The Tyranny of Ghosts_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [117]
Keraal sent his chain wrapping around his torso with a quick flip of his wrist, then pulled on a bulky coat discarded outside the door of the outer room to cover the weapon. Another soldier whirled a cloak over Ashi. “Suspicious,” said Keraal, “but it will have to do.”
Ashi pulled a hood up over her head. “Where are we going? I saw Tariic riding out to give his blessing to Dagii.”
“The blessing takes place at the arena. We’ll join the Iron Fox there. You’ll be carried out of Rhukaan Draal in one of our weapons carts. While the Iron Fox receives Tariic’s blessing, though, there’s something you need to do.”
From a pocket of his coat, he took a familiar folded paper and handed it to Ashi. “Dagii instructs you to find Pater d’Orien. You won’t have difficulty—Tariic hasn’t bothered instructing his guards to watch for you, and all of the envoys will sit together in the arena. Once you find Pater, use your dragonmark to free him from the influence of the Rod of Kings. Tell him to use his dragonmark to leave Rhukaan Draal immediately and carry this warning to Breland. Once you’ve done that, return to us and hide. Faalo”—he gestured to one of the other soldiers—“will be waiting with the cart to hide you.”
Once again, Ashi found herself staring at what Keraal had put in her hands, then she looked up at him. “I would have thought you’d welcome an attack by Darguun on Breland. You rebelled against Haruuc because he held the warlords back.”
Keraal’s face darkened a little at the reminder. “I don’t have any love for Breland,” he said, “but Dagii has shown me why Tariic’s war will only bring disaster for Darguun. Now hurry. I know the passages that a man condemned to the arena walks. We’ll go that way to avoid the crowds, but it will still take time.” Keraal turned for the stairs that led down. “Dagii’s strategy has a schedule. There’s no room for delays or errors.”
The people of Rhukaan Draal were packed into the streets around the arena. Ekhaas couldn’t remember seeing so many, even during the funerary games for Haruuc. Fortunately, they didn’t have to try and fight their way through. Geth led them to one of the monuments the old lhesh had erected around the city and indicated a heavy door behind a barred gate that was built into its base. “Open that.”
Chetiin set to work. In the few moments that it took him to open first the gate, then the door, Ekhaas looked up at the monument. It depicted a hobgoblin warrior carrying a sword and a wide shield—and wearing the horn-adorned ancestral armor of the warlord of the Mur Talaan clan. Geth followed her gaze. “Fenic,” he said. “Haruuc’s first shava. Dagii’s father.”
The door creaked open onto tightly curled stairs going down into darkness. “Will we need light?” Ekhaas asked.
“No.” Geth started down the stairs. “Haruuc had a tunnel built, a way to bring prisoners from Khaar Mbar’ost if they’re too hated to transport through the streets. And a way to leave the arena discreetly or in an emergency. I used it a couple of times during his funerary games. There are everbright lanterns lighting it.”
The tunnel was cramped, just wide enough for two people to slide past each other, barely high enough for a bugbear to stand upright. The lanterns were few and widely spaced, giving just enough light to pass along the tunnel. In the midpoint between one and the next, the darkness was complete, even to goblin eyes. Distant sound—the roar of a crowd, the stomping of feet—carried along the corridor.
They’d just passed into the second of the deep shadows, well away from the stairs, when they heard footsteps behind them. All of them froze instantly. Ekhaas recognized the sound of boots coming on at a brisk pace. Through the gloom, she could just make out half-a-dozen figures hurrying along the tunnel. They were armed. She found Geth’s arm and whispered in his ear. “Are there other