The Grieving Tree

CHAPTER 10

Ashi was waiting for him, crouched down in the thick undergrowth that grew among the trees. Geth squatted beside her and took a glance back onto the road. Singe didn’t look especially pleased, but he seldom did. Sometimes, Geth thought, the wizard was too busy being clever to know when he needed to act.

At least Orshok and Natrac were doing something-they’d dismounted and were holding their horses on short reins close to his and Ashi’s, trying to disguise that there were now two horses on the road without riders. Geth twisted back to Ashi and murmured, “Follow me.”

Before plunging into the woods, he’d looked back and fixed in his mind the spot where he had seen the mysterious figure. He didn’t head that way immediately, though. Instead, he rose and slid deeper into the woods. He was counting on their stalker keeping his eyes on the column and holding his distance from the ogres. The dark-clad figure might be well-hidden from the road, but Geth was fairly certain he’d be much easier to spot from behind.

The shifter dodged from tree to tree and bush to bush, staying low and moving quickly. Ashi’s passage through the woods was smoother and more flowing-the hunter slid from one patch of cover to the next with the lethal grace of a snake. Neither of them made any sound, though if they had, Geth thought the woods might simply have swallowed it up. The silent, ancient eeriness of the land didn’t diminish away from the road. If anything, it seemed to have an even greater presence. The chaotic thrashing of the ogres seemed like little more than a distant rustling, even though Geth could still see the creatures if he looked. He gestured for Ashi to stop before they got too far into the woods. He had a feeling in his gut that he didn’t want to lose sight of the road.

“Grandmother Wolf,” he said under his breath. “I really don’t like this place.”

“Che bo gri lanano ani teith,” Ashi murmured in response. “This land remembers its blood.” Her eyes swept the trees and brush around them, then came back to him for a moment. “Geth,” she said, “tell me why House Deneith should be so worried at someone spreading its training.”

Geth growled softly. “This isn’t the time, Ashi! Ask Singe when we’re back-he understands the lords of Deneith better than I do.”

“But you give honest answers,” said Ashi. She eased a little closer. “I want to understand my new clan. Deneith carries the Mark of Sentinel. The Mark of Sentinel defends. Deneith must have greater concerns than one man teaching commands to anyone-even ogres.”

He clenched his teeth. “The dragonmarked houses are more than clans. They’ve turned their marks into a source of power and wealth. They have special knowledge in their area of skill. If other people start giving away those secrets, the houses lose power and wealth.” Ashi stared at him with a look of confusion on her face. Geth grimaced, trying to find a way to describe the vast power of the great house in a way the hunter would recognize. “They do it for honor,” he said finally.

Ashi’s eyes narrowed and her faced darkened. “There is no honor in wealth!”

“Talk to the lords and ministers of the dragonmarked houses and you talk to people who see something else. I wish you could have met Robrand, Ashi. I think you would have gotten along with the old man.” Geth jerked his head in the direction of their stalker. “Enough talk. Come on-we have someone waiting for us.”

They were deep enough into the eerie woods. Geth turned aside and began moving back parallel to the road. The tree that their stalker had vanished behind had a distinctive broken branch just beneath the level of the forest canopy. It didn’t take long for him to spot it-and their stalker, pressed up against the tree and still intent on the column in the road. Geth paused again and bared his teeth as he studied the figure.

Big as a man and dressed in dark, close-fitting leather armor, just as he’d glimpsed. But he’d made a mistake in assuming the figure was a man or even human.

Their stalker was the hobgoblin woman from the Barrel in Vralkek, her orange-brown hair pulled back so severely that at a glance her head seemed shaved.

Geth stifled a growl. Between her presence in the tavern and her presence here, it seemed fairly clear that the hobgoblin’s interest was in their little group and not Tzaryan Rrac’s ogres. He gestured for Ashi to move around to the hobgoblin’s other side. They would come at her from two directions. Ashi nodded and slipped away through the trees. Geth waited a few moments, flexing his fingers and his arm within the great gauntlet, then closed in.

He was within half a dozen paces before the hobgoblin woman, alerted by some sense that something was amiss, turned to glance behind her, her wolf-like ears standing up straight. Her dark eyes met Geth’s for a fraction of a heartbeat and her ears pressed back flat-then she lunged away.

Ashi spun out from behind another tree, cutting off her escape with a naked blade. The hobgoblin reeled back. Her eyes darted between him and Ashi. Geth moved another step closer. “You’re looking for us?” he asked in a snarl.

The hobgoblin bared teeth as sharp as his own. “You will not defile Taruuzh Kraat!”

Her words brought both Geth and Ashi up short. “How do you know about-?” Geth began, but the hobgoblin didn’t give him a chance to finish the question. Her hands flicked the air and a low, musical word rippled from her lips.

For a moment, she seemed to shimmer and unfold as five exact duplicates stepped out of her body and spread out to surround her. Abruptly, six figures faced them. The hobgoblin drew a wide, heavy sword. So did her duplicates.

“Rond betch!” cursed Ashi. Raising her own sword, she leaped for the nearest of the duplicates.

Geth had seen this magic before. “Ashi, it’s a trick!” he called. The warning came an instant too late, though. The duplicate swayed back before the first slash of Ashi’s sword, but the hunter whirled and brought her blade around in another fast strike that cut across the hobgoblin’s torso.

The duplicate flickered like a flame and vanished, nothing more than a fragile illusion. Ashi stumbled in surprise. The five remaining hobgoblins lifted their hands in arcane gestures and the chant of another song-like spell spun among the trees. Magic swirled around Ashi and froze her in place, muscles locked in the act of raising her sword.

Only one of the five had actually cast the spell, however. Geth roared and charged, slapping a powerful backhand blow from his gauntlet at the hobgoblin who had seemed to chant the words with the most vigor. In the instant of his charge, though, his target slipped back, passing through one of her duplicates as they rapidly rearranged themselves. It was like watching a nest of writhing snakes. Geth hesitated, then struck at random.

Another hobgoblin disappeared without a trace.

A sword darted at his side. Geth spun and blocked the attack with his gauntlet. Metal scraped on metal. His real enemy. His free hand lashed out in a punch.

This time he felt the impact and the hobgoblin staggered, a sudden trickle of blood running down the yellow skin of her chin. Her duplicates closed on her instantly, swapping places once again-and as soon as one passed through another, both bore the same trickle of blood. All of the hobgoblins turned back to him.

Geth snarled in frustration. He reached across his body with his free hand and ripped his sword from its sheath.

The ancient Dhakaani blade shimmered in the forest shadows. The four women facing him stiffened, eyes opening wide with sudden rage. “Chaat’oor!” they howled in a chorus. “Where did you-?”

Geth lunged, attacking on instinct alone. His sword tore through one duplicate and he jabbed a metal-clad fist at the belly of another. The illusions faded away instantly, leaving him facing only two hobgoblins. They seemed to swing at him in unison, both of them with teeth bared and ears back. Geth threw up his gauntlet and his sword, blocking both blows, then, with a roar, snapped out both arms.

The hobgoblin on his left parried desperately, thrusting her blade up to block his. The hobgoblin on his right caught the spiked forearm of his gauntlet across her face-and vanished.

Geth twisted his fist sharply, catching the real hobgoblin’s weapon in the deep notches that scored one edge of his sword and forcing it high. Spinning under his own arm, he stepped in close and hammered his armored elbow into her gut. As the air rushed out of her lungs and she struggled to draw breath, he whirled again and kicked her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard. Geth snatched the sword from her hand and stood over her, both swords poised to fall. He nodded toward Ashi, still standing in the grip of the hobgoblin’s magic.

“Release her,” he ordered. “And don’t try anything else. I know a spell when I see it.”

Angry eyes never shifting from Geth’s face, the hobgoblin stretched out a hand and flicked her fingers at Ashi. The hunter staggered as the spell faded. Her face twisted in a scowl. “Magic is no way to fight!”

“Easy,” Geth said. He looked back down at the hobgoblin. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you following us?” He remembered her curse when he had first approached. “What do you know about Taruuzh Kraat?”

Her ears twitched and drew back. Her lips twisted. “I’ll tell you nothing, chaat’oor!”

Her eyes, however, went briefly to his sword. Geth glanced at the blades in his hands. Held side by side, it was apparent how little the basic design of hobgoblin weapons had changed over the millennia since the fall of Dhakaan. Both swords were heavy and wide with a forked tip, one edge sharp for cutting, and the other cruelly notched for ripping. Geth’s sword, however, was clearly the better of the two. It was heavier than the other blade, yet still perfectly balanced. The notching was evenly formed, the cutting edge fine, and the metal smooth and clear; in spite of its age, it was free of the tiny scrapes and imperfections that marred the newer blade.

His sword had also injured a dragon, though neither Batul nor Singe could say why. When he had drawn it in Zarash’ak, a gang of goblins had fled from him. Again, no one could explain it. The sight of the weapon had inspired outrage in the hobgoblin woman before him, however. She recognized the sword. Geth extended it toward her. “You know something about this, don’t you?” he said. “What?”

The hobgoblin’s eyes flashed, but she stayed defiantly silent. Geth ground his teeth, then growled, “Fine.” He gestured with his sword. “Ashi, get her on her feet. Maybe Chuut and the General can get answers out of her.”

The hunter sheathed her word and hauled the hobgoblin woman up from the ground, then briskly searched her for hidden weapons. She found a knife, but nothing else. The woman’s only gear was what she carried in a small satchel. Ashi scowled. “How could she have kept up with us all the way from Vralkek?”

The hobgoblin offered no response, but Geth glanced at her boots. They were finely tooled and decorated with Goblin script. “I imagine Singe could find something magical about those boots,” he said.

The hobgoblin’s eyes flickered with anger. “Thief!”

Geth snorted. “We don’t want your boots. Ashi, keep hold of her.” He turned back toward the road.

Singe, Orshok, and Natrac, along with Chuut and several other ogres, were waiting for them when they emerged from the woods. Singe stared at the hobgoblin with recognition on his face. “Her?” he said in surprise.

“She knows something about Taruuzh Kraat,” said Geth. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and moved to help Ashi hold the woman.

“Who is she?”

“She won’t say.”

“Her name,” rumbled Chuut, sounding displeased, “is Ekhaas.”

Geth looked up at the ogre. “You know her?”

“She’s a pest.” He stepped forward and glared at the hobgoblin. “Tzaryan Rrac ordered your arrest if you were caught interfering in his affairs again.”

Ekhaas glared back at Chuut fearlessly. “How was I interfering?” she asked. Now that she was calm, her voice was coarse but pleasant, like smoke from burning cedar. “I have no further quarrel with Tzaryan-only with would-be defilers of Dhakaan.”

Singe’s eyebrows rose and he shot a glance at Geth. The shifter nodded. Chuut, however, looked neither curious nor amused.

“Come with me,” he said. “You’re going to see the General.”

An idea turned inside Geth’s head. “Wait,” he said quickly. He gripped Ekhaas’s arm and met Chuut’s gaze square-on. “She’s my capture. If she’s going to the General, I want to hand her over myself.”

The challenge seemed to confuse Chuut. “The General said for you to stay in your place.”

“Then she stays with me,” said Geth. Chuut blinked and turned to Singe.

Geth was happy to see that the wizard wore a half-smile-he’d figured out what Geth was doing. “Tell your shifter to give her to me,” Chuut ordered him.

Singe shook his head and crossed his arms. “No. He’s right. We can either go to the General-both of us-or you can bring the General here, but until we see him the hobgoblin belongs to us.” He raised an eyebrow. “If I were the General, I know what I’d want done.”

Ekhaas turned her head to look at Geth. “I’m not a bone for dogs like you to fight over!” she hissed.

Geth glanced back at her. “You should have answered my questions,” he told her. Ekhaas’s ears stood up straight with indignation. Chuut groaned. His big finger pointed at Geth and Singe.

“You and you come with me,” he said. “We’ll take her to the General together.”

“She comes too,” said Geth, nodding to Ashi. “She helped with the capture.”

Chuut’s mouth drooped. “As you say,” he agreed, “but the orc and half-orc stay. If you cause trouble, they’ll be the ones to pay.”

Orshok paled slightly at the threat, but Geth shook his head at him. “We won’t cause trouble,” he promised Chuut.

The ogre just grunted and turned to stride up alongside the resting column. Where he passed, lounging ogres leaped to their feet-and stared curiously at the smaller beings following in his wake.

Ashi returned their curiosity. “I still haven’t had the chance to fight one,” she commented.

“And I hope you never do,” said Singe. The wizard looked over his shoulder at Geth. “Good idea, but let me do most of the talking. Remember, I’m the one who’s supposed to be in charge.”

Geth rolled his eyes and nodded. At his side, Ekhaas’s ears perked up.

“You’re up to something,” she said.

“No, we’re not,” Singe replied blandly.

“I could tell the General what I’ve heard.”

“From what I’ve heard, the General doesn’t have too high an opinion of you,” the wizard told her. “Is he going to believe anything you say?”

Ekhaas glared at him but fell silent.

As they drew close to the front of the column, Chuut tagged one of the leaner ogres and sent him running ahead. Geth spotted the General and Dandra, still on their horses, in the shade of the trees at the side of the road. Chuut’s runner stopped a short distance from them and saluted the General. The shrouded man beckoned him closer and the ogre approached. As he spoke his message, Geth saw the General and Dandra both sit up straighter in the saddle and look back along the column toward them. The General leaned close to Dandra for a moment and she nodded, then turned her horse and urged it into a gallop, racing for them. Her face was sharp with concern. “Cover the hobgoblin’s mouth!” she called. “The General says she’s a spellcaster!”

“We know that already!” Geth shouted back. “She’s under control!”

Chuut, however, obeyed the order without a moment’s hesitation, shouldering Ashi aside to reach down and wrap a big hand across Ekhaas’s face. The hobgoblin let out a muffled yell and struggled. Singe stared. “I don’t think she can breathe.”

The ogre grimaced in pain. “But she can bite!” His free hand fumbled at a pouch on his belt and emerged with a large rag. “Hold her,” he commanded Geth. A moment later, Ekhaas wore a gag and a furious expression, and Chuut was cradling a bloody hand.

Dandra drew up in front of them and swung down from her horse. “Who is this?” she asked, staring at Ekhaas.

She hadn’t seen the hobgoblin directly while they were in the tavern. Singe told her what they knew. Dandra’s eyebrows rose. “What does she know about Taruuzh Kraat?”

“Nothing that she’s telling us,” said Singe. He looked Dandra over. “Is the General treating you well?”

“He doesn’t say much, but otherwise yes.” She nodded back to where the General was dismounting from his horses with the fumbling aid of two ogres, one of them kneeling like a stepstool. “The General wants a moment. He said we can approach when he’s standing.”

“He’ll see us?” Geth asked.

“His words were, ‘Your friends are stubborn.’”

“That’s us,” Singe said, but his eyes were on the General’s struggles. “Dandra, does he go through this every time he gets on and off a horse?”

“Every time I’ve seen,” Dandra said.

Geth watched the ogres trying to help the man almost knock him to the ground. “You’d think he’d have trained them in what to do!” he said.

Singe’s lips pressed together for a moment. “Aye,” he said.

It took a few moments longer before the General was standing-a little awkwardly-on his own two feet beneath the trees. He gestured them forward with his left arm, his right hanging as stiff as a piece of wood. Geth could feel Chuut’s watchful gaze on all of them as they moved forward. Ekhaas seemed to pull back a little. Above the gag, her eyes were angry and confused. Geth growled and tugged her after him.

The General stopped them a few paces away from where he stood in the shifting, dappled sunlight that fell through the tree branches. “I don’t want her any closer to me,” he said. His voice was as harsh as Dandra had described. Maybe even harsher. Geth looked at his shrouded body and gave silent thanks that whatever else the Last War might have done, at least it hadn’t left him crippled.

“General,” said Singe, “I understand this woman has been causing Tzaryan Rrac trouble for some time. I place her into your custody with my compliments.” He gave a formal bow.

The General nodded in return. “My master will thank you himself,” he said. “Chuut, see that Ekhaas is kept under guard. When the company returns to Tzaryan Keep, put her in the dungeon.”

“Aye, General!” The ogre stepped up behind Ekhaas. Ashi and Geth released their grips on her, turning the hobgoblin over to him. For the first time, there was a flicker of fear in Ekhaas’ eyes. She started to struggle, trying to shout through her gag, as Chuut took her away. She got one arm free of the ogre’s grasp and thrust it out toward the general, but Chuut slapped it down again before Ekhaas could do more than point. Any spell she might have been trying to cast was ruined. The General didn’t move, but just watched with icy calm. When she was gone, he turned his attention to back Geth, Singe, Ashi, and Dandra.

“You’ve been trying to meet me, Master Timin,” he said. “Now you have. As Dandra can tell you, I’m not much for conversation. I prefer my own company. Does this satisfy you?”

“You’re giving Deneith Blademarks training to Tzaryan’s ogres,” Singe said bluntly.

For a moment, the General said nothing. Between the scarves that covered the man’s face and the changing patterns of light and shadow that made even his exposed eyes hard to see, Geth could read nothing of his expression, but when he spoke again his harsh voice had taken on a cold note. “It’s unusual to find a scholar of Wynarn who also knows something of mercenary training-but I’ve found many surprises in Droaam. For your knowledge, I owe nothing to House Deneith.”

To Geth’s surprise, Singe made no response. He turned his head to look at the wizard.

Singe’s face was tense with effort of holding back emotion. “No,” he said finally, his voice cracking. “No, I suppose you don’t-old man.”

On Singe’s other side, Dandra stiffened, her eyes going wide and darting to the General. Ashi looked confused, but Geth felt his gut clench like a knotted rope.

The General went stiff as well-then drew a deep breath of resignation and relaxed. His right arm and leg loosened. He straightened the fingers of his right hand and reached up to pull aside scarves revealing a face that was weathered and wrinkled with age, but not at all scarred.

“You’re too clever, Lieutenant Bayard,” he said “I knew I should have left you in Vralkek.”

A smile spread across Singe’s face and he leaped forward to embrace the man. “Robrand!”

“Robrand?” asked Ashi in amazement. “Robrand d’Deneith?”

“Robrand,” whispered Geth.

They made camp for the night alongside the road. Robrand ordered his pavilion erected and invited Singe and the others to stay with him and to share his evening meal. Natrac and Orshok-pale with worry that something had gone wrong-were summoned up the column and were astounded to find the others settling down with an old friend. Robrand greeted them and Ashi with all the aristocratic charm that Singe remembered from years before. The old man even reintroduced himself to Dandra, apologizing for his deception.

Chuut and the other ogres, meanwhile, seemed more confused by the sudden change in the status of the General’s guests than by Robrand’s shedding of his disguise. Robrand chuckled when Singe pointed it out. “They knew I was disguising myself. Do you think I normally run around faking crippling injuries?” His wrinkled, weathered face twisted and he rubbed at the leg he had been holding stiff. “Because I wouldn’t. It’s not very comfortable.”

Singe reached across the blanket on the ground that served as a dining table for their group-Robrand had a small folding table, but it would hardly seat seven people-and helped himself to an apple. The food eaten by the General was simple, but still significantly better than the rations they had been supplied with. Not that Singe wouldn’t have eaten pig slop so long as it meant he was eating with Robrand again-except that they could have been eating together much sooner. He looked back to Robrand. “Then why disguise yourself at all, old man?” he asked. “You knew it was us.”

Robrand grimaced again and eased back. “How long has it been since we saw each other, Etan?”

Natrac’s eyebrows rose. “Etan?”

The wizard took a crunching bite out of his apple. “Singe, Robrand,” he mumbled, then swallowed and added, “And it’s been almost five years since I even had a letter from you.”

“Exactly,” said Robrand. “Five years and a lot has happened in the world.” He sighed. “The war changed people, Etan. People I thought I could trust.”

His words had a bitter edge. Singe paused in the act of the biting into his apple again and looked up. Robrand’s gaze had drifted to a far corner of the blanket. To Geth.

The shifter’s eyes were down, his posture huddled. He did little more than pick uncomfortably at his food. Singe realized that he wasn’t the only one to notice the tension between Geth and Robrand. Dandra and Natrac were both watching him and the old man as well. Since they had unmasked the General, Geth had been silent and withdrawn. If he could have, Singe guessed, he would have fled.

A part of the wizard wished that he would. Another part wanted him to stay and squirm before Robrand, the man whose life he had destroyed in Narath.

A third part reminded him of what he and Geth had accomplished since their ill-fated reunion in Bull Hollow. Until their argument in Bava’s studio, he’d been close to forgiving the shifter. One look at Robrand’s face, however, silenced any questions of forgiveness. His eyes were bleak. Singe could guess at what was in his head: he’d felt the same himself when he’d first faced Geth in Bull Hollow.

He felt a surge of admiration for Robrand. He had confronted Geth with fire and steel. The old man had greater self-control. He didn’t deserve the ignominy that Narath had brought. Robrand hadn’t been the one who’d failed the town.

Singe hardened his heart. “Robrand, I-”

His old commander waved him to silence and sipped from a cup of watered wine, When he spoke again, his voice was calm once more. “One of Tzaryan’s ogres saw Ashi’s confrontation in the street and reported it. He was taken by her strength and-and by Geth’s gauntlet. When I heard him describe it, I recognized it myself. You don’t come across a gauntlet like that worn by a shifter every day. I tracked you down at the Barrel and discovered ‘Master Timin Shay.’” He glanced at Singe. “Didn’t I say you should chose a new alias?”

“It does the job,” Singe said.

“Either way,” Robrand continued, “you’re a distinctive pair. Although I’m surprised to see you together. I didn’t think that was likely to happen.”

Singe felt like Robrand had jabbed him with a knife. “There were … circumstances,” he said. It was a clumsy excuse.

Robrand shook his head. “I have a contract with Tzaryan Rrac, Etan. I have a duty to him. You were trying to gain access to Tzaryan Keep under an assumed name. I had to find out more. I decided it would be best to keep you close until I knew exactly what was going on.”

“And whether you could trust us?” Singe asked.

The old man’s face tightened for a moment, then softened again. “It would have been less risk to have Chuut restrain you in Vralkek,” he said, “but I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t want to think you’d changed that much, Etan-that if you were trying to get to Tzaryan Keep, you had a good reason for it.”

“And?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Robrand took another sip of wine, then set his cup aside and sat back. “When did you know it was me?”

“I got suspicious this morning when Dandra described her meeting with you,” Singe said. “There was a familiar pattern in how you manipulated her: implicating House Jorasco in your supposed scars so that we’d be too busy speculating about that to question whether you really had scars at all, telling her you distrusted kalashtar so she thought it was her own idea not to betray you with her powers-”

Dandra blinked. “But Chuut was supposed to bring Ashi from the tavern, not me.”

Robrand’s eyes flashed and his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Another lie. I beg your pardon. I know something of the skills of kalashtar. You might have been able to draw the truth out of me and you could have relayed that information to Singe or Geth, so you were the one I had to convince with my story-but I couldn’t let you realize it. Once I had you convinced, I knew that Singe and Geth would follow.”

Singe found himself matching Robrand’s smile. “If I need a new alias, you need new tricks. There were things through the day, too, like your note to us-written by Dandra so I wouldn’t see your hand-or the way the ogres who supposedly helped you dismount all the time didn’t look like they knew what they were doing.”

He looked at Robrand sideways. “You didn’t have Ekhaas gagged because she was a spellcaster-you had her gagged because she’d seen the General before. She could have given you away.”

“A clever man is most vulnerable when he’s trying to be clever,” said Robrand with a shrug.

Singe nodded. “I didn’t know for sure though until we actually met you. You were trying hard to hide your eyes in the shadows of the tree, but it was the hatred for House Deneith that gave you away.” He spread his hands. “Why even meet with us? You might have been able to get away with it if you hadn’t.”

“It was a risk I had to take,” Robrand confessed. “If I hadn’t, you would have just kept pushing.” He smiled. “Don’t deny it. You would have. At least this way, it’s out in the open and I have a chance to see you again, Etan.”

Warmth spread through Singe’s belly. “It’s been too long, Robrand. The last letter I had from you reached me in Karrlakton. You haven’t been in Droaam all this time, have you?”

“Tzaryan Rrac sought me out two years ago, just after the War ended.” Robrand took up his cup again. His face creased with memory. “He found me in Shavalant in Breland.”

“Shavalant’s hardly a village!”

“I’d been living in Xandrar before a few heirs of Deneith realized who I was and started making my life miserable.” He shrugged. “Shavalant wasn’t so bad.”

“You didn’t fight them?” asked Ashi.

Robrand looked at her and shook his head. “It would just have exposed me. Fighting doesn’t do much good when you’re one of the most reviled men in a dragonmarked house. No, I ran. Like a coward.”

Across the blanket, Geth stiffened.

Singe’s fingers clenched on the core of his apple. He flung it away into the gathering darkness outside the pavilion and wrenched the conversation in another direction. “Robrand, who is Ekhaas? Do you know what she would want with us?”

The old man snorted. “She’s just what Chuut said-a pest. A thorn in Tzaryan’s side. Have you ever heard of the Kech Volaar? They’re a clan of hobgoblins in Darguun. They consider themselves the protectors of the glory of the lost Dhakaani Empire. Usually you don’t find them much outside of Darguun, but Ekhaas has appointed herself as guardian of Dhakaani ruins in this part of Droaam.” He nodded along the road in the direction of their destination. “That includes the ruins near Tzaryan Keep. Your interest in them probably attracted her attention.”

“What’s going to happen to her?” Dandra asked.

“It will likely depend on Tzaryan Rrac’s mood when we arrive. What Chuut said was no idle threat-Tzaryan has warned her to stay away. The Kech Volaar carries no weight here.” Robrand took another sip of wine. His dark eyes watched them over the rim of his goblet and when he lowered the vessel, he wasn’t smiling. “But we’re drifting from my problem,” he said seriously. “Tzaryan is my master and you’re approaching him under false pretenses.”

Singe shifted uncomfortably under his former commander’s sharp-eyed gaze. “Not all that false,” he said. He glanced at Dandra, then back to Robrand. This was more than just a reunion. If he handled this right, they would have an unexpected ally in Tzaryan Keep. “If I tell you what’s going on-the truth of it-will you help us?”

“You know better than to ask that, Etan. You’re an old friend, but you’d be asking me to turn against a contract.”

“You’re not part of House Deneith anymore, old man,” Singe reminded him. He gestured to the ogres outside the pavilion. “Do you think the lords of Deneith would have approved this?”

Robrand’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t leave Deneith,” he said. “Deneith abandoned me. Tzaryan gives me something like what I used to have. He respects me. He doesn’t try to forget that I exist.” He set his goblet down and frowned, then looked up again. “I can’t promise to help you, but for the memory of the Frostbrand, I won’t give you away either-so long as whatever you’re doing poses no danger to Tzaryan Rrac or Tzaryan Keep.”

“It doesn’t. You have my word.” He drew a breath and began their story with the one detail that the old man needed to know whether he was going to help them or not. He owed that much to a friend. “Robrand, your nephew Toller is dead. He died defending a hamlet called Bull Hollow in the Eldeen Reaches, but he’s dead because of a man named Dah’mir.”

Robrand listened just as Singe had known he would, saying nothing and absorbing everything. Singe considered leaving things out of the story-Robrand would understand that there were things he couldn’t share-but found that he couldn’t. He laid everything before his one-time commander. When he finished, the circle within Robrand’s pavilion was silent. Robrand closed his eyes as he had after every battle Singe had fought at his side, committing the names and faces of the dead to memory. It was, the wizard knew, his way of mourning.

“Toller would have made a great commander, Robrand,” he said after a long moment. “He died too soon.”

Robrand drew a deep breath and opened his eyes again. “We die when it’s our time. No sooner and no later. It’s how we die that’s important. Toller died well. I think he must have had a good teacher.” He stood and offered Singe his hand. “I trust you, Etan. I’ll help you however I can.”