The Tyranny of Ghosts_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [78]
Only House Lyrandar was absent—they’d thrown in their lot with Valenar by providing their raiders with flying transportation above the dangers of the Mournland. Ashi was confident none of the other houses would make that mistake. Any services they offered to Darguun would also be offered to Valenar in a nod to the neutrality of commerce.
There was no neutrality in Rhukaan Draal, though. Every viceroy Ashi had spoken with had the same look of admiration whenever they’d mentioned Tariic’s name. She recognized the power of the Rod of Kings at work. If a matriarch or patriarch of one of the houses had chanced to visit Darguun, any illusion of neutrality would have vanished. For a while at least, the heads of the houses were content to keep their distance and collect the lhesh’s money as he orchestrated a massive mobilization of troops aimed squarely at an enemy that had attacked Darguun once already.
And just as Haruuc had foreseen, it seemed as if no one cared whether Darguun and Valenar—upstart nations carved out of human territory during the Last War—prepared to wipe each other from the map. So long as they kept things between themselves.
The problem was, as far as Ashi could tell, there was still no sign of Valenar response. The raiders Dagii had defeated seemed to have fled entirely. If there were Valenar lurking in the Mournland, they were staying very quiet. There were rumors that all of the elven warclans were gathering on the other side of the Mournland’s deadly expanse, but nothing confirmed.
Tariic was preparing a strong defense. What was wrong with that?
Everything, Ashi told herself. And nothing.
Skiirrr, went the whetstone down one side of her sword, then skiirrr down the other.
The door opened and Oraan entered to start another evening’s “guard duty.” Ashi glanced up at him, then away. He would speak when he felt it was absolutely safe. Finally, he did. “Dagii has no news.”
Skiirrr. “Rond betch,” muttered Ashi, an old Bonetree curse. She put the whetstone aside and took up a piece of soft cloth. “Can you be more specific?”
“Tariic’s still treating him like a hero. The Darguuls can’t get enough of him—”
“Goblins like their heroes,” Ashi commented.
“—but Tariic still isn’t telling him anything. Dagii’s worried that the Iron Fox company is turning into a ceremonial guard, so he’s had Keraal slip some hard fighting into their daily training.”
Ashi paused in her polishing. “He doesn’t worry Tariic will notice?”
Oraan’s ears twitched. “He has them fighting the Kech Shaarat. I think Tariic likes the conflict. The Iron Fox is in for a battle, though. Riila Dhakaan and Taak Dhakaan are settling a third contingent into the barracks tonight, and it’s the biggest yet.”
“Has there been any clue of where the last one was sent?” Ashi asked. The first Kech Shaarat to arrive in Rhukaan Draal had been worrying. To have a second and then a third pass through on their way to the border of the Mournland—that much they knew, though nothing specific—nagged at her.
Oraan shook his head.
Ashi grimaced. She gave her sword a final swipe with the polishing cloth, then slid the sword into its sheath. “We’re missing something.”
“Dagii said the same thing. But what?”
Ashi sat back. “We’re stalking a mud pig.” When Oraan looked at her quizzically, she shook her head. “It’s something adults in the Shadow Marches do to get rid of children for a while—send them off to look for an animal that doesn’t exist. It gives the adults some calm until the children give up, figure it out, or die trying.”
Oraan’s ears rose up high. Ashi shrugged. “It’s a hard place. The game teaches children too. The mud pig is supposed to be able to move without making any noise and without leaving any tracks. The only way to catch one is to be just as quiet as it is, to act like it would, to think like it does—”
The insight that burst into her mind surprised even her. She sat up straight.