Don Bassingthwaite - World of traitors

Her palms were wet. She wiped them on the legs of her trousers.

“If we’d taken the rod and run after Haruuc died,” she murmured to Ekhaas in human language as bodies jostled them on all sides, “none of this would be happening.”

The duur’kala glanced at her. “If we’d taken the rod and run,” she answered, lips barely moving, “the succession would have been even more chaotic and Darguun likely would still have been at war with Valenar.”

“We’re going to force a new succession and we’re going to steal the rod.”

Ekhaas’s ears flicked and drooped. “But now we have war. Dar may not understand peace, but we understand war very well. There will be a new lhesh in days, and he won’t need the rod as a symbol to unify the clans. He’ll continue the war with Valenar and that will be enough. Darguun will follow him. And without the rod’s dreams of empire, Darguun will remain only Darguun.”

“If the war drags on, Darguun will weaken. Other nations could decide to take it on. It could fall.”

Ekhaas gave a thin smile. “Even Dhakaan fell eventually, Ashi. We can only make certain Darguun does not fall today.” She stopped. “We part here.”

Ashi raised her head a little, just enough to look around. They stood about fifteen paces from the platform and close to the line of guards that kept the path through the plaza clear. Geth and Chetiin had already pushed and slid their way to a position five paces nearer the platform. Aruget and Midian were a little to the right.

Up on the platform, Vounn chatted casually with warlords, ambassadors, and other envoys. Ashi knew her well enough now to recognize her apparent ease for the act it was. Her mentor’s back was stiff and her hands moved in small circles when she spoke. She knew something was amiss. If she didn’t know Tariic had regained the true rod, she at least guessed it.

Ashi felt a twinge of guilt for the trouble she was about to cause both Vounn and all of House Deneith. She glanced at Makka and at the sword-her sword, the Deneith honor blade-he still carried. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t recovered it. Her grandfather probably wouldn’t have approved of what she was about to do. Or maybe he would have. She forced the sword out of her mind, saying a silent good-bye to it and Vounn alike, then looked at Ekhaas and gave her a silent nod. The duur’kala returned it and moved to join Aruget and Midian. Ashi pushed through the crowd to Geth and Chetiin. The stench of her cowl actually helped-people shifted just to get away from her.

Beneath his cloak, Geth had Wrath already drawn. He turned his head and looked at her. “Ready?” he murmured.

Ashi concentrated, drawing on the power of her dragonmark. The bright lines that patterned her skin warmed and she felt the familiar clarity of the mark’s protection settle over her mind. She concentrated again, the warmth becoming an almost uncomfortable heat, and reached down to touch Chetiin. The goblin shivered as the shield of the Siberys Mark of Sentinel wrapped him as well. Even if Tariic had mastered the rod’s power, they would be safe from it, while Wrath protected Geth. Then she nodded and reached for her sword. “Read-”

A sudden roar erupted from behind them at the edge of the plaza. It spread quickly through the crowd. Heads turned, even among those on the platform. Ashi twisted around.

At the end of the path through the plaza, two hobgoblins rode at the head of a column of soldiers. One wore chains wrapped around his torso like a badge of honor. The other, mounted on a tiger, wore the horned armor of the warlord of Mur Talaan and raised his arms in triumph.

Dagii-and Keraal-had reached the plaza.

“Now!” snapped Geth. His gauntleted arm rose and fell, dashing a vial of dark glass, surrendered by Midian, against the paving stones at their feet. Ashi squeezed her eyes shut.

The intense light released by the shattered vial flared even through her eyelids. All around them, cheers turned into shouts of alarm.

Ashi forced her eyes open again, throwing back her cowl with one hand and drawing her sword with the other. She whirled the blade around her head and let the fluting battlecry of the Bonetree Clan ripple from her lips.

Geth thrust Wrath toward the platform and howled, “Tariic Kurar’taarn! We come for you!”

Shocked and dazzled by the burst of light, startled by cries and swinging swords, the crowd surged away from them. Chetiin drove them back further, darting and tumbling among them like a furious black cat, his dagger slashing at legs. The line of guards trying to hold the crowd back from the path through the plaza buckled and fell as people moved. Out of the corner of her eye, Ashi had a glimpse of Keraal’s horse rearing and Dagii fighting to control his tiger, even as he caught sight of them.

Chaos erupted on the platform as well. Warlords flinched in surprise, then pushed forward like the trained warriors they were, struggling for a moment with the envoys and ambassadors who were trying to get back. Makka forced Pradoor behind him and drew his sword. Tariic, rod raised to greet Dagii, froze for an instant, then moved. The others on the platform had closed in behind him, blocking access to stairs. He turned, crossing the front of the platform away from her and Geth.

And Aruget, waiting just at the edge of the open space cleared by the panicked crowd, waiting for just such an attempt at escape, lifted Midian up onto his shoulders. In one smooth movement, the agent of Zilargo braced himself, brought down his crossbow, and aimed over the heads of the crowd. Ekhaas stepped in front of the pair, drawing her blade to turn back blundering spectators. The crossbow tracked Tariic for a moment, then Midian squeezed the trigger.

Ashi couldn’t hear the crack of the bow’s release over the noise of the crowd’s confusion, but she saw Tariic jerk and sprawl backward. The fletching of a crossbow bolt smeared with Midian’s entire remaining supply of strandpine sap protruded from his throat.

Tariic’s hand spasmed and the Rod of Kings fell from it.

Still howling, still waving Wrath, Geth sprang for the platform. Ashi and Chetiin stayed close behind him, and the remnants of the crowd parted before them. Before the rod had even stopped rolling, before greedy warlords could do more than stare at the prize before their feet, the three of them had vaulted onto the platform. Chetiin took one side of Geth and Ashi the other, twitching her sword back and forth to keep Aguus of Traakuum and Garaad of Vaniish Kai at bay, as the shifter scooped up the rod.

Standing close beside Aguus and Garaad, calmer than any other envoy, Vounn stood and stared at her. Ashi drew a breath between her teeth. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Vounn’s eyes opened wide. Her finger came up-and pointed at something behind Ashi. Aguus and Garaad stiffened as well. Ashi heard a soft curse from Chetiin. She threw a fast look over her shoulder. Like Vounn and the warlords, Geth had stopped and was staring. She followed his eyes down to Tariic’s corpse.

Red-brown flesh seemed to flow and turn dusky gray. Flat, harsh features became round and soft. Brown eyes so bright they were almost red turned white. Short, dark hair grew long and became pale.

A changeling, returned to his true form in death.

“Ko!” choked Geth. He flipped the Rod of Kings around to reveal the faint spiral Tenquis had made to mark the false rod.

Ashi gasped. “Where’s Tariic?”

“Here!”

Ashi whirled as those on the platform parted and the real Tariic stepped forward with the rod-the true rod-raised high. Protected by her dragonmark, she couldn’t feel the power of the true rod, but she could see it in the expressions of those around Tariic. It made the effects of the false rod seem as cheap and gaudy as gilded lead. The Darguul warlords who moved aside for Tariic stood straight, ears high, proud in his presence. The ambassadors and dragonmarked envoys looked even more frightened than they already had. A startled silence spread among the crowd as they saw that Lhesh Tariic still lived-and moreover that he stood before them like an emperor returned.