The Tyranny of Ghosts: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 3 (24 page)

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 gone, 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.”

“The other houses don’t know that.” Ashi lifted her chin. “As far as they know, I’m still Deneith’s special envoy to Darguun—Tariic made that clear, didn’t he? And he honored me today with a private audience to deliver bad news. I must be in his good graces.”

“But the dragonmarked houses are already doing fast business with Tariic. How can you offer the viceroys a closer connection than that?”

“You don’t understand the mindset of the houses,” said Ashi with a smile. “They’ll always want more. Special treatment, secret information, whatever they can get to give them an advantage.” She sat back in her chair. “We should start with Redek d’Deneith. Baron Breven put him in charge of day-to-day Deneith operations in Darguun. I think it’s time I found out what my own house has been up to.”

However much energy she had, there were still civilities and practical matters to deal with. Ashi couldn’t just march up to the viceroys of the dragonmarked houses that maintained enclaves in Rhukaan Draal. Some, like Pater d’Orien, she knew fairly well. Others, like the viceroys of Houses Vadalis and Sivis, she hardly knew at all. Not all of the viceroys were immediately
available. Redek operated from the large Deneith enclave at the Gathering Stone, two days’ ride north of the city—it took time to summon him and for him to arrive. Nor was he in a talkative mood when he finally did. It took considerable charm to persuade him that she had a right to know what was happening with Deneith’s resources.

The viceroys—and often their staffs—weren’t her only obstacles. As much as she might disdain him, Ashi was sharply aware of Tariic’s attention. He could put a stop to her investigations with a word, even if she claimed to be about the business of House Deneith. She could still only make her calls on the viceroys when Oraan was her escort. At least she was doing something, though. She woke up every day ready to face the wall of Tariic’s ambition. If she didn’t know whether Geth and the others had survived Midian’s visit, she tried to believe that they had. After all, there was no sign of Midian, either.

The information that flowed to her was slow but sweet like honey. The problem was that it didn’t fit together in any but the most obvious of ways.

Twelve days after Tariic had summoned her to the throne room, she pulled out her grandfather’s sword and began to sharpen it. The bright blade never actually needed sharpening or polishing, but it had been her duty to do so as a child when the sword had belonged to her father, then huntmaster of the Bonetree Clan. The sound of the whetstone against the steel was like meditation. It kept her sane.

Senen and Dagii’s assessment had been correct. Tariic was paying the dragonmarked houses with the tribute he exacted from the adoring clans of Darguun. A portion of that money went to House Deneith for the hiring of mercenaries—quite a reversal for the house that more typically made money by brokering the services of Darguul warriors. Squads of war wizards and battle-hardened warlocks had joined the hobgoblin troops that ranged along the border of Darguun and the Mournland. That was sensible, Ashi knew. The elves of Valenar
had an edge on the goblins of Darguun in both magic and mobility. The mercenary spellcasters provided by Deneith would even out one of those advantages.