The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [106]
“You sound like your uncle, trying to appease the humans as a famine march tries to appease the Devourer. Do you intend to leave Darguun eating stale noon and chewing dry bones?”
“Peace and war, like the Dark Six, have their place.” There was a pause and Vounn imagined Tariic sipping wine. “My uncle favors me. He trusts me with the most sensitive of missions. I am the most obvious of heirs—a warrior of his blood, trained as a bridge between Darguun and the Five Nations. He believes I share his vision for our people.”
“I believe you share his vision,” Daavn said.
“I believe that now is the time to honor peace,” Tariic answered. “I came to assure you that war will have its time as well. Bide your time, Daavn. When I receive what is due to me, I want the Marhaan to stand with the Rhukaan Taash in support of me.”
He received a grumble as an answer.
Tariic’s voice took on a sharper edge. “Do I have the friendship of the Marhaan, Daavn?”
“You’re not Haruuc’s heir yet, Tariic. I don’t gamble on coins beneath a bowl when the bowl may never be lifted.” Daavn seemed to hesitate, then said, “Give me a sign. You want the Marhaan to stand with you. Tell me something I want to know.”
There was another pause, longer this time. Vounn doubted if wine was being sipped. “What?” Tariic said finally.
“I have heard that Dagii of the Mur Talaan has ridden to the southwest, along with a number of those you brought to Khaar Mbar’ost with the Deneith envoy. One of the sharaat’khesh, a duur’kala of the Kech Volaar, a gnome, a shifter, and a human bearing a Siberys dragonmark. A strange group of people. My instincts tell me that something is going on. What are they doing?”
“Why do you want to know?” asked Tariic. “The southwest is a long way from Marhaan territory.”
“I ask as a warlord of Darguun—and as someone you want as your friend. Does such a group ride our nation on their own accord?”
Tariic paused again, then said, “They ride at Lhesh Haruuc’s command.”
“But you know why he sent them out? Does it have something to do with House Deneith?”
“I’m saying nothing more.”
“When do they return?”
Tariic laughed at that question. “I can’t tell you what no one knows, Daavn. Not even Haruuc is certain when they’ll come back. Now you tell me—will the Marhaan stand with me? I want an answer.”
Daavn answered with sincerity. “You have given me the sign I asked for. When you are heir, Tariic of Rhukaan Taash, the Marhaan will stand with you. By the honor of my clan, I swear it.”
There was the sound of metal touching metal. Vounn guessed that the two men had crossed their knives, the goblin tradition for sealing an oath. “I must go,” said Tariic. “The famine march will have stirred things up. I’d counted on my uncle not noticing my absence tonight from Khaar Mbar’ost, but he’ll probably be looking for me.”
“Tell him you were caught in the city by the march,” Daavn suggested. “It’s the truth.”
“It is at that. Swift travel back to your territory, my friend.”
“Great glory, Tariic.”
Aruget touched Vounn’s arm and she made out his gesture as he pointed to the street. She nodded. If they wanted to avoid encountering Tariic on the street, they needed to go. They slipped out of the alley and ran as swiftly as she could manage. The moonlight gave just enough light for her to see where she was going and that the street was still empty. There were sounds of violent confrontation in the distance. The famine marchers had encountered Haruuc’s soldiers.
As they reached the street that led to Khaar Mbar’ost, Vounn glanced back. Tariic was only just emerging from the house beside the alley. They would return to the fortress ahead of him. She slowed gratefully to a brisk walk.
“What we heard tonight,” said Aruget, “was not treason. Tariic did not act or plot against the lhesh.”
“He didn’t,” Vounn agreed. She couldn’t help thinking of what Haruuc had told her in Khaar Mbar’ost’s hall of honor: “Tariic understands