Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [77]
Pater’s round face was tense. “Host shield us,” he said. He pointed at the goblin woman, then at Makka. “Dark green is the color of the Devourer. The winged wyrm is a symbol of the Fury. Tariic has gone back to the Dark Six.”
Makka reached the throne and shifted the crown into one hand so he could lower the goblin woman to the ground with the other, then handed the crown to her. It was larger than her whole head. The effect should have been comical, but Ashi didn’t feel like laughing.
Geth appeared, the false rod raised in front of him. His gaze swept the audience and found her. His eyes were hard. All Ashi could do was nod to him, then he had taken a position beside Makka. He glanced at the bugbear. Makka looked back at him and bared his teeth.
If it had been her up there, Ashi didn’t think she would have been able to stop herself from running Makka through. She was surprised Geth didn’t. Instead, he just stiffened and glared back.
He was going through with the coronation, she realized. Makka’s presence, Tariic’s unexpected embrace of the Dark Six—neither mattered. They had to get the false rod into Tariic’s hands and Geth would make sure it happened.
“Ekhaas told me about Makka,” Senen said. “Geth bears an insult.”
“He has a duty, Senen Dhakaan,” Ashi told her tersely.
The music swelled again. Tariic entered, the armor he wore flashing in the light of the hall. The cheers and applause that greeted him were half-hearted at best, the crowd uncertain what to make of the appearance of Makka and the goblin woman. Tariic didn’t break his stride, but his ears went back. Across the dais, Daavn jerked his head at someone in the crowd and instantly a renewed cheer rose up. Tariic stopped in front of the throne, faced the crowd, and raised his hands.
The pipes and drums stopped. The cheers died out. For a moment, there was silence, then Razu cried out in Goblin, “Behold Tariic of Rhukaan Taash, brave warrior and mighty warlord!”
She rapped her staff twice against the floor. Tariic pulled off his gauntlets, then reached up and removed his helmet. Beneath it, his red-brown skin was shiny with sweat, His hair was lank and damp. Munta came forward, holding out the tray he carried. Tariic raised the pitcher on it and poured a long stream of water into the basin. Returning the pitcher to the tray, he plunged his hands into the basin and splashed water onto his face and through his hair. Munta lifted a square of thick white cloth from the tray and offered it to him. Tariic dried himself and returned the cloth. Munta stepped back to his place.
“He is puriied in the mighty waters!” said Razu. Her staff rapped the floor again, and this time Aguus stepped up to lay a magnificent long cloak of tiger skin across Tariic’s shoulders, fastening it with thick gold chains to rings on his armor. “He is clothed in the strength of beasts!” Her staff rapped the floor a third time and Daavn came before Tariic with a self-confident smile on his face. He went down one knee and held Tariic’s sword up to him. The new lhesh took it and favored Daavn with a smile and a nod as he sheathed the weapon. Daavn returned to his place, like a dog who had been thrown a scrap from his master’s table.
“He is armed,” said Razu, “with his own skill and cunning! He is become more than Tariic of Rhukaan Taash.” She half-turned to Tariic, encompassing him with a sweep of her staff while still facing the crowd below. “High warlord, how will you be known?”
Tariic raised his head high. “Kurar’taarn,” he said and a murmur of approval swept through the throne room. It took Ashi a moment to understand the phrase in human terms.
The death of elves.
“He embraces the event that deines his reign,” said Senen.
“He’s slapping the Valenar in the face,” said Vounn.
Razu’s staff hit the floor again. The murmur of the crowd slipped away—and became an eerie quiet as Makka guided the blind goblin woman forward before retreating. The goblin