Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [143]
He gestured at the torturer, communicating instructions with signs. The goblin produced a leather bag and pulled it over Geth’s head. Something coated the leather, making his vision whirl again. His last sight as the bag came down was Tariic turning to Daavn. The last thing he heard were the words, “Bring me the tiefling.”
Hobgoblin guards marched Ashi, hands bound behind her back, through a stout door and into a room with high, narrow windows. Sunlight pierced the windows, bright enough to blind her after the darkness of her cell. Fire warmed the room. Carpets cushioned the hard floor and soft chairs waited for her.
Vounn stood across the room, before the fire. Ashi couldn’t hold back a gasp at the sight of her. She pulled away from the guards. “Vounn!”
Her mentor turned, crossed the room in three swift strides—and slapped her hard.
“You fool!” she said, her tone seething. She stormed past her to confront the guards. “Get out!” she said in Goblin. The hobgoblins looked baffled. Vounn flicked a hand at them imperiously. “Get out, I said! Wait outside the door. Where is she going to go?”
The guards glanced at each other, then bent their heads and retreated. They didn’t untie her hands. As the door closed behind them, Vounn whirled on Ashi again and thrust her furious face close.
“We’re being watched,” she whispered. Her voice rose again. “You killed a guard of Khaar Mbar’ost! Explain yourself!”
Ashi blinked. The first words out of her mouth were no act. “I didn’t kill any guard! It was—”
Vounn slapped her again. “You bring shame on Deneith!” she spat, then cried out and pulled Ashi into an embrace like a mother crying over a willful child—and whispered in her ear, “Aruget came to me. He told me what happened. Keep his name out of it.”
Now Ashi understood what she was doing. Dar culture was uncomfortable with touching—especially embracing—in public. Any Darguul watching them would more than likely look away at least briefly from this human affectation. They had a few moments of privacy.
There was one question she needed answered more than any other, one thing that had haunted her while she waited in her cell. Only three people knew about their arrangement with Pater d’Orien to transport her away from Rhukaan Draal and could have told Tariic to send a warning to the Orien compound. Vounn had no reason to give her away to Tariic. Pater wouldn’t have sent a warning to himself. That left only one person who could have betrayed her.
“Have you seen Midian?” she asked Vounn.
Maybe Vounn had guessed the same thing. “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “He’s been avoiding me, but I’ve seen him. Tariic has appointed him royal historian.”
Ashi stiffened, rage flashing through her. Vounn held her still. “You look better than I thought you might after three days in a dungeon. Tariic wouldn’t let me see you. Has he questioned you about the Rod of Kings?”
“No,” Ashi said tightly. That was something she didn’t understand. She hadn’t seen Tariic—or Daavn or Makka—since her arrest. Had it really been three days? She’d spent a long time afraid that Tariic might torture her to find out what she knew or that Makka would come seeking his frustrated vengeance. There’d been nothing, only a little food and water shoved through a hatch in the door of her cell. “Where’s Aruget?”
“I don’t know. I only spoke with him once, but he leaves me messages. He knew I was coming here.” She hesitated, then added, “He told me to tell you he’d get you out.” She looked into Ashi’s eyes. “Don’t go with him.”
Before Ashi could respond, the older woman pushed her away and her voice grew angry again. “You don’t deserve it, but I’m working to have you released and banished