Word of traitors

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

28 Sypheros

Not the place for explanations.” Aruget took her hand and tugged her down the stairs. As soon as she was moving, he let her go and opened his stride, jumping down two and three steps at a time. When they reached a floor with access to the back stairs they had climbed on the way up, he led the way to them-then off again only a few floors down. The same floor where Tariic had his quarters.

“This isn’t a good place to stop,” Ashi said.

“It’s the last place anyone would look for us.” He walked with light steps down the corridor, selected a dusty looking door, and tried the handle. The door was unlocked, the hinges stiff. Aruget eased it open a little way and slipped inside, beckoning Ashi to follow.

She hesitated.

He frowned. “Trust me,” he said. He slipped through the door. Ashi grimaced and followed.

The room beyond had a musty smell, and by the light that leaked in from the corridor, she could make out fabric-draped bundles. Aruget pushed the door shut a little ways, leaving only enough of a gap to allow a thread of light into the room. He stayed close to it so that the glow fell across his face. Ashi had a gut feeling he did that deliberately, as if it to ease some of her fears.

Then he did something completely unexpected. He bent his head and his features melted and reformed. His entire body shifted in stature and bulk. When he looked up again, he had red-blond hair and the fine features of a young half-elf. A young half-elf woman.

A young half-elf woman that Ashi knew. “Benti?” she asked as softly as she could manage. “Benti Morren?”

Benti smiled. “Hello, Ashi. It’s been a while-for you, at least.” Hard, cunning eyes narrowed. “You understand now, don’t you? I’m on your side. You can trust me. You must trust me.”

The urge to sit down washed over Ashi, but she didn’t trust any of the dusty bundles in the dark room. She and other friends had encountered the half-elf-or at least the person they had all assumed to be a half-elf-in the city of Sharn almost a year ago. At the time, Benti had been posing as a renegade member of House Lyrandar selling her services as an airship pilot. After she had aided them-and they’d aided her in return-they’d discovered that she was more than she seemed. In fact, she was an agent of the King’s Citadel of Breland, one of the so-called Dark Lanterns. In short, a spy.

And it seemed that hadn’t been her only secret.

“How?” Ashi asked. “Why? When?”

Benti held up a hand. “Fast answers,” she said. “We don’t have time. Let’s start with when: I’ve been Aruget since the night you were attacked by Gan’duur raiders on your journey from Sterngate in Breland to Rhukaan Draal.”

“I remember that. We found you-Aruget-with a bashed skull after the attack. We thought the raiders had knocked you out.” Ashi pressed her lips together. “Where’s the real Aruget?”

“Buried under a collapsed sandbank near the spot where you camped. The scalp wound was self-inflicted. The raiders”-she shrugged-“a coincidence.”

The cool detachment in her voice made Ashi shiver. “Why?” she asked again.

Benti made a strange expression, as if her face was straining to move in a way it wasn’t meant to. Her lips twitched and she put fingers to one slightly pointed ear. “Spend too long as one race and you forget how other bodies work,” she said. Her hand fell. “Why? Because the King’s Citadel was suspicious when we discovered Tariic was returning from a diplomatic mission with two ladies of House Deneith and a wandering shifter carrying an artifact sword of Dhakaan. I knew both you and Geth, so I was assigned to investigate.” Her eyebrows twitched. “It’s turned into quite the assignment.”

Confusion churned in Ashi’s belly. “You couldn’t have told us earlier?”

Benti’s voice went cool again. “I shouldn’t be telling you now, but it seems to be my only choice. You have information I need. I’ve put together almost all the pieces of the puzzle.” Her green eyes met Ashi’s, and Ashi felt like they were looking right through her.

“The Rod of Kings,” Benti said, “tries to make its wielder into an emperor of Dhakaan. I heard Geth tell you that the night Haruuc died. Chetiin killed Haruuc to prevent a war, but when Tariic brings that war to life, no one tries to stop him. Instead, you, Geth, Ekhaas, and Dagii go to a tiefling artificer and have-what? a copy of the rod? — made with the power to enhance Tariic’s presence. Geth tries to pass the copy of the rod to Tariic at the coronation. Tariic discovers the substitution and sends Daavn to arrest Geth. Daavn fails, or so I assume, and Geth is replaced with a changeling to keep his disappearance quiet. Now Makka, who previously wanted to kill you, is trying to capture you-”

Ashi’s lips curled back. “Wait. How long have you known that wasn’t Geth?”

“I had my doubts since the evening after the coronation, but I wasn’t sure. Kill us and we return to our true form, but changelings can’t recognize each other on sight any more than you can tell what color smallclothes another human is wearing.” She flicked her hand. “Let me finish. Makka is now trying to capture you, probably because of something you know or something that Tariic thinks you know.”

“Like where Geth might be,” Ashi said, the idea coming on her like a blossoming flower. “And whether he has the true Rod of Kings.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Benti. “Which leads to the missing pieces of my puzzle. One”-she held up a finger-“where would Geth be? And two”-she held up another-“why go to so much trouble for the rod when ambition and history books can show any ruler how to be a tyrant?”

Ashi shook her head. “I don’t know where Geth is. He might not even be in Rhukaan Draal anymore. We thought about running with the rod at one point. He might have done that. And the rod-”

She hesitated before saying anything more. Could she trust Benti with the ultimate secret of the rod? What if she couldn’t escape Tariic’s grasp? Benti knew everything else-and as long as they were conspiring against a throne, as Vounn had pointed out, a spy seemed like a good ally to have.

“The rod doesn’t just show its wielder how to behave like an emperor, it gives him the power to become one,” she said. “The wielder of the rod can force people to obey his commands. The magic Tenquis put in the false rod is just an imitation of the true rod’s power. The true rod is irresistible. My dragonmark can block its power and Geth is immune because of his connection with Wrath, but those are the only defenses we know. When we found it, the rod was used against us. Its power crushes your will.”

Even talking about the power of the rod, just contemplating what might happen if Tariic got his hands on it, left her feeling cold. Benti, eyes narrowed in thought, didn’t, but just narrowed her eyes in thought. Finally she said, “Midian knows all this?”

Ashi nodded. “He was there. He felt the power of the rod. He took the same oath to keep it a secret that all of us did. It was his idea to substitute a false rod for the real one.”

“Was it?” Her eyebrows came together. “Do you think he knows where Geth might be?”

“If I don’t, he doesn’t.” Ashi’s lips curled back from her teeth. “And you left him to be captured by Makka. Tariic could find out the power of the rod.”

“Don’t worry about Midian. Given how much interest Tariic is showing in the Rod of Kings, Ashi, I’d think he may already know.”

Ashi stared at her. “That’s not possible. We kept it a secret.”

“Possible or not, we should assume it’s a fact.” Benti drew a deep breath. “Thank you for your help. Now I think it’s time we got you to safety-and preferably out of Darguun.”

She concentrated and her face blurred once more, taking on the familiar coarse features, ruddy tones, and long mobile ears of Aruget. Ashi found herself continuing to stare at the changeling, no longer in shock at the fluid transformation but at the harshness of her tone.

“You’re going to leave Midian to Tariic? And what about finding Geth? You need me!”

“I don’t need you.” Aruget’s voice warbled like the voice of a boy becoming a man, then settled into its normal pitch and accent. “I can find Geth. And I told you, Midian can take care of himself.” Eyes that had been green and were now deep brown flecked with orange studied her. “You’re vulnerable, Ashi. Both Makka and Tariic are after you now. If you really want to help Geth-and Ekhaas and Dagii-you run, and you keep yourself alive. If you want to stay, though, you’re on your own. I can’t hold your hand anymore.” He adjusted his armor on a once-more bulky frame. “Does Vounn have a plan for getting you to safety?”

Churning confusion and boiling anger settled into a sick feeling in the pit of Ashi’s stomach. Benti… Aruget… whoever the changeling was, there was hard truth in his words. Geth had vanished, Midian was gone, Ekhaas and Dagii were far away. Vounn wouldn’t be able to help her either. She’d already told her what she would have to do if Tariic’s soldiers came for her. Aruget would look for Geth and the rod. Her usefulness was over-it was time to retreat from the fight.

“Pater d’Orien,” she said. “Vounn told him I may be called back to Karrlakton. He’s agreed to use his dragonmark to take me there.”

“Then I hope he’s willing to see late night visitors.” Aruget eased the door of the room open again and peered out cautiously.

Ashi caught his arm. “Wait. What’s your real name?” she asked.

He smiled and his ears flicked. “Whatever one belongs to the face I’m wearing,” he said.

They moved swiftly between floors, dashing down the stairs and ducking into doors whenever a guard appeared-and there were more guards roaming the halls than Ashi had ever seen before.

There was no point going back to her chambers. Daavn would have anticipated that. Vounn had probably been woken already. Ashi was doubly glad she’d kept the meeting a secret. The lady seneschal would at least be able to tell the truth in saying she had no idea where Ashi had gone.

“How do we get out? The exits are going to be guarded.” Ashi murmured in Aruget’s ear as they crouched in another dusty room, waiting for a guard to pass.

“If you can’t be silent,” Aruget answered with a sly smile, “make a lot of noise.”

He led her away from the grand areas of the castle into a region of narrow corridors thick with the smell of cooking. They were near the kitchens. “When Ko kidnapped Vounn, he brought her this way,” said Ashi. “Tariic won’t forget to guard the back gate.”

Aruget’s ears twitched. “Kitchens contain many interesting things.”

“Knives.”

“Cauldrons. Kettles. Noon paste. Korluaat.”

She looked at him questioningly. He shook his head. “This is something I’ll do more quickly alone.” He hurried her past a wide, high vaulted passage that led to the even wider caverns of the kitchens and down another. A pair of big doors, plain and scarred from frequent use, emerged from the gloom. Wet footprints showed on the stone of the floor-the doors opened to the outside of Khaar Mbar’ost and they’d been used recently. There would be guards on the other side.

Aruget went to a smaller door in the wall of the corridor and pushed it open, scanning the darkness inside. “Storeroom. Wait for me here and be ready to run. If I’m wearing a different face, I’ll wink. If I don’t come, get out on your own.”

Ashi stepped into the storeroom and was enveloped in the smell of unseen vegetables. She glanced back at Aruget. “Ko couldn’t see in the dark as Geth. How can you see in the dark as Aruget?”

“Let me keep some secrets.” He closed the door on her, leaving it open only a finger’s width. His footsteps, so quiet that if he hadn’t been wearing armor she probably wouldn’t have heard them at all, went back along the passage.

Ashi squatted down in the shadows and tried to recapture the same patience and alertness she’d felt while waiting for the meeting on the rooftop. “Ashi, daughter of Ner,” she murmured under her breath, “son of Kagan, son of Tyman, son of Joherra, daughter of Wroenna, daughter of Maal…”

Time stretched out. Patience didn’t come and there was no need to stave off weariness-Ashi didn’t feel like she’d ever sleep again. She should have asked Aruget to bring a knife from the kitchen for her. A crude blade was better than no weapon at all.

There would be questions when she returned to Karrlakton. The lords of House Deneith would want to know why she had come back so suddenly. What would she tell them? What could she tell them? What would she do-?

Running footsteps echoed in the passage. Ashi pushed herself to her feet and backed into the darkness of the storeroom. But when the door swung open, the dim lights beyond shone on Aruget. He dived inside, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

“Aruget,” she whispered, “what-?”

Anything she might have said was lost in an incredible boom that sounded as if someone had thrown a massive bell against the wall of the fortress. It was followed by a tremendous crash of collapsing metal. A quavering shriek started up, stretching on and on without pause.

One of Aruget’s hands found hers. The other pressed itself over her mouth. Out in the passage, the big outer doors were flung open and booted feet raced by. The opening of the outer doors nudged the door of the storeroom a little wider and Ashi caught a glimpse of hobgoblin guards running for the kitchen with drawn swords. The open doors also drew warm air from inside the fortress. Suddenly she could smell smoke, weirdly scented and stinging.

“Go!” said Aruget. He released her and leaped for the storeroom door. She followed close behind.

Two unlucky guards lingered in the open doors. One saw them and opened his mouth to shout. Aruget’s sword took him across the belly and then back across the throat in two swift cuts. Ashi dealt the other one a hard punch to the jaw that spun him around and dropped him to his knees. Aruget turned and swung his sword a third time. The guard’s head leaped from his neck and rolled back into the passage. His body toppled to the side. Ashi started.

“Did you have to kill him?”

“Yes.” Aruget jumped for the doors, dragging them shut. “There’s an outer gate-open it!”

Beyond a jutting roof that gave shelter to the doors, rain came down in cascades, turning the small courtyard beyond into a vast black puddle. Ashi splashed her way through it. The outer wall of the courtyard was simple brick, meant to keep out trespassers more than to repel attackers. There were no guards-they must have all been huddled near the inner doors to stay dry. Heavy wooden doors in the brick wall were held shut only by a thick beam. Ashi grasped the rain-slicked wood, clenched her teeth, and hauled the beam free of one door before letting it drop. They didn’t need both doors open to escape. The freed door swung wide with only a tug. Aruget joined her and, side by side, they dashed through the gate and ran out into Rhukaan Draal.

The night was very dark. Wind-driven rain soaked Ashi’s clothes entirely. Aruget led her through a maze of sidestreets and alleys, always away from Khaar Mbar’ost but never in a straight line. Ashi flipped wet hair out of her face, wiped water from her eyes, and stayed with him. Once she thought she heard the sounds of pursuit, but they were gone as quickly as they appeared.

“What did you do in the kitchen?” she said.

“Korluaat poured inside a cauldron,” Aruget gasped. His breathing was more labored than hers, but he carried the weight of his armor and of a larger body. “Another cauldron jammed over top with noon paste to seal the gap. Set over the fire with a rag for a fuse.” He drew a ragged breath. “More pots piled around them. Kettle stopped up with cork and a bit of metal. Spice jars on the coals. No more questions.” He sucked in more air. “Bloody hobgoblins-not built for running!”

They splashed through puddles that stank like sewers and others that were already as deep as her shins. She stumbled over unseen obstacles and Aruget dragged her to her feet. They didn’t slow. Cold from her wet clothes numbed her skin, beaten back temporarily by the heat of exertion. Faces flicked past in the shadows beneath eaves and stairs-people without homes or simply those caught in the storm, seeking out any shelter they could.

It seemed like they’d been running half the night before the alley they followed opened onto a broad street running with water. Rain and shadow rendered it as anonymous as all of the others at first, but then Aruget slowed to a stumbling, wheezing walk and pointed ahead. Ashi looked-and a complex of buildings enclosed by a stout wall seemed to resolve out of the night. Beside tall iron gates, a crest depicting the head of a unicorn was illuminated by a muted but steady magical light.

The Orien compound. Ashi grabbed Aruget’s arm and all but dragged him the rest of the way. “Enough,” he gasped. “Let me go!”

She released him and seized the gates by their heavy bars instead. They were locked, of course. The compound beyond was broad and lit by a few everbright lanterns that shone steady through the rain. Empty wagons were drawn up against outbuildings, and she could smell the animal odor of horses and tribex. No people-human, hobgoblin, or otherwise-were visible, however. They were probably taking shelter.

Ashi rattled the gates. “Is anyone there?” she shouted. “I need to see Viceroy Pater d’Orien! It’s urgent!”

An iron rod was chained at one side of the gate. She seized it and hammered on the gates until they rang like chimes. “I am here on an urgent matter concerning Deneith and Orien!”

There was no response. None at all. She lifted the rod again and struck the gates harder. “Pater! Pater!”

A door opened, light flooding across the compound. A stiff-looking man in the uniform of a servant darted out into the rain and ran to the gates. Ashi recognized him from visits to the Orien compound-he was Tars, Pater’s manservant. His eyes were frightened and his mouth set tight. He slid to a stop at the gate and thrust a paper through the bars at her. “No one will answer you,” he said.

He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened. Another figure stood in the doorway. A hobgoblin warrior, armed and armored. For a moment it looked like he might come out into the compound but the fat form of Pater d’Orien appeared and drew him back. The viceroy threw a glance over his shoulder. Ashi couldn’t tell if it was meant for her or his manservant. Tars shuddered. The paper slipped from his fingers and he fled back inside.

Ashi clung to the gate, cold metal pressing wet clothes against her skin. An armed hobgoblin inside the Orien compound. One of Tariic’s soldiers? Almost certainly. Now that she’d seen him, she saw other things. A horse, still wearing saddle and bridle, tucked into the shelter of an overhanging eave when every other beast was in a stable. A comfortably dry gatehouse that stood empty. Faces that peered from darkened windows but made no move to answer her call.

Aruget bent and scooped the paper Tars had brought out of a puddle. His eyes skimmed over it. His ears lay flat. “Ashi.” He pushed the paper into her hands.

A gust of wind tore at it and she had to stretch it tight, leaning into the torchlight that came through the gate to read it. Water was already making the ink run but she could make out what it said easily enough.

By decree of Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn, Ashi d’Deneith is accused of the murder of a soldier of Darguun. To offer her aid or interfere in her arrest is an offense to the throne and the people of Darguun.

The warning was repeated in the dark letters of Goblin, but it had been written in the script of humans first. A deliberate warning to Pater.

“He knew,” Ashi breathed. “Tariic knew! Who told him?”

Hoofbeats sounded over the patter of rain and the rush of wind. Ashi’s head snapped up. Fear punched into her gut. One soldier sent to the compound as a messenger to prevent her escape-and a whole squad sent after to trap her. She whirled. “Aruget, we have to-”

She stood alone. Aruget was gone.

Six hobgoblins on horseback burst out of the darkness, swords drawn, the hooves of their mounts sending up sprays of water. They came to stop in a semi-circle around her, trapping her against the gates. One of them walked his horse forward a little and pointed his sword at her.

He didn’t have to say anything. Wet, shivering, and unarmed, Ashi crumpled the paper in her hand as she raised her head to meet his gaze.

“Geth.” Hands shook him hard. “Geth, wake up! There are horsemen outside.”

Sleep burned away like shadows in the sun. Geth opened his eyes and sat up. Tenquis’s workshop spun around him for a moment as his mind made the leap from drowsing to alertness. He’d fallen asleep in a big stuffed chair. The workshop was still brightly lit. Tenquis was still dressed. The table where they had eaten earlier in the day was now carefully laid with the tools for tomb breaking.

And the sound of rain was overwhelmed by the clatter of hooves.

Geth jumped up. He still wore his great gauntlet, though Wrath had been laid aside. He seized it. The blade seemed alert and happy, ready for its chosen hero’s moment of glory. He cursed the ancient sword. “How late is it?” he asked Tenquis.

“Most of the way through the second watch, I think.” The tiefling dashed around his workshop with quick movements, stuffing papers and trinkets into the pockets of his long embroidered vest. His tail lashed furiously. “This is Tariic, isn’t it? He figured you out-or someone gave you away.”

Geth didn’t answer that. Outside, hoofbeats had given way to footsteps. He pointed at the tool-covered table. “Get rid of those!”

Tenquis leaped to the table. His eyes flicked over it and he added a few more things to his pockets-then took up a heavy steel pry bar and jabbed it into an inner pocket of his vest as well. The massive shaft slid out of sight without even shifting the fabric. Tenquis gripped the collar of his vest, whispered a word, and the labyrinthine pattern of embroidery that decorated the garment seemed to writhe. Any hint of bulging pockets vanished. “Safe,” Tenquis hissed between his teeth, then he seized the edge of the table and heaved, overturning it and sending the remaining tools skittering across the floor in an anonymous jumble.

The crash brought an exclamation from those outside-and a command to attack. “Get out one of the back windows!” Geth shouted at Tenquis.

“They don’t open!”

The twin doors of the old barn burst in a shower of splinters under the shoulders of two big bugbears. Geth roared and charged to meet them, sweeping Wrath ahead of him. The twilight blade tore into the flesh of one of the bugbears, but the other managed to duck aside. A hairy fist wrapped in rings of scarred brass punched at him. Geth snapped up his gauntlet and brass screeched across black steel. Geth kicked the bugbear’s shins and followed up with another swing of Wrath that forced the Darguul to jump back.

But more soldiers were pushing through the door, and hobgoblin hands were tearing at the shutters over the front windows of the barn. Geth saw Tenquis bare his teeth and snatch a slim wand from a workbench. Shifting to one side of the fight, he flicked the wand with one hand and, with the other, dashed the contents of a tiny vial into the air. Pale liquid leaped like something alive, flying farther than it should have and splashing in a ragged line under the windows and before the door. Thick greenish vapors rose up from it, a smoky curtain that brought shrieks of pain from the hobgoblins who thrust arms and faces through the broken windows.

“Paaldaask!” someone shouted. Spellcaster!

Four hobgoblins had made it through the door before Tenquis’s curtain had risen. Two charged for the tiefling while the other two moved warily to aid the bugbears menacing Geth. The shifter growled and made a low feint at the bugbear he’d wounded before. The soldier stumbled back, getting in the way of one of the hobgoblins, and Geth turned the feint into a whirling attack that brought him up inside the reach of the other bugbear. His armored fist drove hard into the Darguul’s gut. The bugbear wore a heavy leather jerkin but the blow still doubled him over and sent him reeling.

Geth stayed with him, pressing the attack. His foot came down on something hard and round-one of the spilled tools from the overturned table. Already pulled off balance by the swinging weight of Wrath, he staggered.

The doubled-over bugbear lunged at him, big arms spread wide. Geth tried to twist out of the way, but the bugbear crashed into him and slammed him to the floor. Wrath flew from his hand. Instantly, the other soldiers were on him as well. They all carried clubs or weighted saps and didn’t hesitate to mix their blows with hard kicks. Geth tried to ward them off with a sweep of his gauntlet, but a bugbear caught his arm and held it back.

Geth caught a glimpse of Tenquis, wand stripped from his grasp and struggling with his own assailants, before a well-placed blow from a leather-wrapped club set his ears ringing and dark spots dancing before his eyes. Waves of nausea rolled through him, and he barely felt the pain as both arms were jerked behind his back and bound.

The door of the lhesh’s chambers opened, and Daavn, dripping water onto the rich carpets, strode in. “Geth and Ashi are captured, along with the tiefling artificer,” he said. “We found no sign of Aruget. He may have fled in shame.”

“He doesn’t matter.” Tariic sat in a vast chair, fully dressed in spite of the hour. “Geth and Ashi are the ones I wanted. Especially Geth. Did he have the rod?”

“He wasn’t carrying it. I searched the tiefling’s workshop, but I couldn’t find it. I have guards standing watch over the place, ready for you.” Daavn paused and added. “You don’t have to search yourself, Tariic. You’re the lhesh. There are soldiers I trust, clever goblins-”

“No!” Tariic sat forward and his voice cracked like a whip. “I will search for the Rod of Kings. It’s mine. No one else is to so much as touch it.”

Daavn flinched, then ducked his head. “Mazo, lhesh.”

Tariic sat back in his chair. He glanced at Makka-and Makka glanced down at the prisoner he held by one shoulder.

Midian was pale, with crusted blood on his mouth and one eye swollen, but his voice was bold. “We had a deal.”

Rage burned in Makka’s gut. He squeezed and Midian squirmed. He squeezed harder, and the gnome gasped.

Pradoor, seated again on the spindly carved table she favored as a perch, gave him a poke with her stick. He glared at her, then at Tariic. Pradoor might not have been able to see him, but Tariic could-and the lhesh didn’t even blink. Makka eased his grip. Midian slumped a little but Makka held him upright. “I swore an oath of vengeance,” he growled. “Will you ever let me keep it?”

“My needs come before yours. Let the royal historian go.”

Daavn started at the title and his mouth dropped open. Makka gave Midian another hard squeeze, then lifted his hand. For a moment, the gnome stood like a startled deer, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Then his little pink slip of a tongue darted out and licked his bloodied lips. “Thank you, lhesh. I promise, you won’t regret this.”

“You betrayed me and then your friends, Midian,” Tariic said coolly. “You’re an opportunistic little rodent, but don’t think you can dig your burrow a third time.”

Midian gave a wretched, scraping bow. “Never. Lhesh, when you came to me and said you were looking for a scholar to join your uncle’s search for the Rod of Kings-”

“Strange,” said Tariic, “I seem to recall that you came to me looking for a way to get into Darguun so you could pursue your research.” He rose so that he towered over the gnome. “I’ll be watching you. Remember that you’ve already had your chance to run but that you chose to bargain for a chance to stay.”

“I’m yours, lhesh!” He scuttled out of the room.

Daavn found his voice. “Tariic, I don’t like this.”

“It’s my decision, Daavn. Midian didn’t let Ashi slip out of Khaar Mbar’ost.” Tariic turned his eyes on Makka. “Or allow her to escape a trap he promised was inescapable. Pradoor, will Ko recover?”

“I have prayed over him.” Her wrinkled face hardened. “The Dark Six speak to me, Tariic. I agree with Daavn and Makka. Don’t trust the gnome.”

“I don’t.” The lhesh seated himself again. “But, like Ko, he’s useful. Both have their price. Ko loves money. Midian loves history-and himself.” His ears flicked and he looked at Makka again. “You have the watching of him. If he turns against us, fulfill your oath.”

“What about Ashi and Geth?”

“If I don’t find the Rod of Kings at the tiefling’s workshop, I’ll ask them. And when they’ve answered me, you can have what’s left.”

Makka’s lips drew back from his teeth. “That’s a bad trade.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

There was a tentative rap at the door of the chamber and one of the guards of Khaar Mbar’ost entered. He bent his head diffidently, not raising his eyes to Tariic. “Lhesh, you asked not to be disturbed, but this has arrived. The falcon carrying it was delayed by the storm.”

He held out a metal tube smaller than a goblin’s finger. A band of copper sealed it. Tariic took the thing and gestured for the guard to leave. When the door was closed, he examined the copper band and the design stamped into it, so small Makka saw it only as a darker dent.

“Dagii,” he said. He broke the seal, pulled the tube apart, and extracted a tightly wound bit of paper. He spread it out. His eyes narrowed and his ears went flat. “Daavn, all warriors in Rhukaan Draal are to be drafted in the city’s defense. Warriors of all clans within a day’s ride are to be summoned.” Tariic flung the paper down. “The Valaes Tairn have brought an entire warclan into Darguun. Dagii will meet them at Zarrthec.”

Daavn’s ears rose. “An entire warclan? Dagii’s army can’t face that. We’ll reinforce him?”

“We’ll defend Rhukaan Draal.” A wolf’s smile spread across Tariic’s face. “And Dagii of Mur Talaan will find muut and his death at Zarrthec.”