“If I may have a word, Marshal?”
Sabira shot one last disgusted look at Gunnett, then she nodded and took a few steps away, gesturing for the Soldorak woman to follow her as Gunnett rejoined the others.
Anneka got right to the point.
“I still think this whole business with an accomplice is just a little too convenient, but, if you’re right … if there is an accomplice and if he’s intent on continuing Nightshard’s work, then my daughters could be in danger.”
“A lot of ‘ifs,’ there,” Sabira commented, but went no further. It was obvious from Anneka’s halting speech that she was still undecided as to her course of action, and Sabira wasn’t going to make it any easier for her.
“More than I’m comfortable with,” Anneka replied, “but I will not take chances with the lives of my children.”
Sabira had heard the tale from Aggar. Anneka had been thought barren and the twins were conceived when she was well past her child-bearing years. Her husband, Veddar, had been on his way back from Korunda’s Gate to attend the much-anticipated birth when he’d been waylaid by Jhorash’tar orcs. The story went that the first twin had been born at the precise moment Veddar died, and an old dwarven superstition held that she carried some of his spirit within her as a result. Unfortunately, the girls were identical in every respect, and the midwife—now deceased—had been drinking. Once she’d placed the two girls side by side, she couldn’t remember which had been born first, and Anneka never knew which one bore pieces of her husband’s soul. So she’d coddled them both from birth, and her protectiveness was legendary. If she perceived a threat to her children, Anneka would go to any length to neutralize it.
Including, Sabira hoped, defying Torlan Mroranon and the edicts of the Iron Council.
“What is it you’re trying to say, Anneka?” Sabira asked, prodding the dwarf woman along.
“I want you to make sure my daughters stay safe,” the Soldorak clan chief said at last, though it looked as if she’d swallowed a mouthful of rancid goat’s milk as she did.
Perfect.
“The best way to do that is to keep Aggar safe,” Sabira replied, careful to show neither her eagerness nor her relief. Anneka needed to believe Sabira was doing her a favor, not the other way around. “As long as the killer has Aggar to focus on, he won’t move on to other targets.”
“But you’re going to Frostmantle!” Anneka protested, finally getting an inkling of what Sabira was trying to do.
“You’re not.”
Anneka looked at her for a moment, brief anger fading quickly to resignation as she saw how she’d been manipulated.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked at last.
“We all know Tiadanna’s not going to be arrested for Dorro’s death, and if she tried to kill Aggar once, there’s every chance she’ll try again. Keep her from succeeding. And make sure the Council doesn’t continue the trial in my absence—because Aggar will be found guilty if I don’t come back with hard evidence, and if that happens … well, then your daughters could be next.
“And you need to put Jhuddona under your protection as well. The only reason Torlan agreed to an extension is because he’s afraid the Sentinel Marshals will come after Tiadanna—but the only way that will happen is if Jhuddona brings formal charges against her. He and Tiadanna already have the death of one priestess on their hands, and murder is so much easier the second time around.”
Anneka nodded, the strands of her long gold earrings clashing together disharmoniously with the abrupt movement.
“I’ll do it,” she said, turning to leave. “Just make sure you bring that proof. If it turns out Aggar really is guilty, I’ll kill him myself.”
“If that happens, you’ll have to get in line,” Sabira said under her breath as the Soldorak woman walked away. Then she hurried back over to where the others waited impatiently for her.
“You’ll need help in Frostmantle,” Aggar said as she approached. “I’ll send word for Orin to meet you there. He should be fully healed by then, and he’s the only one I trust with this.”
Gunnett opened her mouth as if to protest, but Aggar silenced her with a look.
“You’ve both already avoided your marital obligations this long—another two weeks isn’t going to hurt any.”
“That’s hardly been by choice—” the dwarf woman began angrily, her face reddening, but Aggar continued on, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Speaking of obligations, the Mountainhearts have been neglecting the clan’s mining operations in Irontown for far too long, especially in light of the recent robbery attempts on the lightning rail run from there to Vulyar. Since Orin is going to be otherwise engaged, I would suggest you get down there and find out exactly what’s going on and how to best protect our interests.”
For a moment, Sabira thought there might be yet another attempted murder in the Council chambers today. Gunnett’s lips compressed so tightly they lost all color and her hands balled into fists at her sides. Then she seemed to get hold of herself, and her face smoothed into a brittle smile, though Sabira saw that her knuckles were still an angry white. The dwarf woman inclined her head ever so slightly to Aggar and then she whirled and stormed from the room without another word.
“I swear I don’t know what that boy sees in her,” Aggar commented drily after she had gone. Sabira wondered the same thing herself. She also wondered, again, what had caused Aggar to name Mountainheart his heir. She doubted he’d tell her, but maybe she could get it out of his nephew.
But there would time for that later. Right now, she needed to make a quick stop before she left for the capital of Tordannonhold. A visit neither of the dwarves was going to like.
“I’ll leave for Frostmantle in the morning, then. But for now, I need a favor.” As the dwarves looked at her—Rockfist surprised and Aggar leery—she lowered her voice and leaned closer. If any of the other dwarves in the chamber heard her, she’d be sitting in a cell in between Jhuddona and Aggar, if they didn’t just execute her outright. She wasn’t entirely sure the barrister and the Tordannon heir wouldn’t react the same way, but she couldn’t get where she needed to go without them.
“I need you to get me into the Tombs.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
You need us to do what?” Aggar asked, incredulous, but Rockfist, surprisingly, took the request in stride.
“I can do that,” he said calmly, not quite able to keep the smugness from his tone.
“What?” Aggar repeated, appalled. “No, you can’t!”
“The Caretaker was an old client of Blackiron’s—how do you think he got that position in the first place? It’s supposed to be hereditary,” Rockfist replied, looking at the other dwarf over the top of his spectacles. “And I’ve read his file. I imagine he’ll do pretty much anything I ask.”
“But … it’s the Tombs!” Aggar protested, not sharing the barrister’s lack of qualms.
The Tombs was the colloquial name the dwarves had given to their Hall of Records, a vast underground library below Ferrous House that was off limits to all save the Iron Council and other high-ranking officials in the Holds. A dwarf who entered the Tombs without permission would be thrown into a small, dark cell for the rest of his or her life. A non-dwarf who did so would be killed on the spot, no questions asked.
Even the Shard Axe, who, as Aggar liked to say, was as close to being a dwarf as it was possible to get without being born one.
Sabira shrugged.
“It’s the Tombs or your tomb,” she said bluntly.