be a servant to man," the Glories had said.
    So Gaborn's title came with a price. He would never be free of this man, never be alone. Though he might rule a kingdom, some things were right-fully denied even to Gaborn.
    Lost in thought, Gaborn wondered once again about Borenson. The man was a soldier, and soldiers did not necessarily make good lords, for they were trained to solve every problem through use of force. Gaborn's father preferred to sell titles to merchants, who were trained to barter for what they wanted. Gaborn suddenly realized that the Days had never fully answered him, had avoided the question.
    "I said, 'Borenson is a good man, isn't he?' "
    The Days looked up, his head nodding just a bit. The disciple was well on his way to being solidly drunk. He poured more wine. "Not nearly so good as you, Your Lordship. But he'll make her happy enough, I'd wager."
    Your Lordship. Not my lord.
    "But he's a good man, isn't he?" Gaborn asked a third time, suddenly angry at the Days' evasion.
    The Days looked away, started to mumble something.
    Gaborn struck the table hard enough so the wine bottles jumped and the mugs clanked. He shouted, "Answer me!"
    The Days gaped in surprise. He knew to take warning. Fists would soon fly. Gaborn had endowments of brawn from three men. His blow could kill a commoner.
    "Hah--what does it matter, Your Lordship?" the Days averred, struggling to clear his muddled thoughts. "You've never worried about his goodness before. You've never questioned his moral fiber."
    The Days took another swig of wine, seemed to want more, but thought better of it and carefully set the mug aside.
    Why am I questioning Borenson's moral character? Gaborn wondered, and the answers flowed to him: Because you were drinking addleberry wine and noticed how Days tried to evade the question. Because Myrrima said that Princess Iome