Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

For a moment, their little group seemed like a bubble of silence among the noise of the hall-then Taak snorted again. Loudly. He gave Ashi a huge grin. Riila smiled, too, though she showed fewer teeth doing it. Midian even found himself smiling. The game was over before it had begun.

“Ah, Ashi,” he said and it was difficult to keep the purr out of his voice. He felt almost ridiculous for having worried about what she might or might not know. Ashi’s face turned red beneath her dragonmark. Her mouth opened briefly, then pressed into a narrow line. Midian took her hand, holding tight when she would have pulled away. “You worry about entirely the wrong things.”

As if the gods had decreed its timing, the butt of a staff struck against the floor near the door. Midian couldn’t see her through the crowd of taller figures, but he heard Razu, the mistress of rituals, call out, “Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn comes!”

The entire crowd turned to the door in unison. Any noise that had filled the hall before was like a whisper compared to the thunder of voices calling Tariic’s name and fists thumping against chests in salute. Midian thumped his chest, too, and if there was some small part of him that said that this wasn’t right, that a Zil shouldn’t be cheering for the ruler of Darguun, he didn’t hear it over the din.

The crowd parted as Tariic entered the hall, and allowed Midian to see him. Tariic wore formal regalia-the spiked crown of Darguun, a heavy cloak of tiger skin, polished armor of brass-chased steel-and carried the Rod of Kings high. Midian felt the rush of awe he experienced whenever he saw Tariic. In his head, he knew it was the power of the rod that lent the lhesh his majestic presence, but it didn’t matter. Maybe once he had served the Trust, the sharp blade of Zilargo’s government, but not anymore.

His new master raised his hands, acknowledging the crowd, then searched the hall. His gaze settled briefly on Midian-the gnome stood straight and proud under his regard-then moved on to stop on those behind him. Tariic gestured with the rod, and the crowd opened farther, clearing a wide space before the lhesh.

“Riila Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat,” Tariic said. “Taak Dhakaan of Kech Shaarat. I welcome you to Khaar Mbar’ost.”

He had already welcomed the emissaries earlier in the day, of course. Midian had been there, privileged to witness a much quieter but perhaps even more important meeting. What happened here was just a formality and a bit of pageantry. As Riila and Taak put fists to their chests and bent their heads to Tariic, Midian squeezed Ashi’s hand.

Tariic motioned for Taak and Riila to join him. They went forward, eyes wide with adulation. No matter what illusion of free will they might present, Midian knew they were already under Tariic’s spell. When the pair stood before him, Tariic looked around at the crowd in the hall.

“Warlords of Darguun!” he said. “Honored guests from beyond our borders! It gives me great pleasure to announce that the excellent warriors of Kech Shaarat have chosen to join us in battle against the elves of the Valaes Tairn. Even now, the first company of their infantry-the finest warriors known since the fall of Dhakaan-are in the city. Soon they will travel east to take key positions among Darguun’s own soldiers.” He paused, a fine bit of effect. “But warriors are not all that the Kech Shaarat bring us. Riila Dhakaan, speak.”

Riila raised her head, her ears standing tall. “Lhesh Tariic, we bring news of the traitors who made an attempt on your life. We know where they are.”

The thrill that precedes triumph brought a lightness to Midian’s belly. He looked up at Ashi. She stood like a statue, all emotion wiped from her face. Vounn had trained her well. There were some reactions, though, that were impossible to conceal. Ashi’s fingers were cold in Midian’s grasp. He rubbed her hand gently and felt her stiffen, but she didn’t try to pull away.

“Where?” asked Tariic, his voice low but clear in the silence of the hall.

“They hide with the Kech Volaar, granted sanctuary in Volaar Draal.”

Whispers and growls of surprise rose like a wind, but Tariic’s snarl broke above them. “Senen Dhakaan, stand forward!”

Midian found the ambassador of the Kech Volaar easily-those who stood around her pulled away, leaving Senen isolated. For a moment, there was shock on her face, then it was wiped away. Midian saw her eyes dart to the nearest exits from the hall, but they were blocked. Guards positioned by Tariic stood ready for this moment. Senen’s gaze went back to Tariic, then she stepped out to face him.

“The claim of the Kech Shaarat is absurd, lhesh,” she said bluntly. “Why would the Kech Volaar jeopardize their relationship with you? My clan shared a relationship with the throne of Darguun before the Kech Shaarat came crawling out of their caves to lick up the blood of your victory.”

Taak growled and bared his teeth. Midian was certain he would have drawn his sword and struck at Senen except that Riila caught his arm. “Our word is true, lhesh,” she said. “Not all Kech Volaar stand against you. Our information comes from one who sends you her deepest respect.”

Dismay broke through the ice in Senen’s eyes. “Who makes up such lies?” she demanded.

Tariic spoke before Riila could. “Do not answer.” He appeared calm, but Midian had seen his reaction when Riila and Taak had first presented their news to him. The lhesh had taken the day to master his emotions. His control made his presence seem that much larger-the hall of honor could have been empty except for him and Senen.

“Ekhaas, who was in your service, stood with Geth and Chetiin when they tried to take my life,” he said slowly, “and the Kech Volaar have long had an interest in the Sword of Heroes that Geth bears.” He raised the Rod of Kings. “I had not thought that the clan that helped Lhesh Haruuc find this great relic of lost Dhakaan would turn against me, but perhaps seeing it in the hands of a true ruler was too much for Tuura Dhakaan.”

He leveled the rod at Senen Dhakaan. “By the blood of the Six Kings that you claim to honor, speak the truth, Senen Dhakaan. Do the traitors who sought to kill me hide in Volaar Draal?”

It seemed to Midian that he heard an echo in Tariic’s words. Tell me everything, Midian… He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his secrets from spilling out, but this time the power of the rod wasn’t directed at him. Senen faced Tariic and, without an instant of hesitation, said, “Yes.”

Horror rose in her eyes as the word emerged from her mouth. Roars of anger erupted in the hall. It was difficult to hear Tariic as he shouted another question. “And you hid this from me? Answer!”

Rage replaced horror. Senen drew a ragged breath and spat, “Yes!”-then opened her mouth even wider, the first note of song rolling up from of her chest.

Midian’s gut flipped. The song of a duur’kala! But Tariic was ready. “Be silent!”

The order was forceful enough to bring quiet to the entire hall. Senen closed her mouth so suddenly that her eyes bulged, and she gagged on the song sealed in her throat. Tariic pointed the rod at her again and said, “Do. Not. Move.”

Senen went still. Tariic allowed silence to linger in the hall for a heartbeat more before he spoke again. “Pradoor, I will listen to the teachings of the Six.”

Pradoor, standing in Tariic’s shadow the whole time, stirred. “Lhesh,” she said in her high, thin voice, “the gods of the Six speak to this in many ways. The Shadow decrees that a slave who conceals knowledge from her master has stolen that knowledge from him. The Mockery prescribes that the hand that steals shall be struck off. The Fury demands that vengeance suit the offense.”