Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [117]
There was no sign of Geth here, either. She looked back at Aruget, waiting beyond the door—in spite of Vounn’s insistence that the hobgoblin warrior accompany her everywhere, there were some places guards weren’t permitted—and said, “I’ll be back.”
Aruget’s ears pulled back just a little bit. Ashi had the distinct impression that he didn’t appreciate being dragged through Khaar Mbar’ost in her search for Geth, but Geth wasn’t with Tariic in the throne room today. He was finally alone. If she could find him, they’d finally be able to talk.
At the east end of the hall of honor, Munta the Gray leaned against the wall beside one of the tallwindows. The stained glass had been tilted open to allow a cool breeze into the room. More than half the sky was covered in heavy clouds, beautiful day slipping into threatening evening. The old warlord held a goblet and sipped from it frequently. Furs had been bundled around his shoulders, but he faced into the wind with a drawn look on his face. He turned as she came near and his pensiveness faded a little.
“Korluaat, Lady Ashi?” he asked her. He gestured and a goblin servant offered Ashi a goblet before she had a chance to answer. The beverage inside was strong enough to make her nose twitch at the alcoholic fumes. She’d been served it once or twice at feasts in Khaar Mbar’ost—the name of the stuff translated as “hero’s blood”—but it wasn’t a drink she enjoyed. She smiled and mimed sipping a little of it before asking, “Munta, have you seen—”
But Munta spoke before she could finish, gesturing expansively at the horizon beyond the window. “Dagii’s out there somewhere,” he said and Ashi could smell the korluaat rolling off of him. “Chasing down elves, maybe being chased down himself.” He took a swallow from his goblet. “Tariic assembles a new army, ready to fight. I’ve never seen Ghaal’dar warlords so eager to work together. I’ve even heard that one of the Dhakaani clans have asked to march with him. The Kech Shaarat—the Blade Bearers. Have you met one of them yet?”
“Their ambassador is Kroon Dhakaan,” Ashi answered. “A hobgoblin with the shoulders of a bugbear.”
“Cho. That’s him.” Munta looked out the window again. “Real war, Ashi. And I won’t fight it. Tariic’s ‘honor’ to an aged warlord. I was old when Haruuc first proposed his dream of a land for the dar! What I’ve done for Darguun, what I’ve experienced, and Haruuc never denied me the chance to take up my sword again. Just recently in Droaam—” His ears flattened and he took another drink. “But Tariic won’t even let me take a place in the command tent. He gives me gold and grants favored rank to the warriors of my clan, but he won’t allow me to see the battlefield. And while he said it, I just bowed like a gnome. Maabet, he has a presence. He could be greater than Haruuc.”
Ashi pressed her lips together for a moment, resisting the urge to warn Munta of the danger that faced them, before she spoke. “Munta, have you seen Geth today?”
“Ah!” Munta gulped the rest of his korluaat, the loose skin of his throat folding in on itself as he swallowed. “I ramble like a gnome, too. I saw Geth this morning. He seemed to be in a hurry, but he said that if I saw you, I should tell you to talk to Razu if you hadn’t already.”
Ashi’s heart leaped. “Did he say why?”
“No. Some ritual. I suppose.” Munta looked down the length of the hall of honor and nodded his head. “She’s there.”
Ashi saw the head of Razu’s staff before she saw the mistress of rituals. “Ta muut, Munta,” she said. “I’m sorry I have to leave you.”
The old warlord just grunted. “Come back when you want,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.” He waved his empty goblet at the nearest servant.
Razu must have caught a glimpse of Ashi’s approach, because she ended her conversation with the hobgoblin she’d been speaking to and fell into step alongside Ashi, guiding her to an empty part of the hall. “I have a message for you, Lady Ashi,” she said. “Geth told me to give it to you or to Midian,