Don Bassingthwaite - The tyranny of ghosts

You are fortunate that Lhesh Tariic understands the demands of politics and economy and sees that Darguun benefits more from fighting with Deneith than fighting against us. He is more understanding to accept your continued presence in his court than I would be.

Remain in Rhukaan Draal. Carry out Vounn’s mission to Darguun and you may be redeemed. If you are found beyond the borders of Darguun before that day, however, you are excoriated. -Breven

Ashi ground her teeth together so hard they hurt. To be declared an excoriate was to be exiled from a dragonmarked house, the worst punishment the members of the great houses could inflict on one of their own. In the distant past, it had been both a symbolic and a literal severing of connections; the offender’s name would be stricken from the rolls of the house and the dragonmark that swirled over her skin cut away. Ashi had heard rumors that a secret gallery in the heart of Sentinel Tower held grisly relics of those nameless excoriates who had been expelled from Deneith in ancient times. Excoriates were no longer flayed alive, but for many dragonmarked, to be cut off from their house, the source of much of their identity, was still a terrible punishment.

Ashi had lost her identity before, when she abandoned the Bonetree Clan for House Deneith. The threat of taking away her connection-already tenuous-to Deneith held little power over her. What hurt more was Breven’s accusation. By your actions, you have cost House Deneith the life of a valuable servant in Vounn d’Deneith.

He might as well have written, You killed Vounn.

Ashi raised her head to glare at Tariic. “What did you tell him?”

Seated in the best chair in the chambers she had, until only a few days before, shared with Vounn, Tariic gave a thin smile. “The truth, of course. That when Geth and Chetiin moved to seize the Rod of Kings, you were with them. That in a misguided attempt to protect you, Vounn put herself in the path of Makka’s blade as he tried to defend me-”

“That’s not the truth!” Ashi snarled. The heavy paper crumpled in her fist, and she drew back her arm to hurl it at Tariic.

A massive hairy bugbear hand caught her wrist and squeezed. Ashi hissed in pain. The paper ball fell. The bugbear-one of three who surrounded her, loyal servants who had been deafened to preserve secrets spoken in their presence-glanced at Tariic, who gestured casually. The bugbear’s grip eased. Ashi slipped her hand free. Her wrist throbbed, but she refused to give Tariic the satisfaction of seeing her rub it.

He ignored her discomfort anyway. “It’s all the truth that Breven wants to hear. He knows that by blaming poor, faithful Makka, we preserve the fiction that Deneith is blameless. Kings make their own truth, Ashi.”

“Breven isn’t a king.”

“He holds your life and obedience in his hands. He has the power to command armies. He brokers deals with nations and places envoys in the courts of monarchs.” Tariic’s ears twitched. “Breven could seize power with half-a-dozen commands. I guarantee you that he’s thought of it. He probably thinks about it every day. Breven and I are more alike than you think.”

The crumpled letter had rolled close to his boot. He stretched out and kicked it back at Ashi. “You’re to stay at my court under pain of excoriation, yes?”

Ashi clenched her teeth again. “How did you talk to Breven?” she asked through them.

“The gnomes of House Sivis-unlike the gnomes of Zilargo-take their neutrality very seriously. They were happy to relay my messages to Sentinel Tower for their customary fee. As you’ve seen, the dragonmarked houses generally listen when money talks.” His ears twitched a second time. “Although, it was your friend Pater d’Orien who opened the channels to Breven. Did you know that when he used his mark to teleport away from Khaar Mbar’ost after Vounn’s death, he went to Deneith instead of his own house?”

Anger flared again in Ashi as she realized there was one friendly face she hadn’t seen in the gallery of the throne room. She would have lunged for Tariic, but the bugbears reacted swiftly. All three of them grabbed her, leaving her struggling against thick, muscular arms. Tariic just sat back. “Calm down, Ashi. You don’t have to worry about Pater. I… talked to him when he returned to Rhukaan Draal, that’s all.” He tapped the Rod of Kings against his knee for emphasis. “I know he had nothing to do with your plot.”

“Then where is he?” Ashi asked through the cage of muscle.

“Safe in the Orien compound, sticking close to his wagons and horses. Do you think I’m so weak that I need every foreign dignitary attending my every word? Besides, he’s no more a challenge to me now than Midian. Or you.”

“Or Geth?”

That wiped the smug look from Tariic’s face. “He and the others will be found. Chetiin. Ekhaas. Even the Brelish changeling. I know where they’re headed. It’s only a matter of time. Every route into Breland is being watched, from the Marguul Pass to the humblest mountain path.”

Ashi did her best to keep her expression neutral, hiding her elation. Tariic thought Geth and the others were heading to Breland? Then they would be safe in their haven at Volaar Draal. And if Aruget was with them, so much the better!

Tariic must have mistaken her stony silence for an attempt to hide another emotion. His lips curled in renewed smugness. “Afraid for them, Ashi? Shouldn’t you be afraid for yourself?”

The bugbears had dragged her upright again. Ashi raised her head and glared down at Tariic. “I don’t think so. If I’m to be House Deneith’s new envoy to your court, you can’t very well keep me prisoner. You may have made a deal with Breven, Tariic, but you’ve traded away some of your hold on me.”

This time, though, the lhesh’s expression didn’t waver. Ashi felt unease reach into the pit of her stomach. “If you do anything to me-”

“I wouldn’t think of it, daughter of Deneith,” said Tariic. His words sounded like a serpent’s hiss. He raised his voice slightly. “Midian!”

The outer door of the chamber opened. Ashi twisted her head around enough to see the gnome enter. Before the door closed, she saw hobgoblin guards outside-Tariic’s honor guard, plus a trio of guards she didn’t recognize. The unfamiliar guards wore ornate, polished armor as if ready for some ceremonial parade. Two of them looked back at her curiously. Both had the forehead scars of the Rhukaan Taash, Tariic’s clan.

They vanished as Midian closed the door. He made an elaborate, mocking bow. “Lady Ashi.”

She offered him no reply, but he didn’t wait for one. He glided up to Tariic and went down on one knee as he offered a square wooden box to the lhesh. “House Cannith sends its highest regards.”

Ashi’s unease grew. House Cannith bore the Mark of Making. Their artificers were capable of creating all manner of wonders-and dangers. The box was featureless, offering no clue of what it contained. Tariic flipped it open.

Nestled against black velvet inside was a pair of polished silver wrist cuffs.

In the moment that she stared, Tariic gestured. One of the bugbears holding her wrenched her right arm out straight. She gasped in surprise and started to pull back, but Tariic was quicker. Snatching up one of the cuffs, he closed it around her wrist just above the bugbear’s meaty hand. The delicate clasp closed with a deep clack that was louder than it should have been.

“Now the other one,” said Tariic, gesturing again. Midian, grinning like an idiot offered him the box once more.

The bugbears didn’t have the advantage of surprise a second time. Ashi screamed fury and fought them, but together they were far stronger than she. Her shoulder throbbed as a bugbear twisted her arm away from her body, then came a second deep clack and the faint pressure of the matching cuff on her wrist.