Hrun apparently didn’t see it that way. He’d already been standing tall, but now he straightened, his spine going stiff and his chin lifting. He’d obviously taken umbrage at Kiruk’s question, but whether the insult came from being called part duergar or from having that duergar heritage disparaged remained to be seen.
“If there is duergar blood running through my veins, I do not know of it. Though I have lived my whole life outside their boundaries, I was raised as a child of the Holds, and that is what—and who—I am. First and last, always and only, a Noldrun.”
Jhuddona opened her mouth to verify the statement, but Kiruk waved her words away.
“Just because he doesn’t know, doesn’t mean it isn’t so,” the Tordannon clan leader quipped. “And just because he can spout a barely remembered clan motto doesn’t mean he’s part of that clan, or that he has any idea what those words even mean.”
He sat back in his seat without waiting for a response from either priestess or claimant. He didn’t need to pursue the line of questioning any further; he’d already done what he’d set out to do: sow suspicion.
Sabira didn’t pretend to understand the Mrorian hatred for duergars. She knew little about the so-called “gray dwarves.” To her, they were just dwarves, albeit usually smaller and less likely to be found aboveground—and possessing the distinctive physical characteristics that Aggar had mentioned and with which Kiruk was so obsessed. Sabira had even heard rumors that the duergar possessed mental powers on par with the likes of mind flayers, their own minds having been twisted and changed by long servitude to the daelkyr in ancient times. She doubted those tales had more than a grain or two of truth to them, though—it was far more likely that the Mrorians despised the duergar simply because they were different.
Some of the other Council members asked questions of Hrun, as well—Hilgg Narathun asked him to expound on several branches of his genealogy, apparently looking for a connection to her own clan, while Garrek Soldorak asked what his plans were for retaking Noldrunthrone, should his claim be accepted. Sabira soon grew bored of this discussion as well, and she amused herself by counting beads in the male dwarves’ beards and trying to determine who had the most. The female dwarves had as much prowess on the battlefield as their male counterparts, of course, but they wore their war tokens in their ears, on their fingers, and about their necks, making the pricy baubles much harder to tally.
She’d just about decided that Kolkarun was the unlikely winner when Torlan stood, signaling the end of Hrun’s interview. The Noldrun aspirant dressed quickly and donned a gray cloak. Then another guard appeared from a side entrance to lead him back to his waiting room while the Council tabled further discussions on his claim in favor of Aggar’s trial.
“Aggar Tordannon, step forward and take your place on the eye of Aureon, please.”
Aggar rose and walked to the front row, gesturing for Sabira and Rockfist to follow him. The Narathun guard trailed them, still fondling his urgrosh. Once in the front, they retook their seats, with the guard standing in the second row just behind Aggar. As soon as the Tordannon heir stepped onto the eye, he’d become the problem of the chamber guards and the Narathun could either leave or sit and be just another spectator to what promised to be an entertaining trial, especially for someone who hated the Tordannons. Sabira had a feeling he’d be staying.
Aggar slowly stripped down to his breeches, taking care to fold his garments and place them in a painstakingly neat pile on the bench. As he divested himself of his multicolored clothing at a near-glacial pace, he spoke to his defenders in a low, urgent whisper.
“Once I’m on the eye, they can ask me questions about anything, not just the murders, and I’m obliged to answer. You’ve got to keep the questioning confined to the case at hand. There are things I know that it would be better if they didn’t.”
Sabira had no doubt of that. Even before Aggar had become a member of the Aurum, there’d been things in his past that, for the sake of his clan, shouldn’t be aired before the Council. But with him joining the Aurum and rising through their ranks so quickly, he had to have left a wake behind him, one that probably included many shady deals and possibly even a body or two. The Iron Council would have no choice but to prosecute him for any crimes uncovered during the course of their interrogation, even if the bodies in question weren’t the ones for which they were originally seeking justice.
“We’ll do our best to keep them focused,” Rockfist promised, as Aggar removed his gold Aurum rings and handed them to the barrister for safekeeping. Rockfist’s eyes widened behind his spectacles and he pocketed the jewelry almost reverently. Sabira wondered, then, if the advocate didn’t aspire to join the ranks of the powerful organization himself.
Then the perceptor was standing next to them and all conversation ceased as Aggar held his arms out to his sides while she examined him for any trace of lingering magic.
She clutched an amulet of some sort that she wore beneath her robes, and a look of concentration creased her face. After a moment, she frowned and pointed to Aggar’s beard.
It was the charm Rockfist had given him, a small gold bead that he’d added to a string of similar bibelots on one of his braids. Reddening, Aggar quickly removed the shiny sphere and handed it over. The perceptor examined it for a moment, then turned to address the Council and Jhuddona.
“It’s a cantrip to disguise odor.”
Torlan said, “We have no objection to him keeping that one, Dorro.” A small ripple of laughter descended from the dais at that, and Dorro returned the charm to Aggar with a shrug. She continued her examination as he replaced the bead on his braid. When she was satisfied, she nodded to Jhuddona, who stood and reactivated the eye with a few whispered words. Once the mithral sigil was glowing again, the perceptor gestured for Aggar to take his place on it. He did so, and the trial began.
Unlike most of the trials Sabira had witnessed or been involved with in the past, cases adjudicated by the Iron Council only involved a single barrister who acted on behalf of the accused. After a summary of the crimes committed, including the presentation of any evidence or witnesses, Aggar would be allowed to tell his side of the story. The Council members would question him, and once they were satisfied they had enough information, they would confer and make a ruling. Their decisions were always final and irrevocable. If the Council decreed death, the accused’s heirs could begin mourning—or celebrating, as the case might be—the instant the sentence was uttered, for there would be no appeals.
Torlan began by addressing the Council.
“I know we are all familiar with this case, and since we have no witness statements to hear, I’d like to waive reading the charges and skip right to questioning the accused, if that’s agreeable to everyone?” Though the arbiter’s words were ostensibly meant for the entire Council, his gaze strayed to Kiruk, and Sabira understood he was extending the older dwarf the courtesy of asking for his permission. The other members understood Torlan’s intent, as well, and none of them signaled their agreement until Aggar’s father had nodded his own.
“Very good.” He gestured to the priestess of Aureon. “Jhuddona, if you please?”
Jhuddona stepped forward, taking the perceptor’s place.
“Aggar Tordannon, did you kill, or cause to be killed, Haddrin Goldglove?”
Aggar’s voice rang out, strong and utterly confident. “No.”
“Did you kill, or cause to be killed, Cerese Silvervein?”
“No.”
The questions droned on as the priestess listed all thirteen murder victims, ending with Mikos Deepshaft. When Aggar’s final denial came, firm and resolute, Sabira thought she heard the veiled woman stir restlessly, but a quick glance in that direction showed nothing amiss, at least as far as Sabira could tell. Who knew what the woman might be doing beneath those veils, though? Best to keep one eye on her and the other on Aggar. A Defender’s habits die hard.