The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [25]
“What do you mean the House will be contacted?” Ashi called after the commander. “Who did you contact? Who—”
“Sit down, Ashi,” said Ekhaas. She settled herself on the bare plank bench that was the only thing in the cell and tried to think of a way out of the situation. Ashi leaned her head against the bars of the door and cursed.
“Khyberit gentis.” She turned around and glared at Ekhaas.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going to tell me what you were doing breaking into that memorial? What’s so special about that casket? What are you doing in Karrlakton at all?” She dropped onto the bench beside Ekhaas. “You could have at least told me you were here.”
Ekhaas’s ears rose. “I didn’t know you were in Karrlakton. I could ask you what you were doing at the memorial, too.”
“I was trying to stop a thief.” Ashi grimaced. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t tried to stop you, neither of us would have been arrested and you would have gotten away with your little casket.”
“je’shaarat mipaa kotanaa,” said Ekhaas. Ashi looked at her, and she translated the expression: “A sharp sword hurts less when you fall on it.”
Ashi wrinkled her nose. “What did you want with the casket?” she asked again. “I saw one of the watchmen trying to open it, but he couldn’t.”
“It’s sealed. It’s not meant to be opened.”
“Then what’s inside? Why would you steal it if … ?” Ashi’s question trailed off and she twisted around to face Ekhaas directly. Anger rose in her voice. “You said Deneith had no right to what was in the memorial. Is the casket an artifact of Dhakaan? Are you still trying to protect things from us shaat’aar?”
Anger crept into Ekhaas as well, though she kept it out of her voice. Her ears, however, bent back. “Chaat’oor,” she corrected. It was a harsh word, usually translated as “defilers.” The word was old, as ancient as the dying of the great empire, and it referred to any race not native to the continent of Khorvaire. Usually that meant humans, but it could refer equally to the changelings or shifters who had joined the migration to the land that had once belonged to her people. When she’d first met Ashi, Geth, Singe, and Dandra in the south of the country of Droaam, she’d called them chaat’oor, assuming they’d come to loot the Dhakaani ruins in the area. She’d discovered a greater respect for them, but the reverence for the past that was the duty and right of every descendant of Dhakaan was not something to be dismissed.
“Yes,” she said, glaring back at Ashi, “it’s an artifact of Dhakaan. And yes, I was taking it back. It belongs in a shrine, not in a dingy cabinet. It’s a reliquary. It holds the tongue and brain of Duural Rhuvet, the last great strategist of the empire. For untold generations, it was kept by our greatest leaders and carried onto the battlefield as a source of inspiration—until it was lost at the Battle of Starkhan.” A little of her seething anger broke through her control. “An important part of our history, carried away as a looted curiosity!”
Ashi twitched. “Couldn’t you have just asked for it back?”
“If your House had known what it had in its possession, what treasure it had seized at Starkhan, would it have given it back?”
“Probably not.” Ashi shifted as if uncomfortable, then asked, “Ekhaas, what’s the Battle of Starkhan?”
Ekhaas stared at her. “Starkhan was the key battle in the Torlaac Conquest.”
Ashi shook her head.
Ekhaas’s ears drooped in disbelief. “The campaign that memorial was dedicated to! Khaavolaar, what has Deneith been teaching you?”
“How to be a lady.” Ashi scowled when Ekhaas raised her eyebrows. “Don’t ask,” she said. “I don’t want to think about it. Have you heard from any of the others? I haven’t had any news. Have you heard from Dandra or Singe?” Her face brightened. “What about Geth?”
Geth. Ekhaas held her expression, voice, and ears absolutely neutral. “I haven’t heard from him—or anyone,” she said.
“Oh.” Ashi looked disappointed. “I would have