Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

The silence, both in the throne room and in the gallery where everyone was listening now, was solid and thick as a winter morning. Vounn pressed her lips together. The rebellious sons of the Atiin Noor clan were safely away thanks to Deneith and Orien, but there had been others who had spoken and acted in favor of the Gan’duur. They’d been dealt with in the same way as the raiders. None had been found to stand among the high ranks of Darguun, but if there were…

Haruuc spoke into the silence. “Do you hold back in the belief that you are showing that coward Keraal where your true heart lies? Do you hold back because you think it weakens me? Maybe you don’t want to see your stores feed Rhukaan Draal but the thieves and bandits of Gan’duur instead. Stand then. Stand and show your true feelings!”

“Yes!” called a new voice. “Stand!” And at the back of the throne room, a hobgoblin wearing a helmet that shadowed his features rose. He stepped out into the central aisle and stood facing Haruuc. The lhesh’s ears lay back flat.

“Keraal.”

Beyond the open doors of the throne room, guards in the antechamber jerked and turned at the sound of the rebel warlord’s name. One of them drew his sword and shouted for an attack. The helmeted hobgoblin whirled, one hand up. “Hold! No one may enter the assembly who does not belong! That is the law of Haruuc!”

The guards stopped just short of the doorway, crashing into each other as they came to a sudden halt. The one who had called the attack looked to Haruuc. The hobgoblin who stood in the aisle, however, reached up calmly and removed his helmet. Thick, dark hair spilled free, and Keraal turned a strong, hard face toward Haruuc as well. “Does the law not also say that no violence may be offered within the assembly?”

Haruuc stared at him, then dismissed the guards with a gesture. He stared at Keraal for a long moment before he said in a growl, “Law or not, it takes a brave jackal to enter the den of a tiger.”

Darkness flushed Keraal’s red-brown face. “You call me a jackal? You call the Gan’duur bandits? You are both jackal and bandit, Haruuc! You, who could have led us against the chaat’oor of the Five Nations-or at least against our ancient enemies in Valenar, but instead you sign treaties with them!”

“I call you a jackal,” said Haruuc tightly, “because you come to the assembly in disguise, like a jackal that rolls in the stink of another animal to disguise its own scent.”

Vounn heard Tariic suck air through his teeth at the insult. No one else moved or spoke. Keraal stood straight and glared at Haruuc. “I come in disguise because otherwise I would have been denied my place at the assembly. Your guards would have stopped me at the door, if they had not arrested me on the road.” His ears rose tall. “A violation of your own law that the assembly is a place of neutrality and that none are to be harmed as they come and go.”

“My guards would have done nothing of the kind!” Haruuc said.

“Wouldn’t they? Can you say that I would be here now if I hadn’t disguised myself?”

A neat trap, Vounn thought. Haruuc couldn’t deny his own law, even when it had been turned against him. The lhesh didn’t answer the warlord’s question. Instead he growled, “What do you want here, Keraal?”

“To do what it is the right of every warlord to do: attend the assembly and speak my mind. Those who darkened the name of Gan’duur have been dealt with. Am I a criminal or a traitor to be denied my right?”

Once again, Haruuc didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed. “You are here. Speak.”

Another warlord might have bowed his head. Keraal raised his arrogantly. “It is not in the nature of our people to share land. We are conquerors and rulers. How many other clans must suffer as the Gan’duur have, our warriors driven to rebellion by inaction?”

“Warriors,” said Haruuc, “must know when to fight and when to serve the people by keeping their swords sheathed.”

“Warriors don’t serve the people, Haruuc. You sound like a human. Warriors serve the warlord-unless you intend that all of our warriors should serve you.” A soft murmur spread through the assembly, but Keraal wasn’t finished. “Or perhaps you already think they do, since you sell them like slaves into the service of Deneith!”

He turned sharply and flung up a hand to point into the gallery-directly at Vounn.

She didn’t move. She forced herself to remain still, to meet Keraal’s blazing eyes. The warlord didn’t hold his dramatic pose for long, though. Haruuc stood up from his throne. “Our warriors are not slaves, Keraal! Remember that I served Deneith, and Darguun stands today because I did. Service to Deneith brings wealth to our nation, to warriors and warlords alike!”

Keraal let his arm fall and turned to Haruuc with a smile on his face. “And wealth,” he said, “to the high warlord who betrayed Deneith to create Darguun. Would you trust one who had betrayed his trust before, Haruuc?”

The lhesh stared at him, then asked, “Have you said what you came to say, Keraal?”

“Not quite,” Keraal said. He bent his neck in a nod. “Gan’duur has an excess of grain this season. Enough to share with Rhukaan Draal if it is necessa-”

“Be gone, Keraal!” snapped Haruuc. Beside him, Vanii drew his axes.

Keraal pointed at the shava. “Remember your law, Haruuc! None are to be harmed as they come and as they go.” He flung the helmet he had worn to the floor, the crash of it startling, and strode from the throne room. The guards in the antechamber parted- reluctantly, it seemed to Vounn-to let him go. Vanii would have gone after him if Haruuc hadn’t flung up an arm to stop him. The assembly of warlords burst into chaotic conversation.

Tariic let out a long breath. “Maabet!” he cursed. The watchers in the gallery were as deep in conversation as the warlords.

Vounn just looked after Keraal. “What do you think he hoped to accomplish by that?” she asked.

“I think he wanted to show just how much he could defy Haruuc,” said Tariic, pulling his lips back from his teeth. “Maybe he’s trying to draw Haruuc into making a mistake that will turn the other warlords against him once and for all. Keraal’s a brilliant strategist-or else completely mad. Either way, he’s got huge-”

His voice became just a buzz in Vounn’s ears. Behind his head, through the great windows of the throne room, thick smoke was rising in columns across Rhukaan Draal.

“Fire,” she said. “There’s fire in the city!”

Tariic broke off and turned around to follow her gaze. The warlords ceased to argue and looked as well. Haruuc stepped around his throne to stare out the window. Vounn struggled to pick out landmarks in the cityscape and identify what was burning, but she could tell Haruuc’s experienced eyes saw immediately where the smoke was coming from. He whirled to face the warlords. “The assembly is dismissed, but we are not finished. Do not depart Rhukaan Draal.”

“What burns?” someone shouted.

Haruuc’s face darkened. “The city houses of the Atiin Noor, the Pin Galaac, and the Haranhra.” Cries came out of the crowd. All of the clans he’d named, Vounn knew, were strong supporters of Haruuc. Then the lhesh looked to the gallery and added, “As well as the Orien compound and the Deneith enclave.”

Somewhere behind her, a plate crashed to the ground and Pater d’Orien ran from the gallery with a curse. Vounn stared down at Haruuc, her eyes meeting his for a moment, then he turned, seized the red sword that leaned against the throne, and raced out of the throne room, shouting for guards and his horse. “Send messages and runners,” he snapped. “Anyone suspicious near the fires is to be taken into custody-alive. Anyone armed who isn’t wearing my colors is to be ordered off the streets!”