Word of Traitors: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 2 (13 page)

“Yes. Those are orc runes.” He rose and leaned across the table, reaching out to lift one of the stones and rub his thumb across it. His fingers were warm and dry. “Druidic tradition. Very old. Powerful too.”

“The collar is a Gatekeeper artifact,” said Geth. “It protects my mind from the forces of Xoriat, the plane of madness. It belonged to a … close friend.”

“Who died?”

It was difficult to read the tiefling’s featureless eyes, but up close Geth could see the tiny creases in the skin around them, the slight movement of the brow below the heavy horns. He half-expected to see himself reflected in the golden orbs, but they gave back no reflection at all. “He was killed,” he said.

“And the person who killed him?” Tenquis let the stone fall back against Geth’s neck and stood straight.

“Dead.”

Tenquis smiled, showing sharp teeth again. “My grandmother has a saying: the way through the maze is clear for the wise and
the lucky, but the rest of us have to fight.” He sat down and stared at the rod for a moment before looking up at Geth again. “The symbols on the rod and the sword—you don’t understand them, do you?”

“They’re not Goblin.”

“No. They’re not any kind of language you could read, really.” He picked up the pen and tapped it against the rod. “They bind magic, shaping it. The methods used by the Dhakaani
daashor
are different from what modern artificers use, but there are similarities if you know what to look for.” The pen touched one carved rune, then another. “These are strong runes. Taruuzh bound incredible power into the rod.” Tenquis lifted his eyes. “There’s more to the rod’s power than just the memories of emperors and enhancing the presence of the holder, isn’t there?”

The hair on Geth’s arms and neck rose. He didn’t say anything. For a moment, neither did Tenquis. Then the tiefling nodded slowly and set the pen down. “I might be able to figure it out myself, but I’m not sure I want to,” he said. He paused before asking, “When I’ve made the copy, what are you planning to do with the true rod?”

“Who says we’re planning to do anything with it?” said Geth.

“The voice of experience. When people want something copied, they usually have plans for the original. They want to sell it if it belongs to them or they want to steal it if it doesn’t.”

Geth’s throat felt dry. “We’re going to destroy it,” he said.

Tenquis’s lips curled. “Really?” he said.

Quick as a thought, he reached down and caught up a heavy smith’s hammer. Before Geth could stop him, he had raised the hammer and brought it down on Wrath’s blade with a crash that jolted both Ekhaas and Dagii from their sleep.

“Grandfather Rat!” shouted Geth. “What do you think you’re—”

He stopped, staring at Wrath. By rights the blade, heavy as it was, should have been smashed or at least bent, but there wasn’t a mark on the purple metal. Tenquis dropped the hammer. “It’s not so easy to destroy powerful artifacts like these,” he said. “You might want to come up with another plan.”

“Maabet!”
cursed Dagii. “What was that about?” He had his sword out, ready for a fight.

Geth looked at Tenquis for a moment longer, then turned to Dagii. “Tenquis was showing me how tough Wrath and the rod are.”

“You couldn’t have been quieter about it?” Ekhaas looked at the sea of papers and sketches that covered the table. “Are you finished?”

“I think so.” Tenquis began to gather up his drawings. “Be sure the byeshk gets here. I’ll send word if there are problems. Otherwise you’ll hear from me when the false rod is completed.”

As soon as Geth returned Wrath to its sheath and wrapped the rod back into the bundle of leather, they took their leave. Tenquis gave Geth one last golden-eyed glance, then his door closed behind them. The night was almost over, the first hints of dawn glowing in the east, though the streets were still dark enough to have left a human blind. Rhukaan Draal was, briefly, at its most silent. Ekhaas didn’t bother trying to renew the illusion that had cloaked Geth—instead she brushed his shaggy hair forward to hide his face. Dagii shed the jacket he wore and draped it over Geth’s shoulder to conceal both his great gauntlet and the bundled rod. A rough disguise, but it would do. The weariness of a night without sleep weighed on Geth. There was something he knew he had to say, though.

“Tenquis figured out that there’s something more to the rod.”

Ekhaas let out a soft curse. “Can we trust him?” asked Dagii.

“I think so,” said Geth. “He also guessed we were planning to do something with the true rod. I told him we were going to destroy it. That banging was him showing me that’s going to be harder than we thought.”

“I was afraid it might be,” said Ekhaas grimly. “In legends, great artifacts are either ridiculously fragile or impossibly durable. The cursed ones are never fragile. We’ll think of something—”

The skittering of a stone in the shadows interrupted her. Instantly, all three of them were on the alert, hands on their swords. “Rat?” breathed Dagii.

“No,” Geth said. There was another sound, this time from the shadows on their other side. They moved back to back. Almost immediately, a third stone rattled on the street, louder than the others. They all looked toward it.

“Whoever is out there,” said Ekhaas, “is either incredibly clumsy or wants us to know we’re not alone.”

“The latter,” said a voice that was thick and strained like a scar. A small shadow detached itself from high on a wall and dropped softly to the street, then moved forward so they could clearly see an old goblin with thin cobweb hair, the parchment-like skin of his face stained dark to match the black clothing of the
shaarat’khesh
.

“We need to talk,” said Chetiin.

T
he fatigue Geth had felt dropped away, burning into rage. “You!” he snarled. He shrugged off Dagii’s jacket and thrust the bundle containing the rod at Ekhaas. Wrath rang as he drew the twilight blade, then he charged at the goblin.

Chetiin had picked a good spot for a fight, a small open square, little more than a broadening of the street with the shutters on the surrounding buildings closed tight. Four running strides closed the distance between Geth and the goblin. Chetiin sank back into a crouch, hands raised in loose fists. Geth swung Wrath on the last step. The heavy sword arced down—and Chetiin slid out of the way.

Geth spun, letting the momentum of the blow carry him around, and turned Wrath in another blow that forced Chetiin to dodge with a little less grace. Dagii joined him, moving in on Chetiin’s other side with his sword at the ready. Chetiin slipped back into his crouch and rocked gently from one side to the other, his hands weaving along with his body and making it difficult to tell where he was going to go next.

“Geth,” he said, his strained voice low, “listen to me—”

The shifter answered with a fast backhanded swipe of his gauntlet. Magewrought steel swept the air. Chetiin stepped aside—and vanished. Geth and Dagii whirled, searching for him.

He reappeared behind Dagii. Geth caught the flash of a fist as Chetiin punched into the warlord’s leg at mid-thigh before darting back. It was a hard blow, delivered with precision. Dagii grunted and nearly went down, his leg numbed, but Ekhaas
appeared to support him. Eyes flashing with anger, she drew breath to sing.

Chetiin’s hand dipped into a pouch at his waist and emerged to fling ash into her face. Fine gray particles floated in an expanding cloud. Ekhaas’s eyes went wide and her song turned into a fit of choking. Chetiin leaped away from her and Dagii and turned to face Geth again, dropping into a crouch once more. His wide eyes were hard, his big ears cupped, his teeth bared—and through them he spat, “Geth, I didn’t kill Haruuc!”

The protest was so feeble, so ridiculous, that the only answer Geth could manage was a growl that rolled out of his belly. Dropping into a matching crouch, he reached deep inside himself, drew on his fury … and shifted.

The lycanthrope ancestors of the shifter race had the power to become animals, but as their bloodlines had tangled together, that ability had been diluted. Shifters couldn’t take animal form, but they could assume the animal traits of their ancestors. Some shifters could manifest sharp claws or put on a burst of feral speed. Geth’s gift was sheer toughness.

The shifting spread through him like a heat in his blood. His skin thickened into leathery hide. His hair turned even more coarse and heavy. A sense of invulnerability washed over him. The growl turned into a shout and he surged forward, spinning Wrath in deadly arcs, holding his gauntlet ready to block any blow Chetiin attempted or to bash him should he try to skip aside again.

But the
shaarat’khesh
elder fell back before the attack. Light and quick, he swayed back and forth, looking for a way around, but Geth kept him contained. He pressed hard, forcing Chetiin backward until the goblin was caught in a corner of the square. His face tightened. Geth lunged.

And Chetiin turned to push off one wall onto the next and back to the first, each leap taking him higher. Wrath struck stone, grating out a shower of orange sparks. Geth twisted around to follow Chetiin as the goblin made a final leap from the wall and soared over his head.

He landed like a cat. Geth charged again, whirling as he swung. When Chetiin tried to dodge, he was ready for him. His gauntlet caught him with a punch that sent him tumbling. Chetiin rolled
to his feet with blood trickling from his mouth. He leaped away as Geth came in again, drawing a dagger from one of the sheaths on his forearms and circling well away from the shifter.

“Why would I kill Haruuc?” Chetiin asked. “He was my friend.”

“You said he needed to be stopped. You thought he’d discovered the power of the rod.” Geth flung the words Chetiin had spoken over Haruuc’s body back at him. “You did what you had to do.”

“I didn’t.”

Geth saw his eyes flick toward Dagii, standing on his own again, and Ekhaas, able to breathe once more. In a moment, they would have the advantage. He slid forward. Chetiin’s eyes snapped to him and he slid back.

“You’re an assassin,” Geth growled. “An assassin from a clan of assassins!”

Chetiin’s ears pulled back. “Then why would I kill Haruuc in full view of every warlord in Darguun? Why would I leave Witness, a treasure of the
shaarat’khesh
, behind? Why would I put my clan in danger?”

He threw the questions like knives and they found their target. Geth hesitated. Why would Chetiin have let himself be seen? He could have struck from the shadows in some quiet corridor. He could have slipped into Haruuc’s own chambers. He could have arranged a quiet death for the lhesh so that it didn’t look like an assassination at all—

And in the instant that he hesitated, Chetiin struck. He threw himself forward in a swift tumble. His leg swept around and, small as the goblin was, kicked the shifter’s legs out from under him. Geth slammed down onto his back. Chetiin jumped on his chest, one heel kicking the wind out of him as he landed. The point of his dagger pricked the skin beneath Geth’s chin.

“I wasn’t the one who killed Haruuc,” Chetiin said.

He held the dagger under Geth’s chin a moment longer, then vaulted off to land well away from him, Ekhaas, and Dagii. Geth thrust himself up, wheezing as he sucked in air.

“Geth,” said Ekhaas, “I think we should listen to him.”

“Why?” Geth croaked.

“Because we’re alive. He could have killed any of us from the
shadows before we even knew he was there, but he didn’t. He could have killed you just now, but he didn’t.”

Geth looked at her and at Dagii, then at Chetiin. “I saw you. You killed Haruuc right in front of me.”

“It wasn’t me. A disguise. An illusion, maybe.” Chetiin remained in his crouch, dagger ready. “Blood of six kings, I swear it.” He gestured. “Put away Wrath.”

“No.”

“Geth—” Dagii said. The hobgoblin sheathed his sword. So did Ekhaas. Geth grimaced and put Wrath away as well. Chetiin made his dagger disappear into the sheath on his forearm with a smooth gesture. Geth glared at him with narrowed eyes. A part of him wanted to trust the goblin elder. He’d been a wise and capable friend. The rest of him still stung from Haruuc’s death and Chetiin’s betrayal of their friendship.

“Why should we believe you?” he demanded.

“For the reasons I said. If I wanted to kill Haruuc, I wouldn’t have done it the way that it happened. It was far too public. If you believe nothing else I say, believe that.” He spread his hands. “You know I believed in Haruuc’s vision of a stable Darguun as much as anyone else. Such an obvious killing, especially when Haruuc had not named an heir, would have served no purpose.”

“Except to separate him from the rod if he’d discovered its true power,” said Geth.

Chetiin scowled and jerked his head at the windows around the square. “This isn’t the place to discuss secrets,” he said. “Come with me. There’s a place we can talk.” His face softened. “Trust me. On Haruuc’s memory and my word, I’m telling you the truth.”

Geth glanced at Ekhaas and Dagii. Ekhaas’s ears flicked and she nodded curtly. He looked back to Chetiin. “No tricks,” he said.