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“I told you—whatever happened to you puts me in danger too. If Tariic knows about the false rod, he could find a way to track it back to me. I think we’ve just been lucky that he hasn’t.”

“No,” said Geth, shaking his head. He felt ashamed at the suspicions that gnawed at him. Tenquis had hidden and healed him. Why shouldn’t he trust him? But he’d trusted Chetiin, too. “I mean why are you still here and not halfway out of Darguun? Why go out looking for answers?”

“Like I said, I’m not one for letting trouble creep up on me.”

“Trouble’s not going to creep up on you if you’re in Breland or Aundair.”

“If I were Tariic and I was looking for the true Rod of Kings, a little thing like distance wouldn’t stop me. But your point is taken.” Tenquis grimaced and set the basin, brush, and water down on the table. “I thought about running—for about the time it takes water to boil. The thing is, I don’t run easy. Most tieflings have the fury of ancient devils in their blood. I’ve got the other side of our heritage too: the curiosity of the sorcerer-kings who made deals with those devils.”

His tail lashed from side to side. “You know I’m interested in the lost lore of the Dhakaani daashor. Darguun is the place to be to look for that lore. Ekhaas still owes me the stories preserved by the Kech Volaar. You still owe me time with your sword and I have a feeling that if I stay with you, I’ll find out even more. Why would I give that up by running?” Tenquis crossed his arms. “When I was young, my grandmother said to me, ‘Quiso, curiosity has consequences—if you’re going to ask questions, you need to be ready for the answers, or they’ll take you down hard.’ I’m all for self-preservation, but outright fear is something else, and I haven’t seen anything yet that makes me think I should be afraid of helping you.”

Geth looked at him again, suspicion turning into a strange camaraderie for the feisty artificer. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Do I need to remind you that I’m already in it?”

Geth felt a crazy grin spread across his face. “You’ve got guts, Tenquis. You’re like rolling over a log and finding a wolverine underneath.”

Tenquis snorted. “You don’t know many tieflings, do you? I’m practically a coward.” He picked up the brush from the table and thrust it at him. “Clean yourself before you get dressed. Brush off the healing compound first or it will turn to mud when it gets wet. Are you hungry?”

He was. “Ravenous. Like I haven’t eaten for three days.”

“I’ll cook something and you can tell me all about what I’m really getting into.” Tenquis stepped behind Geth and the shifter felt him unfastening the bandages around his chest. “Let’s start with how you ended up looking like you found the bad side of an angry ogre.”

“I jumped out of Khaar Mbar’ost.”

The hands on his bandages paused. “You’re joking.”

Geth thought of the stones of the plaza rushing at him. His belly clenched and rose at the memory. “I wish I was,” he said.

The tiefling was not a good cook. The stove on which he made their food seemed to be the same one on which he heated various experiments. The spices and herbs he used came out of jars plucked from among others that Geth felt certain contained alchemical ingredients. The bowl he eventually put in front of Geth contained balls of starchy noon bobbing in an over-spiced broth alongside uncertain meats, mushy vegetables, and bits of black loosened from the bottom of the pot. More noon balls, slightly stale, were served as bread, with hard cheese, slightly moldy, on the side.

But with one bite, Geth’s hunger seemed to explode and he ate everything. As he spun out the story of the Rod of Kings, however, Tenquis’s appetite appeared to shrivel. Finally, he pushed his bowl away. “So the true rod wants to make its wielder an emperor bent on conquest and can give him the power to make it happen. Tariic knows about the true rod and is aligned with Makka, who wants to kill all of you. Chetiin has betrayed you twice and currently has possession