Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

“Keraal,” said Vounn. The Gan’duur had tried to kidnap her once before. The disappearance of a senior member of House Deneith would be as embarrassing for Haruuc now as it would have been then.

“There’s no evidence to prove it,” Haruuc said. “More important, how could he have been here to hire them? We’ve been watching Gan’duur territory.” He shook his head again. “But you should worry about these things in Khaar Mbar’ost. Go back to your chambers and rest.” He gestured for another guard. “Escort Lady Vounn. Let her ride your horse if she needs.”

“Thank you, but no,” Vounn said. “I need to get to the Deneith enclave.”

“We’ve been past it,” Haruuc told her. “It suffered less damage than the other targets we’ve seen. Your clerks know their duty- there were crates full of records being carried away from the flames. I offered them the shelter of Khaar Mbar’ost.”

Vounn nodded. “Thank you, lhesh.”

“Thank me by returning to Khaar Mbar’ost until the city is quiet again.” He held the soldier’s mount for her and she nodded her thanks again.

As she urged the animal around to face Haruuc’s fortress, a messenger on a wild-eyed horse came clattering along the street. “Lhesh!” he called. “There’s been an arrest-a group entering the city by the south who refused to surrender their arms. They claim they have come to see you.”

Haruuc stiffened and met Vounn’s eyes for a moment, then looked back to the messenger. “Two hobgoblins, a goblin, a gnome, a shifter, and a human?”

The messenger looked startled, then frightened. “They shouldn’t be arrested?”

“Did they have any message for me?” Haruuc demanded.

The messenger just looked more frightened. “They said, ‘Success,’ lhesh.”

Vounn saw the pallor that crept under Haruuc’s skin, but his face and the hand that he held on her horse were steady. “Take a message back to your commander,” he told the messenger. “The travelers are to be escorted to Khaar Mbar’ost immediately!”

“Mazo,” the messenger said and rode off.

Haruuc looked to Vounn and Vanii.

“Maabet, they’ve done it!” Vanii said. “They’ve returned!”

“So they have,” Haruuc said-and Vounn saw the glint of a plan form in his eyes. “Vounn, I need you to take a message to Munta at Khaar Mbar’ost for me. Tell him that Geth and the others are to be given refreshments but kept away from everyone. Tell him to recall the warlords immediately and to summon all the dignitaries in Rhukaan Draal to my throne room.”

“You want a full court to see the rod presented to you,” said Vounn.

“Cho-that, too.” Haruuc’s eyes were very bright. “Tell Munta to order troops and supplies drawn up as well. Gantii Vus and Rhukaan Taash to start. I think others will join us, but I want an army ready to march north within four days.”

Vounn’s eyebrows rose.

Vanii’s ears stiffened. “We’re attacking the Gan’duur?” the shava asked. “But Keraal still has us trapped. The other warlords won’t accept-”

“Keraal has me trapped,” said Haruuc, “but Geth has brought something back with him that’s nearly as valuable as the rod right now.” He looked at Vounn. “Ride! Munta must act!”

Their return to Rhukaan Draal was not quite as triumphant as Ekhaas had imagined it might be. All the stories she knew told of heroes returning from quests to the cheers of the people and the gratitude of lords. It was peculiarly dissatisfying to have been greeted with detention, then an escort through nearly empty streets, only to be met at the gates of Khaar Mbar’ost by Munta the Gray and hustled away into hiding. Munta himself had brought them food, drink, and wash basins like a common servant. He didn’t even ask to see the rod.

Then again, most heroes did not return to a city with smoke hanging over it and signs of hunger and violence in the streets. The return journey to Rhukaan Draal had been too swift for them to stop and talk to people, but it had been hard to miss the unease that gripped Darguun as they traveled back north. Burned fields and holds, rotting bodies hung up like a warning-they’d even been attacked by bandits on the road south of the city, a sure sign of trouble if thieves were willing to ambush an obviously well-armed band. Munta, as he came and went, would give them no hint of what had been happening while they were away. No one else came to see them either. Not Haruuc, not Tariic, not Senen Dhakaan, not Vounn d’Deneith.

Which was probably just as well. Ekhaas looked around the chamber-luxurious enough that it must have been meant as a waiting room for visiting dignitaries-in which Munta had hidden them. She and the others had spread themselves out in the room’s chairs and couches, each of them alone in their own private space and each of them, she suspected, thinking about the secret they had sworn to keep. They’d managed to make the hurried journey back to Rhukaan Draal as if nothing were wrong, but now that they were here, the decision they’d made in the hidden valley seemed to have grown heavier.

If asked for the story of what happened in the Uura Odaarii, they would speak only of Dabrak Riis’s use of the strange magic of the cavern against them. An omission wasn’t really a lie. No one beyond the six of them would ever know what power the Rod of Kings truly had.

The door of the chamber opened, and Munta appeared once again. If he felt the tension in the room, he didn’t let it show on his face. “It’s time,” he said. “We’re ready.”

“Ready?” Ashi asked.

Munta’s ears twitched and a smile spread across his face. “Ready to welcome you like the heroes you are!” He held out a tray polished to a high gloss, so freshly cleaned that Ekhaas could smell the wax, with a piece of rich gold cloth on it. “For you to carry the rod, Geth. We want everyone to see it.”

“Who’s everyone?” asked Ashi again.

“Everyone,” Munta said with satisfaction.

Geth came forward with a long pouch fashioned from common wool, a strip torn from a blanket if the undignified truth had to be told. He loosened the simple twist of cord that held it closed, reached inside, and slid out the Rod of Kings. Munta’s eyes went wide at the sight of it. Ekhaas saw Midian and Dagii look away, though, and none of the others gazed too closely at the rod. If they’d found themselves avoiding discussion of their secret on the journey, they’d also found themselves shying away from the rod. As the first one to grasp it, Geth had been appointed the rod’s keeper with unspoken assent-no one else had wanted to touch it. Ekhaas and Midian had inspected the simple shaft and examined the runes on it, but not as closely as they once might have. Geth had held the rod for them.

Laid out on the tray, though, purple byeshk against rich gold, it did have a certain majesty. A sense of excitement rose inside her. The rod wasn’t just an artifact of the great empire. It was something that had been held by the hands of countless emperors. It had seen the rise and fall of dynasties. And she had helped find it. Ekhaas of Kech Volaar had helped to bring it back into the world.

“This is what’s going to happen,” Munta said, passing the tray to Geth, then leading them out of the chamber and into the corridor. “Haruuc wants to have a very public presentation of the rod so that everyone who matters knows how important it is. The presentation will take place in the throne room. As you enter, a duur’kala will tell the story of the rod. When you reach the foot of the throne, Tariic-as a representative of the people-will take the rod and give it to Haruuc, who will then speak. After that, there’s no particular order of ceremonies you need to follow. Haruuc’s instructions will guide you.”