finished. “Or perhaps you already think they do, since you sell them like slaves into the service of Deneith!”
He turned sharply and flung up a hand to point into the gallery-directly at Vounn.
She didn’t move. She forced herself to remain still, to meet Keraal’s blazing eyes. The warlord didn’t hold his dramatic pose for long, though. Haruuc stood up from his throne. “Our warriors are not slaves, Keraal! Remember that I served Deneith, and Darguun stands today because I did. Service to Deneith brings wealth to our nation, to warriors and warlords alike!”
Keraal let his arm fall and turned to Haruuc with a smile on his face. “And wealth,” he said, “to the high warlord who betrayed Deneith to create Darguun. Would you trust one who had betrayed his trust before, Haruuc?”
The lhesh stared at him, then asked, “Have you said what you came to say, Keraal?”
“Not quite,” Keraal said. He bent his neck in a nod. “Gan’duur has an excess of grain this season. Enough to share with Rhukaan Draal if it is necessa-”
“Be gone, Keraal!” snapped Haruuc. Beside him, Vanii drew his axes.
Keraal pointed at the shava. “Remember your law, Haruuc! None are to be harmed as they come and as they go.” He flung the helmet he had worn to the floor, the crash of it startling, and strode from the throne room. The guards in the antechamber parted- reluctantly, it seemed to Vounn-to let him go. Vanii would have gone after him if Haruuc hadn’t flung up an arm to stop him. The assembly of warlords burst into chaotic conversation.
Tariic let out a long breath. “Maabet!” he cursed. The watchers in the gallery were as deep in conversation as the warlords.
Vounn just looked after Keraal. “What do you think he hoped to accomplish by that?” she asked.
“I think he wanted to show just how much he could defy Haruuc,” said Tariic, pulling his lips back from his teeth. “Maybe he’s trying to draw Haruuc into making a mistake that will turn the other warlords against him once and for all. Keraal’s a brilliant strategist-or else completely mad. Either way, he’s got huge-”
His voice became just a buzz in Vounn’s ears. Behind his head, through the great windows of the throne room, thick smoke was rising in columns across Rhukaan Draal.
“Fire,” she said. “There’s fire in the city!”
Tariic broke off and turned around to follow her gaze. The warlords ceased to argue and looked as well. Haruuc stepped around his throne to stare out the window. Vounn struggled to pick out landmarks in the cityscape and identify what was burning, but she could tell Haruuc’s experienced eyes saw immediately where the smoke was coming from. He whirled to face the warlords. “The assembly is dismissed, but we are not finished. Do not depart Rhukaan Draal.”
“What burns?” someone shouted.
Haruuc’s face darkened. “The city houses of the Atiin Noor, the Pin Galaac, and the Haranhra.” Cries came out of the crowd. All of the clans he’d named, Vounn knew, were strong supporters of Haruuc. Then the lhesh looked to the gallery and added, “As well as the Orien compound and the Deneith enclave.”
Somewhere behind her, a plate crashed to the ground and Pater d’Orien ran from the gallery with a curse. Vounn stared down at Haruuc, her eyes meeting his for a moment, then he turned, seized the red sword that leaned against the throne, and raced out of the throne room, shouting for guards and his horse. “Send messages and runners,” he snapped. “Anyone suspicious near the fires is to be taken into custody-alive. Anyone armed who isn’t wearing my colors is to be ordered off the streets!”
Vounn looked out at the rising smoke again. She could recognize one of the burning buildings now as Deneith’s small enclave in Rhukaan Draal. It wasn’t nearly as important as the Gathering Stone, but it still belonged to the House. She rose. “Tariic, I must go. Good day.”
She didn’t wait for his reply, but swept after Pater. Thuun was waiting outside, milling around with the other guards of those still in the gallery. She snapped her fingers at him. “We need to go into the city-the Deneith enclave is on fire. I want Aruget and Krakuul with us.” After her experience the night of the famine march, she didn’t go out in Rhukaan Draal without at least two of her escorts.
“I’ll take you to them, lady.” Thuun stepped in front of her and led the way, pushing aside anyone who found themselves in his path. Vounn made plans in her head. If the clerks at the enclave knew their jobs, their first move would be to ensure that enlistment records and contracts, more valuable to the House than gold, were saved. She would take charge of the papers first, then worry about saving the building.
The smell of food-goblin food, sharp with vinegar-hit her, and she emerged from her plans to look around. They were somewhere near the kitchens of Khaar Mbar’ost. Unlike the grand halls, these passages were cramped and dim. “Where are we going?” asked Thuun.
“Aruget and Krakuul spend their time off-duty close to the kitchens, the better to get at the richest scraps,” her guard said. “Stay close, lady.”
Vounn looked around. There were few hobgoblins in sight along the corridor or through the doorways they passed. There was an atmosphere of uneasy excitement. It seemed word of the fires in the city had already spread down here. “Haruuc has called an alarm,” she said. “It’s possible Krakuul and Aruget have already gone looking for us. Perhaps I should return to my quarters and wait for you all there.”
“This would be the worst time to be alone. We’re almost there. Have patience, and I’ll go back with you.”
She could smell a draft of fresh air. They must have been approaching a rear gate or kitchen entrance. It seemed unlike Aruget, she thought, to spend his time lounging near the kitchen. The hobgoblin was a brisk and efficient soldier. If he wanted something from the kitchen, he would have sent a runner for it. From what she knew of Krakuul, he might have gone to the kitchen on his own, but he would have stayed near there until he had what he wanted. Judging by her glimpses through the corridor, she and Thuun were already past the kitchen.
And was it strange that Thuun, the least talkative of the three guards, had just said more to her than he ever had before?
Vounn looked at her guide sharply. His broad shoulders hid his hands, but he had pulled something from his belt and was manipulating it where she couldn’t see. A prickle of unease crawled up Vounn’s neck. Keeping her pace steady, she narrowed her eyes and concentrated on the dragonmark that curled around the inside of her right arm. A gentle warmth passed through it and the power of the Mark of Sentinel manifested around her, an unseen barrier that brought with it a feeling of safety.
That feeling was only an illusion. The danger, Vounn felt certain, was real. Something was wrong. Between one step and the next, she turned and ran as fast as she could back the way they had come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Thuun didn’t curse or cry out. In an instant, Vounn heard his long, heavy strides coming after her. She looked around for help, but all of the goblin servants seemed to have vanished like mice. The lady seneschal fumbled for her stiletto as she ran, but couldn’t get at it. She drew breath to scream for help-and a strong arm wrapped around her and lifted her off her feet. Her unseen shield could do little against such a direct attack. A hand went over her face, holding a wet rag across her nose and mouth.
The rag reeked powerfully of distilled alcohol and something else she couldn’t quite identify. It was herbal, both bitter and sweet, and it reminded her vaguely of a tea-like beverage she’d once been served at a feast thrown by the half-orcs of House Tharashk. She tried to hit Thuun with her elbows and her feet, hard defensive blows with no mercy. One backward kick came close to landing in his groin, but he twisted and took the blow on his leg instead. She heard him grunt, then he brought his mouth close to her ear.
“Struggle harder, Vounn of Deneith. You can do it.”
He was no longer speaking Goblin. She threw herself into another furious struggle, but he just kept twisting and letting her blows slide off him. After a few moments, though, it seemed to Vounn that her arms and legs were strangely heavy, that her blows were sluggish, and she realized what a mistake she’d made. Struggling harder had made her breath more deeply, inhaling greater quantities of the fumes from the rag. They seemed to penetrate her mind and rob her of will. Her vision drifted; she couldn’t focus on anything for more than a moment. Her body went limp in Thuun’s grasp.
The hobgoblin eased her to the ground, supporting her if she were a drunkard while he tucked the rag away
