The Tyranny of Ghosts_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [76]
Without getting up, Ashi did. Oraan’s ears went lower and lower. By the time she had finished, his lips had pulled back from his teeth. “You were lucky,” he said. “We were lucky.”
“Have you talked to Dagii lately?” Ashi asked. “I know Tariic hasn’t questioned him, but has he done anything to him?”
Oraan gave her a sideways glance, as if the question puzzled him. “I’m keeping my distance. I haven’t talked to Dagii, but I’ve seen him. Tariic has been forcing him out to more public appearance—rallies, speeches by the warlord who brought Darguun triumph over the Valenar, that sort of thing. He’s using him to keep the people at a frenzy. I wouldn’t want to be an elf in Rhukaan Draal right now.”
“Have you found out anything more about what the Kech Shaarat are doing here or why Tariic has been dealing so heavily with the dragonmarked houses?”
“I said I’ve been keeping my distance. This isn’t the time to draw attention.”
“We’re going to have to risk it,” said Ashi. “And you can start by making contact with Dagii. We need to know more about whatever he might have learned in the last week.”
Oraan’s ears stood straight. “Not at the expense of revealing ourselves, we don’t! Tariic’s already suspicious. An agent who’s caught is no good to anyone. We need to keep our heads down more than ever, move slowly—”
“No.” Ashi looked up at him. The rage that had simmered inside her since she’d left the throne room rose to a boil. “I’ve had enough of moving slowly. One of my friends is dead because of Tariic. Another one will never sing again. An assassin is hunting others. I’ve had enough. I want to stop Tariic, and hiding in my chambers isn’t going to make that happen.”
Oraan bared his teeth again. “Listen to me, Ashi,” he growled. “You’ve been very lucky so far, but this isn’t a game for amateurs. Midian may be gone, but anyone could be eyes and ears for—”
Ashi stood up and thrust her face into his. “When do I stop being an amateur, Oraan? When Geth, Ekhaas, Chetiin, Tenquis, and Dagii—and maybe even you—are all dead? When I have no allies left? I can’t just put on another face and become someone else. I only have one life. You’ve got the King’s Citadel of Breland behind you. I don’t even have the support of my house anymore.” She poked a finger into the middle of his chest. “Whatever Tariic is planning, I’m going to find out.”
He grabbed her hand and pushed it away. “Ashi—”
Ashi twisted her hand in his grasp, grabbed onto his wrist, and wrenched his arm around. Surprise crossed the changeling’s face, and he tried to twist back, but Ashi had grown up wrestling the other children of the savage Bonetree Clan. She kicked Oraan’s feet out from under him as he turned, and went down with him as he fell, pinning him under her.
Hunter of the Shadow Marches. Lady of Deneith. She was a child of both worlds—why deny either?
“Dagii and Senen asked me to find out what Tariic wants with the dragonmarked houses,” she said in Oraan’s ear. “I’m going to. You can help me, or you can get out of my way.”
She turned him loose and stood back. Oraan lay on the floor for a moment, then rolled over and looked up at her. He smiled, a grin without any humor or warmth at all.
“Welcome to the game,” he said. “Where do you want to start?”
She was ready for him. “A week ago, I could have followed the advice Senen gave me—trade on the other houses’ curiosity about Vounn’s death. I think that source of interest will have been overtaken by Senen’s mutilation now.” Ashi sat down. “Vounn always said that the essence of diplomacy is using what people want to get what you need. The only thing I’ve got right now that the other houses would want is a direct line of communication to Tariic.”
Oraan’s ears stood straight as he rose. “You don’t exactly have Tariic’s favor.