Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

“No,” said Ashi. “I don’t need to. No one here cares. I don’t think they even recognize a Siberys Mark.” She shook out her hair, delighting in the simple freedom.

“They will inside Khaar Mbar’ost.”

“What if they do?” Ashi asked her mentor. “They’ll know who I am soon enough anyway. How many humans are there at Haruuc’s court?”

Vounn’s lips pressed together, and she looked to Tariic. He shrugged. “Ban,” he said. “She’s right.” Vounn’s mouth turned into a thin white line. Ashi felt a small glow of triumph. Geth gave her a smile, Ekhaas a flick of her ears and a wink.

Then the Deneith mercenaries were falling back and their party was riding alone across the last stretch of the plaza. Massive bugbear guards, each holding a halberd as big as a flagpole and wearing red cords fastened with bronze pins in the shape of Haruuc’s sword and crown crest around their upper arms, stood straight and tall as they approached the gates of Khaar Mbar’ost. The company rode through into a hall as big as a courtyard. The unfettered noise of Rhukaan Draal vanished behind them, replaced by the controlled echoes of a fortress. From the wall opposite, an enormous relief sculpture of a hobgoblin warrior glared down at the gate, as if challenging anyone who dared to enter. Everbright lanterns ringed the hall, but its ceiling still vanished into shadow somewhere above the great sculpture’s head. Tariic reined in his horse and looked back at them.

“Welcome to the court of Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor,” he said.

A hobgoblin wearing the red corded armband of Khaar Mbar’ost led them deeper into the fortress, to a chamber where Tariic said they would be able to leave their packs for transfer to the quarters that awaited them. Basins of warm water and small pots of soft soap that smelled of herbs were brought so they could refresh themselves. A screen made of fine fabric that Ashi suspected had been imported from Karrnath was set up for them to change behind should they wish to do so. Most of their baggage had been left with the rest of the delegation in Sterngate and would arrive with them, but Ashi was disappointed to discover that Vounn had somehow managed to transport complete sets of formal clothing in her traveling pack.

To her astonishment, however, the clothing Vounn produced for her wasn’t the gown that she would have expected, but clean trousers, a shirt, and a jacket reminiscent of a parade uniform. The lady seneschal seemed to take pleasure in her surprise. “Did you think a party gown would impress Haruuc’s court?” she asked Ashi. “I may have one if you prefer.”

“No,” Ashi said quickly. “This will be fine.” She snatched the outfit before Vounn could take it back and retreated behind the screen.

Vounn nodded when she came out. “Polish your boots,” she said, then took her turn behind the screen.

Midian changed into a clean shirt and a brightly colored vest taken from his pack. Tariic, Aruget, Thuun, and Krakuul gave their armor a rapid polishing. Chetiin and Ekhaas did nothing except brush the dust from their clothes. Geth, Ashi suspected, would have done nothing at all except that Tariic produced the blue tabard of a House Deneith guard.

The shifter growled at him. “Where did you get that?”

“From a guard in Sentinel Tower. If you’re going to be Ashi’s bodyguard, you should look the part.” Tariic held out the tabard. “Put it on and be sure to walk behind Ashi.”

Scowling, Geth pulled the tabard over his head and stuffed the fabric roughly through his sword belt-unlike in human courts, weapons were not only permitted here, but expected. He managed to catch and tear the tabard several times with the hooks on the back of his gauntlet, leading to a round of cursing that ended only when Vounn stepped out from behind the screen.

Ashi stared in surprise. Vounn wore a dress that was as simply cut as any Ashi had ever seen, and yet somehow it flattered her. The dominant fabric was a blue-gray silk, plain in color and with only the barest hint of a pattern yet of fine quality and excellent weight. The overall effect was one of understated wealth, of power and influence hinted at but not quite revealed. Tariic slapped a hand against his chest in applause. Vounn acknowledged him with a nod and a shallow curtsy.

Tariic dismissed the hobgoblin servant and led them himself to a large antechamber in which a number of goblins and hobgoblins waited, talking quietly together in small groups. At one end of the antechamber, a broad flight of steps rose to another hall. Ashi couldn’t see past the stairs, but she could hear voices speaking in Goblin. Tariic spoke to a goblin with a red cord armband who darted up the stairs and into the next hall. Tariic turned back to them. “The assembly of warlords is meeting. Haruuc will summon us when there’s a pause in the discussion.”

He looked nervous for the first time Ashi could remember. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

“Wait.” His ears twitched. “Vounn, sit with me. I’ll tell you who some of the warlords are that are here.”

The hobgoblin and the lady seneschal went to a nearby bench. Midian shrugged, went to another bench, produced the little yellow book he’d been reading when they arrived in Sterngate, and began reading again. Chetiin nudged Geth. “There’s someone I want to find before we go in,” he said. “I’ll be back.” He walked away toward the end of the hall.

In the next hall, a voice rose loud. Ekhaas’s ears twitched toward it, and her eyes narrowed. Ashi strained to follow the voice, but most of the speech was words she didn’t know yet. “What are they saying?” she asked.

“Try this,” said Geth. He took her hand and placed it just below his on the hilt of his sword so they were both holding the weapon.

Instantly, she understood the words as if she’d been speaking Goblin all her life. “… hold us back!” ranted the speaker. “Our clans are willing! Our warriors are waiting! There are riches to be had over the Seawalls. A swift descent from Matshuc Zaal would put Sterngate in our hands. I have reports from a scout who says that he’s worked out a path through the human defenses.”

“Has he followed the path?” asked another voice. This one was calmer and deeper, speaking in measured, thoughtful tones. “Has he walked up to the walls of Sterngate?”

“He waits only for confirmation of our interest in his plan before he makes the attempt!”

“In other words, he hasn’t and he wisely isn’t going to throw his life away for no reason,” said the deeper voice. “Daavn, Sterngate’s deadliest defenses are the ones that can’t be seen from a distance.”

The first voice paused for a moment, then changed tactics. “A strike around the northern end of the Seawalls then,” said Daavn. “With Skullreave as our staging base, we’re three days’ march from the colony the Brelish king is allowing to call itself New Cyre. You know their defenses are weak.”

“Their defenses are weak because they’re poor,” shouted a third voice. “Sit down, Daavn.”

“Respect the order of assembly,” said a fourth voice wearily, as if the speaker had repeated the words too many times.

“Daavn, we will not attack Breland,” said the deep voice, almost as weary. “We are bound by the Treaty of Thronehold. Yield the pole and sit down if you have nothing new to say.”

A murmuring of other voices agreed with him.

Daavn was silent for a moment, then said, “Valenar.”

The murmuring voices ended instantly, and Daavn went on more boldly. “The ancient enemies of our people have taken up residence across Kraken Bay. When the Valenar elves claimed their territory, they even did it on the basis of blood spilled fighting against our ancestors. They claim a victory they didn’t earn. We should take ships and teach them what it means to fight hobgoblins!”