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Ashi found the stairs to the stands and raced up them, not bothering to look back and see if Midian had kept pace with her. In fact, she hoped that he hadn’t. Discovering that Ekhaas, Geth, and the others had made it back to Rhukaan Draal was exhilarating. Finding out that Midian was still alive—and had even become an ally once more—sickened her.

She knew where the dragonmarked envoys would be sitting in the stands. The envoys and their diplomat counterparts from the Five Nations always took the same seats, outsiders banding together in the sea of Darguuls. She paused outside the entrance to the stands, slipped off the hood of her cloak, and pushed the enveloping folds back. The disguise would do more harm than good as she joined the other dragonmarked, but she wanted to keep it available in case Tariic happened to be looking up this way.

A hobgoblin guard was standing just inside the entrance. He held up a hand as she tried to pass. “You don’t belong here,” he said in Goblin.

Ashi gave him a haughty glare. “I am Lady Ashi d’Deneith,” she said in the same language. “I have every right to sit in this section.”

He looked her up and down, and she realized what he was seeing. Compared to the other envoys and diplomats, she had the appearance of a pauper. Clothes dirty from days of captivity, hair and body unwashed—she certainly didn’t look like she belonged here.

She hesitated and considered calling for one of the other envoys to verify her identity.

The crowd fell silent. The guard turned away. Ashi craned her neck to look past him.

In the raised box where he sat surrounded by Darguun’s most prominent warlords, Tariic rose to his feet and held up the Rod of Kings. “Let my commanders enter!”

The big doors on either side of the arena opened, and two companies of hobgoblin soldiers entered. From the right came Dagii and the Iron Fox—Ashi didn’t see Ekhaas or the others but Keraal was there so they had to be close. From the left came ranks of Kech Shaarat. She recognized both Taak Dhakaan and Riila Dhakaan at their head.

The throbbing sound of big goblin drums and the dissonant drone of war pipes filled the arena. The crowd remained silent, watching with fascination and respect, as the companies made a brisk parade and took their places. Ashi searched the stands in front of her and found the back of Pater d’Orien’s broad shoulders only a few rows from the edge of the section. She clenched her teeth and tried the guard again. “Let me through.”

He turned to glare at her, but his gaze shifted to someone behind her. Ashi looked back and saw Midian. In his travel-stained clothes, his small crossbow hidden beneath his stripped-off jacket, the gnome was only a little less disheveled than she was, but he stared up at the guard with a confidence much larger than his stature. “You stand in the way of Lhesh Tariic’s guest,” he said. “She’s missing this great event. I am Tariic’s historian. Have you seen me in Khaar Mbar’ost? Move or Tariic will hear about this!”

The guard’s eyes darted between them—and he stepped aside. Below, the two companies had fallen into formation. They stood still, warriors looking straight ahead, commanders looking up at Tariic. The lhesh lowered his rod, and the drums and pipes faded. “Taak Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat,” he said in Goblin. “Riila Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat. Dagii of Mur Talaan. You go to meet the enemies of Darguun—”

The blessing had begun. Ashi walked past the hobgoblin guard, looked down at Midian, and gave him a nod of thanks. He wasn’t even looking at her. His gaze was on Tariic, his eyes intent.

Ashi felt a sudden flicker of unease. Ekhaas said they had a way to counter the rod, but she wondered how permanent that way was. Could Midian have fallen under Tariic’s power again just by seeing him with the rod? “Midian,” she whispered as they walked down the stairs of the stand together, “are you still with us?”

“Don’t worry, Ashi,” he said. “Tariic’s never going to have a hold on me again.”

His eyes stayed on the lhesh. Ashi’s unease didn’t go away.