I chose the oldest name on the list first, a man named Ferris who had served alongside my father since before I was old enough to remember his face clearly, reasoning that if anyone among the eleven could be reached honestly rather than through suspicion alone, it would be a man who had known me since I was a boy in truth, not merely a boy in Renata's letter.
I found him mending tack in the stable, alone, the ordinary quiet of a task he had likely performed a thousand times before, and I let him finish the strap he was working before I spoke.
Ferris, I said. I need an honest answer from you, and I would rather have it freely than force it.
He did not look up immediately, though his hands stilled on the leather. Ask, then.
Do you still think of me as my father's replacement, I said, rat
