The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [144]
If asked for the story of what happened in the Uura Odaarii, they would speak only of Dabrak Riis’s use of the strange magic of the cavern against them. An omission wasn’t really a lie. No one beyond the six of them would ever know what power the Rod of Kings truly had.
The door of the chamber opened, and Munta appeared once again. If he felt the tension in the room, he didn’t let it show on his face. “It’s time,” he said. “We’re ready.”
“Ready?” Ashi asked.
Munta’s ears twitched and a smile spread across his face. “Ready to welcome you like the heroes you are!” He held out a tray polished to a high gloss, so freshly cleaned that Ekhaas could smell the wax, with a piece of rich gold cloth on it. “For you to carry the rod, Geth. We want everyone to see it.”
“Who’s everyone?” asked Ashi again.
“Everyone,” Munta said with satisfaction.
Geth came forward with a long pouch fashioned from common wool, a strip torn from a blanket if the undignified truth had to be told. He loosened the simple twist of cord that held it closed, reached inside, and slid out the Rod of Kings. Munta’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. Ekhaas saw Midian and Dagii look away, though, and none of the others gazed too closely at the rod. If they’d found themselves avoiding discussion of their secret on the journey, they’d also found themselves shying away from the rod. As the first one to grasp it, Geth had been appointed the rod’s keeper with unspoken assent—no one else had wanted to touch it. Ekhaas and Midian had inspected the simple shaft and examined the runes on it, but not as closely as they once might have. Geth had held the rod for them.
Laid out on the tray, though, purple byeshk against rich gold, it did have a certain majesty. A sense of excitement rose inside her. The rod wasn’t just an artifact of the great empire. It was something that had been held by the hands of countless emperors. It had seen the rise and fall of dynasties. And she had helped find it. Ekhaas of Kech Volaar had helped to bring it back into the world.
“This is what’s going to happen,” Munta said, passing the tray to Geth, then leading them out of the chamber and into the corridor. “Haruuc wants to have a very public presentation of the rod so that everyone who matters knows how important it is. The presentation will take place in the throne room. As you enter, a duur’kala will tell the story of the rod. When you reach the foot of the throne, Tariic—as a representative of the people—will take the rod and give it to Haruuc, who will then speak. After that, there’s no particular order of ceremonies you need to follow. Haruuc’s instructions will guide you.”
“You make it sound like a pageant,” Midian said.
“Rule is as much spectacle as it is action.” Munta stopped at a tall door. From the other side of it, Ekhaas could hear the indistinct murmurs of a great many people. “This leads into the antechamber of the throne room,” Munta said. “When the drums start, the doors will open and you’ll go in.” He looked at them all and solemn pride filled his face. “Haruuc won’t be able to say this in public, but he asked me to tell you. Kaaspanozhii kitaan atcha.”
We owe a debt to your honor. He turned and hurried up the corridor, heading, Ekhaas assumed, to take his place in the throne room. She glanced at the others. From their expressions, they might have been walking to an execution rather than a celebration.
“It’s too late not to do this, isn’t it?” asked Ashi.
“Far too late,” Ekhaas said.
A drum stroke sounded from beyond the door. The murmurs of the crowd died out. The drum continued, its beat throbbing on the air in a slow rhythm. “The call to advance,” said Dagii. “Armies march into battle