The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [27]
There was scarcely a break in Ashi’s rambling tales of Vounn’s heavy-handed mentoring. Ekhaas had to speak over her to get a word in. “Ashi, how bad was the argument you had tonight with Vounn? Will she take you back?”
“Take me back?” Sitting forward, Ashi groaned. “Ekhaas, she’s never going to let me go. I don’t think I’m even a person to her. I’m just an asset of Deneith—or I will be once I’m trained to her satisfaction. Even then she’ll probably still want me under her thumb.” She lifted her head and looked around the cell, then laughed. “You know, I was almost frightened of what she’d do when the watch contacted Deneith and she found out I’d been arrested. Now I wish I could have been there to see the look on her face. I wonder how she reacted.”
Muffled voices from an outer room of the watch station reached Ekhaas’s ears. “I don’t think you’ll have to wait long to find out,” she said. One of the voices was the watch station commander, and it sounded as if the proud man was actually being subservient. The voices were getting closer. Ekhaas turned to Ashi. “Listen to me,” she said. “You need to smooth things over with Vounn. Ease the tension between you. Apologize to her.”
“What? Why—?” Ashi said, then she heard the voices as well. For all her talk of anger and confidence, the color drained from her face and she stood up. “Betch.”
“Apologize,” Ekhaas hissed, standing with her, then the door of the room beyond the cell opened—and Ekhaas felt the heat fade from her cheeks, too.
The station commander was the first one through the door, followed by four humans armed with spears and wearing the crest of House Deneith on polished breatsplates. After them came Vounn d’Deneith. The lady seneschal wore a fine gown, too fine to be marching through a watch station. She’d probably come straight from the banquet.
After Vounn, and dressed just as magnificently, came Tariic. He’d put aside the spiked armor he’d worn for the reception ceremony, replacing it with a high-collared doublet of black leather stitched so heavily with bronze it could have turned a blow. Heavy bracers and high greaves on his boots were likewise Darguul in style, but Tariic had added a long, full-sleeved Karrnathi coat that swirled behind him.
Four hobgoblins, members of his honor guard, followed Darguun’s emissary, but Ekhaas hardly noticed them. Vounn’s face was a dispassionate mask. Ekhaas could read no emotion in it at all. Tariic also aspired to present an emotionless mask, but he didn’t succeed nearly as well as Vounn. His skin, naturally a rich red-brown, was tinted an even brighter red by suppressed anger. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles stood out and his dark eyes focused on empty air rather than look at her. His ears were most telling, however, standing straight and stiff.
Vounn glanced at the station commander. “Thank you. I’ll call when we’re ready.” The man nodded and left the room. One of the Deneith guards followed and took up a position outside the door, presumably to be certain no one tried to eavesdrop, before closing it. Tariic, however, was the first to speak to the prisoners.
“Ekhaas of Kech Volaar,” he said, “you dishonor our hosts by stealing from them. You dishonor me, and you dishonor my uncle. You dishonor your clan, and you dishonor Darguun.” He spoke with admirable restraint—and in the human language, obviously for the benefit of Ashi and Vounn. Heat returned to Ekhaas’s face, and she surprised herself by feeling vaguely ashamed. In her mind, she knew she actually had very little to fear—Tariic couldn’t afford to mistreat her—but in her gut she still felt guilt. Stealing the reliquary while in Karrlakton as a guest of House Deneith, even if she was only part of a larger group, broke ancient laws of hospitality. It reflected badly on Tariic as the leader of the delegation