The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [156]
Haruuc just turned his cold eyes on him.
Munta nodded. “Mazo,” he said, “but it exceeds the mourning for Fenic and Haluun. Did you love your other shava any less?”
“Fenic and Haluun died in different times,” Haruuc said. “I must be strong. I must show my power. If I could have done this for them, Munta, I would have.” He leaned his head back and, after a moment’s silence, added, “The people may have fire. But the punishment for failing to observe mourning at dawn and dusk is a public whipping. If the people love me as they say they do, they will mourn with me.” He looked at Geth. “Your task will be to organize the games.”
“Games?” Geth asked.
“Contests of strength and skill. Tales from duur’kala. Fights between gladiators. Razu can help you with the details. One day of games for Vanii, three days for victory over the Gan’duur. Don’t look at me like that, Munta!” Haruuc’s voice rose to a sudden roar, and Munta, who had been about to speak, closed his mouth. “It is within my right! These will be games to remember. I want them to be talked about ten—no, twenty years from now. This is my gift to the people.”
“Lhesh,” Munta said humbly, “they will cost money. There are still food shortages. We still need to buy grain.”
“There is money enough.” Haruuc pointed at Geth. “Speak with Senen Dhakaan. Ask her about the games held in the time of the empire. Make me proud, shava.”
Geth swallowed and bent his head. “I will.”
At the back of the throne room, the carved door opened again to admit a thin, nervous hobgoblin who looked more like a merchant than a warlord. Haruuc’s ears went back, and he gestured for the hobgoblin to come forward. “Iizan of Ghaal Sehn, join us. The Ghaal Sehn hold the territory on the west side of the Orien trade road from the Gathering Stone to Rhukaan Draal?”
Iizan dropped down to his knees. “We do, lhesh.”
“And there is a forest in your territory, not too far from the road?”
“There is, lhesh. A small one.”
Haruuc nodded. “Good. Take the slaves from your fields—”
A flush sprang up in Iizan’s face. “The Ghaal Sehn no longer keep slaves, Lhesh Haruuc!” he said. “We followed your example and freed them.”
The lhesh stood and stepped down from his throne to stand over the kneeling hobgoblin. “I didn’t ask if you have slaves, Iizan! I know that you do. I know that seven of ten warlords who swear they follow my example still keep slaves in secret!”
He seized a handful of Iizan’s hair and dragged him to his feet so sharply that Iizan didn’t have a chance to cry out. “I want you to take the slaves from your field and raze that forest. Take the strongest trees, strip them of leaves and small branches, and stand them along the trade road, one pair every two leagues from the Gathering Stone to the bridge over the Ghaal River. This will be done within three days, in time for the return of the soldiers from the north. You will have aid—the slaves of neighboring clans will be sent to you.” He looked into Iizan’s face as if searching for something, then flung the warlord away. “Do this and you will be rewarded. Do you understand, Iizan?”
“Mazo, lhesh,” Iizan choked.
Haruuc gestured with the Rod of Kings, dismissing him, and the warlord fled. Geth stared at Haruuc as he returned to his throne. The image of a tree, bare of all but the strongest branches rose up in his imagination. He’d seen a shape like that before. From the expression on Munta’s face, he knew the old warlord recognized it as well.
Ekhaas had once told him that one of the greatest creations of Taruuzh, the ancient dashoor who had forged the Sword of Heroes and the Rod of Kings, had been a device of execution. In the time of Dhakaan, his device had spread to every city in the empire. The secret of making them had been lost in the Desperate Times after the empire’s fall, but hobgoblins of all clans, she’d said, still emulated their use in ending the lives of criminals and traitors.
Geth wet his lips and looked up at Haruuc. “Grieving trees?” he asked. His voice sounded thin in the emptiness of the throne