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Geth grabbed him. “How much did you hear?” he asked.

Aruget’s ears flicked. “Enough to know we shouldn’t argue. I already know more than I should about many things.” A thunderous chanting—Haruuc’s name, repeated over and over—filled the air, and Aruget pointed to the right. “Decide quickly. I know a shortcut.”

Geth bared his teeth, then let him go. “You better keep your mouth shut.”

The chant changed—

“War! Haruuc! War! Haruuc! War! War! War!”

—and grew closer as Aruget led them along the corridor, then cut through rooms and halls. They emerged into another hallway just in time to hear Haruuc shout, “Darguuls! Was our nation not born in war? Were our people not born in war? From ancient days, have we not spread our power across the land? Our strategy must be discussed! There must be an assembly!”

“Tiger’s blood,” said Geth. “He’s holding them off!”

“Here!” said Aruget. He swung around a corner and they were in the room off the dais of the throne room. Through the open door, Ashi could see Haruuc standing before his throne with the rod in his hands. She could see the grieving tree beyond—and Keraal as he hung on it, slowly writhing among the stone branches. She pressed her lips together and focused on Haruuc.

“I need to touch him,” she said. She glanced at Geth. “You think this will work?”

“I was going to ask you that.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll get his attention.”

From the floor of the throne room, however, came calls from warlords not willing to wait for an assembly. “Breland!”

“Zilargo!”

“Northern Breland and then into Thrane!”

Ashi saw Haruuc’s chest heave and his face grow tight, but she also thought she saw something in his eyes, some flash of inspiration. “Silence!” he said. “You think small! Are you hobgoblins or halflings! Breland, Thrane … what challenge would they be? Ancient blood demands an ancient enemy.”

Ashi grabbed Geth’s hand. “Khyberit gentis, no.” They were too late.

Haruuc’s voice rose to a triumphant shout. “As it was in the age of Dhakaan, goblins shall go into battle against elves!” He held out a fist wrapped around the Rod of Kings. “Let our blades fall on Valenar!”

There was silence, then deafening cheers. Ashi looked at Geth.

Except that the shifter was grinning. He shook his head and said into her ear. “Of all the nations that signed the Treaty of Thronehold, Valenar and Darguun are the least trusted. Haruuc can shake a sword at Valenar, and the elves won’t find any allies. And the only ways to get to Valenar are through the Mournland or over water. Haruuc has started a war that will never happen! He’s bought us time to find a way out of this!” He waved his free hand through the door at Haruuc.

The lhesh saw him and smiled—with relief, Ashi thought. Haruuc looked back to the crowd in the throne room and raised his arms high above his head. The crowd cheered again.

And the fletching of a crossbow bolt sprouted in the thin armor of his right armpit.

The grin fell from Geth’s face. Haruuc’s arm collapsed and he stumbled sideways. The cheering of the crowd, caught up in its excitement, continued.

“Haruuc!” Geth wrenched his hand from Ashi’s and threw himself out onto the dais, but he was too slow.

From the gallery overhead, the small, black-clad form of one of the shaarat’khesh launched into the air. Geth caught a glimpse of a familiar, black-stained face, then a rope tied into the rafters arrested the goblin’s fall. Chetiin landed on the dais with a rolling tumble and came up with two daggers in his hands.

The one in his left was curved and ugly. The one in his right, the one he had called Witness, was straight and set with a blue-black crystal, but uglier still.

Geth froze for a moment, caught in the act of drawing Wrath. Below the dais, he saw Dagii, motionless with shock was well. The cheering fell silent. The throne room seemed like a scene suspended in glass.

Haruuc bared his teeth and jumped back to put his throne between himself and the goblin. He groped for his red-stained