The Tyranny of Ghosts_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [96]
“But let’s talk about what you’re doing here,” he said. He gestured to the shriveled scalp that still hung from Makka’s belt. “We happened to run into one of the Kech Volaar scouts who escorted you out of their territory. He was very helpful—told us about your disgrace, the incident in the vaults of Volaar Draal, which way you went when you were shown the gate of the city. We picked up your trail and missed you by just this much”—he held two fingers together—“in Arthuun. And now we find you here exploring some fascinating Dhakaani ruins.” He folded his arms and propped his chin on his fist. “Let’s start with something easy. Does this place have a name?”
He could see her weighing the wisdom of answering with the truth or with a lie. After a few moments, she said, “Suud Anshaar.”
It was the truth. He knew it not just from her voice but from the hiss and groan that Geth made. Midian glanced over at the shifter. “You’re not helping,” he said.
Geth glared at him around Tenquis as the tiefling removed his sword belt. “You’re a bastard, Midian.”
“And the only reason you’re not dead already is because I convinced Makka you might have something useful to tell us, so close your mouth before I decide I was wrong.”
Makka snorted at that and set the tines of his trident against the back of the shifter’s neck. Geth glowered and tried to twitch away, but Makka pressed the points close, following his movements and slowly forcing him forward until Geth bent over with his face almost in the dirt.
“Midian, stop him,” said Ekhaas. Her voice was strained. “Please.”
Midian glanced at Makka. “Let him be.”
“The Fury has promised me my vengeance,” the bugbear said.
“Your vengeance can wait a little bit longer,” said Midian.
Makka scowled but pulled back his trident and stepped away. Geth sat up slowly, his face hard. From where he sat, trussed up like a goose ready for the oven, Chetiin said, “You’ll regret this, Midian.”
“I doubt that.” Midian turned back to Ekhaas. “So—Suud Anshaar.” He had to search his memory for the reference, but he dredged it up. “The fortress of Tasaam Draet, grand inquisitor of the Puulta after the Rebellion of Lords, abandoned as cursed after its population vanished. Dare I guess that the thing that chased you out of the ruins had something to do with the alleged curse?”
Tenquis stood nearby, head down, waiting his turn to take Ekhaas’s weapon and gear. Midian flicked a finger for him to proceed. The tiefling move to her side and removed her sword belt, then started unbuckling the belt that held her pouches. Ekhaas kept her head raised, ignoring him and focusing on Midian.
“It was some sort of daelkyr construct,” she said. “Possibly the original one that destroyed Suud Anshaar. The population didn’t vanish. They died after their bones were turned to stone.”
The scholar in him perked up. “Fascinating. But I don’t think that’s why you came here is it? What really brought you to Suud Ansh—”
If he hadn’t been watching, he might not have caught Tenquis’s sudden start as Ekhaas’s belt came off. The tiefling grabbed for the largest pouch as though it contained something particularly heavy. Tenquis glanced at Ekhaas and Midian saw her eyes dart to the tiefling’s for an instant before returning to him.
“What brought us to Suud Anshaar?” she asked, a little too quickly. “That’s a long story—”
Midian ignored her and thrust out his hand. “Tenquis, give me that pouch.”
Tenquis hesitated. His arm tensed, and he looked to the jungle as if he were considering hurling the belt and the pouch away into the undergrowth. Midian jumped and snatched it from him. Tenquis yelped and tried to grab it back, but Midian simply twisted away and kicked him hard in the back of one knee. The tiefling fell forward.