places among the benches in Haruuc’s throne room. A number of warlords had found excuses not to attend the assembly.
Keraal of Gan’duur was, unsurprisingly, one of them.
But Daavn of Marhaan was not. He sat calmly among the assembly, newly returned from his clan’s territory. Vounn turned and looked across the gallery at Tariic. She’d been watching him since the night of the famine march. There had been no hint of a conspiracy and nothing of substance to report back to Karrlakton. Tariic had, however, become increasingly friendly with some of the most powerful people at Haruuc’s court, Darguul and non-Darguul alike. People like Breland’s ambassador. If he was trying to draw up support for himself as a successor to Haruuc, he was doing a very good job of it.
Tariic looked up and met her gaze. She nodded to him again. He smiled at her, said something to the ambassador, then came across the gallery to her. As he walked, Vounn considered briefly what it might be like to deal with Tariic as lhesh. Of all the Darguuls she had met, he was perhaps the most familiar with the manners and customs of the Five Nations. He had talent and intelligence-and he was already on good terms with Deneith. She could work with him.
Pater d’Orien shook Tariic’s hand, then departed in search of something to eat. Tariic seated himself with an easy smile, but Vounn was becoming more adept at reading goblin body language. Tariic’s ears were slightly stiff and his right hand was held slightly away from his body. Shaking hands was not a part of hobgoblin culture, and while Tariic might have been familiar with the manners of the Five Nations, he clearly wasn’t completely comfortable with all of them. Vounn kept her hands folded in her lap and instead returned Tariic’s smile.
“I would have thought I’d find you with the assembly, Tariic,” she said.
He bent his head. “Unfortunately, no. The rules of the assembly are clear by tradition and my uncle’s decree. Only clan chiefs, warlords, and the arbiter of order and her assistants are permitted in the throne room while the assembly meets. Not even guards are permitted.”
A lesser rule extended over the gallery. Vounn’s guard-Thuun today-waited outside the door of the gallery along with the guards who served the other dignitaries. Vounn looked back down into the throne room and nodded toward the end. Late morning light poured through the tall windows behind Haruuc’s throne. A big figure stood at the lhesh’s side, hands tucked into his belt alongside twin axes. “Vanii is there.”
“Haruuc’s decree,” Tariic said. “His shava are a special case. When I was young I remember seeing all three of them standing around him. It was a sight that spoke of the respect Haruuc commanded… commands.”
Vounn raised an eyebrow. Tariic sighed and his ears dipped. “We shouldn’t fool ourselves,” he said quietly. He gestured out over the throne room. “Thirty-even ten-years ago, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Haruuc sees it, too, Tariic,” said Vounn. “That’s why he sent Geth and the others.”
“I hope they find what they’re looking for soon,” Tariic said. He looked at her sideways and his voice dropped even lower. “Speaking of which, have you heard anything from Ashi?”
She shook her head. “Haruuc or Senen would be more likely to have had communication from one of the others.”
“I thought maybe Ashi would have contacted you.” He sat back. “They’ve been gone for more than a month. I know they’re not likely to be close to a House Sivis speaking station, but I would have thought there would be some word.”
“Patience,” Vounn said. It was the same thing she told herself every night. The fear was beginning to grow in her that she would soon have to deliver the truth of Ashi’s whereabouts to Breven. She pushed the thought back and looked down into the throne room again to cover her feelings of unease.
Yet another warlord had risen to protest that he didn’t have food to spare for Rhukaan Draal. Haruuc’s frustration with the near-constant denials showed in his face. Abruptly, he gestured to the thin hobgoblin woman who was the arbiter of order. She nodded to an assistant and the banner of the speaker’s clan dropped from the Pole of Order. Murmurs spread around the hall, and the warlord who had been speaking closed his mouth in surprise. He stood for a moment longer, then sat down.
Haruuc looked across his assembled warlords. “Some of you,” he said, “‘speak the truth. Your fields and storehouses were burned. I saw this with my own eyes. But I know that many of you are lying.” His angry gaze lingered on the warlord who had just sat down and the man flinched. Haruuc’s gaze moved on. “Is it fear that the Gan’duur will begin raiding again and you’ll be left with nothing? That won’t happen. Is it greed? Do you hoard now in hopes of commanding a higher price later? I promise you that won’t happen either-I will not allow it.”
He paused, then added, “Or perhaps you support the Gan’duur?”
The silence, both in the throne room and in the gallery where everyone was listening now, was solid and thick as a winter morning. Vounn pressed her lips together. The rebellious sons of the Atiin Noor clan were safely away thanks to Deneith and Orien, but there had been others who had spoken and acted in favor of the Gan’duur. They’d been dealt with in the same way as the raiders. None had been found to stand among the high ranks of Darguun, but if there were…
Haruuc spoke into the silence. “Do you hold back in the belief that you are showing that coward Keraal where your true heart lies? Do you hold back because you think it weakens me? Maybe you don’t want to see your stores feed Rhukaan Draal but the thieves and bandits of Gan’duur instead. Stand then. Stand and show your true feelings!”
“Yes!” called a new voice. “Stand!” And at the back of the throne room, a hobgoblin wearing a helmet that shadowed his features rose. He stepped out into the central aisle and stood facing Haruuc. The lhesh’s ears lay back flat.
“Keraal.”
Beyond the open doors of the throne room, guards in the antechamber jerked and turned at the sound of the rebel warlord’s name. One of them drew his sword and shouted for an attack. The helmeted hobgoblin whirled, one hand up. “Hold! No one may enter the assembly who does not belong! That is the law of Haruuc!”
The guards stopped just short of the doorway, crashing into each other as they came to a sudden halt. The one who had called the attack looked to Haruuc. The hobgoblin who stood in the aisle, however, reached up calmly and removed his helmet. Thick, dark hair spilled free, and Keraal turned a strong, hard face toward Haruuc as well. “Does the law not also say that no violence may be offered within the assembly?”
Haruuc stared at him, then dismissed the guards with a gesture. He stared at Keraal for a long moment before he said in a growl, “Law or not, it takes a brave jackal to enter the den of a tiger.”
Darkness flushed Keraal’s red-brown face. “You call me a jackal? You call the Gan’duur bandits? You are both jackal and bandit, Haruuc! You, who could have led us against the chaat’oor of the Five Nations-or at least against our ancient enemies in Valenar, but instead you sign treaties with them!”
“I call you a jackal,” said Haruuc tightly, “because you come to the assembly in disguise, like a jackal that rolls in the stink of another animal to disguise its own scent.”
Vounn heard Tariic suck air through his teeth at the insult. No one else moved or spoke. Keraal stood straight and glared at Haruuc. “I come in disguise because otherwise I would have been denied my place at the assembly. Your guards would have stopped me at the door, if they had not arrested me on the road.” His ears rose tall. “A violation of your own law that the assembly is a place of neutrality and that none are to be harmed as they come and go.”
“My guards would have done nothing of the kind!” Haruuc said.
“Wouldn’t they? Can you say that I would be here now if I hadn’t disguised myself?”
A neat trap, Vounn thought. Haruuc couldn’t deny his own law, even when it had been turned against him. The lhesh didn’t answer the warlord’s question. Instead he growled, “What do you want here, Keraal?”
“To do what it is the right of every warlord to do: attend the assembly and speak my mind. Those who darkened the name of Gan’duur have been dealt with. Am I a criminal or a traitor to be denied my right?”
Once again, Haruuc didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed. “You are here. Speak.”
Another warlord might have bowed his head. Keraal raised his arrogantly. “It is not in the nature of our people to share land. We are conquerors and rulers. How many other clans must suffer as the Gan’duur have, our warriors driven to rebellion by inaction?”
“Warriors,” said Haruuc, “must know when to fight and when to serve the people by keeping their swords sheathed.”
“Warriors don’t serve the people, Haruuc. You sound like a human. Warriors serve the warlord-unless you intend that all of our warriors should serve you.” A soft murmur spread through the assembly, but Keraal wasn’t
