everything placed in them, but even it’s massive.”
“Even better.”
Ekhaas sighed and urged her horse back into a walk up the road toward the great gates. “Just don’t do anything stupid. The vaults contain the treasures of my clan, and the Kech Volaar don’t like trespassers.”
Three ranks of guards stood before the gates, all dressed in armor that had not changed since the days of Dhakaan. Linked plates provided strength and mobility. Spikes at strategic points provided weapons even if a warrior should be unarmed. Flared helmets protected vulnerable necks while still allowing openings for large and expressive ears. A Dhakaani legion on the attack would have looked like a wave of steel. As the travelers approached, the guards moved in response to some unseen signal, their ranks splitting to open the way into Volaar Draal.
One of the guards, a red insignia of rank on his helmet, stepped forward and thumped his chest in salute. “Ekhaas duur’kala,” he said in Goblin, “you are expected. Tuura Dhakaan summons you. An escort comes for you and your… companions.”
It was impossible to miss the dip in his ears or the way his eyes flicked over Geth and Tenquis as he said it. Ekhaas knew exactly what he was thinking: chaat’oor. It was the Goblin word for humans and the races descended from them, like shifters and tieflings, that had come to Khorvaire after the fall of Dhakaan. Loosely translated, it meant “outsider.” More specifically, it meant “defiler.” Ekhaas’s own ears went back. “Treat them with respect, lhurusk. Their names will be sung alongside the heroes of the dar.”
“Then you move in honored circles,” said a familiar voice from the shadows of the gate. “Walking with heroes and summoned by the leader of our clan. Perhaps a humble lorekeeper isn’t enough of an escort for you,” A hobgoblin woman dressed in a black wool robe and a red leather girdle tooled with angular designs walked out between the parted ranks of the gate guards. “Saa, Ekhaas.”
Ekhaas felt her face flush hot. “Kitaas,” she said. She bit the name off, hating the sound of it. “You’re our escort?”
Kitaas inclined her head, ears twitching. She looked at Chetiin and Geth, ignoring Tenquis. “Chetiin of the Silent Blades, and Geth, wielder of Aram, the Sword of Heroes. I am honored to greet you.”
Chetiin returned her nod. So did Geth, although a little more slowly. Ekhaas saw the stirring of curiosity, then a flash of recognition in his eyes. Kitaas turned to lead them into the gate and as they rode after her, the shifter leaned close to Ekhaas and whispered in the human language. “I recognize that girdle. In Rhukaan Draal, you used an illusion to disguise me as a woman-you said you had to choose someone familiar.” He nodded toward Kitaas’s back. “She’s your sister!”
“In the way that a dagger is sister to a sword,” she told him.
Inside the gate, goblin stablehands came to take their mounts. One approached Marrow, but the worg snapped at him. Chetiin slid to the ground and she ran back out the gate, drawing yelps of surprise from the guards as she slipped among them.
“She will remain outside to find her own shelter and prey,” Chetiin said to Ekhaas.
“As she wishes,” said the archivist.
The others dismounted as well and unloaded their meager gear. Tenquis looked at Kitaas with interest. “You’re one of the keepers of the vaults of Volaar Draal?” he asked.
Kitaas glanced at him with the same disdain the gate guards had. “I understood that tieflings had tails.”
Tenquis’s face went hard, and he self-consciously twitched the back of his long vest to cover the mutilated stump. Ekhaas bared her teeth and snapped back at her sister before he could. “Don’t antagonize my friends, Kitaas.”
“Ban,” said Kitaas. She gave Tenquis a haughty look. “I am adjunct to Diiteshm the High Archivist of Kech Volaar.”
“It means that she may call herself a ‘humble lorekeeper,’ but she isn’t,” Ekhaas said. She met Kitaas’s glare with one of her own. “You recognized Geth and Chetiin.”
“Senen Dhakaan makes regular reports. We are not isolated from events in Rhukaan Draal.” Kitaas folded her hands across her girdle, but her ears stirred languidly, and the ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Those events are what Tuura Dhakaan wishes to speak to you about.”
Beyond the inner gate stretched the echoing length of the Great Passage, the final approach to the City of the Word. Kitaas didn’t slow her stride for the weary travelers. Soon she was a dozen paces ahead of them. Geth moved closer to Ekhaas. “What’s between you and Kitaas?” he asked quietly.
Ekhaas kept her eyes on her sister’s back. “That’s not your concern.”
“You don’t think it might be? She’s the assistant-”
“Adjunct,” Ekhaas snarled.
“I don’t even know what that means. Is this High Archivist she works for in charge of the vaults? Maybe we want to stay on her good side.”
“It’s years too late for that,” she said curtly.
Geth took the hint and fell back a pace to let her walk in silence. Distant sounds flowed through the shadows-the clash of weapons and the stamp of boots as warriors trained, the haunting song of a far-off duur’kala, the rhythmic ringing of hammers against anvils-and again Ekhaas felt a pang that Dagii wasn’t with them. She would have liked to introduce him to the sounds of Volaar Draal. And to the sight of the city, gleaming in the darkness as they emerged from the Great Passage.
But Geth, Tenquis, and Chetiin paused in awe, and at least that was something.
Close-packed ranks of homes, halls, and workshops filled the floor and crept up the walls of the vast cavern where early Kech Volaar had once sought refuge. From windows and posts, sparks of dim white-green ghostlight glimmered. Against the shadows of the cavern, the lights resembled the dense brilliance of the Ring of Siberys in the night sky. Monuments rose in silhouette, and the sounds of life filled the still air. Ekhaas felt a rush of pride in the hidden beauty and grandeur of Volaar Draal.
Kitaas didn’t even slow down. While not quite so chaotic as the streets of Rhukaan Draal, the way through the Home Cavern was twisting, narrow, and filled with dar going about their business. Ekhaas gestured for the others to keep up and hurried after Kitaas, who said nothing to her and just kept walking. Ekhaas couldn’t help noticing that the way opened up before her sister.
“Do they respect you or the robe of an archivist?” she asked boldly. Kitaas didn’t answer, but her ears went back a little. For a moment, the satisfaction of a well-struck blow warmed Ekhaas-then Geth nudged her.
“We’re attracting attention,” he muttered.
Ekhaas glanced over her shoulder. Where they had passed, ugly expressions and flattened ears followed as Kech Volaar stared after Geth and Tenquis. Kitaas, she realized, had deliberately taken them along one of the city’s busiest streets. “Ignore them,” she said. She thought she heard a satisfied chuckle from Kitaas.
“Is this going to make it difficult to keep our being here secret from Tariic?” asked Geth.
“Most Kech Volaar never leave sight of Volaar Draal,” said Ekhaas. “Those who do don’t talk much about clan matters. We’re safe.”
“What about them?” asked Chetiin. He pointed ahead with a slight, concealed gesture. Ekhaas looked.
The blocky shape of the Shrine of Glories, the seat of the Kech Volaar’s leadership, rose before them. Clustered at the foot of the stairs that swept up to the entrance was a group of six armored hobgoblins. An outsider less knowledgeable than Chetiin might have mistaken them for Kech Volaar, but Ekhaas saw instantly that they weren’t. The armor they wore was even heavier and more archaic than that of the guards at the city gate-and here in the heart of the city, they were the only hobgoblins wearing armor at all. The emblem of a sword was displayed on their helmets, and Ekhaas knew that if they got close enough, she’d see the emblem repeated in brands on their cheeks.
Kech Shaarat.
Ekhaas grabbed Kitaas and shoved her into the cover of an alley. Her sister let out a curse, but Ekhaas put a hand over her mouth. “What are the Blade Bearers doing here?”
Kitaas pushed her hand away. “They come under compact of peace to speak with Tuura Dhakaan. It’s no business of yours.”
“We can’t let them see us.” It was possible that the warriors of the rival clan wouldn’t recognize the significance of Geth’s presence in Volaar Draal, but they were far more likely to tell stories of what they’d seen to
