Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [18]
Makka dropped away from the wall, slipping into the sea of people turning away from the tomb to rush on to the games. He didn’t want Ashi to know he was here. Not yet.
From behind a moving screen of dar, he watched Ekhaas of Kech Volaar distract Ashi. The two women spoke together, then to an old human woman, then they moved back to the road that led away from the tomb and joined the crowd streaming into the city. Alone.
Makka hadn’t considered taking two of his victims at once, but when the Six gave a sign, only a fool ignored it.
Ashi waited until they were away from the tomb, away from the remains of the procession and safely anonymous among the crowds of Rhukaan Draal before she spoke. “I had an idea last night. A way to deal with the rod.”
Ekhaas looked at her, ears flicking gently. “How?” she asked.
“As long as I’m in Rhukaan Draal, I can use my power to protect whoever holds the rod from its influence. We tell the new lhesh that it’s dangerous, so he knows he needs my help, but we don’t tell him about the power of command. The protection of my dragonmark lasts for about a day—I could renew it every morning.”
“You’d be trapping yourself in Rhukaan Draal,” said Ekhaas.
“I’m willing to do that,” Ashi said.
Ekhaas’s ears stood up straight. “Why? Ashi, this isn’t your fight. You could leave Darguun any time and forget all about us.”
“Darguun provides mercenaries to House Deneith, but it doesn’t want anything from us except gold. Vounn came to Darguun to find a way to change that balance. If the lhesh needs me to protect him from the rod, that changes the balance.”
The duur’kala stared at her as if she were crazy. Ashi’s confidence in her argument crumbled under that gaze. “It sounded good in my head,” she said.
“Leaving aside the insanity of binding yourself into service,” said Ekhaas, “what if something happened to you? What if you missed renewing the protection? What about when you get old and die—the rod isn’t going to go away.” She grimaced. “It would also mean telling the lords of Deneith about the rod. How do you think they’d react to that news?”
“Not well.” Ashi clenched her jaw tight. “We’re going into battle armed with a spoon and shoe leather, aren’t we?”
“We’ve got five more days. We’ll think of something.”
“My head hurts from thinking about it.” She hesitated, then added, “We should ask Vounn for help. She already suspects something.”
“No.” Ekhaas’s answer was immediate. “Ashi, too many people already know about this. The fewer people who know the rod’s secret, the better—and the less Vounn knows, the better for her.” She glanced sideways at Ashi. “If something happens and this all goes wrong, Vounn will be able to say honestly that she didn’t know anything. Tell her and you could even risk the honor of Deneith.”
“The same for Senen Dhakaan and the Kech Volaar?” Ashi asked her.
Ekhaas’s ears folded back and she made a sour expression, an answer that spoke as loud as words. If she had actually intended to reply, however, her words were lost in the commotion that broke out around them.
The street they followed narrowed at a point where a building pushed out into the street like an overly bold merchant. If the crowd on the street had been moving in two directions, the spot would have been almost impassable, but with everyone heading in the direction of the games, movement was merely slow—at least until someone on the rooftop began throwing stones and debris down onto the milling crowd below. Yelping and cursing, those on the street tried to push through, pull back, or just take cover. The crawl of movement turned to a wall of chaos and more people were still pushing into them from behind.
“Khaavolaar,” muttered Ekhaas. “This way.”
An alley opened off to one side, narrower than the street, but the space at its opposite end seemed wide and open, presumably with another exit. Some people were already turning down it and they showed no sign of returning. Ashi and Ekhaas followed them.
Behind them, the shower of stones shifted as whoever was on the rooftop moved to cut off