Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [64]
Recognition intruded on the rush of battle. The figure on the window sill was Chetiin. The goblin watched him with careful intensity in his black eyes. The sky behind him was gray with dawn. Geth shook his head and lowered his hands. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“That’s why I tried to wake you from a distance first,” said Chetiin. He reached down to the back of a chair below the window and tossed Geth’s pants to him. “Cover yourself.”
Geth struggled into the pants, swaying as the dizziness of sudden waking crashed down on him. “I thought you might have come sooner.”
“Sneaking into Khaar Mbar’ost isn’t easy.” The shaarat’khesh elder looked at him. “You summoned me. You need to talk?”
Over the afternoon and evening of the day before, Geth had worked out what he would say to Chetiin. How he would describe the misgivings and shameful suspicions he’d had as smoothly as Ekhaas might have. Sleep, however, had stolen the words from him. “I …” he bumbled, then clenched his teeth and said simply, “I doubted you. I’m sorry. I’ve seen the ledge—”
Chetiin shook his head. “Don’t speak of it,” he said. “Just tell me that wasn’t the only reason I climbed up here.”
“You climbed?” Geth went over to the window and peered past him. His window was easily seven or eight floors up. Khaar Mbar’ost was far shorter than even a minor tower in the city of Sharn, but it was still tall enough. There was nothing under his window except a drop to the stones of the plaza around the fortress. He looked at Chetiin with new respect.
The goblin just shrugged casually. “It was the easiest way to reach you. Now talk. Is it something about the war?”
“Have you learned anything more about who attacked you?”
“No.” Chetiin’s ears twitched. “And that troubles me. If no one has stepped forward to claim the assassination by now, they may never come forward. They may not be able to. Whoever hired them may have betrayed them.”
“Midian.”
“If he could betray Haruuc, he could betray a hired assassin.”
“We are talking about someone who tried to kill you, Chetiin.”
“Who breaks muut with one member of the Silent Clans breaks muut with all of us, Geth.” The muscles of his jaw tightened. “And if the true assassin is dead, I can’t clear my name. I convinced you, but I doubt I could convince others. Volaar kapaa’taat kesha do haan—the word of traitors is written on air.”
“We could vouch for you,” Geth said.
Chetiin shook his head. “And reveal the secret of the rod? I don’t think so. My honor may become a sacriice.”
It was as good an opening as he was going to get. Geth took a breath and pushed out the idea that had prompted him to hang the blanket from his window. “If you’re not having any luck tracking down the assassin, maybe there’s something else you can do,” he said. “I’d like you to go to war with Dagii and Ekhaas.”
He didn’t think he’d ever seen Chetiin look surprised. The expression survived only moments on the goblin’s wrinkled face, though, then it was gone. “Why?” he asked.
“I want to be certain they make it back. I don’t think I’ll be able to deal with the Rod of Kings on my own.”
Chetiin looked past him. Geth turned and followed his gaze to the small chest that rested on—or rather was bolted to the top of—a heavy table. The chest was bound in iron and had three magewrought locks, the keys to which hung around Geth’s neck. There were other defenses, too, invisible to his eyes, but Ekhaas assured him they were there. In truth, though, Geth didn’t see the chest as protecting the rod from others so much as protecting others from the rod.
“You’ve done well so far,” said Chetiin.
“And the switch with the false rod should be easy,” Geth continued for him. “No, it’s after that I’m worried about. I won’t be Haruuc’s shava any more. I want Ekhaas and Dagii—and you—here to help me and Ashi.” He echoed what Ashi had said. “Our group is being broken up. We need to stay together.”
Chetiin looked at him for a long moment. “Ekhaas and Dagii are capable. They can take care of themselves,