The doom of Kings

CHAPTER TWELVE

The date for the ritual that would wake Wrath was set for three nights later when, Senen said, the moons would be at their brightest. At first Geth had felt a strange kind of elation. After his decision, everyone who had been in the room with Haruuc was slapping his shoulders and congratulating him. He had felt like… to be honest, he’d felt like a hero.

That elation had worn off like a night at the tavern. He’d awakened the next morning and just lain in bed, staring up at the ceiling of the chamber he’d been escorted to and wondering exactly what he’d gotten himself into. The feeling reminded him of a time during the war when he’d agreed to go with other members of his mercenary company to have a piercing done. Specifically, it reminded him of a moment in the piercing artist’s shop when he’d looked up and seen the artist, needles and rings on a tray, working his way through the line of mercenaries. Too late to back out, too much time for second guessing.

He passed most of the next three days flipping back and forth between elation and second guessing. Plans were being made for the journey in the hope that the Kech Volaar’s ritual would work and that Geth would, through Wrath, be able to sense the way to the rod, but he had little involvement in them. Chetiin, Ekhaas, and Dagii were handling the details. Geth wasn’t sure about Dagii. He was willing to accept Haruuc’s claim that he was the best fighter in his service and Chetiin’s assurances that he was a good man, but the hobgoblin seemed strangely stiff and formal around him.

Midian, on the other hand, seemed to have adopted Geth as his best friend, and the gnome was always close, especially when Senen was around. He was no more obtrusive than Chetiin-though perhaps a little more talkative-and Geth caught him more than once observing everything that was going on around Khaar Mbar’ost with a great deal of interest. He would, of course, be going on the quest for the rod as well. Geth hoped that he and Ekhaas would get along. It seemed that Midian was going out of his way not to antagonize the duur’kala, but that might have been because he was still under Senen’s watchful eye.

The majority of the shifter’s time over the three days, however, was spent keeping up the illusion of his cover as Ashi’s bodyguard. Ashi’s time, meanwhile, was spent trailing Vounn as the lady seneschal settled into her duties as House Deneith’s envoy to the court of Lhesh Haruuc. It seemed to Geth that she attended endless rounds of meetings with warlords-both Daavn of the Marhaan and Tugun of the Pin Galaac among them-and various independent mercenary captains, talking about very little. He might actually have enjoyed it if she’d been talking military operations with the warlords and captains, but if they discussed anything beyond the weather, the lay of the land, and the state of affairs in Khorvaire, it was usually issues of supply and personnel. Geth pitied Aruget, Thuun, and Krakuul. The three hobgoblins who had accompanied them from Sterngate had been assigned by Haruuc to act as Vounn’s personal guards after hearing Tariic and Chetiin’s reports on the attack by the rebellious Gan’duur clan. The three guards were around Vounn constantly. At least Geth had the chance to accompany Ashi on those rare occasions she left Vounn to do something on her own.

Which were unfortunately rare. Vounn kept her close-neither she nor Ashi had forgotten the pledge Ashi had made back in Sigil-star to accompany Geth on whatever task Haruuc set for him. Only Vounn’s stern discipline had kept the two of them from breaking into an argument about it in front of Haruuc that first night. They’d argued about it many times in private, though. Geth’s chamber was close to Vounn’s, and he could hear their shouting. Now that Haruuc had met her, Vounn was ready to send Ashi back to Sentinel Tower as soon as Geth had departed on his quest and there was no need to provide a reason for his presence. Ashi had argued that if she were part of the party setting out on the quest, her presence would continue to disguise Geth’s as he would be the bodyguard to a lady of Deneith riding out explore Darguun. Vounn had pointed out that no one simply “rode out to explore Darguun.” Ashi had said she was going whether Vounn wanted her to or not because there was nothing Vounn could do to stop her.

Geth had put a pillow over his head and tried to sleep.

On the afternoon of the third day, though, he and Ashi did find some time to themselves. Vounn, under the watchful eyes of her three guards, had gone out into Rhukaan Draal to inspect an independent mercenary company and assess whether it was fit to accept into House Deneith’s service-technically something she should have left to Redek at the Gathering Stone, but which Geth suspected she would be doing on a regular basis anyway-and Ashi had been left behind as a kind of punishment. Geth, through Chetiin, had found an empty training yard and brought Ashi out for some sparring. He’d been told not to draw Wrath within Haruuc’s fortress for fear of revealing the weapon to anyone, so he had to make do with a mundane sword. After wielding Wrath, it was like swinging a steel bar, but the challenge felt good.

Ashi, of course, used her grandfather’s honor blade, and the flashing of the bright blade in the sun added punctuation to her complaints about Vounn.

“-to the dressmaker’s!” she said as she lunged at Geth. “Do you know I have fifteen dresses coming in the baggage from Sterngate? She made me bring them all!”

Each word was a slash. Geth blocked them all with his gauntlet. “That does sound like a bit much, but you are supposed to be representing Deneith in a foreign court. You’re supposed to look like a lady.” He whirled to bring his sword around in a backhand circle.

Ashi ducked under the swing. “I don’t want to look like a lady!” She popped up again and planted her foot against his backside, shoving him into a stumble, then following up with chopping blow. Geth got his arm up, and her sword went skidding along the black steel. She sprang away before he could counterattack. “She made me learn about fashion, Geth! I know the difference between Fairhaven sleeves and Sharn shoulders. I can recognize the three main styles of lace from Zilargo. I know that green is popular in Korth this year and that I should never wear yellow.”

Geth got back to his feet and stood crouched, waiting for her next attack. “Why’s that?” he asked.

“It makes me look sallow!” Ashi charged, feinted left, and struck right. He was ready for her and caught her sword between the serrated teeth on the back of his weapon. For a moment the two swords were locked together. Ashi clenched her jaw as she pulled, trying to free her blade. At just the right moment, Geth twisted his sword, releasing hers. She took an involuntary step backward, he hooked her leg with his foot, and a moment later she was glowering at him from the dirt.

“Again!” she spat, standing up.

“Vounn’s going to be back soon,” he said.

“I don’t care. All that matters to her is the honor of Deneith.”

She charged again, and once again Geth locked her sword with his. This time she resisted the urge to pull away and instead pushed toward him. Geth twisted away from her and let her sprawl forward. As she picked herself up for a second time, he stepped back, lowered his sword to take a rest, and asked, “Have you tried not fighting her all the time?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If what Vounn cares about is the honor of Deneith, try finding an argument that agrees with that point of view instead of challenging it.”

Ashi stared at him. “Are you on her side?”

“Boar’s snout, no!” Geth bared his teeth. “I’m trying to find a way to make sure you can come with me.”

The words were spoiled by a loud grumbling from his stomach. Ashi raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

“Instead of breakfast this morning, I got a visit from Senen telling me not to eat today. I’m supposed to fast before the ritual tonight.” He gave Ashi a long look. “Think about trying a different argument with Vounn?” he asked.

She scowled at him but nodded.

No shouting came from Vounn’s chamber that evening. Geth, lying on his bed and resting in preparation for the ritual that was to come, took that as a good sign. He was considering going to look for Ashi-if only to distract himself from the hollow in his belly-when there was a knock at the door. The sound came from too low down to be human or hobgoblin, and Geth opened the door to find Midian. “So it seems there will be six of us on the quest,” the gnome said, strolling in under Geth’s arm.

“Six?” Geth raised his eyebrows.

“I passed Ashi and Vounn on their way to see Haruuc and make it official, but it looks like Ashi will be coming with us.”

Geth couldn’t hold back a grin. “Do you know why?”

“Vounn said something about upholding the special relationship between Deneith and Darguun. If you ask me, she’s decided to send Ashi along to get in even better favor with Haruuc.” Midian cocked his head. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Geth said with a shrug. It sounded like Ashi had taken his advice. “It will be good to have her along. She knows wilderness travel, and she’s a good fighter.”

“About that-well, not so much about Ashi as about me.” The gnome hopped up into a chair. Given that it had been built for the comfort of hobgoblins and humans, it was as if Geth had decided to sit on top of a table. Apparently used to such inconveniences, Midian kicked his feet and looked at Geth. “I haven’t thanked you for standing up for me in front of Senen and Haruuc. I know that took some nerve. Twice tak, as they say in the Eldeen Reaches.”

Geth took a seat on his bed. “It wasn’t nerve, really. I was just getting a little angry at being ignored, and sometimes I don’t know when to shut up.”

Midian snorted. “It was pretty eloquent for not knowing when to shut up.”

“I saw you take down at least two hobgoblins when the Gan’duur attacked us. I’d call that good fighting.”

“I’ve had to learn some tricks. You might have noticed that Darguuls can be a bit protective of their ruins. Generally, I find it’s much easier to run. Not”-he added quickly-”that I’d run if friends were in trouble.”

“You better not!” Geth gave a mocking growl.

The gnome laughed, then asked, “Speaking of the Gan’duur, have you heard yet how they knew to come west and ambush us?”

In fact, he had. Haruuc had just heard that morning and had passed the news to Vounn, who had announced it in Ashi’s presence. “There was a traitor among the officers at Matshuc Zaal, someone with sympathies to the Gan’duur. The Darguuls use falcons to carry messages-he sent one to the Gan’duur telling them we’d be riding to the Gathering Stone. All the ambushers had to do was ride west until they found us.”

Midian cursed. “Let’s hope your sword doesn’t lead us into Gan’duur territory, then.” He slid from the chair. “Thank you again, Geth. A gnome remembers kindness.”

He shook the shifter’s hand. Geth saw him out. Once the door was closed, he turned around and surveyed the chamber. The hair on the back of his neck and on his forearms had lifted while he’d been talking to Midian. They hadn’t been alone in the room, but at least the unseen presence seemed familiar. “Chetiin?” he said.

The sharaatkhesh elder slipped out from behind a cabinet that Geth could have sworn had been flush against the wall. “I spent too much time riding with you,” he said in his scarred voice.

“How did you get in here?”

“With Midian.”

“No, you didn’t,” Geth said. Chetiin’s ears just twitched slightly. Geth shook his head and sighed. “Was there something you wanted?”

“To wish you luck in the ritual. If it succeeds, preparations are ready and we’ll ride out in three days.”

“Why wait so long?”

“It was Senen’s suggestion. She thinks you may need time to recover after the ritual.”

Geth grimaced. “That doesn’t sound promising,” he said. “You’ll be able to use the time, though-you’ll need to arrange supplies for an extra person. Ashi’s probably going to come.”

Chetiin’s face creased in a smile. “So I heard-but that’s no problem. I assumed that she’d eventually get her way and planned accordingly. We’ll still be ready to go. Tariic is lending us some of his magebred horses for the journey.”

“Will you need to ride with me again?”

“I have arranged for my own mount this time.” the goblin said. His smile disappeared, though. “The news of a traitor in Matshuc Zaal is disturbing. I heard it from Haruuc this morning.”

“A traitor could let enemies pass through Matshuc Zaal,” said Geth.

Chetiin shook his head. “The Gan’duur oppose Haruuc, but they have no more desire to see the forces of Breland enter Darguun than anyone else. It’s disturbing to know that the Gan’duur found a sympathizer in such a sensitive position. Their strength is increasing. For Haruuc’s sake, I hope our mission is a swift one.” He went to the door, then turned back to look at Geth. “I’m pleased that you’ve chosen to work with Haruuc, Geth.”

“I thought the Silent Clans were officially neutral.”

“We are. I’m pleased because I like you.” Chetiin’s expression was sober. “You should know that the bearer of Aram isn’t as important to Haruuc’s cause as the sword itself. If you hadn’t agreed to help us-here, in Sigilstar, or in Lathleer-I would have had to kill you and take Aram. I’m glad I didn’t have to do that.”

A chill brought Geth’s hair up again, but before he could say anything, there was another knock on the door. Chetiin stepped to one side of the door and motioned for Geth to open it. The shifter did. It was Senen and Ekhaas, both dressed in black robes. Senen held out a fold of white fabric to him.

“It is time,” she said.

Geth glanced down and was somehow not surprised to find that Chetiin was gone. He took the white fabric from Senen. It turned out to be a simple linen robe with a loose belt. “Undress and put it on,” Senen told him. “You must wear nothing else.”

She and Ekhaas turned their backs. Geth shrugged and followed her instructions. As he undressed, he asked as casually as he could, “Ekhaas, what would have happened if I hadn’t agreed to go to Sigilstar with Chetiin?”

“I would have gone to Lathleer or wherever you were and tried to talk you into coming myself.”

The answer was direct and honest, but Geth couldn’t help but wondering if it came too easily. He pushed away the cold feeling that welled up inside him and pulled the robe over his head, tying the belt around his waist.

“Ready,” he said.

Senen turned and looked him over, then pointed at his throat. “Nothing else.”

Geth reached up and his fingers touched the collar of black stones. “No,” he said. “I keep this.”

“Anything you wear could affect the ritual,” Senen insisted. “Take it off.” She stepped forward as if she’d pull it off him herself.

“Senen,” Ekhaas said quickly, “it won’t interfere. It’s an orc Gatekeeper artifact, and Gatekeeper magic only makes Aram more powerful. I’ve seen it.”

Senen looked at Ekhaas, her ears folded down, then she moved back. “Are you certain?” she asked. “Nothing can go wrong.”

Ekhaas glanced at Geth, then nodded.

Senen pursed her lips and for a moment reminded Geth very strongly of Vounn. “Ban,” she said. “Bring Aram in its scabbard and come with us.”

They led him up, climbing higher and higher in the tower. Geth’s stomach gurgled unhappily, and the exertion of climbing made his head feel a little bit light. Senen nodded approvingly. “It is as it should be,” she said.

Geth held back a curse.

The final climb was up a tightly wound spiral staircase down which flowed the smell of night air. The stone steps were cold under Geth’s feet. When they stepped up from the staircase, they were on the very roof of Khaar Mbar’ost, a small space that was perhaps fifteen paces from side to side and surrounded entirely by open air. Geth didn’t need to go near the edge to know how high above the ground they were. The sounds of the city that were clearly audible from lower windows were only a dull murmur, obscured by the constant whisper of a breeze. The sun was just settling below the horizon, and the sky that surrounded them was a fiery canopy, purple like Wrath in the east and overhead, blue, then pink, then red and orange to the west. The moons had not yet risen, no stars were visible, and the Ring of Siberys was a pale smear in the south.

Another person waited on the roof, another hobgoblin woman in a black robe like those Ekhaas and Senen wore. The third woman was old, though-so old and seemingly frail that when she moved to meet them it was like watching an injured bat crawl across a rock. Her eyes were sharp, however, and she looked him over carefully, asking the same questions about the stone collar-in Goblin this time-that Senen had. Ekhaas gave her the same answer, but at least the old woman grunted and nodded with more conviction than Senen had, then turned to Geth.

“I am Aaspar,” she said. “This is the first part of the ritual that will wake Aram.” She gestured around them with a gnarled hand. “Tonight you will hold vigil beneath the moons and think on the history of the sword that you hold in your hand.”

“I don’t know its history,” said Geth.

The old woman looked at him blankly and Ekhaas murmured in her ear, translating his words for her. Aaspar clicked her tongue. “You know the history. Ekhaas tells me she has told you stories of the name of Kuun. They are the same.”

Geth blinked. He remembered-vaguely-stories Ekhaas had told him to pass the nights during a desperate race across the Shadow Marches. “I… I might not always have been listening,” he said.

Ekhaas scowled at him as she translated, and Aaspar laughed.

“Think on them. You’ll remember more than you believe. Now go to the circle and kneel. Leave Aram’s scabbard outside it before you enter.”

There was a circle drawn on the rooftop in charcoal. Geth walked to it, drew Wrath, set aside the scabbard, and stepped into the circle, kneeling on the stone of the roof. Aaspar swooped down after him, more like a bat than ever, and with a quick motion filled in a small portion of the circle that had been missing.

“When we are gone, you may move about the roof,” she said, “but you must remain awake and you must hold onto Aram through the night. Don’t release it. Do you understand?” He nodded and she clicked her tongue again. “We will return at dawn.”

She stepped back to form a line with Ekhaas and Senen. “Face the sun,” she told Geth, and he shifted around so that the red light was in his eyes. The movement put the three women at his back. His shoulders prickled, knowing they were back there but not knowing what they were doing.

Then they started to sing.

Geth recognized Ekhaas’s voice in the song, like burning cedar. He could pick out another voice, too, higher and more clear. Soaring over both voices, though, was a sound that barely seemed as if it could come from the throat of a living creature. It had a depth like the sea and a luminous beauty like a hundred beeswax candles glowing in the dark. It pulled at his heart and seemed to reach into the base of his skull to push against his mind. He felt it in his head, in his chest, in his belly, in his groin. It brought a dozen emotions washing over him at once, so many that he couldn’t react to them all but could only kneel and stare out into the gathering night.

It was Aaspar’s voice, and all he could think was that if this was what her song sounded like, how had the songs of the great duur’kala of ancient Dhakaan sounded?

Slowly, he became aware that the chorus of the three duur’kala was changing and growing both deeper and fainter. At the same time, the charcoal outline of the circle within which he knelt seemed to be shifting and spreading across the rooftop. Soon the stones for a sword length around him were black, then two sword lengths. The circle was growing like the shadows of the setting sun.

The sun.

He looked up and realized that the sun had almost entirely vanished below the horizon, sinking just as the duur’kalas song had. He could almost imagine that the three women weren’t just singing along with the sun’s setting but that they were actually singing it down. Time seemed to slow as he watched the disappearing sun and listened to the fading song.