Don Bassingthwaite - The doom of Kings

“Today and in your absence,” Haruuc said solemnly, drawing out the words. The hall was absolutely still. “Warriors of the Gan’duur make free with your territory, lhevk-rhu. They threaten the peace by starving the people. Keraal of Gan’duur claims he has disciplined those responsible. As lhesh of Darguun, I must be satisfied with this.”

Dagii clenched his wounded fist. Blood dripped onto the floor of the throne room. “Lhesh, my clan’s honor cannot be satisfied by words. A warlord may do what a lhesh cannot. On behalf of the Mur Talaan, I ask your permission to strike back against the Gan’duur.”

The stirring among the warlords was like a wave, as if Dagii’s words had burst a dam. Haruuc smiled, looking almost smug. “You have my permission.”

There was motion in the corner of Ekhaas’s eye as Munta the Gray rose. “Mur Talaan has few troops, lhesh. If Dagii of Mur Talaan will lead, the Gantii Vus will follow him to support his honor.”

The offer came too easily to be spontaneous, but abruptly there were other warlords calling out their support. Haruuc, Vanii, and Munta were all smiling, and Ekhaas had the feeling that someone-and she suspected it was the Gan’duur-had just been outmaneuvered. Haruuc raised his voice, too. “The Rhukaan Taash will stand for the honor of the Mur Talaan as well. Let all see that the clans of the Ghaal’dar remember tradition.” He raised his sword high and held the Rod of Kings close to his chest. “Let all see that Darguun is strong!”

The roar that shook the stones of the hall was deafening. The raw emotion of the crowd was like a song. Ekhaas turned around to stare, drinking in the moment of Haruuc’s triumph. Very nearly every Darguul was standing, their heads thrown back, their voices raised, their hands slapping their chests. But not everyone was so joyful. Ekhaas’s ears rose.

Where the representatives of the Five Nations and the dragonmarked houses sat, reaction to the prospect of a strong Darguun was distinctly more restrained.

Over the next several days, it seemed to Ashi that she told the story of their quest for the rod-or at least the edited story they had all agreed to-so many times she felt like a duur’kala. The first time, along with the others, was to an audience of Haruuc, Tariic, Munta, Vanii, and Senen in the same small room in Khaar Mbar’ost where the quest had been planned. With excitement born of the rod’s presentation still echoing through the fortress, they drank in the tale, Haruuc interrupting with curses against the Marguul bugbear clans, Senen breaking in to beg details about Dabrak Riis and the Uura Odaarii. By the time the story ended with the last emperor’s destruction, however, they were silent and Haruuc bent his head before them all, then in return told them everything that had happened in Rhukaan Draal during their absence.

The second time, alone, was to Vounn in her chambers that same evening. There was a knot in Ashi’s belly as she passed through the door guarded by Aruget and Krakuul. If there was anything she had dreaded on the journey back to Rhukaan Draal other than the fear that the rod’s true powers might be revealed, it was returning to the lady seneschal. The quest was over-she was back under Vounn’s command. The sight of her in Haruuc’s throne room had almost been enough to make Ashi stumble.

And yet, as she sat across from Vounn before a crackling fire and the tale poured out of her, she felt the knot loosen. She’d crossed Darguun, fought bugbears and trolls, confronted an emperor with the power of five thousand years behind him, and in the end it hadn’t been her sword that had turned the tide, but the power of her dragonmark and the skills she had learned-unwillingly-from Vounn. What could she have done if she’d worked with Vounn from the beginning instead of fighting her?

Unlike the Darguuls, the lady seneschal listened to the story without interrupting at all. When Ashi finished, she remained thoughtfully silent, looking into the fire. Eventually, Ashi added, “Vounn, could I stay in Rhukaan Draal a little longer before I go back to Karrlakton?”

Vounn looked up and her lips pressed together briefly before she said, “Baron Breven is already wondering why you’ve taken so long to return.”

Ashi’s eyebrows rose. “You haven’t told him what I’ve been doing?”

“Not yet-but I think I will now. You’ve done well, Ashi. You’ve brought a great deal of honor to Deneith.” A smile crossed her face. “I’m proud of you.”

The praise sent unexpected warmth through her, but also a strange sense of disappointment. “I want to stay to continue my training,” she said. “I want to learn more. From you.”

Surprise pulled at Vounn’s smile, but Ashi saw her contain it. “There’s no denying you could benefit from it,” she said, “but I think we have to follow our own paths now. I still have work to do here. Deneith needs you in Karrlakton. You’ll find other teachers.” The older woman rose. “You’ll be here for a bit longer, though. I’m not sending you back until Haruuc’s soldiers have cleared the roads and engaged the Gan’duur.”

“Don’t you mean Dagii’s soldiers?” Ashi asked.

Vounn’s smile twitched again. “What do you think?” She took Ashi’s arm and walked her to the door. “You should have held back your frustration and kept negotiating with Dabrak Riis. A blunt demand betrays desperation.”

Ashi felt the warmth in her flare up into a little of her old anger for her mentor’s arrogance. She bit it back. “I know, Vounn.”

“Perhaps we can use this as a case study. We can go over it and see what you might have turned to your advantage.” Vounn paused, one hand on the door handle, and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry you lost your grandfather’s sword,” she said.

The words and her sympathy were genuine. “Thank you, Vounn,” Ashi said.

The third time Ashi told the story was in writing in a formal report, written with Midian’s help, to Breven d’Deneith. The fourth time was to Viceroy Pater d’Orien, at Vounn’s suggestion, as a way to persuade him to carry the report to Karrlakton. The fifth and sixth times-and all the times beyond-were to the viceroys of the other dragonmarked houses and to various ambassadors to Haruuc’s court over dinners as lavish as the food shortages permitted. She had Haruuc’s approval to share the tale. The lhesh might have wanted the quest for the rod kept quiet in the beginning, but now that the ancient artifact was in his possession, he wanted the story of its return widely known: it only added to the legend. At his request, she also did her best to assure the uncertain emissaries that Haruuc only sought stability for his people and peaceful prosperity for Darguun.

Midian was her frequent companion at the dinners. The gnome scholar took to the attention like a cat. Tariic was often present as well, though his second-hand version of events seemed to grow in the telling. She overheard him relating to the ambassador from Aundair how her sword had been lost when it had lodged among Makka’s ribs after she’d driven it through him. Haruuc’s nephew, she discovered, was also passing the tale among the warlords and clan chiefs, sometimes with Dagii and Ekhaas, sometimes not. Dagii was frequently busy preparing for the raid against the Gan’duur, while Ekhaas seemed to spend most of her time trying to correct Tariic’s exaggerations of their deeds.

Ashi half-suspected that Tariic was working under Haruuc’s orders to turn the quest for the rod into an epic. There was one good side to his inflated stories, at least: Any hints of the power contained with the rod itself were buried under tales of the last marhu’s command of the cavern’s magic.