Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

But giving up would have been failure, and Vounn d’Deneith did not fail herself or her House. One day Ashi would have to accept the demands that Deneith made of her. Vounn rose from her desk, tucking the report into one deep sleeve of her dress. Out of habit, she checked her stiletto in its hidden sheath. When she’d been young, she hadn’t wanted to wear it. A diplomat should have no need of a weapon. Her mentor had forced her to carry the knife, and she’d been glad of it many, many times since.

Aruget was on duty outside her door when she opened it. “We’re going into Rhukaan Draal,” she told him in Goblin. “I need to deliver a letter.”

He didn’t blink or twitch his ears, but she heard the tightness in his voice. “It will be dark soon, Lady Vounn. Can I take it for you, or can you wait until the morning?”

“I need to deliver it myself,” Vounn said. “Don’t worry. We’re only going to the Orien compound. The letter needs to go now so it can leave with the dawn coach to Sterngate. We’ll be back before sunset.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Mazo, lady.”

Their departure from the fortress wasn’t as quick as she had anticipated. A group of dirty and bloodied horsemen was dismounting as she and Aruget came out into the great entrance hall of Khaar Mbar’ost. Haruuc’s party had returned from their pursuit of raiders. The warlord saw her and gestured her over as he removed his helmet. “It’s late to be going for a walk, Lady Vounn.”

“A quick errand, lhesh.” In private meetings she might call him Haruuc, but they both understood the need for formality in public. “I trust your hunting went well?”

Haruuc’s ears flicked and he tossed his helmet to Vanii-his shava was seldom far from him. “Come with me a moment, lady.”

He led her a short distance from the soldiers who had ridden with him. When they stopped, he looked her in the eye. “You went out in the city this same day last week and visited the compound of House Orien. Are you by any chance on your way there now, perhaps with a letter back to Karrlakton?”

Vounn kept her face neutral. In spite of the pressure the Gan’duur put on him, Haruuc was constantly surprising her with how much he knew of the day to day events in his court. He had probably even guessed who she was writing to. “I am.”

“Could you send a message for me as well? A number of young warriors of the Atiin Noor clan wish to enter the service of House Deneith as mercenaries. The clan chief’s sons are among them. I’d like to see that they find respectable positions, perhaps in the Lhazaar Principalities or the Eldeen Reaches.”

She’d heard of the Atiin Noor, a wealthy clan with territory south of Rhukaan Draal. If she had been back in Karrnath, where rich families commonly used their influence to find choice positions for their children, she might have thought nothing of the request. Over the short time she’d been in Darguun, though, she’d developed the distinct impression that offspring were expected to earn their positions. Nor could assignments in Lhazaar Principalities or the Eldeen Reaches be called “choice.” Both nations were very nearly as far from Darguun as it was possible to get without leaving Khorvaire entirely. Vounn raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a matter for Viceroy Redek?” she asked.

“The warriors won’t be stopping at the Gathering Stone,” said Haruuc. “They’ll be riding directly to Matshuc Zaal. I would appreciate if they could be met at Sterngate and escorted to their assignments.” He frowned, the action emphasizing his tusks. “In fact,” he added, “I think it would be best if their assignments were with humans rather than with other Darguul mercenaries.”

“It sounds like they’re being banished,” Vounn said carefully.

Haruuc gave her a long look, then said, “The chief of Atiin Noor is an old and loyal friend. If you had a friend whose sons had made a poor decision, would you not want to spare him some grief?” He leaned a little closer. “Not all of the scarecrows in the fields of the Atiin Noor were Gan’duur.”

Admiration for the “unbroken spirit” of the Gan’duur warriors was becoming something more active. Vounn nodded. “I understand. I will send the message by the swiftest means.”

“Ta muut.” Haruuc stood straight. “I hope that the sons of Atiin Noor will learn responsibility and honor from House Deneith.”

The compound of House Orien was a busy place not far from the bridge that crossed the Ghaal River. Within its walls, the stink of Rhukaan Draal was replaced by the more familiar, if no less pungent, smells of horses and sometimes tribex, the muscular three-horned antelope creatures that were the common beasts of burden in Darguun. Most of the workers were humans, and for a moment it sounded strange, as it had on Vounn’s last visit, to hear her own language again.

While Aruget waited in the compound’s courtyard, Vounn went directly to the courier office and demanded pen, ink, and paper from the young attendant. The girl was well-trained-she produced what was required without hesitation and even set out an envelope and sealing wax. Vounn quickly wrote a second note to the patriarch of Deneith with Haruuc’s request and her own suspicions, sealed it into the envelope, then bound both her letters together with string and sealed the knot on that as well. When she was done, she returned to the attendant. “I need to see Viceroy Pater.”

The attendant looked surprised. “He is at table.”

“Tell him that Vounn d’Deneith is here on business for her House.”

The girl pulled on a bell cord. A servant emerged from a door at the back of the office, and she whispered to him. He vanished through the door, then reappeared more quickly than Vounn might have expected with an invitation for her to follow him.

The rooms beyond the door were as fine as any in a mansion, though the smell of horses still lingered on the air. The servant left Vounn in a comfortable parlor, and a few moments later a broad-shouldered man running to fat as he advanced into his middle years appeared, still wiping soup from his beard. A napkin protected the snowy front of his shirt and he removed it as he walked. Vounn rose to greet him. “Viceroy Pater.”

“Lady Seneschal Vounn, envoy of House Deneith to Lhesh Haruuc.” Pater d’Orien gave her a sour look. “Nice bit of work for Deneith that is. Cheek by jowl to the lhesh.”

Vounn smiled at him. “It’s wonderful to see you again as well, Lord Pater. We spoke at the feast Haruuc held shortly after I arrived.”

“Aye, I remember. Do you intend to make a habit of interrupting my eating?”

“Not if I can help it. I’m here on urgent business for Deneith.” She held out the bundled letters. “These need to go to Karrlakton.”

Pater looked at the letters as if she’d scooped up a handful of manure from the compound’s horses. “You can put them in at the courier office.”

“These need special attention. They’re going to Baron Breven. They must be in Karrlakton tonight.” She smiled. “And I happen to know you can get them there.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Khyber’s codpiece. You know something. What’s happening?”

“Nothing that you haven’t guessed at,” Vounn told him, shaking her head. “The urgency is a personal matter for Breven.”

“Tomorrow morning, then?” Pater asked.

“Tonight.”

“The service will cost you.”

“Breven’s secretary will pay the fee.”

Pater groaned and took the bundle. “Kol Korran wills it. Baron Breven will have these tonight. Good evening, Lady Vounn. Someone will show you out.” He tugged on a bell cord and started to walk away.

Vounn cleared her throat, and he looked back. “Now,” she said.