shaft lay in the throne’s shadow like a thick, purple slug. The sight of it made him feel ill.
But he was the only one who could handle it. Anyone else might succumb to its power. He had to make sure that didn’t happen-and Haruuc had given him the means to do it. For a while at least.
He squeezed Wrath’s hilt tight. Give me the right words, he thought, then scooped up the rod and stood.
“Lords of Darguun,” he said in Goblin, “hear me!” His accent sounded clumsy and crude even to his ears. Some of the warlords looked up at him, but not enough. He raised his voice and tried again. “Lords of Darguun, hear me-”
He felt Wrath’s power move into him. His words smoothed and became clear. Syllables he didn’t know formed on his tongue and slid between his lips. He tried not to think about it, tried to focus on what he wanted to say. On what he needed to say. Everyone, all of the great and powerful of Darguun, were staring up at him. He drew Wrath and held it high.
“-I am Geth, who bears Aram. I am shava to Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor. By all traditions, it is my sacred duty to tell his heirs that he is dead. But Haruuc had no heirs, so I speak to all of Darguun. Your lhesh is dead. The father of Darguun is dead.” He swallowed. “It is also my duty as shava to take charge of my brother’s affairs. Darguun must have a new lhesh. Until you lords determine which among you will take the throne, I claim it in trust.” He raised the rod up from where he had held it. “Let all bear witness! I am shava to Haruuc, and this is my duty!”
For a long moment, no one said anything. The throne room was utterly silent. Geth looked around. There were a lot of confused faces watching him-and a lot of angry faces as well.
Then a voice like cedar smoke rose from the throne room. “I witness it!” shouted Ekhaas. “As it was in the age of Dhakaan, I witness it!”
“I witness it!” Dagii stepped up beside Geth. The young warlord gave him an uncertain look, but his stance was strong. Geth looked to Munta. The old hobgoblin’s ears flicked and stood.
“I witness it!” he said, then jerked his head at other warlords around him. Their voices rose as well.
“I witness it!” came a strong voice from the front of the room, and Geth looked down to see Tariic looking back at him. The hobgoblin gave him a short smile, then stepped onto the lowest step of the dais and faced the court that had been Haruuc’s. “Let none say that we do not respect tradition. Geth who bears Aram shall hold the throne in trust until a new lhesh is chosen. It is what my uncle would have wanted.”
He turned back to Geth and bent his head, meeting Geth’s eyes as he straightened up. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said softly.
“I’m doing what I have to do,” said Geth. Behind Tariic, a sea of heads was nodding in respect. He glanced over at Haruuc’s body. Ashi was still kneeling beside it, staring up at him. Geth set his jaw grimly and brought the Rod of Kings protectively against his chest. Raat shan gath’kal dor. “The story stops but never ends.” — Traditional closing of hobgoblin legends.
