The Doom of Kings: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 1 (47 page)

Ekhaas’s ears rose, and there was a new murmur in the crowd.
Lhevk-rhu
was the third highest rank in the military structure Haruuc had created after the war. It raised Dagii above most common warlords, leaving him outranked only by a few elder warlords, like Munta the Gray, and the lhesh himself. Dagii looked up and met Haruuc’s eyes.

“I accept it,” he said. He reached out and wrapped his left hand around the sharpened edge of the offered sword. With a slow, steady motion, Haruuc withdrew the sword and fresh blood ran along the blade. There was new applause from scattered warlords in the crowd—applause that Haruuc stopped with a gesture.

“Dagii,” he said, “your new rank comes with a responsibility. Remind me—remind all gathered here—where the territory of the Mur Talaan lies.”

Dagii’s ears stood high. “Lhesh, the territory of the Mur Talaan is the land beneath Rhukaan Draal.”

“If the territory of a clan has been attacked, what must its warlord do?”

Confusion and suspicion narrowed Dagii’s eyes, and his gaze flicked to the smoke still visible over Rhukaan Draal. “The warlord must defend his clan’s territory. If the attack cannot be defended against or occurs in his absence, he must strike back against the attacker—if the lhesh, by your law, grants him permission to do so.” Dagii drew himself up. “Lhesh, has the territory of the Mur Talaan been attacked?”

“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.

O
ver 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.

Chetiin and Geth escaped the madness, Chetiin because the black-clad goblin seemed to be found only when he wanted to be, Geth because he was never far from Haruuc’s side. The first evening after the presentation of the rod, when they had all gathered in the small chamber in Khaar Mbar’ost, Haruuc had told him that the relationship between
shava
didn’t mean that he had to stay constantly close, that
shava
did generally lead separate lives and that he was even free to leave Darguun if he wanted. Geth had chosen to stay with Haruuc, though, and Ashi was certain it was precisely so he could avoid being constantly pestered to tell his story. Not that he seemed to have a problem with other people telling it—Ashi was equally certain he was enjoying his growing reputation as a hero. Wrath was on display almost as often as the Rod of Kings.

With the promise of action against the Gan’duur at hand, the threat of unrest eased. Darguun’s warlords remained in the city, and when they met, Vounn pointed out the various members of the assembly who had claimed critical shortages of food only days before but who now had an abundance to spare. Fresh supplies for the city were promised. Haruuc even expanded the
noon
dole that he had established in celebration of this newfound prosperity— tales of the Rod of Kings were beginning to filter down to the general population of Rhukaan Draal. At Haruuc’s invitation and expense,
duur’kala
and common storytellers were sent out into the streets to tell legends of the emperors of Dhakaan who had once held the rod.

With his warlords behind him, Haruuc also spoke out against the Gan’duur and other rebellious clans. Sympathizers were as much a threat, he told his court, as the Gan’duur themselves. He received thunderous applause. A bugbear was found beaten on the edge of the Bloody Market. Ashi heard one story that said he was a food vendor who had tried to raise prices to take advantage of the last days of the crisis; she heard another that said he had been an associate of the Gan’duur. A day later the story had changed again and he was declared the victim of Gan’duur sympathizers. The
duur’kala
telling tales in the street brought back rumors that certain groups were getting ready
to hunt for these violent sympathizers before they could strike again. Haruuc went out into the city and walked in the market, telling people that if there were sympathizers in Rhukaan Draal, they were unlikely to make any moves. He left the market surrounded by a cheering mob that followed him all the way to the gates of Khaar Mbar’ost.

Chetiin appeared in Ashi’s chamber. “The bugbear owed too much money to the wrong people,” he said. “It’s nothing more sinister than that.”

“I used my dragonmark in the assembly today,” she told him. “If Haruuc was somehow tapping the power of the rod, it would have protected me. There was nothing.”

“Haruuc has always been able to whip a crowd into a frenzy. People are just excited. Having an enemy creates unity.”