The Doom of Kings_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [65]
But all that Haruuc revealed was pleasure. “Ashi d’Deneith, bearer of the Siberys Mark of Sentinel. Saa’atcha! We must speak at another time.”
Ekhaas let her breath out and caught a glimpse of similar relief on Ashi’s face. If Haruuc suspected something—and she was certain the canny warlord did—he said nothing. Ashi’s decision to remove her scarf had been a blessing. Haruuc must have recognized the mark, remembered Ekhaas’s tale of the Shadow Marches, and guessed who Ashi was. Tariic looked relieved, too. He turned to introduce Midian.
And a curious thought stirred in Ekhaas’s mind. She knew why Haruuc hadn’t expected Ashi’s presence. Why didn’t he recognize Midian when the gnome was there at his request?
Both her curiosity and Tariic’s introduction were cut short as the door opened again and four more hobgoblins entered. Two of them were Munta the Gray and Dagii. The third was an older hobgoblin she didn’t recognize. The fourth, however, she knew well.
Senen Dhakaan, ambassador of the Kech Volaar to the court of Haruuc, pointed a finger at Midian and, in a voice that rang with the trained tones of the senior duur’kala that she was, said, “What is he doing here?”
She spoke in Goblin, but Ekhaas was certain that everyone understood her tone. Senen’s eyes fell on her, demanding an answer, and Ekhaas said, “Haruuc hired him, chib.”
Haruuc’s ears rose. Senen turned on him. “You risk your alliance with our clan, Haruuc,” she said, her voice seething. “This gnome is Midian Mit Davandi. He’s known to the Kech Volaar and among the worst of the thieves and grave robbers who hide behind the mantle of the Library of Korranberg. He’s no better than a chaat’oor!”
Midian’s eyes and expression showed that he’d followed her accusations. “Now wait—” he said in the same language, but Haruuc cut him off.
“Be silent!” the lhesh growled. He stood tall and years seemed to drop from his scowling face. “Senen Dhakaan, control your anger! You forget your place. I wouldn’t jeopardize our alliance. I didn’t hire him!”
“I did,” said Tariic. All of them stared at him—Senen in anger, Haruuc in amazement, Midian in utter surprise. Tariic’s face flushed with guilt. “I hired him in your name, Uncle. We need more than legends. We need history, and Midian was recommended to me as the Library of Korranberg’s best field researcher.”
“Best thief!” said Senen.
“I am not a thief!” Midian snapped.
“Silence!” Haruuc’s glare swept between his nephew, the gnome, and the Kech Volaar ambassador. “Tariic, how much does your researcher know?”
“As much as anyone else,” Tariic answered. Haruuc’s eyes narrowed and he twitched a finger to indicate Vounn and Ashi. Tariic nodded. “They know, but Ashi is Geth’s friend and Vounn forced—”
Haruuc bared his teeth. “We will speak of it later.” He looked at Vounn. “You know more than you were meant to, Lady Vounn. I trust you will be discreet.” He turned back to Midian. “And you know far more than you should.”
“Kill him,” Senen said. “The leaders of Kech Volaar will thank you.”
Midian’s sun-browned face turned a sickly shade of gray. Haruuc glanced at Munta and the hobgoblin Ekhaas didn’t recognize. The unknown hobgoblin’s hands fell to twin fighting axes that hung from his belt. “It would be simplest to kill him,” he said.
Munta shook his head. “He may be useful, Haruuc. If the Kech Volaar hate him, he must be good.” Senen whirled to glare at the fat old warlord, but Munta met her gaze without flinching. “Your leaders have already agreed to what must happen, Senen. Accepting extra help makes no difference.”
“Does it matter what I think?”
Everyone looked to Geth. The shifter spoke in the human tongue, but he stood with his hand on Aram, which meant that he had followed every word of the conversation. He faced Haruuc and Senen boldly, his jaw set firmly.
“I’ve been brought halfway across Khorvaire to perform a task I’m told is