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Tenquis nodded.

“Clever,” said Midian.

They walked out through the front gates of Khaar Mbar’ost.

It was simple. It was direct. The great courtyard within the gates and the plaza beyond it were both crowded with Darguuls prepared for celebration of Dagii’s victorious return. No one paid any attention to them as they passed through, moving in small groups to avoid notice. Ekhaas and Ashi went first, Ashi’s face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat that Aruget produced from his sack. Chetiin and Tenquis followed, the tiefling hunched beneath a cloak, both of them tottering like frail elders. Geth knew it wasn’t much of an act on Tenquis’s part at the moment. Every few steps, he staggered a little before catching himself. Geth had tried to help him at first, but Tenquis had shaken him off in a flash of temper.

“I just need to find my balance,” he’d said through his teeth. “I’m used to having a tail behind me.”

There was deep pain behind the angry words.

When the other four were safely out of Khaar Mbar’ost, Aruget and Geth struck out. Geth kept his head down and stayed close to Aruget, trusting to the hobgoblin’s bulk to shield him. A cloak draped over his shoulder concealed both his great gauntlet and, held tight in his hand, Wrath. The sword seemed to echo his own simmering rage—and his fear. He could feel the Rod of Kings through the blade, a distant but distinct presence. The rod wasn’t moving. Tariic didn’t have it. Yet.

His eyes darted to the sack Aruget carried over his shoulder. In spite of having cloaks and hat, gauntlet and sword pulled out of it, the sack was once again full and heavy.

It shifted a little bit.

Aruget bounced it on his shoulder to disguise the movement and hissed, “Stop squirming.”

“I couldn’t feel my leg,” muttered a voice from inside the sack.

“I could make that permanent, Midian,” Geth said under his breath. “Move again, and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

He’d been in favor of killing the gnome right there in the corridor outside the torture chamber, but others—primarily Midian himself, backed up by Ekhaas, Chetiin, and eventually Aruget—had persuaded him otherwise. Whatever Midian might have done, they all shared an interest in keeping the Rod of Kings out of Tariic’s hands. Only the gnome knew exactly where the rod was hidden in Haruuc’s tomb. If they were too slow in reaching the tomb, every moment might be precious. They needed Midian.

But not one of them trusted him. He went into Aruget’s sack. Geth couldn’t say that he cared if the gnome ever came out again.

And there was Aruget. He glanced at the hobgoblin—or rather, at the changeling wearing a hobgoblin’s face. Ashi had pulled him, Ekhaas, and Chetiin aside and whispered the truth to them.

Agents of Zilargo and Breland, shadows of two nations lurking in the twilight of Darguun.

“It’s more common than you know,” Aruget said abruptly. It was vaguely disconcerting to hear him speak without his familiar accent. “Everyone has their fingers in the jam jar.”

Geth blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “You knew what I was thinking?”

Aruget’s ears twitched. “I’m good at reading faces, and you had the look of someone who just got his first peek behind the curtain at a brothel.” He looked down at Geth. “We won’t be the only agents in Darguun. Every nation, every dragonmarked house has its eyes and its hands here. I’m certain Haruuc knew it. I imagine it pleased him. Being a part of the Shadow War is like a rite of passage—children don’t play these games.”

“Children don’t assassinate kings,” Geth said. “When did you know it was Midian and not Chetiin?”

Aruget shrugged, jostling the sack and bringing another soft grunt from Midian. “I suspected Midian was up to something when he made arrangements to leave Rhukaan Draal. I didn’t expect such a direct action, though. Assassination is a last resort. Killing the ruler of a nation is unheard of.” His voice was cool, unflinching.

“You couldn’t have warned us about him?” Geth asked.

“My orders were to watch. I work for Breland,