of some strange blend of incense. All she could see was the stone of the floor underfoot, and that was still rough- edged, relatively new and not yet worn down by the centuries and the passing of countless feet. There were shadows-the room was dimly lit but not dark-and off to each side she could see ranks of heavy hobgoblin boots. Ahead of her, Vounn walked with calm assurance, as if out for a stroll. Behind her, Geth was swearing softly in amazement.
She clenched her teeth and kept her head down for a good fifteen paces, but then she could stand it no longer. She lifted her head for a swift and surreptitious look around-only to find that she couldn’t lower her eyes again.
The throne room of Lhesh Haruuc was as big as she’d imagined it, made larger by the deep shadows that spread up the walls to the ceiling and gathered between the pools of light shed by widely spaced everbright lanterns. Tall statues of hobgoblin warriors stood against the wall, the lanterns at their feet emphasizing the fierce faces that snarled down at those below. Between the statues hung banners with the crests of the clans of Darguun. There were easily two dozen or more of them-some large, most smaller-and for each banner there was a warlord.
They stood in front of benches, heavily carved with images of battle, that had been placed at an angle to the front of the hall. Hobgoblins, some bugbears, a very few goblins, all of them dressed in robes and polished armor, all of them watching the party pacing the length of the throne room. Ekhaas had said that some of them were only warlords by formality, that many were really just clan chiefs given a place in Haruuc’s assembly by tradition. When the assembly wasn’t in session, they would return to territories often as small as a single crude holding.
Clan chief or mighty warlord, it made little difference. Ashi felt as though she bore the weight of each dark- eyed gaze, and it was almost enough to make her lower her head again. Almost, but not quite. The throne rose up ahead of her.
Benches, banners, and statues all seemed designed to focus attention on the dais at the end of the hall. Tall windows rose behind the dais, framing it with night’s dark skies and gently swirling draperies. On the dais stood a blocky throne, and on the throne sat Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor.
Ashi’s first thought was that she wouldn’t want to face him on the battlefield. Haruuc was powerfully built. He had big hands and wide shoulders, and his armor carried vicious spikes. A heavy hobgoblin sword, its blade stained red, leaned against one arm of the throne as if ready for use-the infamous shaarat’kor that had carved out a nation. Haruuc’s face was strong, the sharp lower teeth that pushed over his upper lip and a thin beard giving him an expression of perpetual ferocity. He wore a spiked crown on his brow that looked like it might have been fashioned from broken swords. His eyes were bright and intense, and when they settled briefly on her, Ashi felt for a moment as if she were the focus of all Haruuc’s interest.
“Who comes to the court of Lhesh Haruuc?” he asked in the same deep voice she had listened to from the antechamber. Without Geth’s sword translating his speech in her mind, she heard his words in Goblin and felt the power he put behind even such a simple, ritual phrase.
“Tariic of Rhukaan Taash, son of Haluun, nephew to Haruuc, comes,” said Tariic. “He comes with guards and a scholar who serve him. He returns from Karrlakton in Karrnath with a guest to the court.”
“Vounn of Deneith, daughter of Sigor, comes,” said Vounn in turn, her Goblin flawless. “She comes at the invitation of Lhesh Haruuc as the envoy of Deneith. She comes with Ashi of Deneith, daughter of Ner, and a guard who serves her.”
“Ekhaas of Kech Volaar, daughter of the dirge, comes.”
“Chetiin of the Silent Blades comes,” said Chetiin, the last to speak. “He comes alone but bears the peace of the Silent Clans.”
The thin hobgoblin who had summoned them into the throne room stepped onto a corner of the dais. “Do you who come owe allegiance to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor?”
Tariic and the three guards spoke in unison. “We owe allegiance to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor.”
“Do you who come without allegiance pledge friendship to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor as guests to host in ancient bond?”
“We pledge friendship to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor,” said Ashi along with the others.
The thin hobgoblin turned to Haruuc. “Lhesh, do you accept as host these guests who come?”
“I accept them.” He held up his right hand, taking all of them in with a sweeping gesture. “You are all welcome in my court,” he said-then added, “and throughout the land of the people as if you were beneath my roof.”
The words weren’t part of the ceremony and it took a moment for Ashi to work out what Haruuc had said. Even as she puzzled it out, though, mutters were passing through the assembly of warlords and the thin hobgoblin’s ears were twitching in agitation. It wasn’t the only surprise Haruuc had for them, though. Rising from his throne, he stepped down from the dais, stood before Vounn, and smiled broadly at her. “Saa’atcha, Vounn d’Deneith. Ke chidar esaa roo, mo’esaa te.”
Ashi didn’t understand his words, but she watched in amazement as the high warlord of Darguun wrapped his arms around Vounn and hugged her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Honored greetings, Vounn d’Deneith. As your people greet friends, I welcome you.”
Ekhaas stared as Haruuc pulled Vounn into a rough embrace. Among the goblin races, hugs were reserved for immediate family-and even then, only in private. Humans were far more casual about such close contact, and she’d grown accustomed to seeing human friends put their arms around each other. For Haruuc to do so with Vounn before the assembly of warlords was both more than the situation called for and spectacularly awkward. However well-intended the gesture might have been, the embrace would have been out of place even in a human court. Haruuc was lhesh, though, and it wasn’t the first time he’d unexpectedly adopted a new custom.
Still, Ekhaas found somewhere else to look as Vounn stiffened in surprise, and she was fairly certain that all of the warlords would be having some kind of similar and silent reaction. Tariic abruptly saw great interest in his boots. The thin hobgoblin-a mistress of rituals named Razu if she remembered correctly-went pale and actually turned away, most likely hoping that the custom wasn’t one the court was expected to follow.
If Ekhaas been any farther away from Haruuc and Vounn, though, she would have completely missed the words that the lhesh whispered, in the human tongue, into the lady seneschal’s ear. “Complain about the mercenaries from the Pin Galaac clan. Say they pick fights.”
She fought down her shock and glanced back just in time to see Vounn nod very slightly. Haruuc stepped back from her, his ears folding. “I trust I haven’t offended you, Lady Vounn,” he said, speaking out loud and in Goblin once more. “It has been too long since our great friends in House Deneith have sent someone of such prestige to us.”
Vounn smiled graciously. “Your welcome is accepted in the spirit in which it was offered, lhesh.” She touched a fist to her chest. “Honored greetings.”
Haruuc matched her smile. “I hope your time as envoy to my court will be enjoyable and profitable for both Deneith and Darguun,” he said, returning to his throne. “Tell me, do our fine warriors continue to please the lords of Deneith?” He looked out upon the assembled warlords as he spoke, including them in his pride and in his jovial mood.
“They please us and those who take their contracts,” said Vounn. She paused for a moment, then added, “although I have heard complaints about mercenaries from the Pin Galaac clan causing trouble.”
From the corner of her eye, Ekhaas saw one of the warlords flinch. His ears rose, and he turned to glare at another warlord. Ekhaas assumed that the first man was the chief of the Pin Galaac. She recognized the second from the broken hammer crest he wore on his armor-Daavn of the Marhaan. Confusion spread across his face and he tried to say something to the chief of the Pin Galaac, but the other warlord just turned away.
“Cause for concern,” said Haruuc, all of his attention on Vounn. “We will discuss it, but not tonight.” He picked up the red sword from the side of the throne, turned back to face the warlords, and slid the sword into its scabbard. “The assembly of the warlords is ended,” he said formally. “Think on what we have spoken of.”
“Mazo, lhesh,” answered the warlords. Fists struck chests in a unified salute, but Haruuc was already walking
