Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

She did encounter one person who she hadn’t expected to see. Or at least who she hadn’t expected to see up close. As the crowd shifted, Ashi found herself face to face with Dagii.

The young warlord stiffened immediately. “Lady Ashi,” he said formally. His eyes darted around as he looked for somewhere to get away from her.

Ashi glanced around. It was a sign of her distraction that she hadn’t noticed him-Dagii wore the battered ancestral armor of a warlord of Mur Talaan, the distinctive tall tribex horns mounted on his back and shoulders standing out above the crowd as they would have stood out above a battlefield. No one who she knew to be particularly close to Tariic was nearby, though. Before Dagii could move away, she said quickly, “We’re friends, Dagii. No one is going to notice if we spend a few moments talking in the middle of a crowd.”

He didn’t relax. “Your guard,” he growled under his breath.

She realized that he didn’t know Oraan’s true identity. Although the changeling met with him often, it was always as Aruget. She looked back at Oraan and twitched her head. Obediently, he moved a few paces away.

Dagii’s ears flicked back, and his eyes narrowed. “Tariic allows you that much control over your guards?”

“Let’s say that he doesn’t know my guards as well as he thinks he does,” Ashi said. “Have you heard anything from Ekhaas yet?” She had told him, through Aruget, of Tariic’s lie that the duur’kala was dead. She still held out hope, however, that Ekhaas might try to contact Dagii, that maybe some message from her had come in the last few days.

He shook his head, then asked in return, “Has there been any sign of Midian?”

She shook her head too. Dagii’s ears bent back, then flicked nervously. “There is something,” he said quietly. “I was going to send word the next time I met with Aruget. Tariic has decided the Iron Fox company has done all it can in Rhukaan Draal. We’re going to be sent to the border of the Mournland sometime next week.” His voice dropped even lower. “We’re being posted to Skullreave.”

Ashi tried to cover her shock with a sip from her goblet. She felt as if he’d just slapped her. They’d shared what they’d discovered from Munta with Dagii. He knew as well as they did what a posting to Skullreave might mean. “You-no,” she said. “He can’t do that.”

“He can,” Dagii said. “He’s the lhesh. It’s our muut to obey.” He nodded toward the tables that had been set up on the dais. “I’m sitting at the high table as a hero of Darguun, but the commanders of other companies are there tonight as well. I think we’re all leaving Rhukaan Draal soon.” His ears flicked again as he looked back to her. “I will send information to you if I can. Great glory, Ashi.”

The formulaic response caught in her throat-and before she could force it out, Oraan was at her elbow. “Lady Ashi,” he said, “we should find your seat. Lhesh Tariic is about to enter.”

Ashi looked back to Dagii, but he had already turned to head to the high table. She curled a hand into a fist and let Oraan lead her away. The entire crowd was in motion as people looked for their places. Fortunately, they already knew where Ashi would be sitting-Oraan had found that out a few days ago. In fact, it was key to how they would be able to both attend Tariic’s feast and use the opportunity to break into his chambers.

Razu appeared on the dais and rapped her staff against the floor. “Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn comes!”

The voices of the crowd rose as Tariic entered, striking in tigerskin cloak and spiked crown. He gestured with the rod, acknowledging the crowd and silencing it. “On this night,” he called out, “we celebrate the night that Haruuc of Rhukaan Taash met with his closest allies to plan a grand strategy that would carve out a homeland for the dar. Because of that night, Haruuc of Rhukaan Taash became Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor. Because of that night, we stand as Darguuls.” He raised the rod as if in blessing. “Eat, drink, and celebrate the birth of Darguun!”

Once again, voices rose. Tariic let the adulation of the crowd wash over him briefly, then turned and took his place behind the high table. At that signal, servants entered the throne room carrying dishes and platters, bowls and tall pitchers. The feasters took their places on long benches, chatting with those around them and helping themselves as food was placed on the table. Unlike the feasts and formal dinners of the Five Nations, there was no waiting until everyone had been served.

Ashi’s nearby table companions were people she knew only in passing: a couple of lesser warlords, the chief of a small but disciplined clan, another human who was an apprentice to the viceroy of House Cannith, a goblin with one eye who had served as a scout under Haruuc. She recognized the choice of seating as a deliberate slight. By rights, she should have been seated closer to the high table or at least with people of higher standing. It was easy to imagine that at other tables, people would be gossiping about her.

She didn’t care. It didn’t really matter where she was sitting because she wouldn’t be there long. Ashi fell into the small talk of the table with an ease instilled by Vounn’s training. She knew several warriors from the chief’s clan had been placed with Deneith mercenary units, and praised them accordingly. She discussed hunting with the goblin scout, weapons with the warlords, and events across Khorvaire-such as she was aware of them-with the Cannith apprentice. All the while, servants brought their burdens to the table. Pale, slightly sour hobgoblin wine. Small cups of korluaat. Starchy noon prepared in a variety of ways, from small balls in sauce to big steamed dumplings stuffed with bits of meat. Chewy sausages pickled with bitter herbs. Meat and fowl of various kinds, roasted and stewed and smoked.

Ashi ate-and especially drank-sparingly. Vounn had shown her the art of making it seem like she was keeping up with those around her, when in fact very little was passing her lips. She didn’t feel a particular need to gorge herself on Tariic’s bounty. For one thing, she had, as Oraan had confirmed, already eaten well and wasn’t hungry. For another, she was watching for a particular dish to make it to the table.

It was good that she was watching, too, because when the dish appeared, the clan chief’s eyes lit up, and he reached for the bowl. “Black noon with mushrooms and braak greens! Lhesh Tariic feeds us well.”

Ashi beat him to the bowl. “Allow me,” she said and scooped a generous helping of noon balls threaded with black mold, pale straw mushrooms, and limp, dark green leaves onto his plate before taking some for herself. It looked unpleasant at best, but she had to admit that it did smell very appetizing. She offered the bowl to the Cannith apprentice, who looked at it dubiously but relented when Ashi insisted it was a Darguul delicacy.

The goblin scout declined to partake, but the two warlords finished off most of the bowl before it made its way farther down the table. Ashi glanced at Oraan. If he noticed her, he gave no sign of it. Bracing herself, Ashi picked up her spoon and dug into the mess.

It didn’t take long before the Cannith apprentice started looking distinctly pale. Ashi felt it too-a nauseating roiling in her belly accompanied by an uncomfortable swollen sensation. A belch forced its way up her throat and escaped from her mouth to leave a foul taste on her tongue and a pungent odor in the air. A light sweat shone on the face of the clan chief. He pushed his plate away and started to rise. “Miin eshoora,” he said in Goblin, excusing himself from the table.

It was someone else from farther down the table, one of the last to eat the black noon, who vomited first, however. A goblin in merchant’s robes turned suddenly away from the table and, without even rising, was noisily sick on the floor. The clan chief made a noise halfway between a burp and a gurgle, and fled. It was too much for the Cannith apprentice. She jumped up from the table and ran for the wall, huddling down to try and conceal her shame. Ashi might have grinned at the way Oraan leaped to get out of her way if she hadn’t been concentrating on not throwing up herself.