Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [35]
“What will do?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re out. Where’s the rod?”
“Here.” Geth had the Rod of Kings wrapped up in the soft oiled leather that normally protected his gauntlet. He reached for the anonymous bundle and was startled to see an unfamiliar hand pick it up—a hobgoblin’s orange-red hand on the end of a slender arm wearing a black wool sleeve. He glanced at Ekhaas.
“Illusion,” she said. “Just take the rod. We need to leave.”
He didn’t ask anything more, but grabbed the wrapped rod and followed Ekhaas out the door, closing it behind him. The guards that stood on either side of the door—an honor for the shava of Haruuc more than anything else—were leaning back against the walls, both of them lightly dozing under the subtle effect of Ekhaas’s magic. They wouldn’t know he had slipped out of his chamber.
Dagii was waiting just along the hall. For the first time Geth could recall, the young warlord wore no armor, though he did carry a sword. His shadow-gray hair had been shaken loose and brushed forward over his face. Dagii barely looked like himself. His ears rose at the sight of them, but he said nothing and fell into step alongside them.
As soon as they were away from the hall outside his chamber, Geth looked down at himself. He wore—or seemed to wear—a robe of black wool and a wide girdle of red leather tooled in the angular patterns favored by hobgoblin design.
He also appeared to have breasts.
“A woman?” he said under his breath. “You made me a woman?”
“My older sister, actually,” Ekhaas whispered. “I was in a hurry. I had to choose someone I knew well but that no one in Khaar Mbar’ost was likely to recognize. The illusion won’t last long—that’s why I prefer non-magical disguise. Try not to talk. The magic doesn’t change your voice.”
“You don’t know any hobgoblin men?”
Dagii’s voice was thick with restrained laughter. “If it’s any consolation, Ekhaas is clearly the beauty in the family.” He nodded to the duur’kala. Ekhaas’s ears flicked and she returned the nod gracefully, a smile playing around her lips.
Geth ground his teeth together.
If it was embarrassing, the illusion was effective. They tried to move through the least busy parts of Khaar Mbar’ost, but even at night the fortress was an active place. Still, no one within the walls gave them the slightest glance except for one hobgoblin warrior whose gaze lingered on Geth. They couldn’t sneak around the guards at the gates, but there Dagii simply looked one of the guards in the eye. The guard, startled by his unexpected appearance, snapped up straight. If anyone cared to question him, the hobgoblin might report that the warlord of Mur Talaan had left Khaar Mbar’ost, but Geth doubted if he would remember the two women who passed by with him.
Beyond Khaar Mbar’ost, the daytime revelry of the games spilled over into the night. Bonfires burned in the middle of some of the wider streets, and the people of Rhukaan Draal gathered around them to sing and dance and drink. The guards that had patrolled the city during the period of mourning were all but gone. Those few Geth spotted as they passed through the shadows were celebrating as heartily as the rest of the crowd. Here and there, vast casks of ale stood open and whole roast hogs were laid out courtesy of those with aspirations to the throne. Geth recognized the chiefs of a few lesser clans calling out the virtues of Aguus or Iizan or Garaad. The warlords had called on their allies to help support the costs of their campaigns of popularity.
“I don’t see anyone touting for Tariic,” he said.
“He’s being clever,” said Dagii. “Here all the food and drink blur together. He’s concentrating his attention on the arena and on winning over the unallied warlords.”
“He may win over some with a previous allegiance, too, if the others push their client-clans too far,” Ekhaas added.
The street where the artificer lived was far from the busy parts of the city. Here no light but moonlight