The Tyranny of Ghosts_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [80]
“Saa, Ashi,” he said. He gestured with a cup, a simple pewter tumbler, to the flagon that stood on a table. “Korluaat?”
She shook her head at the offer of the fiery liquor. Munta shrugged and drained his cup, then looked at Oraan. “Who are you?”
“Oraan of Rhukaan Taash.” Oraan thumped his chest in a salute.
“My escort,” said Ashi. “Tariic wants to be sure I’m protected.”
“Tariic?” A little life returned to Munta’s face. “You’re still in favor with him. Could you pass a message to him? Tell him I want to serve. Ask him to put me out in the field. I may not be as strong as I used to be, but my mind is still sharp.”
“I’ll tell him,” Ashi promised.
Munta smiled and nodded. Wrinkled old ears twitched. “I think the lhesh doubts my loyalty,” he said. “When he first took the throne, I spoke harshly of his decision to exclude me from the battle with the Valenar. Then when the traitors tried to kill him, I failed to capture that taat Geth. Lhesh Tariic needs to know that I only want to serve him. I need to be useful.”
The insidious influence of the Rod of Kings on a proud warlord made Ashi grind her teeth in anger. She remembered standing with Munta in the hall of honor and listening to his complaints before Tariic had gotten his hands on the rod. The lord of the Gantii Vus had been angry, not mewling and servile. That was as compelling a reason as any to block Tariic’s plans!
“Tariic doesn’t invite you to court?” she asked.
“He invited me to stay away,” Munta said bitterly. “I’ve been set aside, an ‘honor’ for my service to Haruuc. I haven’t seen the lhesh in weeks.”
“Good.” Ashi reached out, laid a hand on Munta’s arm, and drew on the power of her dragonmark. It flashed hot across her skin, then passed into Munta. He drew a sharp breath, as if he’d been plunged into icy water, and stumbled. Ashi caught his arm and held him up. “Munta?”
“Maabet!” he cursed. He blinked as if waking from a dream. “What was that?”
“My dragonmark shielding you. How do you feel?” She looked at him closely. “How do you feel about Tariic?”
“Tariic? I … he …” Munta frowned. “Why do I want to drop down on my knees before him?”
“Oraan, watch the door,” said Ashi. “Make sure no one disturbs us. Munta, you need to sit down.”
She told him the story of the Rod of Kings as quickly and briefly as she could. Haruuc’s fall under the rod’s curse and Tariic’s discovery of its power. The truth of their attempt to kill Tariic before he could take possession of the rod. Their failure. Tariic’s utter dominance of the warlords—including him. “The protection of my dragonmark will only last for a day,” she said. “If you want to stay free of the rod’s power, you need to leave Rhukaan Draal and avoid Tariic.”
Munta bared teeth that were yellowed but still sharp. “I’ll be leaving,” he said. “Tariic has earned an enemy in the Gantii Vus!”
“Don’t defy him,” said Ashi. “He has all the power. He could destroy your clan without hesitating—I know that he would.” She’d left Oraan’s true identity and Dagii’s most recent involvement out of her story, just in case Munta fell under Tariic’s influence again after all. She hoped it wouldn’t happen, but Tariic seemed to have a way of defying hope itself.
Munta nodded. “We’ll join the Silent Clans and go into hiding if we have to.” He looked at her, though, his eyes glittering with his old cunning. “But you didn’t free me just to give me a warning, did you? You could have done that weeks ago. What do you want from me?”
“What I said in the street. Your experience.” She rose from a crouch beside him and paced the room. “Tariic is