Word of Traitors: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 2 (37 page)

T
hey walked out of Tenquis’s workshop into a day that was cool and bright, though gray clouds were piling up in the east. Geth could smell rain on the wind, faint behind the odor of the kitchen and workshop scraps that Tenquis had used to disguise him. Egg and carefully drawn soot gave him wrinkles while ash streaked his hair. Walking with a hunch and hanging onto Tenquis’s arm completed the appearance of an aged shifter. Not so impenetrable a disguise as the illusion Ekhaas had created, but it would do the job. If Tariic had people watching for Geth, they wouldn’t give him a second glance.

“You should hope they don’t,” Tenquis said when Geth admired his handiwork. “This kind of trick works better at night. Keep your face down so no one gets a good look at you.”

Geth had checked the direction Wrath pointed before they left and they went that way, west and somewhat north. The twisting, crowded streets of Rhukaan Draal forced them make frequent detours and left them guessing that they were going in the correct direction. Fortunately, the winding path didn’t require them to pass close to Khaar Mbar’ost.

The influence of the mighty fortress—or at least of its new master—seemed to have grown, though. Geth could feel a new edginess to the crowds in the streets, a new aggression and confidence among the
dar
. People of other races stayed out of their way. Weapons, not uncommon before, were even more apparent. Small groups of militia drilled wherever there was open space.

“You can thank Pradoor as well as Tariic,” Tenquis said. “She’s well-known. People put a lot of store in her words. The last few days
she’s been preaching in support of war with Valenar and in support of Tariic.” He rubbed the horny spikes that edged his chin. “If she’s joined with Tariic, it would explain a few things.”

“Like?” Geth growled.

Tenquis pointed as they turned a corner and Geth followed his finger—not that what he pointed at would have been hard to miss. They stood on one side of a crossroads where five streets came together. At the center of the intersection stood a flat-sided pillar of white stone surmounted by a sculpture of four metal arms, three vertical and one horizontal, a very large version of the eight-pointed Octogram, symbol of the Sovereign Host. Carved into the pillar below it were the symbols of Dol Arrah, Dol Dorn, and Balinor, the gods Haruuc had chosen to venerate over those of the Dark Six. The monument seemed familiar. It took Geth a moment to remember why. Haruuc’s funeral procession had come this way, pausing briefly before the column. There were words written on the column, Geth remembered now. Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor gives thanks for Darguun’s victory at the Battle of Marguul Pass.

The dedication was obscured by the naked body of a skinny elf that hung from a rope lashed around one of the arms of the Octogram. Dried blood made new symbols on the white stone, those of the Fury, the Mockery, and the Keeper.

“Bear and Boar,” muttered Geth. “Was he a Valenar?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s hard to tell now.”

The people of Rhukaan Draal passed around the desecrated monument without looking up, although Geth noticed they did give it a wide berth. “Why hasn’t he been cut down?”

“I suspect it suits Tariic to leave him up,” Tenquis said tightly. “Maybe you’re right when you say Haruuc picked a fight with Valenar to avoid fighting all of Khorvaire, but what he’s started is going to be very bad.”

Geth stared at the body as it rocked against the stone, pushed back and forth by the breeze—then started forward.

Tenquis grabbed him and held him back. “No. You can’t do anything for him and you’ll only draw attention to yourself.”

Breath hissed in and out of Geth’s mouth, but he turned away. “Tonight,” he said. “It feels like there’s going to be a storm tonight. I’m going to come out and do it then.”

“Fair enough.” Tenquis steered him out of the intersection and into the temporary shelter of a stopped wagon. “Check our direction.”

The sword was disguised just as he was, wrapped up in leathers and carried under his arm as an anonymous bundle. Geth slipped a hand through the leathers, grasped the hilt, and held it out just enough to tell which way it pointed. They’d drifted only a little from their course. They left the shelter of the wagon just as the carter, a fat hobgoblin, appeared, ready to curse them for thieves. Tenquis flicked his tail at him as they strode off.

The farther they went, the more Geth was certain that he’d been this way before, though he didn’t recognize the buildings or the shops that lined the streets. The twists and turns that he and Tenquis followed, though … those seemed somehow familiar, except that the crowds were out of place.

Then he saw why their route was familiar. Empty the streets and put the crowds in front of the shops and on top of the buildings and the scene made sense to him just as the monument had.

“This is the same way Haruuc’s funeral procession came,” he said.

“It’s just a coincidence,” said Tenquis. “We’re staying on the larger streets and the funeral procession couldn’t very well have gone through alleys.” His nose wrinkled and his tail lashed. “You don’t think Chetiin could have taken the Rod of Kings out of the city, do you?”

“Maybe,” Geth said. His mind was only half on the answer. A coincidence? He had to work to make himself believe it. Belief came even harder as the crowd thinned out and the buildings of Rhukaan Draal became shacks and huts along the side of the road, thick at first, then scattered, and finally nonexistent. The roar of the first cataract of the Ghaal filled empty space.

Ahead of them, the great red stone arch cast a long shadow on the road as the sun, chased by clouds, set behind it. Tenquis’s steps slowed. “Check Wrath,” he said.

The sword pointed through the arch.

Geth didn’t put Wrath away. They walked up to the arch in silence and stole into its shadow. Geth paid no more attention to the carvings within than he had the first time he’d passed through. A
tall iron gate closed the far end of the arch, but it wasn’t locked. It opened at a touch with something like a soft sigh and they slipped through. Geth walked with Wrath extended before him. The road ended and they paced through long, dry grass. Twilight was settling over the ridge of weathered rock that Haruuc had intended to be the graveyard of kings.

The great lhesh, a young warlord again, glared down at them from the heavy door of his tomb.

Wrath didn’t waver. It pointed at the ridge below the outer structure of the tomb. Geth climbed the steep stairs up to the carved door and felt the sword dip in his hands. He walked around the tomb, just to be certain. Wrath moved like an iron needle drawn to a lodestone and what he felt was so far beyond amazement that it left him stunned.

“It’s inside,” he said. “The Rod of Kings is inside Haruuc’s tomb.”

Tenquis joined him and ran dark fingers around the seam of the door. “It hasn’t been opened.”

“It can’t be opened,” said Geth. “The pivots were meant to crumble once the door was closed.” He stared into Haruuc’s stone face. “Grandfather Rat, how did Chetiin manage to get it inside?”

“Magic,” Tenquis suggested. “Or just another entrance. Hobgoblins prefer to bury their dead in caves. The underground portion of the tomb was originally a cave, wasn’t it?”

Geth nodded and the tiefling stepped back, dusting off his hands and nodding around them at the folds and cracks of the ridge.

“It won’t be the only one. The builders would likely have walled off any connections, but a goblin wouldn’t need much space to wiggle through.”

Geth looked around at the ridge as well. “It would take days to find the entrance and a connection.”

“Then that leaves magic.” Tenquis patted the door. “I might be able to open this. Not now—I’d need to prepare—but I have an idea how it could be done.” He met Geth’s eyes. “If you think it’s necessary.”

“What do you mean ‘if I think it’s necessary?’” Geth asked. “Of course it’s necessary!”

Tenquis held up his hands. “Think about it,” he said. “We only found it because we have Wrath. No one else is going to think to
look here, are they? The tomb is sealed. Unless we open it, no one is going to have any reason even bothering to try and look inside. The rod is safe with Haruuc. Maybe that’s what Chetiin intended.”

“Then why steal it from me?” Geth demanded. “We could have worked together. Maybe Chetiin just wanted to hide the rod somewhere safe for a while. I don’t know. I can’t even guess what he’s up to anymore.” He pulled his lips back in a snarl. “And where one goblin can go, so can others. No tomb is unlootable—and there’s a lot of loot in Haruuc’s tomb. Anyone who breaks in looking for treasure isn’t going to present much of a challenge to the rod if they pick it up by mistake.”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “How long will it take you to get what you need ready?”

I
n the afternoons at Khaar Mbar’ost, many of the warlords, councilors, and courtiers could be found walking and talking in the hall of honor. The hall occupied the full length of one of the fortress’s upper floors. Statues of
dar
heroes stood against the walls, and stained glass windows depicting scenes of famous battles dominated the distant ends. The air in the hall was generally soft with murmured conversation, though a few times Ashi had heard it ring with the sound of steel on steel as conversation erupted into argument and a brief duel.

Today it was quiet. The curse Ashi muttered under her breath as she entered seemed like the loudest exclamation in the big room.

There was no sign of Geth here, either. She looked back at Aruget, waiting beyond the door—in spite of Vounn’s insistence that the hobgoblin warrior accompany her everywhere, there were some places guards weren’t permitted—and said, “I’ll be back.”

Aruget’s ears pulled back just a little bit. Ashi had the distinct impression that he didn’t appreciate being dragged through Khaar Mbar’ost in her search for Geth, but Geth wasn’t with Tariic in the throne room today. He was finally alone. If she could find him, they’d finally be able to talk.

At the east end of the hall of honor, Munta the Gray leaned against the wall beside one of the tallwindows. The stained glass had been tilted open to allow a cool breeze into the room. More than half the sky was covered in heavy clouds, beautiful day slipping into threatening evening. The old warlord held a goblet and
sipped from it frequently. Furs had been bundled around his shoulders, but he faced into the wind with a drawn look on his face. He turned as she came near and his pensiveness faded a little.

“Korluaat
, Lady Ashi?” he asked her. He gestured and a goblin servant offered Ashi a goblet before she had a chance to answer. The beverage inside was strong enough to make her nose twitch at the alcoholic fumes. She’d been served it once or twice at feasts in Khaar Mbar’ost—the name of the stuff translated as “hero’s blood”—but it wasn’t a drink she enjoyed. She smiled and mimed sipping a little of it before asking, “Munta, have you seen—”

But Munta spoke before she could finish, gesturing expansively at the horizon beyond the window. “Dagii’s out there somewhere,” he said and Ashi could smell the
korluaat
rolling off of him. “Chasing down elves, maybe being chased down himself.” He took a swallow from his goblet. “Tariic assembles a new army, ready to fight. I’ve never seen Ghaal’dar warlords so eager to work together. I’ve even heard that one of the Dhakaani clans have asked to march with him. The Kech Shaarat—the Blade Bearers. Have you met one of them yet?”

“Their ambassador is Kroon Dhakaan,” Ashi answered. “A hobgoblin with the shoulders of a bugbear.”

“Cho
. That’s him.” Munta looked out the window again. “Real war, Ashi. And I won’t fight it. Tariic’s ‘honor’ to an aged warlord. I was old when Haruuc first proposed his dream of a land for the
dar!
What I’ve done for Darguun, what I’ve experienced, and Haruuc never denied me the chance to take up my sword again. Just recently in Droaam—” His ears flattened and he took another drink. “But Tariic won’t even let me take a place in the command tent. He gives me gold and grants favored rank to the warriors of my clan, but he won’t allow me to see the battlefield. And while he said it, I just bowed like a gnome.
Maabet
, he has a presence. He could be greater than Haruuc.”

Ashi pressed her lips together for a moment, resisting the urge to warn Munta of the danger that faced them, before she spoke. “Munta, have you seen Geth today?”

“Ah!” Munta gulped the rest of his
korluaat
, the loose skin of his throat folding in on itself as he swallowed. “I ramble like a gnome, too. I saw Geth this morning. He seemed to be in a hurry,
but he said that if I saw you, I should tell you to talk to Razu if you hadn’t already.”

Ashi’s heart leaped. “Did he say why?”

“No. Some ritual. I suppose.” Munta looked down the length of the hall of honor and nodded his head. “She’s there.”

Ashi saw the head of Razu’s staff before she saw the mistress of rituals. “Ta
muut
, Munta,” she said. “I’m sorry I have to leave you.”