The tyranny of ghosts tlod-3 Read online

  As she made her request, the knot in her stomach grew tighter, Tuura’s expression grew harder-and the smile that grew across Diitesh’s pale face became gloating.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  16 Aryth

  Song, half-heard, surrounded Geth as he returned to himself. Visions, half-remembered, of a distant time and place were already fading in his head. He had a lingering memory of a hobgoblin woman, a duur’kala and an empress. A name came to him: Mekiis Kuun, fourth in the line of heroes who had wielded Wrath in the time of the Dhakaani Empire. At the back of his mind, the sword’s presence tickled him with something that felt like pride in the ancient heroine.

  His throat was dry. “Iinanen,” he croaked in Goblin. Thirsty. There was no response, only a rising chatter of voices that replaced the song. Geth opened his eyes. “Iinanen!”

  One of the crowd of archivists and duur’kala that packed the room glanced over at him, then picked up a metal cup and thrust it at him without taking her attention off the expanding argument. Shifting Wrath from its position at his side, Geth pushed himself up from the couch where he lay. Cold mushroom tea. He drank it anyway, then scanned the crowd for the yellow face of the High Archivist.

  “Diitesh,” he called, “are we done?”

  Diitesh broke away from a conversation to look at him as if he were a piece of furniture that had inconveniently learned to talk. “There are questions,” she said. “Where was the palace where Emperor Okaat Baaz courted Mekiis Kuun? When did she lay the Sword of Heroes aside-”

  “I’ve told you before. I don’t know. Wrath doesn’t remember things like that.”

  The insolent growl silenced that babbling crowd. Geth glared at them, though mostly at Diitesh, and stood up. His legs felt loose and weak after lying on the couch all day. “We’re done,” he said. He gathered Wrath and walked for the door.

  Behind him, the archivists and duur’kala started talking again, his presence-or lack of it-irrelevant.

  Ekhaas was waiting for him outside. “Who were you today?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He looked at her. Ekhaas’s eyes were red and squinting. “Did you find anything?”

  “What do you think?”

  Geth just grunted and sheathed Wrath.

  Diitesh’s permission for access to the vaults and the records of the archivists had come with a price. Only Ekhaas would be permitted to search the massive Register for references to the Rod of Kings and only if Geth agreed to share the memories of Dhakaan contained within Wrath. An exchange of knowledge for knowledge. Diitesh had presented the proposition as if it were the fairest deal in the world-but then for her, it was. Not even Tuura Dhakaan could have granted them access to the vaults over the High Archivist’s objections.

  For the week since they had arrived in Volaar Draal, Geth had spent his days in a dream as duur’kala songs drew out the nebulous memories, while archivists scribbled down his words. Unlike the Rod of Kings, the touch of the Sword of Heroes was light on his mind, providing inspiration but no more. Not usually, at least. Under the influence of the duur’kala magic, the memories flowed right through him, leaving him with nothing but vague recollections and a headache. At least Diitesh had been true to her word-though perhaps too true. Ekhaas had access to the Register but no one to help her search it. Finding something to help them stop Tariic and the rod could take months. At least, Geth was sure, as long as it would take Diitesh to ransack the memories of the sword.

  He wondered sometimes if they might not have been better off staying on the run in the mountains. And not just because of Diitesh’s antagonism, either. He looked up into the darkness above Volaar Draal as they emerged onto the streets of the city. “I need to get outside, Ekhaas. I need to see the sun and the moons.”

  Ekhaas’s ears twitched. “You know we can’t. Being granted sanctuary doesn’t mean you can come and go whenever you want. By our tradition a host honors her guests, but guests have their muut-their duty-to the host.”

  “I just want to step out of the gates,” he protested. “It’s not like we’d run into Tariic’s patrols.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Tuura has told the gate watch not to let us pass. I think she’s worried we’d go off and try to rescue Ashi.” She looked at him sideways. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t.”

  A growl rose up Geth’s throat, but he bit if off with clenched teeth. Learning Ashi was alive had been a mixed blessing. She was still Tariic’s prisoner-and he felt helpless because there was nothing they could do about it. Rescuing Ashi wouldn’t help them stop Tariic, and it would certainly cost them their access to the lore of the Kech Volaar.

  “No new information from Senen?” he asked. Ekhaas shook her head. Her ears flicked back as she did, and Geth knew she wasn’t thinking just about Ashi. One of Senen’s reports had made a passing reference to Dagii but no more than that. Was he still an ally or was he under Tariic’s power?

  If he was controlled by the Rod, he wouldn’t have been the only one. Senen had also mentioned Midian’s appearance as Tariic’s royal historian. Geth would have expected the gnome to flee for Zilargo. He couldn’t believe Midian remained at Tariic’s side of his own free will. For that matter, they couldn’t even trust that Senen’s will was her own, though her continued warnings that she was being watched at least suggested it.

  “I hate this,” he said. “There has to be something more we can do.”

  Ekhaas’s ears went even farther back. “I know. If I had an archivist to help me with the Register-or even another duur’kala-I might at least be able to find the right place to start.”

  “No other duur’kala will help you?”

  Ekhaas made a face. “They don’t want to cross Diitesh. And to be honest, they’re all more interested in you right now.”

  “It’s nice to be wanted,” Geth said dryly. “Do you want to duel?”

  One of the discomforts of Volaar Draal was passing the time-he and Tenquis weren’t exactly welcome in the gathering places of the dar city. Ekhaas and Chetiin, of course, blended in with the other goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears, but a tiefling and a shifter stuck out like… well, like chaat’oor. There was no shortage of private dueling circles in the city, however, and Ekhaas had started joining Geth in them, fighting away the tension that gathered during the day. Occasionally Chetiin fought with them as well, though neither of them could land a touch on him unless he permitted it. Tenquis abstained entirely, preferring to sit beside the ring and read. Diitesh might have blocked him from access to the wonders of the vaults, but he’d sought out the smiths and masons of the Kech Volaar. Against all expectations, he’d even managed to make contacts among them and was busy learning what he could of half-remembered daashor traditions from their techniques and borrowed scrolls.

  Ekhaas, though, only shook her head at the invitation to duel. “I can’t keep up with you,” she said. “I need a rest. Let’s go look for Tenquis. He’s probably still with the smiths.”

  “He isn’t.”

  Geth almost jumped at the sound of Chetiin’s scarred voice. His hand went to Wrath, and he whirled around, looking for the goblin. He found him crouched in the shadows below the statue of some unnamed Dhakaani hero, calm and undisturbed. “Boar’s snout,” Geth said. “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you.” Chetiin stood up. “Tenquis hasn’t been visiting the smiths of Volaar Draal.”

  “What’s he been doing then?” asked Ekhaas. “Where did he get those books?” Her ears rose. “Why have you been following him?”

  Chetiin actually looked slightly ashamed for the first time since Geth had known him. “I wasn’t following him. I came across him yesterday when I was coming back into Volaar Draal.”

  “Chetiin!” said Ekhaas in protest.

  “The shaarat’khesh come and go as they please,” the old goblin said stubbornly. “I wanted to speak to Marrow.”

  “Was it nice outside?” Geth asked.

  “The air was as sharp and clear as a knife made
of glass.”

  “You still broke the terms of sanctuary.” Ekhaas looked around them as if Diitesh might be lurking nearby, ready to pounce on this violation.

  “Ignore that. As I was coming back into the city, I came across Tenquis. I was mistaken when I said he’d make a good golin’dar. He has no talent for stealth. He wasn’t in the smiths’ quarter of the city, though. Today I followed him to see where he went.”

  “And?”

  “Proof requires more than words,” said Chetiin. “Come with me.”

  Chetiin led them to a building on the other side of Volaar Draal that seemed mostly deserted, with only scattered ghostlights glimmering in the narrow windows. Geth raised an eyebrow to Chetiin, but he just shook his head and ushered them inside. The corridors were empty and smelled mostly of damp stone.

  “What is this place?” Geth asked Ekhaas softly.

  “Unused apartments,” she said. “The clan grows and shrinks. Buildings fall in and out of common use.”

  Chetiin gestured for silence, then pointed up a flight of narrow stone stairs. They moved, the goblin as noiselessly as a shadow, hobgoblin and shifter as quietly as possible. Two floors up, Chetiin pointed around the corner of a landing into another corridor. Geth eased his head around the corner. Light shone around a door, and he could just make out voices. One of them might have been Tenquis’s, but he wasn’t sure. He mimed approaching the door to Chetiin, who nodded. Walking softly, Geth stepped into the corridor and slipped up to the door.

  It was Tenquis, speaking Goblin. From the cadence of his voice, it sounded like he was reading something. Geth gripped Wrath’s hilt, and the words became clear.

  “-rebellion among the nobles ultimately cost Saabak Puulta, marhu of Dhakaan, fifth lord of the Second Puulta dynasty, his life, but many of the nobility of the empire died along with him. Though Saabak Puulta’s successor, Giis Puulta, lavished favor on a chosen few, the empire would never be strong again. On the Stela of Rewards that he erected before his fortress of Zaal Piik, it is recorded that this was the time when muut was broken.” Tenquis paused, his voice thin with amazement. “Horns of Ohr Kaluun.”

  “Indeed,” answered another voice. “Records from the era of the Rebellion of Lords are sparse. It was a shameful time, but the Stelae of Rewards that emperors and generals of Dhakaan erected as memorials to those they deemed heroes are a rich source of information. Here is the final piece of the puzzle, though-and if you ever doubted your decision to approach me, then don’t, because I am the only one who could have brought you this.”

  The second voice was familiar. It belonged to a woman, probably a hobgoblin, and Geth had a feeling that with just a few more words, he would recognize her. Ekhaas, apparently, needed no time at all. Her ears went back flat. Her skin flushed dark. In three swift steps, she spun around Geth and kicked the door. It slammed open.

  From over a table covered in books and scrolls and loose pieces of age-darkened paper, two faces stared back at them in surprise. One was Tenquis. The other was “Kitaas!” snarled Ekhaas. “What are you doing here?”

  For an instant, both the artificer and the archivist simply looked startled. Then Kitaas rose imperiously. “I, my sister, am recovering the heritage of Dhakaan while you seem intent on denying it!”

  Ekhaas bared her teeth. “What are you talking about?”

  Geth felt a whirl of confusion. After Kitaas’s greeting when they had arrived in Volaar Draal, he wouldn’t have expected that she and Tenquis would exchange polite words, let alone meet in secret. The only thing he could really understand was why Chetiin had insisted they see this for themselves. He wouldn’t have believed it.

  A scowl flitted across Tenquis’s face, and he stood as well. “Get out!” he said. “Just get out and leave us alone.”

  Ekhaas and Kitaas had locked eyes, however. “You travel with a store of knowledge you don’t even recognize,” said Kitaas. “This one understands the lore of the daashor better than our own smiths”-she pointed at Tenquis-“and archivists will record Kitaas as the one who bargained to bring it back.”

  “You called him chaat’oor,” Ekhaas said. “Which is he, then? A defiler of Dhakaan or a guardian of its lore?”

  Geth looked to Tenquis in surprise. The tiefling’s face was taut with frustration. “I traded some of my knowledge for access to records from the vault,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Records from the vaults?” Ekhaas strode up to the table and snatched up a scroll. “Kitaas, you took records from the vaults?”

  Kitaas’s ears flicked. “Don’t question my muut. I am adjunct to the High Archivist. The secrets of the daashor are worth showing a few minor histories to a chaat’oor.”

  “We can talk about this later,” said Tenquis. He turned golden eyes to Geth. “Please just go now!”

  The hair on Geth’s arms and the back of his neck rose. There was more than just frustration and anger in Tenquis’s voice. There was anxiety too. Maybe even outright fear. He genuinely needed them out of there. “Ekhaas,” Geth said, “we should go. This isn’t the right time-”

  The duur’kala wasn’t swayed. She looked at the scroll in her hands. “The life of Taruuzh?” Her glare moved from Kitaas to Tenquis. “I’ve been struggling on my own to learn about the Rod of Kings and you’ve been here learning about the rod’s maker with her.” Ekhaas flung down the scroll. “Is all of this about Taruuzh?”

  Kitaas froze. Her eyes darted to Tenquis, and her ears went all the way back.

  “No,” said Tenquis. His voice was soothing, but he took a step away from her and held out his hands. “No, Kitaas. This isn’t what you think.”

  “Isn’t it?” asked Kitaas, baring her teeth-then she grabbed a curl of paper from the table and bolted for the door.

  “No!” Tenquis spat. “Stop her!”

  Geth leaped. Kitaas tried to duck past him, but he got his arms around her and wrestled her to the ground. She drew breath, ready to shout. Geth freed one hand and slapped it over her mouth, then yanked it away with a hiss as she sank sharp teeth into his fingers. He grabbed a fold of her black robe, forcing it into her mouth and holding it there as a makeshift gag. Kitaas’s eyes blazed at him.

  Her hands writhed underneath them. Geth heard the tearing of paper.

  “Get her up!” Tenquis came hurrying around the table. Geth twisted around, turning Kitaas over. Scraps of paper fluttered away. Tenquis cursed and scooped them up. His face flushed dark. “Mercy of the sorcerer-kings!” he cursed as he bent down to pry the last pieces from Kitaas’s fingers. “Well done, Ekhaas. You couldn’t have just left us alone?”

  She looked at him in amazement. “What were you doing?” she asked.

  The tiefling’s teeth showed stark white against his skin. “What you couldn’t. Getting an archivist’s help.” He got the last bit of paper away from Geth’s prisoner and stood. “I’m sorry, Kitaas, but she was right.”

  Kitaas shrieked into her makeshift gag, thrashing with new energy. Geth tightened his hold on her as he stared up at Tenquis.

  “I could tell after your first day with the Register that you weren’t going to get anywhere,” Tenquis said. “It was obvious that Diitesh was playing you. If you were going to find anything, it would be by pure chance, and how long would that take? I’ve done this sort of research before. You needed help. I decided to get it by pretending to search for additional daashor lore.”

  The tiefling stood at the table, his back to them in anger as he picked through the scraps of paper Kitaas had shredded and struggled to piece them together. Geth exchanged glances with Ekhaas and Chetiin. They both looked like he felt-stunned at Tenquis’s initiative. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked.

  Ekhaas spoke at the same moment. “Why Kitaas?” More properly restrained with rope drawn from one of Tenquis’s magical pockets, her sister squirmed and hissed.

  Tenquis raised his head and finally looked around. His eyes went to Geth first, and he looked a little shamed
. “Maybe I should have told you,” he said. “But you’ve been spending time with duur’kala digging into your mind. And if I’d told you, Ekhaas, what would you have done?” He dropped the paper scraps and turned fully to face them. “I could have traded some of what I knew about the daashor to any archivist, but that wouldn’t have been enough. Your people are too devoted to their sense of duty. You and Kitaas gave me what I needed. A chance to recover lost lore and steal glory from you was more than she could resist.”

  Kitaas gave another muffled curse. Geth watched Ekhaas’s face flush, then go pale, then flush again. Her lips pressed tight together and her ears pulled back. “My sister despises me more deeply than she despises chaat’oor. I am flattered.” Kitaas hissed again. Ekhaas ignored her.

  “If she even suspected it was some kind of trick, she would have had us thrown out of Volaar Draal,” said Tenquis.

  “She still can. More so, now.” Ekhaas took a deep breath. “Let’s hope it wasn’t all for nothing. I’m sorry we interrupted you, Tenquis. What have you found?”

  “Ah.” A smile spread across Tenquis’s face-one that reminded Geth too much of a schoolmaster from his childhood-as he gestured for them to join him around the table. “You’ve been searching the Register for mention of the Rod of Kings. I couldn’t be that direct. If I wanted Kitaas to believe that all I wanted was more information about the daashor, I couldn’t approach the rod directly. So I told her I wanted to start my search with the great Taruuzh. He may have created the Rod of Kings and the Sword of Heroes, but he created other wonders as well.”

  “The first grieving trees,” said Ekhaas. “Fortresses. What about them?”

  “We’ve been so focused on the rod and the sword that we’ve ignored something else. When you, Geth, and Dagii brought me the rod to study, you told me a story about the creation of it and the sword.”

  Ekhaas’s ears flicked and her eyes narrowed. “The Rod of Kings or Guulen-‘Strength’ in the human language-was created by Taruuzh daashor from byeshk ore he mined himself out of a vein he named Khaar Vanon, the Blood of Night. He forged the Sword of Heroes, Aram or ‘Wrath,’ from the same ore. That’s how we were able to find the rod in the first place. Geth recovered the sword from the ghost fortress of Jhegesh Dol and duur’kala songs reawakened its connection to the rod.”