The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [135]
“They will be replenished, Ruuthic,” said Haruuc. “Not just in gold, but in kind. Food will come from Breland before your storehouses are empty.”
“Why not buy from Breland now?” Ruuthic asked.
“It takes time to negotiate the purchase and the shipment. The stores of Darguun are close at hand. Working together, we will overcome the weakness that the Gan’duur have inflicted on us.”
There were a number of people already in the gallery. Pater d’Orien. Sindra d’Lyrandar, viceroy of House Lyrandar in Darguul, together with a trio of men wearing the jackets of ships’ captains. Tariic, chatting with the Brelish ambassador. Senen of Kech Volaar and a few other representatives of clans who shared relations with Lhesh Haruuc but didn’t directly follow his rule. The gallery had been built specifically so that people like them, who had no place among the assembly, might have a place to listen discreetly to those proceedings they had an interest in. Vounn nodded courteously to Sindra, Senen, Tariic, and the ambassador from Breland, but took a seat beside Pater.
“Have I missed anything?” she asked. She suspected that she already knew the answer, and Pater confirmed it.
“Not a cursed thing. A few clans like the Atiin Noor who support Haruuc without question are ready to give him everything he asks for. Nearly everyone else protests that they don’t have enough to share with Rhukaan Draal.” Pater gnawed on his thumbnail. “They keep coming back to repayment, the safety of their shipments, the speed and safety of food to come from Breland. I’d almost think some of them had been paid to ask questions.” He threw an angry glance at Sindra d’Lyrandar.
Vounn suppressed a smile. Houses Lyrandar and Orien were rivals in the shipping business. Each was uniquely suited to bring freight to Rhukaan Draal—Orien overland, Lyrandar by sea. Orien had the advantage of a shorter route from the fields of Breland through Sterngate and the Marguul Pass. Lyrandar had to ship cargo down the Dagger River, all the way around the coast, and back up the Ghaal River, but the voyage was far safer. Lyrandar could have used its flying airships to guarantee both speed and safety, but the cost that would have been involved in such shipments had stopped even the staunchest of Haruuc’s critics. Which was probably just as well for House Orien.
“More guards on your caravans, perhaps,” she suggested. “I imagine that we could arrange a special price if it would help you win the contract.”
“Your concern for our prosperity is noted,” Pater said sourly.
“Deneith serves.” She inclined her head, then leaned out over the edge of the balcony and looked at the warlords assembled before Haruuc’s throne.
The Gan’duur raiders had been largely suppressed or driven back into their own territory for the clan chief Keraal to deal with as was his responsibility. Keraal had duly shown off the executed bodies of hobgoblins he claimed were the rogue warriors, but Vounn had her own reports of the grisly display. The corpses of the “warriors” were so scrawny and undernourished they could only have been slaves. The true warriors were probably enjoying rewards for a job well done. A little more than a month after the first wave of raids, Rhukaan Draal was feeling the effects of the devastated harvest, with the threat of even leaner times ahead. The price of food in the market was rising, and while the famine march two weeks before had been dealt with harshly—the old goblin woman who had led the mob was, Vounn had heard, imprisoned somewhere below Khaar Mbar’ost—scuffles over the food that trickled into the city weren’t uncommon. Haruuc had ordered a noon dole distributed in the poorest parts of the city, but uncertainty and unrest were growing. And not just among the people of Rhukaan Draal. There were empty places among the benches in Haruuc’s throne room. A number of warlords had found excuses not to attend the assembly.
Keraal of Gan’duur was, unsurprisingly,