Rule of Thieves (Legends of Dimmingwood Book 6) by C. Greenwood

Author:C. Greenwood [Greenwood, C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-09-22T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Do you know what this is?” Praetor Tarius indicated the scroll in his hand. “It’s a letter of recommendation, to be sent to the king in Lythnia upon my death. The role of Praetor is not a hereditary or elected position. The power of appointment lies with the king. But by tradition, he will almost certainly name whatever man I put forth as my successor. There are some among my advisors who suspect the seriousness of my condition and aspire to replace me when the time comes. They hope it is their name I will write here.”

He tilted the scroll so I could see that it had been mostly filled, but there was an empty space. “It only remains for me to enter my choice and sign the document.”

I couldn’t imagine why he was telling me any of this.

He continued with, “Torg Branek especially covets the position. He imagines I do not know of his ambition, but none of my counselors can hide their aims from me. Asmund Summerdale is another who would rejoice to see the way cleared for him. But he is as weak and foolish as Branek is shortsighted. With such a poor selection, you can see why I have yet to reach a decision.”

He looked at me suddenly. “Perhaps I should put your name down here, and we could have a rule of thieves. Would you like that?”

I could see he was taunting me. I didn’t rise to the bait. “No, I wouldn’t like it,” I said. “Why would I want such a thing?”

His dark eyes glinted. “If you don’t, you’re the only one. None of the others would refuse the opportunity.”

I said, “Then you have a difficult decision ahead of you in selecting one of them. I will leave you to it.”

I didn’t care about protocol enough to wait around for him to dismiss me.

As I was turning to leave, he said, “I notice you’ve acquired a familiar heirloom. That pin you wear is one of a limited number made especially for members of my father’s house. They belong to my kin and our most favored servants. You should feel honored to own one.”

I fumbled for an explanation. “It was a gift,” I said.

It seemed like a weak answer, but he accepted it with a nod. “From my new captain of the Iron Fists, I don’t doubt. I am surprised Terrac would part with it.”

If that was a prompt for further details, I pretended not to notice. If he hadn’t already guessed the brooch’s true origins, I had no intention of telling him.

I mumbled some vague response about Terrac’s generosity and excused myself in a hurry.

* * *

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