Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [79]
The dais under him was marked with a dark stain. He knelt, he realized, on the spot where Haruuc had died. The circle of succession was complete. Power passed from Haruuc to his shava to a new ruler. He looked up into Tariic’s face again and held out the rod. Tariic’s chest swelled as he breathed in. He reached down and grasped the rod—
—and his eyes widened, then narrowed. He bent closer and the whisper that came out between his sharp teeth was hot in Geth’s ear.
“This,” snarled Tariic, “is not the Rod of Kings!”
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
25 Sypheros
Geth twisted his head to stare at Tariic, but the hobgoblin was already straightening and sliding the false rod out of his slack grasp. The moment it was in Tariic’s grip alone, Geth felt the magic Tenquis had crafted into it take hold, enhancing the new lhesh’s presence. The cheers of the crowd died into exclamations of amazement. Tariic seized his free hand and drew him up to stand at his side, raising their joined hands high as if they were two warriors united in victory.
Razu’s staff slammed twice against the floor and her voice rose in ringing, triumphant tones. “Behold, Darguun! Behold Tariic Kurar’taarn, second lhesh of Darguun!”
This time there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation in the wild cheers that erupted. Arms beat against chests in a flurry of applause. Tariic lifted the rod and waved it. His other hand tightened on Geth’s in a crushing grip.
Shock numbed Geth. Tariic knew the rod was false. He’d recognized the truth as soon as he had touched it. How? The false rod was a perfect duplicate except for the spiral Tenquis had added and that end of the rod had been concealed in Geth’s hand. Tariic couldn’t have seen, much less felt, it. It was almost as if he’d known there was more to the true rod, known that he should have felt the glory of the emperors of Dhakaan in his mind as Haruuc had.
But that wasn’t possible. Haruuc couldn’t have told him about it. None of those who knew the rod’s secret would have told him. Tariic couldn’t have known unless he touched the rod before and he had never—
A memory rose in Geth’s mind of the day that they had brought the Rod of Kings back to Rhukaan Draal and stood in triumph before the dais in the throne room, basking in Haruuc’s gratitude.
The day that Tariic had taken the rod from him and climbed the dais to kneel and present it to Haruuc.
Mere moments of contact. Small enough to forget in the wash of events but long enough. Haruuc had told Geth that the rod had been in his head since the moment he held it, and that once the rod’s power had gripped him, it fed him its memories of Dhakaan’s glories whether it was in his grasp or not.
The Rod of Kings answered to those with the will to rule, the old lhesh had said. And Tariic had the will to rule. He’d always had the will. It was always going to be me, Tariic had said. I was always going to be lhesh.
They’d tried to save Haruuc’s successor from the curse of the rod, but it had already been too late.
But it might not be too late to save Darguun. The true rod was still safe in his chambers. For now.
Geth’s gut tightened, determination slipping past shock and pushing aside the glamour of the false rod. The thin armor under Tariic’s upraised arm made a tempting target. A hard punch there would certainly force the lhesh to ease his grip. If he could escape and retrieve the rod, he could run. Tariic would rule, but he wouldn’t have the true rod.
He curled his free hand, his gauntleted hand, into a fist.
Tariic caught the movement and squeezed tighter. “Attack me,” he said into Geth’s ear, “and I’ll denounce you as a traitor. I may not have the Rod of Kings but I have the warlords on my side now. You’ll die before you can leave this hall. Continue with the ceremony.”
A few stairs led down from the dais to the floor of the throne room and a wide aisle clear to the hall’s great doors. Tariic, pulling him along at his side, descended them. The music of pipes and drums began