Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [37]
“We’re not trying to intimidate you,” Ekhaas said. Her tone was soothing yet beguiling at the same time. “If you know who Geth is, then you can make a good guess at who we are. We’re the ones who found the rod for Haruuc and we’re trying to fix a mistake before it destroys Darguun. We need your help to do that. The rod is cursed.”
“Cursed?” The word dripped with disbelief.
“Believe what you want,” said Dagii grimly. “It’s the truth.”
Tenquis looked at the young warlord, then at Ekhaas, then at Geth. “And how do you know this?”
Ekhaas opened her mouth, but Geth spoke first. “Haruuc told me,” the shifter answered, meeting the golden-eyed gaze. “The rod drove Haruuc to hang the warriors of the Marhaan on along the road to Rhukaan Draal. It drove him to sell their women and children into slavery. It drove him to torture Keraal on a Dhakaani grieving tree. It almost drove him to lead Darguun to war.”
“I know a lot of Darguuls who were happy with all of that.”
“Haruuc wasn’t. He knew that what the rod wanted would destroy Darguun.” Geth hesitated, then plunged on with the truth—or at least part of it. “It was created to guide the emperors of Dhakaan, but this isn’t the world the Dhakaani knew. Whoever holds the rod sees the memories of the emperors.”
“The memories of emperors?” Tenquis’s eyes opened a little wider.
Beyond Tenquis, Geth saw Ekhaas’s ears stand tall and remembered what she had said in the arena, that the artificer was fascinated by the lost knowledge of the ancient Dhakaani daashor. He fumbled with the ties that held the bundle closed. The leather fell open to reveal the Rod of Kings. Geth lifted it free.
Tenquis stared at it, his lips open just a little bit, his tongue running across the tips of his teeth. He reached out with one hand. Geth pulled the rod back. “Don’t touch it! That’s how it passes on the memories.”
Tenquis drew back, but just a little bit. “How can you hold it then?” he asked.
Geth dropped the leather and drew Wrath with his other hand. Behind Tenquis, Ekhaas smiled. “The histories preserved by the Kech Volaar,” she said in the tones of a trained storyteller, “tell of three artifacts created by Taruuzh daashor from the vein of byeshk he named Khaar Vanon, the Blood of Night. The first was Aram, or Wrath, the Sword of Heroes that was lost by Rakari Kuun in Jhegesh Dol when he killed the daelkyr lord of that place. The second was Muut, or Duty, the Shield of Nobles that was shattered as Dhakaan slid toward the Desperate Times. The third was Guulen, or Strength, the Rod of Kings. Three great artifacts, each the equal of the others in power.”
“Wrath protects me,” Geth said simply. “I’m the only one who can safely touch the rod.”
Tenquis’s gaze moved from the rod to the sword and back again. He swallowed. “Taruuzh made these.”
“You’ll be the first artificer to have the chance to study them,” said Ekhaas. “You won’t get this opportunity again.”
Tenquis looked longingly at the rod once more, then his lips pressed together into a thin line and he turned to Ekhaas. “What exactly do you need from me?”
Geth took a long breath of relief. Dagii relaxed a little, too. Ekhaas’s face remained impassive, however. “An exact copy of the rod, enchanted to enhance the presence of the one who holds it—”
Tenquis snorted. “Easy enough.”
“—and ready in three days.”
The snort turned into a twitch. “Three days? That’s not possible. This isn’t like forging a horseshoe. Six, maybe. Byeshk is hard to work with and I’d need to find some first—”
“We can have the byeshk here in the morning,” said Ekhaas.
“I’ll need more than byeshk. Other materials. They won’t be cheap.”
Dagii stepped past Geth and tossed a fat, clinking pouch to Tenquis. “That should cover the price of anything else you need.”
Geth wondered where he had come up with the money. The Mur Talaan clan was highly respected, but it wasn’t wealthy. Tenquis rolled the pouch between his fingers, looking both startled and pleased. “I’ll need to study the rod,” he