“What about Tariic?” asked Geth. “If Daavn was using him for information, he should know.”
Vounn shook her head. “You haven’t been paying attention in court.” She looked around, then nodded toward the crest of the bridge.
Tariic stood with Daavn, laughing heartily.
“Tariic’s been making allies among the warlords,” Vounn said. “He’s expecting Haruuc to name him as his heir. Since the last assembly of warlords, Daavn has become one of his closest friends. They’re not often apart.” She turned back to Geth. “I don’t think he’d believe me. You have to tell Haruuc. Daavn needs to be investigated.”
“I-” Geth stared at her, then shook his head. “No. I can’t.”
“Geth!” Vounn hissed. “This is serious! If I’m right, Daavn is a threat.”
“And if I tell Haruuc your suspicions, what do you think he’ll do? He’ll send Dagii after the Marhaan and the warriors of another clan will hang on the grieving trees.”
Ashi’s eyes opened wide. “Blood in your mouth! He wouldn’t do that.”
“Right now, I think he would.”
Somewhere in the distance, a horn wailed, rising and falling in the dusk like the scream of a hunting cat. A murmur ran through the gathered warlords, and they all turned to look along the road to the north.
“That’s the signal from Dagii,” said Geth. “He’s close. I have to go.” He pulled Vounn’s hand from his. “I’ll tell Munta. He’ll know what to do.” He looked at Ashi. “If you’re staying in Rhukaan Draal until after the games, we’ll be able to talk on the road.”
“You’re leaving?”
Geth nodded, then turned and pushed his way back to where Haruuc stood, now at the front of the crowd. The lhesh barely gave him a glance as he took up his position at his shoulder.
The column of Dagii’s soldiers was still just a cloud of dust on the other side of a hill in the road, but Geth could already hear the rattle of arm and treading of feet. There was another sound, too- the screaming and crying of dozens of voices. “What’s that?” he asked Haruuc.
“The women and children of what was once Gan’duur,” said the lhesh. “The Bloody Market will be busy tomorrow.”
“You’re selling them as slaves? Haruuc-”
Haruuc looked over his shoulder, his ears back against his head. “They are alive. Will you complain about that?”
Geth closed his mouth.
There was movement at the top of the hill. Not the soldiers, but a cart drawn by a pair of muscular tribex. Sound on the bridge died. Three hobgoblins crouched in the cart. Two more hobgoblins in dirty and bloodstained tunics rode on the tribex, guiding them with switches. Near the foot of the bridge, the last pair of grieving trees waited, naked as if winter had come early. Sap still oozed from the cut wood. The carters stopped their team between the two trees and swung to the ground. One took a stout ladder from the side of the cart and set it against a tree, while the other, moving with a slight limp, went to the back of the cart and hauled out one of the prisoners. It seemed as if the man was too weak to walk on his own. The carter slung him over his shoulder and mounted the ladder as the other held it steady. With a groan that was audible from the bridge, he pushed the prisoner into the branches of the tree.
His groan was met with a cheer from among the warlords, a cheer repeated as the carter produced rope and lashed the prisoner into place. On the far bank of the Ghaal, the people of the city must have realized something was happening. They began to cheer as well.
Blood stained the trunk of the grieving tree in a long, curling thread. “Maabet,” someone roared. “He’s bleeding, he’ll die too fast-don’t you know your job?”
Another shout came out of the crowd. “Move, taat! Make way for honorable warriors!”
The carter wouldn’t be hurried, though. With slow and weary movements, he fetched another prisoner and hung him in the last tree, binding him fast. This time, the prisoner looked like he might already be dead. There was a chorus of disappointment from Haruuc’s court. The carter ignored them, dismissing his assistant with a salute. The second man ran back along the road to where the soldiers were now coming over the hill.
“You’ve still got one to hang!” It was Tariic, standing on Haruuc’s other side. “Put him up and get out of the way.”
The carter only took hold of the halter of one of the tribex and led his team forward onto the bridge. Geth saw Haruuc’s ears flick in annoyance.
“Do your duty and get out of the way, soldier!” Haruuc called down.
The carter raised his head. “I do my duty, lhesh,” he called, and Geth finally recognized the haunted face under the dirt and sweat. It was Dagii. The crowd on the bridge fell silent. In the silence, Geth heard a gasp. He looked and saw Ekhaas standing nearby with Senen Dhakaan. Her eyes were on Dagii. The cart creaked to a stop and Dagii put his fist to his chest in a salute. His hands were blistered and torn, caked with filth and blood. They hadn’t gotten that way, Geth realized, from placing just two prisoners into trees.
Haruuc saw too. “How many, Dagii?” he asked in disgust.
“A pair every second league from the Gathering Stone, lhesh. Seventy-two. All of the surviving warriors of the Gan’duur.”
“You give them too much dignity.”
“They died as you commanded, lhesh.” Dagii’s weary gray eyes met Haruuc’s. Geth thought he saw a rebuke there and found that he had a new respect for the young warlord. Haruuc’s ears folded flat against his skull, but Dagii just stepped back and pulled the final prisoner from the cart. “Here is Keraal, who was their chief. Your prisoner, lhesh.”
Keraal’s face was bruised and swollen. His good eye glared at the court gathered on the bridge. “Haruuc,” he croaked.
“Keraal.” Haruuc’s ears eased up again and he drew a deep, satisfied breath. “You told me that it is not in the nature of our people to share land, that we are conquerors and rulers. Tell me-how does it feel to be conquered?”
“You tell me.” Keraal twisted his distorted features into a defiant smile. “Do you still cower on the doorstep of the humans?”
His voice rang in the silence over the bridge.
Haruuc stepped forward with the speed of a man half his age and struck Keraal hard. The defeated warlord slammed back into the side of the cart. Haruuc seized him with one hand, dragged him back to his feet, and turned to face his court.
“Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor cowers before no one!” he roared. “Darguun cowers before no nation!” He threw Keraal to the ground. “Does anyone doubt it?”
No one answered. Haruuc swept the crowd gathered on the bridge with an angry gaze. “Darguun is the land of the people. The mighty people. The quick people. The strong people. The people who ruled Khorvaire before humans came.” He thrust the Rod of Kings, gripped in his other hand, high against the sky. “This is the heritage of Dhakaan-a heritage that we will reclaim!”
The silence held for a heartbeat longer-then was torn away by a roar from the gathered court. Geth felt like a leaf buffeted by the wind. It was all he could do to stand upright and stare at Haruuc.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
They returned to Khaar Mbar’ost surrounded by an ocean of noise. Word of Haruuc’s declaration spread ahead of the procession, and the excitement that had already gripped Rhukaan Draal was doubled. People clustered at the side of the street. They hung out of windows. They clung to rooftops. The sound they made was deafening. There was no hope of talking to Haruuc. It was just too loud. Munta rode up and tried to shout at the lhesh. Tariic tried. A whole series of warlords came forward and fell back, some looking worried, many looking pleased. Whatever they said or tried to say, the cheers of the crowd killed it. Geth, riding at Haruuc’s side, didn’t even bother making the attempt. Haruuc just rode on, smiling and waving.
