news. I must be in his good graces.”
“But the dragonmarked houses are already doing fast business with Tariic. How can you offer the viceroys a closer connection than that?”
“You don’t understand the mindset of the houses,” said Ashi with a smile. “They’ll always want more. Special treatment, secret information, whatever they can get to give them an advantage.” She sat back in her chair. “We should start with Redek d’Deneith. Baron Breven put him in charge of day-to-day Deneith operations in Darguun. I think it’s time I found out what my own house has been up to.”
9 Vult
However much energy she had, there were still civilities and practical matters to deal with. Ashi couldn’t just march up to the viceroys of the dragonmarked houses that maintained enclaves in Rhukaan Draal. Some, like Pater d’Orien, she knew fairly well. Others, like the viceroys of Houses Vadalis and Sivis, she hardly knew at all. Not all of the viceroys were immediately available. Redek operated from the large Deneith enclave at the Gathering Stone, two days’ ride north of the city-it took time to summon him and for him to arrive. Nor was he in a talkative mood when he finally did. It took considerable charm to persuade him that she had a right to know what was happening with Deneith’s resources.
The viceroys-and often their staffs-weren’t her only obstacles. As much as she might disdain him, Ashi was sharply aware of Tariic’s attention. He could put a stop to her investigations with a word, even if she claimed to be about the business of House Deneith. She could still only make her calls on the viceroys when Oraan was her escort. At least she was doing something, though. She woke up every day ready to face the wall of Tariic’s ambition. If she didn’t know whether Geth and the others had survived Midian’s visit, she tried to believe that they had. After all, there was no sign of Midian, either.
The information that flowed to her was slow but sweet like honey. The problem was that it didn’t fit together in any but the most obvious of ways.
Twelve days after Tariic had summoned her to the throne room, she pulled out her grandfather’s sword and began to sharpen it. The bright blade never actually needed sharpening or polishing, but it had been her duty to do so as a child when the sword had belonged to her father, then huntmaster of the Bonetree Clan. The sound of the whetstone against the steel was like meditation. It kept her sane.
Senen and Dagii’s assessment had been correct. Tariic was paying the dragonmarked houses with the tribute he exacted from the adoring clans of Darguun. A portion of that money went to House Deneith for the hiring of mercenaries-quite a reversal for the house that more typically made money by brokering the services of Darguul warriors. Squads of war wizards and battle-hardened warlocks had joined the hobgoblin troops that ranged along the border of Darguun and the Mournland. That was sensible, Ashi knew. The elves of Valenar had an edge on the goblins of Darguun in both magic and mobility. The mercenary spellcasters provided by Deneith would even out one of those advantages.
Magebred horses purchased through House Vadalis would even the other. Ashi had seen some of the beautiful mounts for herself at Vadalis’s small enclave on the outskirts of Rhukaan Draal. Kravin d’Vadalis assured her that they were very nearly the equal of Valenar warhorses.
Vadalis’s dealings with Tariic had a more mundane side as well-magebred hogs and cattle, fat and meaty provisions on the hoof, passed along the roads of Darguun and out to supply bases. Other dragonmarked houses provided similarly mundane services. Tariic had hired stonespeakers from the gnomes of House Sivis and healers from the halflings of House Jorasco. Magewrights of House Cannith were in the field as well, providing maintenance for the arms and armor of Tariic’s soldiers. Pater d’Orien was probably the busiest viceroy of all. His caravans ferried dragonmarked personnel and supplies to the places Tariic needed them.
Only House Lyrandar was absent-they’d thrown in their lot with Valenar by providing their raiders with flying transportation above the dangers of the Mournland. Ashi was confident none of the other houses would make that mistake. Any services they offered to Darguun would also be offered to Valenar in a nod to the neutrality of commerce.
There was no neutrality in Rhukaan Draal, though. Every viceroy Ashi had spoken with had the same look of admiration whenever they’d mentioned Tariic’s name. She recognized the power of the Rod of Kings at work. If a matriarch or patriarch of one of the houses had chanced to visit Darguun, any illusion of neutrality would have vanished. For a while at least, the heads of the houses were content to keep their distance and collect the lhesh’s money as he orchestrated a massive mobilization of troops aimed squarely at an enemy that had attacked Darguun once already.
And just as Haruuc had foreseen, it seemed as if no one cared whether Darguun and Valenar-upstart nations carved out of human territory during the Last War-prepared to wipe each other from the map. So long as they kept things between themselves.
The problem was, as far as Ashi could tell, there was still no sign of Valenar response. The raiders Dagii had defeated seemed to have fled entirely. If there were Valenar lurking in the Mournland, they were staying very quiet. There were rumors that all of the elven warclans were gathering on the other side of the Mournland’s deadly expanse, but nothing confirmed.
Tariic was preparing a strong defense. What was wrong with that?
Everything, Ashi told herself. And nothing.
Skiirrr, went the whetstone down one side of her sword, then skiirrr down the other.
The door opened and Oraan entered to start another evening’s “guard duty.” Ashi glanced up at him, then away. He would speak when he felt it was absolutely safe. Finally, he did. “Dagii has no news.”
Skiirrr. “Rond betch,” muttered Ashi, an old Bonetree curse. She put the whetstone aside and took up a piece of soft cloth. “Can you be more specific?”
“Tariic’s still treating him like a hero. The Darguuls can’t get enough of him-”
“Goblins like their heroes,” Ashi commented.
“-but Tariic still isn’t telling him anything. Dagii’s worried that the Iron Fox company is turning into a ceremonial guard, so he’s had Keraal slip some hard fighting into their daily training.”
Ashi paused in her polishing. “He doesn’t worry Tariic will notice?”
Oraan’s ears twitched. “He has them fighting the Kech Shaarat. I think Tariic likes the conflict. The Iron Fox is in for a battle, though. Riila Dhakaan and Taak Dhakaan are settling a third contingent into the barracks tonight, and it’s the biggest yet.”
“Has there been any clue of where the last one was sent?” Ashi asked. The first Kech Shaarat to arrive in Rhukaan Draal had been worrying. To have a second and then a third pass through on their way to the border of the Mournland-that much they knew, though nothing specific-nagged at her.
Oraan shook his head.
Ashi grimaced. She gave her sword a final swipe with the polishing cloth, then slid the sword into its sheath. “We’re missing something.”
“Dagii said the same thing. But what?”
Ashi sat back. “We’re stalking a mud pig.” When Oraan looked at her quizzically, she shook her head. “It’s something adults in the Shadow Marches do to get rid of children for a while-send them off to look for an animal that doesn’t exist. It gives the adults some calm until the children give up, figure it out, or die trying.”
Oraan’s ears rose up high. Ashi shrugged. “It’s a hard place. The game teaches children too. The mud pig is supposed to be able to move without making any noise and without leaving any tracks. The only way to catch one is to be just as quiet as it is, to act like it would, to think like it does-”
The insight that burst into her mind surprised even her. She sat up straight. “That’s what we’re missing,” she said. “We need to think like Tariic. Like a hobgoblin.”
“I have some experience in that sort of thing,” Oraan pointed out. “And Dagii is a hobgoblin.”
“But you’re not a Darguul warlord, and Dagii’s not the right kind of hobgoblin. He thinks about atcha and muut. He’s too damn noble. We need someone who has Tariic’s kind of ambition and guile.”
“Aguus of Traakuum,” said Oraan. “Or Daavn of Marhaan. But they belong to Tariic. We couldn’t ask them without him finding out.”
“I have someone else in mind,” Ashi said. She stood and grabbed a cloak. With the year turning toward mid-winter, even Rhukaan Draal was becoming cold by night. “We’re going for a walk.”
