Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [33]
“He’ll empty the vaults of the Ghaal Sehn,” Ekhaas said.
“They’re all spending money,” Geth told her. “Iizan’s just being more showy about it.”
Ekhaas spotted Midian among the Ghaal Sehn, trying to get Iizan’s attention and apparently not having much luck. “What’s he doing?”
“Trying to get all the heirs to let him continue digging at Bloodrun, I think. So far he’s only got Tariic to agree. I don’t think any of the others care much for gnomes—or history.”
Ekhaas’s ears lay back.
In the arena, the ettin charged again. This time, Keraal flicked his arm and the chain broke out of its spin to fly low at the ettin. At the last moment, the hobgoblin twisted into the chain, wrapping it around his waist. The flying end of the chain, weighted with shackles, changed direction sharply and jumped up to slam into the shoulder of the ettin’s sword arm. The creature’s shield dipped and it pulled its charge up short—though not short enough. Keraal jerked on the chain and the shackles cracked across one of the ettin’s faces, tearing its lips and cheek. A roar went up from the crowd at the sight of first blood.
“Who chooses his opponents?” asked Ekhaas.
The ettin swatted Keraal with its shield as he tried to get past and a cheer went up from Tariic and his supporters. “Who do you think?” said Geth. “He’s let it out that there’s a fat reward to whoever defeats—and kills—the rebel who defied Haruuc.”
Another successful blow by Keraal brought another, louder roar for the rebel. Ekhaas’s ears flicked upright again. “That could bite him,” she said. “The longer Keraal stays alive, the more the crowd will treat him like a hero.”
“Haruuc told me once that Darguuls want blood and it doesn’t matter who sheds it. I think the crowd will be just as happy if he dies.” Geth grimaced. “I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do if he lives.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. He goes free. We’re bound by tradition.” She looked sideways at him. “I’ve found our artificer,” she said quietly.
The shifter sat up. Ekhaas put a hand on his arm and pulled him back down in his seat. “Don’t make a fuss!” She glanced around. No one seemed to have noticed Geth’s excitement. “He’ll see us tonight. You, me, and Dagii.”
“Just the three of us?”
Ekhaas nodded. “I think he suspects something, so he wants to be discreet, which is what we want, too. I’m his contact, you’re the only one who can handle the rod, and Dagii will provide us with extra protection. Bringing Ashi and Midian would attract too much attention in the streets at night.”
“How did you get him to agree to it?”
She drew breath through her teeth. “He hasn’t entirely. Not yet. He knows that he’s going to be copying a Dhakaani artifact. That’s all. I even asked in the Bloody Market about the availability of byeshk. We’ll get it to him when he needs it.” Ekhaas sat back. “He’s fascinated by the lost knowledge of the daashor, the Dhakaani artificer tradition. That’s what hooked him. Bring Wrath with you tonight. If he hesitates when he finds out what we really want, I think the opportunity to examine two artifacts created by the legendary Taruuzh will help him make up his mind.”
“I’d bring Wrath anyway.” Geth touched the sword’s hilt. “I’m not going anywhere without it right now.”
“Dagii and I will come for you when the first moon rises,” Ekhaas said. “Wrap the rod in something to disguise it—and try to disguise yourself. Too many people recognize you now.” She rose.
An loud whistling sound from the arena drew her attention back to the sands. Keraal had doubled up his chain and was swinging it hard and fast overhead. The ettin, uncertain what the hobgoblin was up to, backed away slowly. Maybe too slowly—Keraal dropped suddenly to one knee and loosened his grip. The chain slid through his fingers with a long rattle and swept around in