The tyranny of ghosts tlod-3 Page 17

  The first varags were drawing closer. Geth could see the spittle that flecked their lips. He cursed and readied himself for a fight, but Tenquis had his clenched fist out of his pocket. Silvery dust, a whole handful, glittered as he flung it into the air. Tenquis gestured with his wand and the dust streamed away to spread into a thin, sparkling cloud.

  The lead varag raced into it, two more of his pack close behind him.

  Lightning flashed as if Tenquis had conjured a storm cloud. It danced from silvery dust to the first varag to the second and the third, then back again, leaving the creatures twisting and yelping. A fourth varag entered the cloud and was jolted as well. Others following behind slowed warily.

  “Now run!” Tenquis said and leaped into motion. Geth stayed with him. The varags let out another howl as they saw their prey fleeing, and Geth heard their crashing progress resume, but the charge had been broken. Up ahead, the others had reached the edge of the trees and stood outlined by sunset’s light. Ekhaas stepped forward, and her song swelled. Geth almost felt the bright and rippling notes wash over him, touching him as they passed. Once again, the varags howled. He risked a glance back.

  Glittering golden motes drifted on the air, settling slowly to cover the ground, plants, and at least one of their pursuers. The varag was scrubbing at its eyes and shrieking in confusion. “Bright!” Wrath translated. “Too bright!”

  The other varags knew better than to enter another sparkling cloud. They were already flowing around it, but again they slowed. Geth put his head down and ran hard for the end of the road. He could hear the varags’ rapid footfalls. He thought he could hear their breathing. He didn’t turn around again. Ahead, Ekhaas and Chetiin were shouting encouragement, even as they stepped back into the fading light. Marrow was howling intimidation. Tooth had both of his grinders ready. Thirty paces… twenty… ten…

  A varag shrieked with triumph directly behind him. The sound was like a knife. Geth clenched his teeth and whirled, lashing out with Wrath even before he’d locked eyes on his enemy. A lucky strike-the twilight blade slashed across an outstretched arm. It caught on bone, pulling the varag off balance and dragging a scream of pain from the creature. There were more varags close behind though. Geth met their howls with a roar of defiance and raised Wrath again. Somewhere at his back, Tenquis shouted his name Roar, howl, scream, and shout were all lost in the wail that rolled through the gathering night. There was an eternity of agony in that wail. It was high and weirdly echoing, the tones of it clashing with every other sound like the edge of a blade scraping against armor. It sent a shiver along Geth’s back and raised every hair on his neck and arms. Conflicting instincts fought inside him-turn and face the source, or flee instantly without looking back.

  The varags’ howls turned to short-lived screeches. They slid to a stop, claws digging into the ground and scrabbling across stones. The creatures seemed to freeze for a moment-then the wail came again and they were turning as fast as they could, fleeing silent back into the night. Even the one Geth had wounded and the one Ekhaas’s song-conjured dust had blinded fled as best as they were able, stumbling and hobbling, mewling like pups.

  The wail faded and did not come again.

  Geth turned around slowly. The others were standing and staring silently up the road beyond the jungle wall. Without speaking, Geth went to join them.

  Suud Anshaar-there could be no doubting the identity of the ruins that rose above them like a crown set on top of a low hill. The bloody light of the setting sun washed over the ancient fortress, and for a moment Geth could imagine it had been constructed not of stone, but bones. The ruined walls had the curve of hips and femurs, the fragmented towers the broken appearance of ribs, cracked and smashed to extract the marrow. On the surrounding slope lay massive tumbled stones, fallen over time from the hilltop and rolled downhill by their own weight, as if they sought to escape this haunted place.

  Just as he’d seen while running, no trees adorned the naked ruins, only a few hardy vines and dry, scrubby bushes. Even those faded before they got anywhere near the broken walls of the fortress.

  “The wail,” he asked Ekhaas quietly, “a ghost? Many ghosts?”

  “I don’t know what it was. It doesn’t matter.” Her ears went back, and her jaw tightened. “We’re going in.”

  Geth looked to Tooth. “Do you want to wait for us here?”

  The bugbear’s eyes flicked between the bony ruins and the dense fringe of the jungle. “Maybe I’ll wait under the walls instead.”

  This time, Geth couldn’t help smiling as they followed Ekhaas up the last stretch of ancient road.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  27 Aryth

  Tariic’s summons came more than a week after Senen’s mutilation and exile. Ashi had been expecting it, and she told herself that it was just coincidence that it came at a time when Oraan was not her guard. Tariic couldn’t know the changeling’s identity-could he?

  Woshaar was the guard who delivered her to the throne room of Khaar Mbar’ost. He saluted his lhesh, then retreated. The great door of the chamber, a titanic slab of dark wood, slid down behind him, sealing Ashi in.

  Tariic looked down on her from the blocky throne of Darguun, the Rod of Kings in his hand, a look of distaste on his face. “You’re a scab, Ashi. You itch, you’re ugly, and I want to tear you off and be rid of you.”

  She remembered the first time she’d entered the throne room. It had been her and Vounn’s formal presentation to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor. The hall had been crowded with Darguun’s warlords and clan chiefs, the walls hung with banners depicting their many crests. It had been night, and a mantle of shadows, emphasized rather than dispelled by scattered everbright lanterns, had rendered Haruuc powerful, proud, majestic, and mysterious.

  Tariic had chosen to summon her by day. The sunlight that streamed through the tall windows behind the throne glowed around him-his presence was blinding. There were no warlords or emissaries today, only Pradoor beside him on the dais and his three deaf-mute bugbear guards to the side.

  The crests of the clans, Ashi realized, had been removed. The only banner that remained showed the black silhouette of a spiky crown above a purple bar. The crown of Darguun over the Rod of Kings. The symbol Tariic had taken as his own.

  Ashi raised her chin and met Tariic’s gaze. For the last week, Tariic’s actions and Midian’s parting words-a surprise visit to some old friends-had eaten at her, yet without Senen’s aid, she’d had no way of warning Geth and Ekhaas that the gnome was on their trail. Oraan had kept her in her chambers, partly to avoid additional suspicion from Tariic, partly, she was certain, to give her rage time to cool. It hadn’t.

  “If I’m a scab,” she said, “that makes you a bleeding wound.”

  Tariic’s ears went back. He slammed the rod down onto the arm of the throne. “I am lhesh! You owe me respect!”

  Ashi didn’t flinch. “I owe you nothing,” she said. She raised her hands, letting the sunlight flash on the silver wrist cuffs. “Feel free to take back these beautiful trinkets, if you want.”

  His ears went back even farther, and he hissed a word between his teeth. The bracelets grew chill, then cold. Ashi kept her face hard and her eyes fixed on Tariic. If Oraan had been there, she knew, he would have counseled patience, a smile, dissembling words. Senen and Vounn would have done the same, but where had dissembling gotten them?

  The skin around the cuffs turned white. Pain tingled in Ashi’s fingertips and climbed her arms. She kept her eyes on Tariic even as cold tears blurred her vision. When she could taste ice in the back of her mouth, she finally bent her head.

  “Atcha’rhu,” she said in Goblin. Your honor is great. It was a fight to keep her voice from trembling.

  Tariic smiled benevolently and whispered again. The cold ebbed immediately. The fire in Ashi’s belly only burned hotter. “You are merciful, lhesh,” she said.

  The bite of the comment seemed lost on Tariic, but maybe he believed he was. He sat back and gestur
ed with the rod. “I have questions,” he said. It was a command, not a request, but Ashi spread her aching hands in silent invitation. Tariic snapped his fingers. “Pradoor.”

  The old goblin priestess crouched down beside the throne. Craning her neck, Ashi could see that a rough arc of symbols had been drawn on the floor around her. Pradoor reached out and, with a certainty that was eerily at odds with her clouded eyes, let a handful of powder sift over coals in a metal bowl. Smoke rose around. Pradoor breathed it in and began chanting the words of a prayer calling on the gods of the Dark Six to separate lies from truth. Ashi felt Pradoor’s magic brush against her, a sensation like questing hands on her mind.

  They found no grip, though-the power of her dragonmark protected her against more than just Tariic’s commands. While it shielded her, her mind was a blank page to all forms of divination and magical domination. Tariic had underestimated her. The fire in her belly grew a little more.

  Pradoor didn’t seem to notice anything amiss in her spell. The chant faded. “Ask your questions, lhesh,” she croaked.

  Tariic’s gaze hadn’t turned from Ashi. “How long have you known Geth and the others were in Volaar Draal?”

  She thought quickly. “I found out when you did-when Senen confirmed it.” She let hate fill her voice, disguising the secret triumph she felt.

  “Nu kuur doovol,” said Pradoor. “She speaks the truth.”

  Tariic’s eyes narrowed. “Does she?”

  Ashi wrinkled her nose and spat, “I do! How was I supposed to find out, Tariic? I haven’t had any contact with Senen. Your guards saw to that.”

  “She speaks the truth.”

  “Senen sang messages to Volaar Draal,” said Tariic. “If she could do that, she could sing a message anywhere in Khaar Mbar’ost.”

  “She didn’t sing one to me,” Ashi snapped back. She folded her frost-numbed arms across her chest.

  “She speaks the-”

  “Just tell me if she lies, Pradoor!” roared Tariic. The old goblin’s blind eyes opened wide. She froze for an instant, then slowly bent her head. Tariic’s gaze came back to Ashi.

  “Have you had contact with Dagii of Mur Talaan, then?”

  “No.” A shiver of real fear crept across Ashi’s shoulders. If Tariic suspected Dagii, if he questioned him, he’d learn everything. She kept her voice firm. “Why would I jeopardize a friend after what you did to Senen?”

  “Maybe you had contact with him before Senen’s treachery was revealed and punished.”

  Ashi offered a silent prayer for the warlord’s safety. “I didn’t.”

  Tariic’s eyes darted to Pradoor, but the priestess remained still and silent. He rested his chin on his fist and stared at Ashi. “The changeling who posed as Aruget?”

  “I don’t know where he is.” The questions were too close. Her dragonmark might foil Pradoor’s spell, but Tariic was no fool. If he saw through her lies, they would all unravel. She had to turn the conversation back on him.

  “I want to ask you a question,” she said. “In the hall of honor, when you tortured”-she put a hard emphasis on the word, but Tariic made no reaction-“Senen, Midian told me you were sending him on an errand. I think you sent him to try and kill Geth and the others.” She drew himself up. “Did he succeed?”

  Tariic flicked his ears lazily, prolonging the answer. A fear that she hadn’t expected built in Ashi. Midian couldn’t actually have done it, could he?

  “Yes,” said Tariic finally.

  Her heart dropped. No…

  Beside the throne, Pradoor’s expression tightened, and her face turned toward Tariic for an instant. The lhesh didn’t notice, but Ashi did. Tariic was lying-Pradoor’s spell had caught him! She felt her heart start beating again.

  No, Ashi. She could almost hear Vounn’s voice. Tariic told that lie for a reason. Show people what they want to see, and they’ll believe it. Ashi swallowed her hope. She seized her despair and held onto it. She dredged up all her memories of loss-Vounn’s death, the death of her father, the realization that she was nothing more to House Deneith than an asset to be traded on-and hugged them close. Under such a burden, it was easy to crumble. Her shoulders went slack. Her breath stopped, then returned fast and shallow. Tears rose in her eyes.

  She blinked them away-she’d never let Tariic see her cry, not for any reason.

  And he was watching her, measuring her reaction. She found it easier than ever to hate him. “Do you have any more questions?” she asked harshly.

  Again he paused before answering. “Those are all-for now.” He had the thin smile of a merchant who’d just come out on the better end of a bargain.

  “Then if I may leave you,” Ashi said, taking refuge in formality, “I have duties to House Deneith that I must see to.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just bent her head once, then turned and marched to the throne room door. It was still closed, but she stood facing it, staring at the dark wood with her back to Tariic. After a long while, she heard the lhesh shout, “Open the throne room!”

  As soon as the creaking door had risen high enough, she ducked under so quickly her appearance startled Woshaar, and the guard had to run after her. Ashi didn’t look back at him. She walked to her chambers with her head high and her expression hard, a mask to hide the racing energy inside.

  Tariic had made a mistake. It was up to her to take advantage of it.

  Oraan’s turn as her guard came that evening. No sooner had Woshaar walked away, than Oraan stepped into her chambers, closed the door, and hissed, “What were you doing? What were you thinking? You could have given us away!”

  In the chair that had been Senen’s, Ashi glared back at him. “I didn’t exactly go looking for Tariic. He summoned me.”

  “And what have I been telling you? Keep your head down and your voice quiet. All of Khaar Mbar’ost has been talking about your visit to the throne room. They say you came out looking like Tariic had slapped you. Tariic’s saying it was a reaction to bad news from House Deneith.” The changeling stood straight and crossed his arms, his ears flicking just like a real hobgoblin’s. “Tell me what really happened.”

  Without getting up, Ashi did. Oraan’s ears went lower and lower. By the time she had finished, his lips had pulled back from his teeth. “You were lucky,” he said. “We were lucky.”

  “Have you talked to Dagii lately?” Ashi asked. “I know Tariic hasn’t questioned him, but has he done anything to him?”

  Oraan gave her a sideways glance, as if the question puzzled him. “I’m keeping my distance. I haven’t talked to Dagii, but I’ve seen him. Tariic has been forcing him out to more public appearance-rallies, speeches by the warlord who brought Darguun triumph over the Valenar, that sort of thing. He’s using him to keep the people at a frenzy. I wouldn’t want to be an elf in Rhukaan Draal right now.”

  “Have you found out anything more about what the Kech Shaarat are doing here or why Tariic has been dealing so heavily with the dragonmarked houses?”

  “I said I’ve been keeping my distance. This isn’t the time to draw attention.”

  “We’re going to have to risk it,” said Ashi. “And you can start by making contact with Dagii. We need to know more about whatever he might have learned in the last week.”

  Oraan’s ears stood straight. “Not at the expense of revealing ourselves, we don’t! Tariic’s already suspicious. An agent who’s caught is no good to anyone. We need to keep our heads down more than ever, move slowly-”

  “No.” Ashi looked up at him. The rage that had simmered inside her since she’d left the throne room rose to a boil. “I’ve had enough of moving slowly. One of my friends is dead because of Tariic. Another one will never sing again. An assassin is hunting others. I’ve had enough. I want to stop Tariic, and hiding in my chambers isn’t going to make that happen.”

  Oraan bared his teeth again. “Listen to me, Ashi,” he growled. “You’ve been very lucky so far, but this isn’t a game for amateurs. Midian may be go
ne, but anyone could be eyes and ears for-”

  Ashi stood up and thrust her face into his. “When do I stop being an amateur, Oraan? When Geth, Ekhaas, Chetiin, Tenquis, and Dagii-and maybe even you-are all dead? When I have no allies left? I can’t just put on another face and become someone else. I only have one life. You’ve got the King’s Citadel of Breland behind you. I don’t even have the support of my house anymore.” She poked a finger into the middle of his chest. “Whatever Tariic is planning, I’m going to find out.”

  He grabbed her hand and pushed it away. “Ashi-”

  Ashi twisted her hand in his grasp, grabbed onto his wrist, and wrenched his arm around. Surprise crossed the changeling’s face, and he tried to twist back, but Ashi had grown up wrestling the other children of the savage Bonetree Clan. She kicked Oraan’s feet out from under him as he turned, and went down with him as he fell, pinning him under her.

  Hunter of the Shadow Marches. Lady of Deneith. She was a child of both worlds-why deny either?

  “Dagii and Senen asked me to find out what Tariic wants with the dragonmarked houses,” she said in Oraan’s ear. “I’m going to. You can help me, or you can get out of my way.”

  She turned him loose and stood back. Oraan lay on the floor for a moment, then rolled over and looked up at her. He smiled, a grin without any humor or warmth at all.

  “Welcome to the game,” he said. “Where do you want to start?”

  She was ready for him. “A week ago, I could have followed the advice Senen gave me-trade on the other houses’ curiosity about Vounn’s death. I think that source of interest will have been overtaken by Senen’s mutilation now.” Ashi sat down. “Vounn always said that the essence of diplomacy is using what people want to get what you need. The only thing I’ve got right now that the other houses would want is a direct line of communication to Tariic.”

  Oraan’s ears stood straight as he rose. “You don’t exactly have Tariic’s favor.”