Cleonar returned home in a whirlwind of bellowing rage.

  She had been lured home by dwindling supplies, and the legionaries accompanying her were grim-faced and silent. Rumours ran amok as to where she had been for the last three weeks, and when she was intercepted at the gates by this curious criminal woman, one who had been cropping up repeatedly of late, those rumours increased tenfold.

  By the time she arrived, Ra’ven was sat triumphant in his inner sanctum before a near-empty Heptaratoi board, his gnarled face twisted into an auspicious grin as Khafra processed his inevitable defeat opposite him.

  “I believe that is the end.” Ra’ven’s smirk oozed confidence and arrogance in equal measure.

  “I would never declare things so prematurely, Ra’ven,” Khafra said quietly, chin pinched as he observed the board carefully, eyes scanning from piece to piece.

  Cleonar’s arrival came as no surprise. They heard her approach for some time as Khafra decided upon his next move.

  The doors violently slammed open and she swooped into the audience chamber, glaive in hand and fully armoured. She threw the doors closed again the moment she entered, sealing the bewildered guards out.

  Ra’ven’s reaction, the only reasonable reaction, was a resigned sigh.

  Down came her glaive, cleaving Ra’ven’s prophet in two and embedding itself deep into the old wooden board. Khafra closed his eyes and attempted to hide a smirk. That was arguably a game-winning move, after all.

  “This board was a gift,” Ra’ven said with surprising softness, reaching down to pick up one half of the bisected prophet, running his thumb across the grain of the wood.

  “You stand in dereliction of your duties,” Cleonar growled. “Aiur is out there, lost Aten-knows-where in the open desert while you sit here playing a board game!”

  Placing the severed half upright upon the board, Ra’ven slowly pushed himself to his feet. “And what duties would those be? I believe as one of his arms, you stand in dereliction of your duties by losing him,” he said, as he gazed back at her steadily.

  “I am derelict in nothing,” Cleonar snapped. “I followed his orders. He was accompanied by Daiss and a complement of troops; he was not insufficiently guarded.”

  “Then perhaps he has duped us both.”

  “Excuse me?” was all Cleonar could reply as the implication of what he was saying left her slack-jawed and wide eyed.

  “Perhaps he has lied to the both of us. You always were more loyal to house and home,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at his thin lips.

  “That’s ridiculous and you know it. He simply wasn’t there when I arrived at the meeting place. We were delayed and found the place in ruins, fresh ruins. Something has happened to him. At least that should be important to you, or do you care so little about all your subjects?” Cleonar snarled.

  “Oh, ridiculous, is it? I hadn’t realised. He guides you to a ruin and does not appear, all the while he is alone with Daiss. Poor, innocent Daiss. That man is so unquestioningly loyal that Aiur could slaughter his own men and that dolt would stand with him. Loyalty is that man’s greatest strength, and his greatest weakness when attached to a man like Aiur.” Ra’ven chortled with a savage smile, deliberately making his numerous scars twitch and twist.

  Khafra slapped his hands on the table and pushed himself up from his chair, his tail thumping on the floor. What he suggested was tantamount to treason; his mentor was not capable of that, was he? “That’s taking it too far Ra’ven. By all means voice your suspicions, but I won’t stand by your bad-mouthing Daiss or Aiur’s character.”

  Ra’ven paused, returning to his seat with a brief wince and placing one hand on the board. “I hope you’re not going soft on me Khafra. I cannot have a soft Consul,” he rumbled, his habitual hardness returning to his tone.

  “I am not Consul yet.”

  “No. If Cleonar has her way, I’m stuck with Aiur for a while.” He turned to Cleonar. “But you are just doing your duty.”

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  “As stated in my House bond,” Cleonar confirmed with a curt nod. “He is my charge. My duty. My responsibility. I cannot abide idleness in finding him.”

  As the tension slowly fizzled from the air, Khafra lowered himself gingerly into his seat, though Cleonar’s glaive remained firmly lodged into the board between them as if to indicate her spite.

  “Respectable enough…however, Khafra has been telling tall tales,” Ra’ven began, rapping his fingers on the old board. “Tales I’ve become inclined to believe. Tales that make me reticent to galivant off after Aiur. Tales involving his friends in House Krie and the least reputable inn in the city.” He fixed Cleonar with a hard glare, brow furrowed. “What would make the bodyguards of our oh-so-noble Consul wish to go into that den of scum? Perhaps you could elaborate for us? You were there after all.”

  Cleonar’s jaw clenched. She shot Khafra a glance before narrowing her eyes at Ra’ven. Khafra hated this; caught between the two of them, sniping remarks at one another while both expecting him to take their side. “I was fulfilling my duties. I remain a loyal arm who protects her charge to the fullest of my ability, regardless of where that leads me.”

  “Ah, but that’s the heart of the problem. Loyal to him, not me. If I am not mistaken, nobody informed me of this little escapade, neither was my permission sought to release prisoners from our custody. Yet, there they were in a den of criminals, sat at tables having drinks with unsavoury figures. I do wonder how all that transpired.”

  Ra’ven sat there with such a smug, self-satisfied smirk on his scar-pocked face, that Cleonar was beginning to regret her belligerence in confronting him so openly. I think you damn well know already; she thought as she took a heavy breath. “There was…an offer being made, by an admittedly unsavoury character. An offer that would…encourage House Krie to accept the treaty.”

  A grin tugged at the corner of Ra’ven’s lips. “So Ezerkal is involved in this as well? Fascinating.”

  Cleonar tensed as she pushed down the instinct to curse under her breath. If he was asking the question he was not certain; it was best left that way until Aiur was safe. “He wrote and presented the treaty, that does not make him aware of any other actions to get that treaty accepted.”

  “So, House Krie went under his nose as well? Either way…fascinating.”

  Cleonar could not disguise her lips curling into a tooth-filled snarl. “If you wish to interrogate someone on this, perhaps you should find Aiur and have him dragged before you instead.”

  Ra’ven spread his arms slowly. “Ah but that is the point. Is it worth my time saving him? That is what I wish to discover. Do I gain from sending men far and wide through the desert for a single man? Or will he simply…reappear unharmed? Perhaps with a host from House Krie, intent on deposing me?”

  Cleonar growled as Ra’ven simply stared back with smug superiority. She grabbed the haft of her glaive, tugged it free from the board and held it loosely in one hand. Khafra’s breath caught in his chest, and he braced himself to intervene. She stared at Ra’ven for a long moment, before turning on her heel and thumping out of the door as quickly as she arrived.

  Ra’ven’s gaze slowly fell back to the board, frowning at the gaping rent in the polished surface. “What a terrible breach of etiquette.” He sighed. “Heavy-handedness will be needed with her in the future, bare that in mind.”

  “I think her actions are justified, given her post…” Khafra mused.

  “Perhaps…but look around you,” Ra’ven said, casting a hand around the room. It was empty bar themselves, an audience chamber without an audience. “We are at the heart of our house’s sanctum. Outside those doors stand many of the young hopefuls of this house, aspirants who may one day represent us, maybe on the battlefield, maybe in courts of other Houses. They have just seen one of my most loyal retainers’ storm down our vaulted halls, scream at me, the Archon, and leave without being dismissed. You understand the meaning of that, don’t you?”

  “I understand…she must maintain her decorum in future, as we all should. Her fiery nature needs to be kept outside the courtly world,” Khafra muttered, rather crestfallen at having to speak so ill of Cleonar.

  “I’m glad you understand. I am willing to look past it this once, as the circumstances are…. curious. Your thoughts on this particular matter?” he asked, eyes slowly raising to Khafra, who perched nervously in his seat looking toward the doors.

  “I like Aiur, I respect him immeasurably. He has taught me more in recent seasons than I thought it possible to learn. Both Cleonar and Daiss are people I…trust. I know you might consider me sentimental for it, but I don’t want to see them come to harm if I can avoid it.” He glanced briefly at Ra’ven and lowered his head. He had phrased himself quite mildly, if Daiss had come to harm, or Aiur...it was unthinkable.

  “A desire to protect your subjects is not a bad sentiment to have,” Ra’ven began, speaking in a slow and deliberate tone that Khafra always felt was edged with condescension. “But you cannot let sentiment cloud your judgement. You must never let it blind you to the fact that everyone has ulterior motives.”

  “What are yours?” Khafra asked bluntly, pressing his claws into his palms as he risked a glance across the board.

  Ra’ven paused, considering his words. “I won’t be around to lead House Zerkash forever. I have greater goals and limited time. Wherever I end up, one day I will need a replacement. I am wondering now if it will be Aiur... or you.”

  Khafra’s mouth twitched into a sneer. He was not ready for such a thing; he was unsure if he ever would be. “I take offense at your lack of faith in me.”

  “Good!” Ra’ven cackled, his bony fingers drumming on the table. “Then you will more than willingly prove your innocence. Cleonar will go searching regardless of my wishes, so you may accompany her with any force you see fit. Find Aiur. Investigate. Hopefully you will both return; safe, sound and loyal. If not, you will be returning with a new title…alone.”

  The suggestion made Khafra’s stomach drop. If it came to it, if he was faced with treason, Khafra was not certain he could do what needed to be done.