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“This isn’t a good place to stop,” Ashi said.

“It’s the last place anyone would look for us.” He walked with light steps down the corridor, selected a dusty looking door, and tried the handle. The door was unlocked, the hinges stiff. Aruget eased it open a little way and slipped inside, beckoning Ashi to follow.

She hesitated.

He frowned. “Trust me,” he said. He slipped through the door. Ashi grimaced and followed.

The room beyond had a musty smell, and by the light that leaked in from the corridor, she could make out fabric-draped bundles. Aruget pushed the door shut a little ways, leaving only enough of a gap to allow a thread of light into the room. He stayed close to it so that the glow fell across his face. Ashi had a gut feeling he did that deliberately, as if it to ease some of her fears.

Then he did something completely unexpected. He bent his head and his features melted and reformed. His entire body shifted in stature and bulk. When he looked up again, he had red-blond hair and the fine features of a young half-elf. A young half-elf woman.

A young half-elf woman that Ashi knew. “Benti?” she asked as softly as she could manage. “Benti Morren?”

Benti smiled. “Hello, Ashi. It’s been a while—for you, at least.” Hard, cunning eyes narrowed. “You understand now, don’t you? I’m on your side. You can trust me. You must trust me.”

The urge to sit down washed over Ashi, but she didn’t trust any of the dusty bundles in the dark room. She and other friends had encountered the half-elf—or at least the person they had all assumed to be a half-elf—in the city of Sharn almost a year ago. At the time, Benti had been posing as a renegade member of House Lyrandar selling her services as an airship pilot. After she had aided them—and they’d aided her in return—they’d discovered that she was more than she seemed. In fact, she was an agent of the King’s Citadel of Breland, one of the so-called Dark Lanterns. In short, a spy.

And it seemed that hadn’t been her only secret.

“How?” Ashi asked. “Why? When?”

Benti held up a hand. “Fast answers,” she said. “We don’t have time. Let’s start with when: I’ve been Aruget since the night you were attacked by Gan’duur raiders on your journey from Sterngate in Breland to Rhukaan Draal.”

“I remember that. We found you—Aruget—with a bashed skull after the attack. We thought the raiders had knocked you out.” Ashi pressed her lips together. “Where’s the real Aruget?”

“Buried under a collapsed sandbank near the spot where you camped. The scalp wound was self-inflicted. The raiders”—she shrugged—“a coincidence.”

The cool detachment in her voice made Ashi shiver. “Why?” she asked again.

Benti made a strange expression, as if her face was straining to move in a way it wasn’t meant to. Her lips twitched and she put fingers to one slightly pointed ear. “Spend too long as one race and you forget how other bodies work,” she said. Her hand fell. “Why? Because the King’s Citadel was suspicious when we discovered Tariic was returning from a diplomatic mission with two ladies of House Deneith and a wandering shifter carrying an artifact sword of Dhakaan. I knew both you and Geth, so I was assigned to investigate.” Her eyebrows twitched. “It’s turned into quite the assignment.”

Confusion churned in Ashi’s belly. “You couldn’t have told us earlier?”

Benti’s voice went cool again. “I shouldn’t be telling you now, but it seems to be my only choice. You have information I need. I’ve put together almost all the pieces of the puzzle.” Her green eyes met Ashi’s, and Ashi felt like they were looking right through her.

“The Rod of Kings,” Benti said, “tries to make its wielder into an emperor of Dhakaan. I heard Geth tell you that the night Haruuc died. Chetiin killed Haruuc to prevent a war, but when Tariic brings that war to life, no one tries to stop him. Instead, you, Geth, Ekhaas, and Dagii go to a tiefling artificer and have—what? a copy of the rod?—made with the power to enhance Tariic’s presence. Geth tries to pass the copy of the rod to Tariic at the coronation.