The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II (28 page)

The hobgoblin’s eyes flickered with anger. “Thief!”

Geth snorted. “We don’t want your boots. Ashi, keep hold of her.” He turned back toward the road.

Singe, Orshok, and Natrac, along with Chuut and several other ogres, were waiting for them when they emerged from the woods. Singe stared at the hobgoblin with recognition on his face. “Her?” he said in surprise.

“She knows something about Taruuzh Kraat,” said Geth. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and moved to help Ashi hold the woman.

“Who is she?”

“She won’t say.”

“Her name,” rumbled Chuut, sounding displeased, “is Ekhaas.”

Geth looked up at the ogre. “You know her?”

“She’s a pest.” He stepped forward and glared at the hobgoblin. “Tzaryan Rrac ordered your arrest if you were caught interfering in his affairs again.”

Ekhaas glared back at Chuut fearlessly. “How was I interfering?” she asked. Now that she was calm, her voice was coarse but pleasant, like smoke from burning cedar. “I have no further quarrel with Tzaryan—only with would-be defilers of Dhakaan.”

Singe’s eyebrows rose and he shot a glance at Geth. The shifter nodded. Chuut, however, looked neither curious nor amused.

“Come with me,” he said. “You’re going to see the General.”

An idea turned inside Geth’s head. “Wait,” he said quickly. He gripped Ekhaas’s arm and met Chuut’s gaze square-on. “She’s my capture. If she’s going to the General, I want to hand her over myself.”

The challenge seemed to confuse Chuut. “The General said for you to stay in your place.”

“Then she stays with me,” said Geth. Chuut blinked and turned to Singe.

Geth was happy to see that the wizard wore a half-smile—he’d figured out what Geth was doing. “Tell your shifter to give her to me,” Chuut ordered him.

Singe shook his head and crossed his arms. “No. He’s right. We can either go to the General—both of us—or you can bring the General here, but until we see him the hobgoblin belongs to us.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I were the General, I know what I’d want done.”

Ekhaas turned her head to look at Geth. “I’m not a bone for dogs like you to fight over!” she hissed.

Geth glanced back at her. “You should have answered my questions,” he told her. Ekhaas’s ears stood up straight with indignation. Chuut groaned. His big finger pointed at Geth and Singe.

“You and you come with me,” he said. “We’ll take her to the General together.”

“She comes too,” said Geth, nodding to Ashi. “She helped with the capture.”

Chuut’s mouth drooped. “As you say,” he agreed, “but the orc and half-orc stay. If you cause trouble, they’ll be the ones to pay.”

Orshok paled slightly at the threat, but Geth shook his head at him. “We won’t cause trouble,” he promised Chuut.

The ogre just grunted and turned to stride up alongside the resting column. Where he passed, lounging ogres leaped to their feet—and stared curiously at the smaller beings following in his wake.

Ashi returned their curiosity. “I still haven’t had the chance to fight one,” she commented.

“And I hope you never do,” said Singe. The wizard looked over his shoulder at Geth. “Good idea, but let me do most of the talking. Remember, I’m the one who’s supposed to be in charge.”

Geth rolled his eyes and nodded. At his side, Ekhaas’s ears perked up.

“You’re up to something,” she said.

“No, we’re not,” Singe replied blandly.

“I could tell the General what I’ve heard.”

“From what
I’ve
heard, the General doesn’t have too high an opinion of you,” the wizard told her. “Is he going to believe anything you say?”

Ekhaas glared at him but fell silent.

As they drew close to the front of the column, Chuut tagged one of the leaner ogres and sent him running ahead. Geth spotted the General and Dandra, still on their horses, in the shade of the trees at the side of the road. Chuut’s runner stopped a short distance from them and saluted the General. The shrouded man beckoned him closer and the ogre approached. As he spoke his message, Geth saw the General and Dandra both sit up straighter in the saddle and look back along the column toward them. The General leaned close to Dandra for a moment and she nodded, then turned her horse and urged it into a gallop, racing for them. Her face was sharp with concern. “Cover the hobgoblin’s mouth!” she called. “The General says she’s a spellcaster!”

“We know that already!” Geth shouted back. “She’s under control!”

Chuut, however, obeyed the order without a moment’s hesitation, shouldering Ashi aside to reach down and wrap a big hand across Ekhaas’s face. The hobgoblin let out a muffled yell and struggled. Singe stared. “I don’t think she can breathe.”

The ogre grimaced in pain. “But she can bite!” His free hand fumbled at a pouch on his belt and emerged with a large rag. “Hold her,” he commanded Geth. A moment later, Ekhaas wore a gag and a furious expression, and Chuut was cradling a bloody hand.

Dandra drew up in front of them and swung down from her horse. “Who is this?” she asked, staring at Ekhaas.

She hadn’t seen the hobgoblin directly while they were in the tavern. Singe told her what they knew. Dandra’s eyebrows rose. “What does she know about Taruuzh Kraat?”

“Nothing that she’s telling us,” said Singe. He looked Dandra over. “Is the General treating you well?”

“He doesn’t say much, but otherwise yes.” She nodded back to where the General was dismounting from his horses with the fumbling aid of two ogres, one of them kneeling like a stepstool. “The General wants a moment. He said we can approach when he’s standing.”

“He’ll see us?” Geth asked.

“His words were, ‘Your friends are stubborn.’”

“That’s us,” Singe said, but his eyes were on the General’s struggles. “Dandra, does he go through this every time he gets on and off a horse?”

“Every time I’ve seen,” Dandra said.

Geth watched the ogres trying to help the man almost knock him to the ground. “You’d think he’d have trained them in what to do!” he said.

Singe’s lips pressed together for a moment. “Aye,” he said.

It took a few moments longer before the General was standing—a little awkwardly—on his own two feet beneath the trees. He gestured them forward with his left arm, his right hanging as stiff as a piece of wood. Geth could feel Chuut’s watchful gaze on all of them as they moved forward. Ekhaas seemed to pull back a little. Above the gag, her eyes were angry and confused. Geth growled and tugged her after him.

The General stopped them a few paces away from where he stood in the shifting, dappled sunlight that fell through the tree branches. “I don’t want her any closer to me,” he said. His voice was as harsh as Dandra had described. Maybe even harsher. Geth looked at his shrouded body and gave silent thanks that whatever else the Last War might have done, at least it hadn’t left him crippled.

“General,” said Singe, “I understand this woman has been causing Tzaryan Rrac trouble for some time. I place her into your custody with my compliments.” He gave a formal bow.

The General nodded in return. “My master will thank you himself,” he said. “Chuut, see that Ekhaas is kept under guard.
When the company returns to Tzaryan Keep, put her in the dungeon.”

“Aye, General!” The ogre stepped up behind Ekhaas. Ashi and Geth released their grips on her, turning the hobgoblin over to him. For the first time, there was a flicker of fear in Ekhaas’ eyes. She started to struggle, trying to shout through her gag, as Chuut took her away. She got one arm free of the ogre’s grasp and thrust it out toward the general, but Chuut slapped it down again before Ekhaas could do more than point. Any spell she might have been trying to cast was ruined. The General didn’t move, but just watched with icy calm. When she was gone, he turned his attention to back Geth, Singe, Ashi, and Dandra.

“You’ve been trying to meet me, Master Timin,” he said. “Now you have. As Dandra can tell you, I’m not much for conversation. I prefer my own company. Does this satisfy you?”

“You’re giving Deneith Blademarks training to Tzaryan’s ogres,” Singe said bluntly.

For a moment, the General said nothing. Between the scarves that covered the man’s face and the changing patterns of light and shadow that made even his exposed eyes hard to see, Geth could read nothing of his expression, but when he spoke again his harsh voice had taken on a cold note. “It’s unusual to find a scholar of Wynarn who also knows something of mercenary training—but I’ve found many surprises in Droaam. For your knowledge, I owe nothing to House Deneith.”

To Geth’s surprise, Singe made no response. He turned his head to look at the wizard.

Singe’s face was tense with effort of holding back emotion. “No,” he said finally, his voice cracking. “No, I suppose you don’t—old man.”

On Singe’s other side, Dandra stiffened, her eyes going wide and darting to the General. Ashi looked confused, but Geth felt his gut clench like a knotted rope.

The General went stiff as well—then drew a deep breath of resignation and relaxed. His right arm and leg loosened. He straightened the fingers of his right hand and reached up to pull aside scarves revealing a face that was weathered and wrinkled with age, but not at all scarred.

“You’re too clever, Lieutenant Bayard,” he said “I knew I should have left you in Vralkek.”

A smile spread across Singe’s face and he leaped forward to embrace the man. “Robrand!”

“Robrand?” asked Ashi in amazement. “Robrand d’Deneith?”

“Robrand,” whispered Geth.

They made camp for the night alongside the road. Robrand ordered his pavilion erected and invited Singe and the others to stay with him and to share his evening meal. Natrac and Orshok—pale with worry that something had gone wrong—were summoned up the column and were astounded to find the others settling down with an old friend. Robrand greeted them and Ashi with all the aristocratic charm that Singe remembered from years before. The old man even reintroduced himself to Dandra, apologizing for his deception.

Chuut and the other ogres, meanwhile, seemed more confused by the sudden change in the status of the General’s guests than by Robrand’s shedding of his disguise. Robrand chuckled when Singe pointed it out. “They knew I was disguising myself. Do you think I normally run around faking crippling injuries?” His wrinkled, weathered face twisted and he rubbed at the leg he had been holding stiff. “Because I wouldn’t. It’s not very comfortable.”

Singe reached across the blanket on the ground that served as a dining table for their group—Robrand had a small folding table, but it would hardly seat seven people—and helped himself to an apple. The food eaten by the General was simple, but still significantly better than the rations they had been supplied with. Not that Singe wouldn’t have eaten pig slop so long as it meant he was eating with Robrand again—except that they could have been eating together much sooner. He looked back to Robrand. “Then why disguise yourself at all, old man?” he asked. “You knew it was us.”

Robrand grimaced again and eased back. “How long has it been since we saw each other, Etan?”

Natrac’s eyebrows rose. “Etan?”

The wizard took a crunching bite out of his apple. “Singe,
Robrand,” he mumbled, then swallowed and added, “And it’s been almost five years since I even had a letter from you.”

“Exactly,” said Robrand. “Five years and a lot has happened in the world.” He sighed. “The war changed people, Etan. People I thought I could trust.”

His words had a bitter edge. Singe paused in the act of the biting into his apple again and looked up. Robrand’s gaze had drifted to a far corner of the blanket. To Geth.

The shifter’s eyes were down, his posture huddled. He did little more than pick uncomfortably at his food. Singe realized that he wasn’t the only one to notice the tension between Geth and Robrand. Dandra and Natrac were both watching him and the old man as well. Since they had unmasked the General, Geth had been silent and withdrawn. If he could have, Singe guessed, he would have fled.

A part of the wizard wished that he would. Another part wanted him to stay and squirm before Robrand, the man whose life he had destroyed in Narath.

A third part reminded him of what he and Geth had accomplished since their ill-fated reunion in Bull Hollow. Until their argument in Bava’s studio, he’d been close to forgiving the shifter. One look at Robrand’s face, however, silenced any questions of forgiveness. His eyes were bleak. Singe could guess at what was in his head: he’d felt the same himself when he’d first faced Geth in Bull Hollow.

He felt a surge of admiration for Robrand. He had confronted Geth with fire and steel. The old man had greater self-control. He didn’t deserve the ignominy that Narath had brought. Robrand hadn’t been the one who’d failed the town.

Singe hardened his heart. “Robrand, I—”

His old commander waved him to silence and sipped from a cup of watered wine, When he spoke again, his voice was calm once more. “One of Tzaryan’s ogres saw Ashi’s confrontation in the street and reported it. He was taken by her strength and—and by Geth’s gauntlet. When I heard him describe it, I recognized it myself. You don’t come across a gauntlet like that worn by a shifter every day. I tracked you down at the Barrel and discovered ‘Master Timin Shay.’” He glanced at Singe. “Didn’t I say you should chose a new alias?”