Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

Ashi pushed herself into motion. She had only moments or the thief would be gone. No time to go around the shrine. A jump put her on top of it, scattering anything still left there. A leap and the wild fluting battle cry of the Bonetree hunters set her into the air.

The thief half-turned in response to the cry. Ashi saw her stiffen, her arms wrapping protectively around the cask, then she slammed into her and both of them went down. They tumbled across the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, the thief struggling to protect her prize, Ashi fighting to stay on top-which was how she landed when they finally came to a stop. Her hands were on the thief’s shoulders and her weight over the other woman’s hips, pinning her down. Ashi’s scarf had finally come loose and it hung around her face, puckering and billowing with each panting breath that she took. “Surrender!” she gasped.

The thief’s eyes, however, had gone wide. “Ashi?” she said.

The blurring effect vanished. Ashi stared down at amber eyes in a lean yellow face. The thief’s hood had fallen back to reveal orange-brown hair pulled back in a knot and a hobgoblin’s wolf-like ears. Ashi lifted one hand and tugged down the scarf that had covered the thief’s face.

“Ekhaas?” she asked.

Then the doors of the memorial slammed open and the intense light of everbright lanterns flooded over them. The slap of boots and the hiss of drawn swords filled the ruined space. “Don’t move!” roared the voice of the sergeant. “Under the authority of Karrlakton, you’re both under arrest!”

The watchmen of Karrlakton gave Ashi and Ekhaas no chance to speak until they’d marched them to the nearest watch station and deposited the pair in a cell. They recognized Ashi’s dragonmark and handled her with a certain amount of deference, but Ekhaas didn’t receive the same favor. The men left both of them with their hands tied behind their backs-they knew at least one of their two prisoners was a spellcaster and they thought they were being cautious. Ekhaas saw no reason to tell them that she knew several spells that could be cast with song alone. Apparently the Karrlakton watch had little experience dealing with a Kech Volaar duur’kala. She held her tongue as the cell door swung shut behind them, instead watching through the bars to see what the watch did with the weapons-and other items-they had confiscated.

Ashi did enough talking for both of them. “It’s a Deneith memorial!” she said to the station commander. “I was protecting it on behalf of the House. But it was all a mistake. This woman is my friend. There’s no reason to keep us.”

The argument worked no better on the commander than it had on the sergeant who had arrested them. “House Deneith is ruled by the law just like everyone else in Karrlakton-a dragonmark is no protection. You broke into a public building in the middle of the night and caused serious damage. You desecrated a shrine of the Sovereign Host. You may or may not have stolen from the memorial.” The commander looked at Ekhaas. She ignored him, flicking her ears in disdain. He looked back to Ashi. “Your House will be contacted. We’ll see what they have to say. In the meantime, I’d suggest that you sit down and behave yourself.”

He walked away, closing the door of the the cell behind him. Ashi watched him go with what Ekhaas thought looked like a curious mix of frustration and horror.

“What do you mean the House will be contacted?” Ashi called after the commander. “Who did you contact? Who-”

“Sit down, Ashi,” said Ekhaas. She settled herself on the bare plank bench that was the only thing in the cell and tried to think of a way out of the situation. Ashi leaned her head against the bars of the door and cursed.

“Khyberit gentis.” She turned around and glared at Ekhaas.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to tell me what you were doing breaking into that memorial? What’s so special about that casket? What are you doing in Karrlakton at all?” She dropped onto the bench beside Ekhaas. “You could have at least told me you were here.”

Ekhaas’s ears rose. “I didn’t know you were in Karrlakton. I could ask you what you were doing at the memorial, too.”

“I was trying to stop a thief.” Ashi grimaced. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t tried to stop you, neither of us would have been arrested and you would have gotten away with your little casket.”

“je’shaarat mipaa kotanaa,” said Ekhaas. Ashi looked at her, and she translated the expression: “A sharp sword hurts less when you fall on it.”

Ashi wrinkled her nose. “What did you want with the casket?” she asked again. “I saw one of the watchmen trying to open it, but he couldn’t.”

“It’s sealed. It’s not meant to be opened.”

“Then what’s inside? Why would you steal it if…?” Ashi’s question trailed off and she twisted around to face Ekhaas directly. Anger rose in her voice. “You said Deneith had no right to what was in the memorial. Is the casket an artifact of Dhakaan? Are you still trying to protect things from us shaat’aar?”

Anger crept into Ekhaas as well, though she kept it out of her voice. Her ears, however, bent back. “Chaat’oor,” she corrected. It was a harsh word, usually translated as “defilers.” The word was old, as ancient as the dying of the great empire, and it referred to any race not native to the continent of Khorvaire. Usually that meant humans, but it could refer equally to the changelings or shifters who had joined the migration to the land that had once belonged to her people. When she’d first met Ashi, Geth, Singe, and Dandra in the south of the country of Droaam, she’d called them chaat’oor, assuming they’d come to loot the Dhakaani ruins in the area. She’d discovered a greater respect for them, but the reverence for the past that was the duty and right of every descendant of Dhakaan was not something to be dismissed.

“Yes,” she said, glaring back at Ashi, “it’s an artifact of Dhakaan. And yes, I was taking it back. It belongs in a shrine, not in a dingy cabinet. It’s a reliquary. It holds the tongue and brain of Duural Rhuvet, the last great strategist of the empire. For untold generations, it was kept by our greatest leaders and carried onto the battlefield as a source of inspiration-until it was lost at the Battle of Starkhan.” A little of her seething anger broke through her control. “An important part of our history, carried away as a looted curiosity!”

Ashi twitched. “Couldn’t you have just asked for it back?”

“If your House had known what it had in its possession, what treasure it had seized at Starkhan, would it have given it back?”

“Probably not.” Ashi shifted as if uncomfortable, then asked, “Ekhaas, what’s the Battle of Starkhan?”

Ekhaas stared at her. “Starkhan was the key battle in the Torlaac Conquest.”

Ashi shook her head.

Ekhaas’s ears drooped in disbelief. “The campaign that memorial was dedicated to! Khaavolaar, what has Deneith been teaching you?”

“How to be a lady.” Ashi scowled when Ekhaas raised her eyebrows. “Don’t ask,” she said. “I don’t want to think about it. Have you heard from any of the others? I haven’t had any news. Have you heard from Dandra or Singe?” Her face brightened. “What about Geth?”

Geth. Ekhaas held her expression, voice, and ears absolutely neutral. “I haven’t heard from him-or anyone,” she said.

“Oh.” Ashi looked disappointed. “I would have thought you might have kept in touch with Geth because of his sword.”

“Aram,” said Ekhaas, giving Geth’s Dhakaani sword its proper name. She flicked her ears casually. “I’d like to know how he is, but both he and I are wanderers. Either of us could be anywhere.”