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“You can thank Pradoor as well as Tariic,” Tenquis said. “She’s well-known. People put a lot of store in her words. The last few days she’s been preaching in support of war with Valenar and in support of Tariic.” He rubbed the horny spikes that edged his chin. “If she’s joined with Tariic, it would explain a few things.”

“Like?” Geth growled.

Tenquis pointed as they turned a corner and Geth followed his finger—not that what he pointed at would have been hard to miss. They stood on one side of a crossroads where five streets came together. At the center of the intersection stood a flat-sided pillar of white stone surmounted by a sculpture of four metal arms, three vertical and one horizontal, a very large version of the eight-pointed Octogram, symbol of the Sovereign Host. Carved into the pillar below it were the symbols of Dol Arrah, Dol Dorn, and Balinor, the gods Haruuc had chosen to venerate over those of the Dark Six. The monument seemed familiar. It took Geth a moment to remember why. Haruuc’s funeral procession had come this way, pausing briefly before the column. There were words written on the column, Geth remembered now. Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor gives thanks for Darguun’s victory at the Battle of Marguul Pass.

The dedication was obscured by the naked body of a skinny elf that hung from a rope lashed around one of the arms of the Octogram. Dried blood made new symbols on the white stone, those of the Fury, the Mockery, and the Keeper.

“Bear and Boar,” muttered Geth. “Was he a Valenar?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s hard to tell now.”

The people of Rhukaan Draal passed around the desecrated monument without looking up, although Geth noticed they did give it a wide berth. “Why hasn’t he been cut down?”

“I suspect it suits Tariic to leave him up,” Tenquis said tightly. “Maybe you’re right when you say Haruuc picked a fight with Valenar to avoid fighting all of Khorvaire, but what he’s started is going to be very bad.”

Geth stared at the body as it rocked against the stone, pushed back and forth by the breeze—then started forward.

Tenquis grabbed him and held him back. “No. You can’t do anything for him and you’ll only draw attention to yourself.”

Breath hissed in and out of Geth’s mouth, but he turned away. “Tonight,” he said. “It feels like there’s going to be a storm tonight. I’m going to come out and do it then.”

“Fair enough.” Tenquis steered him out of the intersection and into the temporary shelter of a stopped wagon. “Check our direction.”

The sword was disguised just as he was, wrapped up in leathers and carried under his arm as an anonymous bundle. Geth slipped a hand through the leathers, grasped the hilt, and held it out just enough to tell which way it pointed. They’d drifted only a little from their course. They left the shelter of the wagon just as the carter, a fat hobgoblin, appeared, ready to curse them for thieves. Tenquis flicked his tail at him as they strode off.

The farther they went, the more Geth was certain that he’d been this way before, though he didn’t recognize the buildings or the shops that lined the streets. The twists and turns that he and Tenquis followed, though … those seemed somehow familiar, except that the crowds were out of place.

Then he saw why their route was familiar. Empty the streets and put the crowds in front of the shops and on top of the buildings and the scene made sense to him just as the monument had.

“This is the same way Haruuc’s funeral procession came,” he said.

“It’s just a coincidence,” said Tenquis. “We’re staying on the larger streets and the funeral procession couldn’t very well have gone through alleys.” His nose wrinkled and his tail lashed. “You don’t think Chetiin could have taken the Rod of Kings out of the city, do you?”

“Maybe,” Geth said. His mind was only half on the answer. A coincidence? He had to work to make himself believe it. Belief came even harder as the crowd thinned out and the buildings of Rhukaan Draal became shacks