The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1 (50 page)

“You killed him.”

Geth bared his teeth.
“I
killed him. I didn’t order someone else to hang him on a tree.”

“Is it so different from ordering soldiers into battle? People kill and die at the command of rulers all the time,” said Haruuc. “Don’t think I wouldn’t do it myself. When I read Dagii’s message, I wanted to ride north and put a sword through Keraal—although, of course, I don’t know it was Keraal who struck Vanii down. I wanted to put a sword through Dagii for letting Vanii die. I even wanted to put a sword through myself for sending him up there.” He let out a slow breath. “But this isn’t about Vanii, anymore. It’s not even about me. It’s about Darguun, just like retrieving the rod was.”

He rapped the byeshk shaft on the arm of his throne, and the heavy clang echoed in the room. “That’s the doom of kings, Geth. We’re men and women when we take the throne, but we lose ourselves to our people. We stop being individuals and become nations. And mark my words”—he twisted around to meet Geth’s eyes—“the nation of Darguun will not cry for the Gan’duur. It will dance under the grieving trees. It would dance if I hung on the tree. Darguun wants blood. The people always want blood.”

“Find another way to give it to them.”

Haruuc’s ears lay back. “But I am Darguun,” he said slowly. “I am one of the people.”

The hair on Geth’s arms and the back of his neck rose. He felt, for a moment, as if he was looking at Haruuc and all hobgoblins for the first time. Wide face, flat nose, mobile ears, sharp teeth—goblins were no more human than he was. Less, because his ancestors had been human once upon a time. The ancestors of the goblin races had always been goblins. But he understood what
Haruuc meant. He had felt it himself, a discomfort in the sprawling cities of humans, a predator’s instinct to see crowds as either prey or threat.

But there had never been any question of giving in to those instincts. Shifters knew they were wrong. Any shifter who did give in was no better than an animal. Looking into Haruuc’s eyes, he knew it would be a mistake—it had been a mistake—to assume the same of goblins. He thought of a hundred little things about Ekhaas or Chetiin or the heroes of Kuun that Wrath remembered. How they ate. How they moved. How they spoke—so many ways to express honor and hierarchy, so many ways to say, “Thank you,” but no words, he realized abruptly, for, “You’re welcome.”

A goblin that gave in to his instincts was no animal. He was simply a goblin.

Suddenly, Geth felt like a tamed dog. He struggled to find something else to say, some other argument to put before Haruuc. “Think of the good of Darguun then,” he said. “Munta was right. The other nations of Khorvaire won’t like this.”

“And what will they do? For the sake of Darguun, I became a sheep. Now for the sake of Darguun, I must be a wolf again—and the sheep should be wary.”

The carved doors opened again. This time Razu stepped through. “Rekseen of Ja’aram comes in answer to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor’s summons.”

Another hobgoblin woman entered, and Razu stepped out, closing the door behind her. Rekseen of Ja’aram wore the armor of a warrior and, although many years younger than he had been, bore a strong resemblance to Vanii. As she walked down the aisle of the throne room, Haruuc spoke quietly over his shoulder. There was grief in his voice again, existing alongside the craving for blood with no hint of contradiction.

“The most sacred duty of a
shava,”
he said, “has always been to take charge of his brother’s affairs when he dies and to carry news of his death. Our every tradition respects it. Vanii’s death serves Darguun now, but in this at least I can serve him. The grieving trees are not your concern, Geth. You’ve spoken as a
shava
should. Now organize the games as I’ve asked—and make sure she has
good seats.” He rose from his throne, set down the Rod of Kings, and faced the warrior woman. “Rekseen of Ja’aram, I have news of your uncle.”

The time of mourning passed. Geth spent the next five days walking with a knife in his gut. Word of the funerary games to come and of the forest that grew along the road to the Gathering Stone spread in Rhukaan Draal. Just as Haruuc had predicted, the people of Darguun greeted both with eager anticipation.

He organized the games with a kind of numb detachment. In truth, Razu did most of the work for him—Haruuc’s throne room remained sealed and the lhesh in isolation, so there was little else for the mistress of ceremonies to do. Geth approved her suggestions without much thought. He wasn’t sure what else there was for him to do. He felt helpless and not at all heroic, in spite of a sense of approval from Wrath. He suspected that only came because he was fulfilling his duties as a
shava
.

Ekhaas and Chetiin were no help. They came to see him the first day, and he poured his emotions out to them—at least as much as he could without offending them. Both the
duur’kala
and the
shaarat’khesh
elder offered consolation, but no condemnation for Haruuc’s actions. “What did you think he would do, Geth?” Ekhaas asked. “Keraal didn’t act alone. All of the Gan’duur warriors were with him. At least Haruuc’s not using the rod.”

“Would you have done it?” Geth asked her bluntly.

Her mouth opened and closed, but she finally said, “Tales of the Empire of Dhakaan speak of even harsher actions.”

“So you would have done it.”

Ekhaas’s ears went back flat.

“It’s the right response for the situation,” Chetiin said. “I wouldn’t have expected it from Haruuc, but it’s what a strong ruler should have done. The warlords like it. Haruuc has greater support now than in the first years of his rule.”

If the Darguul warlords liked Haruuc’s actions, reaction from the representatives of the other nations of Khorvaire and the
dragonmarked houses was exactly what Munta had said it would be. Razu’s main distraction from helping Geth plan the games was dealing with the formal messages of disapproval that arrived at Khaar Mbar’ost from ambassadors and viceroys. Most urged mercy. House Orien threatened action if Haruuc hung his victims along the trade road. First Ashi, stuck in Rhukaan Draal while the roads were closed, and then Vounn tried to contact Geth—guessing at what they wanted, he turned them away with shame and took to avoiding them.

Midian wasn’t so easy to get rid of. The gnome turned up in Geth’s chamber one morning. “You’ve got messengers crossing Darguun lining up fighters and strong men. Get me out of here. I’ve got supplies ready to go. I’ve got guards hired and costing me money every day. I want to be on the road!”

“Wait two more days,” Geth said. “You can leave then.”

“With every goblin in Darguun trying to get into the city for these games of yours? No, thank you. I want to go before they come. Word about the games was spreading across the country as soon as they were announced.” Midian’s mouth twisted. “Just like word is spreading that Dagii reached the Gathering Stone yesterday and is traveling south along the trade road now.”

A messenger falcon had come to Khaar Mbar’ost at dawn with the news that the grim march had begun. The Gan’duur were dying. Dagii’s arrival in Rhukaan Draal would coincide with the end of the mourning period. Geth hung his head and closed his eyes. “Go to Munta,” he said. “Tell him I said he should give you a pass out of the city.”

Midian gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Geth.”

Geth clenched his teeth. “You’re welcome.”

The fifth day of mourning came. The games that would commemorate Vanii’s death and the defeat of the Gan’duur were ready. Spectators and participants would begin to arrive the next day and for four days after that, the fields burned by the Gan’duur south of Rhukaan Draal would become the site of a celebration that would be talked about in ten—no, twenty years. “You’ve done well, Geth,” said Haruuc as his court gathered at dusk on the bridge over to the Ghaal River to wait for Dagii’s arrival.

“Razu did well, lhesh. She knew what needed to be done.” Geth looked across the crowd gathered on the crest of the bridge. The entire court had turned out—warlords, clan chiefs, and councilors. The sun’s last rays struck reflections from polished armor, threads of gold, and rich jewelry. Haruuc wore ornate armor edged with the claws of great cats polished like gems. The Rod of Kings shone in his grasp, twilight metal in the twilight of the day.

Geth curled his fist inside his great gauntlet. He had dressed in his best—clean pants, a good white shirt, and a fitted leather vest purchased in Rhukaan Draal’s markets—just as the other members of the court had, but by comparison he was a shadow. He felt like a shadow too. The Darguuls were filled with an excitement he didn’t feel at all. He drew a breath and said, “Haruuc, I’m leaving when the games are finished.”

Haruuc looked at him for a moment, then turned away to watch the road again. “It is your choice, but you judge me harshly,
shava
. I do what must be done.”

Geth didn’t have anything else he could say to that. He turned away.

Haruuc caught his arm. “I want you at my side when Dagii returns.”

“I’ll be back,” Geth said tersely, pulling his arm free and slipping into the crowd. Warlords called to him. The mistrust they’d shown him only days before seemed to have vanished as if organizing the funerary games had suddenly made him worthy of attention. Geth ignored them all and pushed to the other side of the bridge.

The southern bank of the Ghaal and both sides of the way through Rhukaan Draal were filled with the ordinary folk of the city, all of them eager for a glimpse of what was to come. Haruuc and he had both been wrong about one thing: It wasn’t just the goblins who wanted blood. The humans, elves, dwarves, and half-lings who had found a home in Rhukaan Draal were a part of the howling crowd as well.

They were represented on the bridge, too, but Geth couldn’t have called the representatives of the dragonmarked houses and the Five Nations eager for what was to come. They stood at the
back of Haruuc’s assembled court, dressed as well as any hobgoblin but looking far more somber. None of them wanted to be there, he guessed, but none of them wanted to be seen to have stayed away, either.

“You!” Hands grabbed him roughly and turned him around. Ashi glared at him. She was dressed as a lady of Deneith and the effect was startling. Her voice, however, was as rough as ever. “You’ve been hard to talk to lately, Geth!”

“Hush.” Vounn appeared on Ashi’s other side to draw both her and Geth back against the rail of the bridge. Ashi didn’t release her grip on Geth’s arms, though.

“What do you think you’re doing, shutting yourself away?” she snarled at him. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Let me go, Ashi.”

“No.” Her eyes searched his. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“You wanted me to get you out of Rhukaan Draal, didn’t you?” He looked away. “I couldn’t have done that. I didn’t want you to ask.”

Ashi slapped him. “Blood in your mouth! You got Midian out, didn’t you? That wasn’t why I wanted to talk to you at all! Ekhaas said you were angry at what Haruuc was doing. I wanted to know if you needed to talk about it.”

“You …” Geth stared at her.

“Rond betch
, Geth, sometimes you need a friend to talk to when you’re stuck in a situation that makes you angry. I know that.” She didn’t look at Vounn, but Geth knew exactly what she was talking about. Vounn could probably guess as well. Her lips pressed together, but she said nothing. Ashi’s eyebrows drew together. “How are you feeling now?”

“Helpless.” The word slipped out before he even thought about it. He grimaced. “This is wrong, Ashi, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Haruuc won’t listen to me or to Munta. He doesn’t even care what the powers outside of Darguun think.”

“He knows there’s not much we can do,” said Vounn coolly. It earned her a glare from Ashi, but the lady seneschal ignored her. “The kings and queens of other nations can make sanctions, the
dragonmarked houses can take economic action, but ultimately it’s a matter internal to Darguun. And one that needed to be dealt with. If we interfere too much, we weaken Haruuc, and the unity he built in Darguun disappears.”

Geth glowered at her. “And you wanted to talk to me so I’d feel better?”

Vounn’s lips pressed together again. “That wasn’t why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Wait—Vounn?” Ashi looked from one of them to the other. “You were trying to talk to Geth too?”

“You didn’t know?” Geth asked her.

“Be quiet, both of you.” Vounn turned so that her back was to the crowd on the bridge and her face hidden from anyone who might be watching them. “Geth, do you remember that I tried to talk to Munta the day Haruuc closed the roads?”

He nodded but she didn’t wait for a response.

“I’ve been trying to talk to him or to Haruuc for the last five days. They wouldn’t see me. You were a third choice. Someone needs to get a message to Haruuc. I don’t think Keraal was the only one plotting against him. I don’t think Keraal was the one who had the fires started in Rhukaan Draal or tried to have me kidnapped.”

“What?”

Vounn grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, her fingernails digging into his flesh. “Keep your voice down! I don’t have any proof. While you were away, I overheard Tariic talking to Daavn of the Marhaan. Daavn got Tariic to tell him where you’d gone. Tariic lied when he said no one outside of Haruuc’s circle knew about your mission. Daavn knew you rode to the southwest on a mission for Haruuc.”