Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [46]
“I wanted to see the celebrations that took place at night after the games ended,” Geth said. “I wanted to go without anyone knowing who I was.”
Munta blinked. “Rhukaan Draal? At night? With only Dagii for protection?”
“He’s not entirely helpless, Munta,” Dagii said. “What’s going on?”
“You picked a bad night to go out.” Tariic’s voice was dark. “A messenger falcon arrived in Khaar Mbar’ost during the third watch. It was carrying word from the village of Zarrthec. Villages and clanholds to the east have been attacked by raiders.”
Dagii’s ears rose sharply. “Someone sympathetic to the Gan’duur?”
Tariic shook his head. “Valenar.” He fixed his gaze on Geth. “The war that you said wouldn’t happen is here.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
21 Sypheros
The throne room had been pressed into use for the first time since Haruuc’s death. Leaning forward from the viewing gallery above, Ashi could still see the stain of the lhesh’s blood on the dais. A dar tradition, like leaving the death wound visible. As long as the stain remained, people would remember that a great leader had died on that spot.
The white bulk of the Dhakaani grieving tree still stood to the side of the dais as well, blocking one of the tall windows behind the throne. The tree made a sinister presence, but the carved stone limbs were harmless now. The words that commanded them had died with Haruuc. No one had tried to dismantle and remove the tree, though. Maybe Haruuc had been the only one who knew that secret, too.
Noise filled the rest of the throne room and the gallery. The assembly of warlords gathered in the throne room beneath walls lined with tall statues of fierce hobgoblin warriors and banners carrying clan crests. Exiled to the gallery were all those who had no place among the warlords and clan chiefs: ambassadors and envoys from the other nations of Khorvaire, the dragonmarked houses, and those clans like the Kech Volaar that dwelled in Darguun but had not sworn allegiance to Haruuc. Today the gallery was more crowded than the throne room. Everyone was in attendance. Word of the messenger falcon’s arrival during the night, and of the news it carried, had spread quickly.
Geth sat at the head of everything on Haruuc’s blocky throne, the Rod of Kings in his hand. Ashi might have expected Dagii or Munta to stand with him, but they were on the floor among the other warlords. Instead, the four contending heirs stood around Geth—Tariic and Garaad to his right, Aguus and Iizan to his left. The heirs took turns glaring at each other and nodding to supporters among the assembly. Geth just looked uncomfortable and exhausted. Ashi felt for him. All of his insistences that there would be no war had collapsed under him. She wondered if he had really believed what he was saying.
“I’ve heard that when the falcon arrived last night, they couldn’t find Geth and when they finally did, he was returning from the city with Dagii at dawn.” Esmyssa Entar ir’Korran, the ambassador of Zilargo, raised herself up a little to speak in Ashi’s ear. Normally the gnome sat on a cushion that lifted her up on chairs made for larger beings. There was no room for a servant to get through the crowd with a cushion today. In fact, only Esmyssa’s small size had enabled her to squeeze through and claim the seat. Pale blue eyes flashed. “I wonder where he was.”
The comment was so probing she might as well have asked the question outright. “I don’t know,” said Ashi. It was no lie for a change, though she could guess at where Geth had been. As she had Vounn had made their way to their seats, Ashi had caught a glimpse of Ekhaas standing with Senen Dhakaan. The duur’kala looked just as tired as Geth. Ashi wondered if that meant they had found an artificer to create a false rod.
That at least would be welcome news. A war was bad, but the danger of the Rod of Kings was potentially even greater.
The blunt rebuff brought a flicker