Don Bassingthwaite - Word of traitors

Geth sat at the head of everything on Haruuc’s blocky throne, the Rod of Kings in his hand. Ashi might have expected Dagii or Munta to stand with him, but they were on the floor among the other warlords. Instead, the four contending heirs stood around Geth-Tariic and Garaad to his right, Aguus and Iizan to his left. The heirs took turns glaring at each other and nodding to supporters among the assembly. Geth just looked uncomfortable and exhausted. Ashi felt for him. All of his insistences that there would be no war had collapsed under him. She wondered if he had really believed what he was saying.

“I’ve heard that when the falcon arrived last night, they couldn’t find Geth and when they finally did, he was returning from the city with Dagii at dawn.” Esmyssa Entar ir’Korran, the ambassador of Zilargo, raised herself up a little to speak in Ashi’s ear. Normally the gnome sat on a cushion that lifted her up on chairs made for larger beings. There was no room for a servant to get through the crowd with a cushion today. In fact, only Esmyssa’s small size had enabled her to squeeze through and claim the seat. Pale blue eyes flashed. “I wonder where he was.”

The comment was so probing she might as well have asked the question outright. “I don’t know,” said Ashi. It was no lie for a change, though she could guess at where Geth had been. As she had Vounn had made their way to their seats, Ashi had caught a glimpse of Ekhaas standing with Senen Dhakaan. The duur’kala looked just as tired as Geth. Ashi wondered if that meant they had found an artificer to create a false rod.

That at least would be welcome news. A war was bad, but the danger of the Rod of Kings was potentially even greater.

The blunt rebuff brought a flicker of disappointment to Esmyssa’s eyes, but it didn’t silence her. She looked back to the dais. “This business of a shava and four heirs is messy. The sooner the Darguuls have a lhesh again, the better. It’s so much easier to deal with one stable leader. With four possible lheshes, it’s hard to know where you stand-”

“Isn’t Zilargo ruled by three leaders?” Ashi asked, trying to head off the inevitable question of who she thought might stand closest to the throne.

“The Triumvirate speaks with a single voice backed by the wisdom of three minds working in concert,” Esmyssa said proudly. “Haruuc’s heirs struggle against each other. And the assembly of warlords…” She made a dismissive, if quiet, noise. “Without a strong, thoughtful lhesh to lead them, Darguun’s clans are a danger as much to themselves as the rest of Khorvaire. If this was Zilargo, we wouldn’t be facing the possibility of a war.”

The Zil ambassador was right about Darguun’s clans, of course, but her self-righteous arrogance was like a dull blade dragged across Ashi’s skin. “And what would Zilargo do if Valenar elves were raiding its borders?”

“Negotiate,” said Esmyssa. “Emissaries of the Triumvirate would be sent to talk to them and find a solution before conflict arises. Words are the armies of Zilargo.”

Ashi’s teeth ground together. “Razh toch tao gi,” she said in the language she had spoken growing up among the barbarian clans of the Shadow Marches. “A sword has no ears.”

Esmyssa’s smile tightened as well. “Pithy,” she said, and turned away to speak to the Brelish ambassador. Ashi turned as well, righteous anger warm in her belly. Vounn was seated on her other side with Pater d’Orien beyond her and the two dragonmarked envoys were having a much more practical discussion.

“-content of the message directly from Tariic,” Vounn was saying. “It only mentioned two clanholds by name: Tii’ator and Ketkeet. Both small and not too far from Zarrthec. The messages the falcons can carry are short by necessity.”

Pater grunted and scratched under the collar that stretched tight around his thick neck. “I know something of that part of the country,” he said. “Orien wagons make a market circuit there. Settlements east of Zarrthec are sparse. The land can be good and a fair amount of it was cleared by Cyre before the founding of Darguun, but go too far east and you get uncomfortably close to the Mournland.”

Vounn pressed her lips together. Ashi thought she could guess what her mentor was thinking. What had remained of the human nation of Cyre after Darguun and Valenar had seized their pieces of it had been consumed in the massive catastrophe that had come to be known as the Mourning. The terrible event had happened only five years before, but already mention of it evoked a legendary dread in most people. All that was left of Cyre was a cursed wasteland inhabited by dangerous monsters and surrounded by borders of dead-gray mist. The Mournland was a blight on central Khorvaire, and by unfortunate coincidence Darguun shared the longest border of any nation with it, from the long inlet of Kraken Bay that became the mouth of the Ghaal River all the way to the spur of mountains marking the northern boundary with Breland. It also formed a deadly barrier hundred of miles wide between Valenar and Darguun. If Valenar elves were raiding in Darguun, they had either managed to cross the Mournland-not entirely impossible for a people with a reputation for almost supernatural horsemanship-or they had slipped unnoticed up the inlet of Kraken Bay to the mouth of the Ghaal.

The same thing must have occurred to Pater. “There’s a town-Rheklor-that stands on a peninsula with Kraken Bay on both sides. Haruuc placed a garrison there. They watch all ships traveling inland from the ocean. They would have seen anything unusual.”

“Perhaps.” Vounn glanced at Ashi, then dropped her voice so that only the three of them could hear. “Have either of you seen Sindra this morning?”

Ashi raised her head and looked around the gallery. From where she was sitting, there was no sign of the viceroy of House Lyrandar, but Sindra could easily have been lost in the crowd. “No,” she said, “but-”

Pater’s face had turned red. “There are no Lyrandar ships at the Rhukaan Draal docks right now!” he said. “I noticed that yesterday.”

Vounn raised an eyebrow. Pater turned a deeper shade of red.

“Lyrandar wouldn’t aid Valenar against Darguun, would they?” Ashi asked. “They’ll have to come back to Rhukaan Draal to do business.”

“I think Sindra would try to claim her absence was just a coincidence,” said Vounn. “But it strikes me as a very fortunate coincidence when she might otherwise have to answer some awkward questions. Lyrandar ships travel up the Ghaal all the time without attracting attention. Ships for the Lhazaar Principalities are common, too-but the Lhazaars haven’t built ties with Valenar the way that House Lyrandar has.”

“Khyberit gentis,” muttered Ashi. “Do we tell-?”

“No,” Vounn said with a quick shake of her head. “We can’t be seen to inform on another house. The Darguuls will figure it out on their own-if they haven’t already. They can investigate if they want to.” She pursed her lips. “But if Lyrandar is already involved in the conflict, then we should be too.”

The color in Pater’s face broke and Ashi realized he hadn’t been holding in anger but a huge, greedy grin. “By Kol Korran’s golden bath,” he said, his cheeks jiggling with the effort of keeping a straight face. “I’ve missed war!”

Ashi stared at them both, but before she could say anything, there was movement down below. A lean old hobgoblin spoke to Geth, then moved to a tall pole on the floor below the dais. Two young hobgoblin warriors stood beside the pole and at a nod from the older hobgoblin, they attached a black banner to ropes hanging from the pole’s top and raised it. The warlords and clan chiefs fell silent and turned their attention to the dais. A second banner was raised, this one bearing the sword and crown symbol that had been Haruuc’s crest. Geth stood.