his reign. And yet, Ashi had to admit, Tariic had brilliantly turned both events to his benefit.
The rod’s powers of command could be subtle, it seemed, as well as overwhelming. Tariic had spoken, the Rod of Kings in his hand, and earlier reports rushed out of Darguun by means magical and mundane were recanted. In the minds of the warlords, envoys, and ambassadors, Geth and the others had become traitors intent on upsetting the fragile reign of the new lhesh and destroying Darguun-never mind that they’d all been hailed only weeks earlier as the saviors of the nation. Makka had become one of the traitors, trying to destroy the vital relationship between Darguun and House Deneith. Ashi-her role in the attempt virtually erased-was a lucky survivor and Vounn an unfortunate martyr.
Makka’s execution in the dungeons of Khaar Mbar’ost had been as much about reinforcing Tariic’s lie as it had been about honor or justice. She should have felt satisfaction at the bugbear’s death, but all she felt was a sharp fear. Every morning when she renewed her own protection against the Rod of Kings, she offered a silent prayer to unnamed powers that Geth, Ekhaas, Chetiin, and Tenquis were far from Tariic’s reach.
Soon she would be too. Tariic might hold her as a “protected guest,” but even he wouldn’t dare keep her in captivity if the patriarch of House Deneith, Darguun’s greatest ally among the nations and powers of Khorvaire, demanded her return. No matter what false reports emerged from Darguun, Ashi knew that Breven d’Deneith would be suspicious. Her house would look after its own, and she would be free to take the truth out of Darguun. The powers of Khorvaire would learn of Tariic’s ambitions and the danger he posed to them all.
She lifted her head, raising her chin defiantly. It only earned her more applause from the warlords and even a bit from the ambassadors. Ashi couldn’t think of a time she’d ever felt more isolated.
Yet there were a few who understood the situation, even if they didn’t dare speak of it. Senen Dhakaan looked down from the gallery, though never directly at Ashi. The ambassador of the Kech Volaar had risked much to deliver a message of hope-Ashi had woken one night to whispered song, the magical communication of the duur’kala, and the news that Ekhaas and the others were on their way to Volaar Draal. Out in the crowd of warlords, Dagii of Mur Talaan stood in a place of honor. The gray-eyed and gray-haired-in spite of his young age- warlord hadn’t tried to speak to her, and Ashi knew he couldn’t without sacrificing his own freedom. He understood the effect of the rod and probably hated every action that its influence forced on him, but there was little he could do. Even if he hadn’t been directly involved in the attempt on Tariic’s life, Tariic knew that he’d been involved in the plot to substitute a false rod for the true Rod of Kings. But Dagii was also a hero, victorious in battle against the elves of Valenar. The warlords and people of Darguun loved him. Even with the power of the rod at his command, Tariic would have been hard-pressed to find a good excuse to execute a popular hero. Dagii lived-so long as his loyalty never wavered. Friends who stood close at hand, but they might as well have been in distant Sharn.
She thought of the changeling she knew both as Aruget, a hobgoblin guard, and Benti Moran, a half-elf, but who was actually an agent of Breland. He’d vanished after the assassination had failed, saving his own shifting skin. Maybe he’d made his way back to Breland. Maybe news of the danger brewing in Darguun was already abroad in the world.
Then why did the ambassador of Breland laugh and chat as if there were nothing wrong?
“Do you see something that interests you, Ashi?” asked a voice from her left.
She was staring, she realized. She forced her gaze away from the gallery and down to the speaker, a gnome with bright eyes and a shock of pale hair. Midian Mit Davandi had once been a friend, a scholar of the great Library of Korranberg joining them on their quest for the Rod of Kings, but then his true nature had shown itself. An agent for the gnome nation of Zilargo, neighbor of Darguun across the Seawall Mountains, he was the true assassin of Haruuc, a crime widely laid at the feet of Chetiin. Midian’s many treacheries were also the reason that their attempts to keep the Rod of Kings from falling into Tariic’s hands had failed. He’d paid the price, though. When Ashi had returned to consciousness after Pradoor’s prayers had healed her, she’d found Midian was also Tariic’s captive.
Unlike her, however, the gnome had no protection against the Rod of Kings. Later that night, Tariic had made her watch as he demonstrated his mastery over the rod’s power. He’d broken Midian with words. The agent of Zilargo had become a loyal servant of Darguun, and Tariic knew everything that Midian knew.
Officially, Midian was Tariic’s royal historian. Unofficially, he was Tariic’s assassin-and the sharp blade at Ashi’s back. Her dragonmark could block the rod’s influence, but it wouldn’t stop a poisoned dagger.
“Vounn should be up there,” she said, nodding to the gallery.
“If Vounn were up there, you wouldn’t be down here,” Midian replied without a trace of irony. Ashi wasn’t sure he even remembered his former allegiance to Zilargo. For a moment, she considered reaching out and touching him. With an effort of will, she could channel the power of her dragonmark perhaps twice in a day, but no more. Surely it would break the hold of the rod over Midian, at least temporarily.
And if it did, what then? She was surrounded by enemies. Even reaching for Midian could be a risk. The friendly scholar was only a mask. Midian was like a cornered rat. Just putting out her hand could provoke him, and her act of protection would result in a slash from Midian’s poisoned dagger. Ashi kept her hands to herself.
“Have you spoken to Esmyssa lately?” she asked instead. The ambassador of Zilargo stood near the front of the gallery.
A smile flickered across Midian’s face. “I tell her what she needs to know.”
Tariic’s assassin and his mouthpiece to Zilargo. Ashi glanced at the lhesh and found him watching her with glinting, clever eyes. She looked away again just as Razu, the old hobgoblin mistress of ceremonies who stood by the throne room door, rapped her staff on the floor. The crowd fell silent.
A human man appeared in the wide doorway and walked with a measured pace down the throne room’s central aisle. Ashi knew him: Viceroy Redek d’Deneith, a thin and leathery man whose long service to House Deneith in Darguun had been supplanted by Vounn’s arrival as special envoy to the court of Haruuc. Normally his place was at the Gathering Stone, the Deneith compound and training center two days’ journey outside of Rhukaan Draal. With Vounn’s death, however, he’d once again become the most senior member of the house in Darguun. He stopped before the dais and bent his head to the lhesh.
“Who comes to the court of Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn?” asked Tariic, returning to Goblin as he raised his voice.
“Redek of Deneith, son of Kain, comes. He brings a message for Lhesh Tariic from Baron Breven d’Deneith.”
Tariic sat back in his throne. “Speak,” he said.
Ashi felt a prickle across the back of her neck. Tariic was calm. Too calm for someone on the verge of losing his prized prisoner. Her eyes darted back to Redek as he produced a folded piece of heavy paper. Holding it high so that all could see, he broke the seal. Pieces of blue wax, the color favored by Breven, scattered across the floor and Redek read in Goblin:
“To Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn-greetings.
“Since the time of Cail d’Deneith, House Deneith and the dar of the territory that is now Darguun have enjoyed the strongest of relationships. House Deneith values the support of the lhesh of Darguun and hopes that the lhesh values our support as well.
“In the wake of the tragic death of our envoy, Vounn d’Deneith, we thank you for your condolences and what we trust will be the swift delivery of justice to the one responsible. We thank you also for the care that you have shown members of our house remaining in Rhukaan Draal. Violence is a regrettable danger in our world. Vounn d’Deneith served her house with honor and in her last days worked to bring Deneith and Darguun closer.
“We do not wish to see her legacy wither. It is our wish that Vounn’s aide, Ashi d’Deneith, remain with your court-”
Ashi stiffened and drew a sharp breath. In the attentive silence of the throne room, the sound was loud. Redek paused to look at her, but Tariic gestured casually with the Rod of Kings. “Continue,” he said.
Redek’s eyes went immediately back to his letter.
“It is our wish that Vounn’s aide, Ashi d’Deneith, remain with your court as a sign of the faith we hold in the relationship between our house and your nation. Redek d’Deneith will be responsible for the operations of House Deneith in Darguun, but it will fall to Ashi to see that the bond between Darguun and Deneith grows ever more cordial and profitable.
“May your reign be long and glorious-Breven, patriarch of Deneith.”
Redek folded the letter and bowed low to Tariic, but Ashi barely registered the gesture. One thought filled her mind. Tariic had known what Breven’s letter would say. No wonder he was calm. No wonder he’d allowed Redek
