Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [94]
The changeling looked more uncomfortable now than he had as Geth. He didn’t look any more uncomfortable, however, than Daavn. The hobgoblin’s ears flicked furiously, almost pulling back flat. He stepped in close to Tariic and tried to whisper in his ear. Makka caught some of his words. “You can’t trust a changeling, Tariic. They’re treacherous—”
Tariic pushed him back. “Daavn,” he said coldly, “this is Ko. Have you ever met before?”
Daavn drew a breath, then spread his hands. “If we have, I didn’t know it. You know what they say about changelings: they all look the same or else completely different—”
The lhesh cut him off. “Ko, have you ever met Daavn of Marhaan before?”
“Not as such,” Ko said without hesitation. “But I met a masked hobgoblin named Wuud once who sounded a lot like him. He hired me to do a job. That job landed me in your dungeon.”
Daavn’s ears flattened. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“I do,” said Tariic. “You tried to undermine my uncle by having Vounn d’Deneith kidnapped, Daavn. Somehow Vounn guessed it. She told Geth. Geth tried to warn me about you.”
The warlord of the Marhaan was still and silent for a long moment. Finally, he bowed his head. “I schemed against Haruuc, lhesh. But remember that I also guided you to power.”
“You guided me as a boatman without oars or rudder guides his boat down the Ghaal—I brought you with me.” Even without crown or rod, it seemed to Makka that Tariic radiated command. “The relationship between us is changed, Daavn. Remember that.” He turned his head. “Have you learned from this, Pradoor?”
Pradoor sat for the space of five heartbeats, as if listening to some distant voice only she heard, then ducked her head as well. “I have, lhesh.”
“I am pleased.” He gestured to Ko. Makka watched, his skin creeping, as the changeling’s features once again shifted into those of Geth. Tariic spread his arms on the arms of the chair, sitting as if it were the blocky throne of Darguul. “Now,” he said, “the real Geth could possibly be hiding anywhere in Rhukaan Draal. Our chances of finding him are slim. However, I’m certain that there must be someone who knows where he is.”
He rose and strode to the false rod, plucking it from its velvet resting place and turning it in his hands. “There could be several reasons Geth might want the rod. Perhaps to sell to another nation. Perhaps as some remembrance of Haruuc. In any case, the scheme isn’t something he could have created on his own.” His smile exposed his teeth. “He’s brave and stubborn, a good fighter, but not a schemer. He must have had help.”
“Ashi d’Deneith,” Daavn said.
“Ekhaas of Kech Volaar. Dagii of Mur Talaan. Munta the Gray. Any of those close to him.” Tariic seated himself again, holding the rod at an angle against one outstretched knee. “However, Ekhaas and Dagii are beyond our reach—for now. Munta, if he is involved, is nothing. An old man with fading power. Ashi … Ashi is of interest.” He flicked his ears. “And protected by House Deneith.”
“You’ve declared that the gods are not above you, Tariic,” said Pradoor. “Why should the dragonmarked houses be?”
Tariic smiled and contemplated the false rod again. “They’ll fall in time,” he said, “but not yet. We need another way to reach Ashi.”
“Or we forget her,” Daavn suggested. “What about Midian Mit Davandi? He’s only here because you hired him. You’re his only protector.”
Blood seemed to thunder in Makka’s skull, driven by the recitation of the hated names—and an abrupt understanding of what Pradoor meant when she talked about the turning of ages. Fate seemed to focus on him at that moment, as if it was the will of the Fury that he should be here, in this room, at this moment. He stepped forward, feeling like he walked through water. “I can reach Ashi,” he said. “I can reach any of them. I hunt them already—the Fury knows my oath.”
Ko and Daavn flinched back. Pradoor smiled, her ears twitching. Tariic’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you hunt