Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [13]
The strict hierarchy of the funeral procession broke down in the field of grass. Goblins crowded forward as Haruuc’s body, still borne aloft on its throne, was carried up a set of steep stairs carved into the rock. Humans, half-elves, and other races stayed back, clustering together with unspoken wariness. Ashi caught up to Vounn. Pater and Sindra joined them, rivalry set aside for the moment.
Three hobgoblins waited beside the open door of the tomb. Priests, Ashi thought. Goblins by tradition offered their prayers and sacrifices to the gods of the Dark Six, hoping to appease the harsh deities. Haruuc, however, had embraced the worship of the Sovereign Host, the gentler faith followed by the majority of the nations of Khorvaire. Over the years of his reign, acceptance of the Host had filtered down from warlords and courtiers eager to emulate their lhesh to average warriors, merchants, and farmers. The Darguuls, however, had put their own mark on the worship of the Host. Ashi guessed that the three priests spoke for Dol Dorn, Dol Arrah, and Balinor, the gods of strength, honor, and the hunt that Haruuc had venerated above the other Sovereigns. All three wore snowy robes, but their faces had been smeared with dirt of different colors, and beneath their robes they wore armor—plate for Dol Arrah, chain for Dol Dorn, a hunter’s leathers for Balinor.
As soon as the gathered warlords had grown still, the priest of Dol Dorn stepped forward. His face was darkened with gray soil that could have been scooped from among the rocks of the ridge. He called out in Goblin, but Ashi had been studying with Ekhaas and the harsh sounds of the language were familiar to her now. “Who comes to the gates of death?”
Geth stepped forward from the crowd to mount the steps up to the tomb. “Geth, who bears the sword Aram, who carries the honor of Kuun, who killed the dragon Dah’mir, comes.” His accent was thick, but he spoke the Goblin words carefully.
The priest of Dol Arrah moved forward. His face was yellow with the dust of Rhukaan Draal. “You will not pass, Geth who bears Aram. Death has not claimed you.”
“I follow one whom death has claimed. I seek passage for him.”
Balinor’s priest came forward as well. His face was stained with ochre, red as the blood spilled during the hunt. “For whom do you seek passage? Who will enter the gates of death?”
“I seek passage for Haruuc of Rhukaan Taash, who was son of Tiraan, who was Haruuc Shaarat’kor, Lhesh of Darguun. He will enter the gates of death.”
“By what right do you seek passage for him?” The priest’s voice was deliberately disdainful.
Geth met his eyes in ritual defiance. “I was shava to him.”
Balinor’s priest paused before responding solemnly, “You have the right.”
Dol Arrah’s priest put out his hand. “Bring forward the treasures that will pass with Haruuc through the gates of death!”
There was movement behind Ashi, and she stepped aside as those who had walked through Rhukaan Draal at the end of the funeral procession came forward. Bearers representing all three races of the dar passed among ambassadors, envoys, and warlords, the sun’s light gleaming on what they carried in their arms. Caskets full of gold and jewelry. Chests packed with bright weapons and armor. Fine goods from across Khorvaire, from exotic Xen’drik, and from distant Sarlona as well. If Ashi hadn’t known better, she would have thought that Khaar Mbar’ost had been stripped to fill Haruuc’s tomb, but this was only a fraction of the treasures that Haruuc had amassed and some of what would follow Haruuc were offerings from other clans—even from dragonmarked houses. She saw the crest of Deneith on a polished shield and the sign of Orien on a small but exquisite sculpture of a horse cast in silver. There was also a bearer who walked apart from the others with