Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [57]
Pradoor interrupted him with absolute confidence. “No, you’re not. Speak the truth to me or do not speak to me at all.”
The schemer looked at his companion, who nodded. The schemer looked back to Pradoor and his hunched shoulder became a little bow—useless, Makka thought, before someone who was blind. “You are as perceptive as you are eloquent, Pradoor. I am Daavn of Marhaan. My companion is Tariic of Rhukaan Taash.”
Pradoor smiled at the second name. “Saa’atcha, lhesh of Darguun.”
The second hobgoblin smiled slightly in return, an honest reflex and not some vain attempt to ingratiate himself. “Saa’atcha, Pradoor, but I am not lhesh. Yet.”
“You know you will be though—or at least you believe you could be.” Pradoor raised her face in the direction of Tariic’s voice. “You remember me now, don’t you?”
Tariic answered without hesitation. “The dungeons of Khaar Mbar’ost. You were spared from the games.”
She cackled. “Your agreement with the decision was grudging at the time. I know it. You don’t begrudge me my freedom now, though.”
“No,” said Tariic bluntly. Pradoor turned to Daavn.
“Why do you come to me tonight?” asked Pradoor. “Surely those who would rule Darguun have no fear of war.”
“We don’t,” Daavn told her, “but I knew there would be those who did—that’s why I brought Tariic to see you. Your words are inspiring.”
Pradoor snorted and Daavn’s ears flicked. Makka saw his eyes dart to Pradoor as if he thought she might be mocking him. The hobgoblin continued with more care and less flattery. “The assembly of warlords will give their support to Haruuc’s heir in two days’ time. The voice of the people can sway their decision. For three days, our rivals have been attempting to buy the people with food and drink—”
“As Tariic buys them with contests in the arena,” Pradoor interrupted.
Daavn squirmed but carried on. “The announcement of war with Valenar gives us a new opportunity. The assembly supports the war but we need a way to reach the people. If they embrace the war, they will embrace the man who called for it. I knew of your popularity in the streets. I knew that if people had fears, they would come to you.”
“And you came to watch me perform.” Pradoor’s voice was dry. “You want me to lead the people to you so that they forget the comforts of food and drink and see only the glory of war.”
“You already do it,” said Daavn. “Your talk of muut between the people and the lhesh, between the faithful and the Six—”
Pradoor’s ears cupped and her eyes narrowed. “I do not talk of muut, Daavn of Marhaan,” she said.
Daavn almost seemed to wither at her words and Makka came close to smiling. Tariic, however, scowled at his companion and waved him back. He stepped forward in his place—and knelt before Pradoor.
“Guide the people,” he said, “and when I am lhesh, the old ways will be restored to Darguun. You will speak from the dais of Khaar Mbar’ost and warlords will be your audience. You call me lhesh and say that I believe it will be so. I believe that it will not happen without the favor of the Six.”
“Ah.” A smile spread across Pradoor’s face. “Flattery is sweet, but the truth is sweeter, and reward sweeter still. When you are crowned, where will I stand?”
“At my left hand, as those who speak for the Six have always stood at the left hand of warlords.”
“And the priests that Haruuc raised?”
Tariic bent his head. “When the lhesh praises the Dark Six, I think they’ll find that the worship of the Sovereign Host has not found such deep roots in Darguun as they think.”
Pradoor’s hand rose, feeling for Tariic’s face, and she pressed her muu’kron to his forehead. “The might of the Six be yours, Tariic of Rhukaan Taash. I will give you the people.”
“Ta muut, Pradoor.” Tariic caught her hand, holding the muu’kron close for a moment longer. When he released Pradoor, he rose, nodded to Makka, then gestured for Daavn. The scheming warlord of Marhaan followed him away among the trees without a word or a nod to either Pradoor or Makka.
CHAPTER
TEN
22 Sypheros
Aruget stood outside the