The Tyranny of Ghosts: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 3 (16 page)

Danger.

Ashi’s belly tightened even as Midian brought her to a stop beside a knot of unfamiliar hobgoblins kept apart from the members of Tariic’s court not so much by physical space as their own haughty presence. Warlords and clan chiefs moved around
the strangers like a pack of dogs around new and stronger interlopers, watching but not yet ready to approach. As if he stood outside of any forces of status, Midian spoke directly to the two hobgoblins at the center of the knot, a massive male whose armor bore the face of a demon and a woman wearing a blue-edged mantle. Both carried sword-shaped brands on their foreheads.

“Lady Ashi d’Deneith,” said Midian in Goblin, “meet Taak Dhakaan and Riila Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat.”

H
umans, in Midian’s experience, tended to imagine themselves as if they were looking in a mirror that extended from their waist to about a handspan above their eye level. They never really considered what they might look like when seen from outside—particularly from below—that point of view. Hobgoblins, used to dealing with goblins, tended to be more aware. But humans, no matter how frequently they took the time to look a gnome in the eye, usually forgot that a gnome looked back.

“Introduce Ashi to the Kech Shaarat,” Tariic had said. “See how she reacts.”

“Lady Ashi d’Deneith,” said Midian, “meet Taak Dhakaan and Riila Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat.”

He watched Ashi closely, watched the little muscles under her jaws that most humans weren’t even aware of, as she looked over the representatives of the Kech Shaarat. Those muscles twitched, just slightly. Reaction to Riila and Taak’s names then, Midian wondered, or just to their presence as Kech Shaarat?

The latter, he decided, as Ashi slowly bent her head to the hobgoblins. If she knew the names, her neck would have been stiffened by fear or maybe disdain. It wasn’t. The nod was cautious, deep enough to indicate respect, not so deep as to suggest submission.

She was in for a surprise.

Riila responded with a nod so shallow it was almost an insult. Taak didn’t even nod at all, but just looked Ashi over as
if he were evaluating a horse. Whatever he saw seemed to give him some satisfaction, because he snorted and said, “You would give me a good fight, Ashi of Deneith.”

Ashi’s eyebrows rose, then drew together. Her hand dropped to her sword. “Name the place, and I’ll meet you there,” she answered with surprising savagery, meeting strength with strength. Midian almost found himself admiring the strategy.

Taak didn’t exactly smile, but a certain respect seeped through his arrogant expression. His ears flicked just slightly. “I had heard House Deneith lets others do its fighting for it.”

“No hand wields my sword but mine,” said Ashi.

An uneasy feeling crept up Midian’s back, and he looked around. Others nearby had started to notice the confrontation. Not that a dozen similar exchanges hadn’t already happened around the hall. Challenges and posturing weren’t uncommon whenever hobgoblins gathered, but none of the previous exchanges had spilled over into actual violence. Those involved knew better. But a warrior of the Kech Shaarat and a human of Deneith …

Tariic had wanted Ashi introduced to Taak and Riila. He didn’t want an open fight. Trying to find soothing words, Midian edged a little closer, fingers stiff and ready to deliver a numbing poke if words weren’t enough.

Riila, however, spoke before he could. “Taak, stand down! Respect our host.”

Her tone left little doubt about who was in charge. Taak didn’t seem to resent the reprimand. His ears flicked again, more vigorously this time. His thin lips twitched as well, and he tipped his head to Ashi in the tiniest of nods.

Riila moved in to take his place. “Taak honors you,” she said.

“And I honor him,” said Ashi. “The skill of the Kech Shaarat is legendary.” Her hand finally left her sword. Onlookers turned away with an audible grumble of disappointment. Midian let his fingers relax.

Only to tense them again as Ashi asked, “What brings Kech Shaarat to Rhukaan Draal?”

The question was innocent—but something in the way it was asked brought Midian’s eyes back to Ashi’s face. Still hard from confrontation, it revealed nothing. Fortunately, neither did Riila’s, though Midian caught Taak’s quick glance at his counterpart. Riila ignored it and answered smoothly, “We come to celebrate Lhesh Tariic’s victory over the elves of Valenar, ancient enemies of Dhakaan. We extend the friendship of the Kech Shaarat to a great leader of the
dar.”

Someone less attentive might have missed the suspicion that flickered across Ashi’s face—but Midian saw it and alarm crept up his back again. Maybe she knew something after all. Delicate as a spider testing its web, he said, “Kech Shaarat are frequently in Rhukaan Draal, Ashi. We saw Kech Shaarat bladedancers in the arena during Haruuc’s funeral games.”

Ashi looked down at him. There was calculation in her eyes, and Midian felt an answering stir in his guts. Maybe Ashi could stare down Taak, but a game of deception wasn’t one she was going to win. He smiled sweetly at her.

“You’re right,” she said after a moment, and looked back to Riila. “They fought very well too. But I didn’t mean you or a handful of bladedancers. I was out in the city today, and I saw quite a number of Kech Shaarat. Are you all here to celebrate victory over the Valenar?”

For a moment, their little group seemed like a bubble of silence among the noise of the hall—then Taak snorted again. Loudly. He gave Ashi a huge grin. Riila smiled, too, though she showed fewer teeth doing it. Midian even found himself smiling. The game was over before it had begun.

“Ah, Ashi,” he said and it was difficult to keep the purr out of his voice. He felt almost ridiculous for having worried about what she might or might not know. Ashi’s face turned red beneath her dragonmark. Her mouth opened briefly, then pressed into a narrow line. Midian took her hand, holding tight when she would have pulled away. “You worry about entirely the wrong things.”

As if the gods had decreed its timing, the butt of a staff struck against the floor near the door. Midian couldn’t see her through the crowd of taller figures, but he heard Razu, the mistress of rituals, call out, “Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn comes!”

The entire crowd turned to the door in unison. Any noise that had filled the hall before was like a whisper compared to the thunder of voices calling Tariic’s name and fists thumping against chests in salute. Midian thumped his chest, too, and if there was some small part of him that said that this wasn’t right, that a Zil shouldn’t be cheering for the ruler of Darguun, he didn’t hear it over the din.

The crowd parted as Tariic entered the hall, and allowed Midian to see him. Tariic wore formal regalia—the spiked crown of Darguun, a heavy cloak of tiger skin, polished armor of brass-chased steel—and carried the Rod of Kings high. Midian felt the rush of awe he experienced whenever he saw Tariic. In his head, he knew it was the power of the rod that lent the lhesh his majestic presence, but it didn’t matter. Maybe once he had served the Trust, the sharp blade of Zilargo’s government, but not anymore.

His new master raised his hands, acknowledging the crowd, then searched the hall. His gaze settled briefly on Midian—the gnome stood straight and proud under his regard—then moved on to stop on those behind him. Tariic gestured with the rod, and the crowd opened farther, clearing a wide space before the lhesh.

“Riila Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat,” Tariic said. “Taak Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat. I welcome you to Khaar Mbar’ost.”

He had already welcomed the emissaries earlier in the day, of course. Midian had been there, privileged to witness a much quieter but perhaps even more important meeting. What happened here was just a formality and a bit of pageantry. As Riila and Taak put fists to their chests and bent their heads to Tariic, Midian squeezed Ashi’s hand.

Tariic motioned for Taak and Riila to join him. They went forward, eyes wide with adulation. No matter what illusion of free
will they might present, Midian knew they were already under Tariic’s spell. When the pair stood before him, Tariic looked around at the crowd in the hall.

“Warlords of Darguun!” he said. “Honored guests from beyond our borders! It gives me great pleasure to announce that the excellent warriors of Kech Shaarat have chosen to join us in battle against the elves of the Valaes Tairn. Even now, the first company of their infantry—the finest warriors known since the fall of Dhakaan—are in the city. Soon they will travel east to take key positions among Darguun’s own soldiers.” He paused, a fine bit of effect. “But warriors are not all that the Kech Shaarat bring us. Riila Dhakaan, speak.”

Riila raised her head, her ears standing tall. “Lhesh Tariic, we bring news of the traitors who made an attempt on your life. We know where they are.”

The thrill that precedes triumph brought a lightness to Midian’s belly. He looked up at Ashi. She stood like a statue, all emotion wiped from her face. Vounn had trained her well. There were some reactions, though, that were impossible to conceal. Ashi’s fingers were cold in Midian’s grasp. He rubbed her hand gently and felt her stiffen, but she didn’t try to pull away.

“Where?” asked Tariic, his voice low but clear in the silence of the hall.

“They hide with the Kech Volaar, granted sanctuary in Volaar Draal.”

Whispers and growls of surprise rose like a wind, but Tariic’s snarl broke above them. “Senen Dhakaan, stand forward!”

Midian found the ambassador of the Kech Volaar easily—those who stood around her pulled away, leaving Senen isolated. For a moment, there was shock on her face, then it was wiped away. Midian saw her eyes dart to the nearest exits from the hall, but they were blocked. Guards positioned by Tariic stood ready for this moment. Senen’s gaze went back to Tariic, then she stepped out to face him.

“The claim of the Kech Shaarat is absurd, lhesh,” she said
bluntly. “Why would the Kech Volaar jeopardize their relationship with you? My clan shared a relationship with the throne of Darguun before the Kech Shaarat came crawling out of their caves to lick up the blood of your victory.”

Taak growled and bared his teeth. Midian was certain he would have drawn his sword and struck at Senen except that Riila caught his arm. “Our word is true, lhesh,” she said. “Not all Kech Volaar stand against you. Our information comes from one who sends you her deepest respect.”

Dismay broke through the ice in Senen’s eyes. “Who makes up such lies?” she demanded.

Tariic spoke before Riila could. “Do not answer.” He appeared calm, but Midian had seen his reaction when Riila and Taak had first presented their news to him. The lhesh had taken the day to master his emotions. His control made his presence seem that much larger—the hall of honor could have been empty except for him and Senen.

“Ekhaas, who was in your service, stood with Geth and Chetiin when they tried to take my life,” he said slowly, “and the Kech Volaar have long had an interest in the Sword of Heroes that Geth bears.” He raised the Rod of Kings. “I had not thought that the clan that helped Lhesh Haruuc find this great relic of lost Dhakaan would turn against me, but perhaps seeing it in the hands of a true ruler was too much for Tuura Dhakaan.”

He leveled the rod at Senen Dhakaan. “By the blood of the Six Kings that you claim to honor, speak the truth, Senen Dhakaan. Do the traitors who sought to kill me hide in Volaar Draal?”

It seemed to Midian that he heard an echo in Tariic’s words.
Tell me everything, Midian
… He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his secrets from spilling out, but this time the power of the rod wasn’t directed at him. Senen faced Tariic and, without an instant of hesitation, said, “Yes.”

Horror rose in her eyes as the word emerged from her mouth. Roars of anger erupted in the hall. It was difficult to hear Tariic
as he shouted another question. “And you hid this from me? Answer!”

Rage replaced horror. Senen drew a ragged breath and spat, “Yes!”—then opened her mouth even wider, the first note of song rolling up from of her chest.

Midian’s gut flipped. The song of a
duur’kala!
But Tariic was ready. “Be silent!”

The order was forceful enough to bring quiet to the entire hall. Senen closed her mouth so suddenly that her eyes bulged, and she gagged on the song sealed in her throat. Tariic pointed the rod at her again and said, “Do. Not. Move.”

Senen went still. Tariic allowed silence to linger in the hall for a heartbeat more before he spoke again. “Pradoor, I will listen to the teachings of the Six.”

Pradoor, standing in Tariic’s shadow the whole time, stirred. “Lhesh,” she said in her high, thin voice, “the gods of the Six speak to this in many ways. The Shadow decrees that a slave who conceals knowledge from her master has stolen that knowledge from him. The Mockery prescribes that the hand that steals shall be struck off. The Fury demands that vengeance suit the offense.”

“Ta
muut
, Pradoor.” Tariic looked back to Senen, his eyes running over her body before pausing at her belt where a knife was sheathed. Once again, he let silence take hold. Midian could feel the crowd in the hall holding its collective breath, waiting for the lhesh to pronounce his judgment. And finally … finally …