Word of traitors

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

3 Aryth

Pain and fury seethed in Geth. Pain from the burns inflicted on him. Fury at what had been done to Tenquis. Fury and pain both for Chetiin’s treachery, as fresh and hot as if the rod had just been stolen or if Haruuc were newly struck down. The goblin torturer was dead, though, and with every breath, Geth promised himself that soon Chetiin would be, too.

But Aruget’s words broke through the rush of blood that roared in his ears. “There was no shaarat’khesh.”

If there was no shaarat’khesh involved in Midian’s scheme, that meant…

He looked at Midian again.

On the night they had first gone to see Tenquis, Ekhaas had used magic to disguise Geth as a hobgoblin woman. Midian’s pack and pouches were filled with strange and useful magical devices-one of them might easily have been capable of disguising a gnome as a goblin. The two races were about the same size and Midian was an excellent mimic. He fought well too. Surprisingly well for a scholar, even an adventurous one.

Geth thought back to the day he had investigated Chetiin’s room and confirmed that there was a ledge above the fireplace, just as the goblin had said. He’d encountered Midian in the hall afterward. He’d thought then that Midian hadn’t noticed the soot smudge on his face, but what if he had? The gnome could have investigated Chetiin’s room and discovered that the supposedly dead shaarat’khesh elder was no longer where he’d been left. Midian would have realized that at least part of his plot had been uncovered. He would have had to act. But no…

“It’s not possible,” he said. “Midian wasn’t in Rhukaan Draal when Haruuc was assassinated.”

“Whose word do you have for that?” asked Aruget.

“The coin he brought back to Ekhaas from Bloodrun-”

“-could have come from anywhere,” Ekhaas said, her voice low. “The messenger we sent to Bloodrun to fetch him supposedly died of dust fever, didn’t he? What if he didn’t?”

The gnome made no reaction to the accusations. His face was expressionless.

Ashi spoke up. “I saw you at the beginning of the coronation ceremony,” she said to Midian, “but not later. Afterward when I talked to you about what happened there, you said you didn’t see anything because your view was blocked. But you didn’t stay, did you? You made sure I saw you, then you left to disguise yourself again and steal the rod.”

Midian’s silence was hard to ignore. He damned himself with it. He kept very still, back against a wall. There was a tension in him Geth hadn’t seen before, like a blade ground so keen the touch of a whetstone would break it.

“Why?” Geth asked him.

A cold smile split Midian’s face-and he sprang into sudden motion. One hand hurled the potion vials at Chetiin and Geth. The other whipped a knife, the blade stained black, from his belt as he leaped at Aruget.

A bad feeling about those vials gripped Geth. He stuck out his hands and dived for them, snatching them out of the air as gently as he could. Aruget swung a bulky sack up at Midian, but the gnome ducked around it with astonishing speed. His knife slashed, forcing Aruget back, then he was past him and running for the stairs. Ashi ran after him. Ekhaas shifted Tenquis so he leaned against the wall, and drew breath, ready to sing a spell at the fleeing gnome.

It was Chetiin who caught him, though. The goblin’s movement was as fast as a thrown knife. He bounded past Geth and actually seemed to run along the wall itself for several steps before launching himself at Midian. His arms wrapped around the gnome’s legs and brought him down. Midian’s knife flashed, but Chetiin twisted and the blade struck stone. Then Aruget was at his side, tearing the knife from Midian’s grasp and pinning both wrists with one large hand. Chetiin rolled free, grabbed the fallen knife, and held the stained blade to the gnome’s throat.

Midian went still, as if he knew further struggles were useless. His eyes were like chips of glass. He glared up at Aruget. “Dark Lantern?” he asked.

Aruget’s ears flicked as he hauled the gnome upright. He nodded to Geth. “Good catch. I doubt you would have wanted to drink-or breathe-those potions.” The hobgoblin looked to Ashi. “Or Midian’s wine. I don’t think you were intended to survive your rescue.”

“He called you a Dark Lantern,” said Chetiin. The captured knife didn’t waver, but Geth saw the goblin steal a glance at Aruget. “You’re an agent of Breland?”

“You can trust him, Chetiin,” said Ashi. “He’s a friend.” She caught Geth’s eye, then Ekhaas’s, and added, “An old friend.”

An old friend? Geth thought of the only other Brelish agent he’d ever known-the half-elf, Benti Morren. He glanced at Ashi and silently mouthed Benti’s name. Ashi nodded. Geth turned back to Aruget in confusion but the hobgoblin only held up a hand.

“Not now,” he said.

Ekhaas wasn’t so easily put off. “What’s a Brelish Dark Lantern doing in Darguun?”

“Getting more involved than I should be for someone whose orders were only to watch,” Aruget said. He gave Midian a gentle shake. “A better question would be what’s an agent of Zilargo doing in Darguun? We found out that Midian had attached himself to Tariic. We already had suspicions that Haruuc was up to something. I was sent to keep an eye on both of them, but I don’t think anyone ever thought it would go this far.”

Geth looked to Midian. “You work for Zilargo?”

Somehow Midian managed to look proud. “I work for the Library of Korranberg,” he said. His eyes went to Ekhaas. “That coin was from Bloodrun. You go there and look. You’ll find Koolt Dynasty ruins-”

His words ended at the touch of the poisoned knife to his throat. “I don’t care who you work for,” said Chetiin. “I want to know about Haruuc. I don’t particularly care that you tried to kill me in the process. I want to know why you killed him.”

“I think I know,” Ashi said. She moved forward, her eyes wide and thoughtful. “When Esmyssa ir’Korran told me that Zils negotiate instead of fighting wars, she said that Zilargo prefers to deal with stable rulers. Haruuc wanted the Rod of Kings to keep Darguun stable. If Midian helped him find it, Zilargo would have the stable neighbor it wanted and an agent with Haruuc’s trust.” She raised a finger. “But when Haruuc became warlike under the influence of the rod, it didn’t suit Zilargo’s plans, so Haruuc had to be removed. We thought he was killed to keep him from discovering the power of the rod or to prevent a war, but that was only part of it. He was also killed so that a lhesh more sympathetic and less warlike would come to the throne.” A second finger joined the first. “Tariic also trusted Midian. And he’d said that he wanted to bring Darguun into greater contact with the rest of Khorvaire.”

“Tariic wasn’t Haruuc’s heir,” said Chetiin. “Any warlord could have taken the throne.”

“But Tariic was in a better position than anyone else.”

Geth felt a chill in his belly. “Zilargo killed Haruuc? Gnomes were trying to influence the rulers of Darguun?” He looked Midian-who smiled-then at Aruget. “I thought Zilargo was supposed to be Breland’s ally!”

“In this game, there are no allies and no traitors,” said Aruget, “only opportunities. Haruuc started a small war to avoid a large one; Zilargo killed a king to keep their peace. I doubt if Breland would object to a more pliable lhesh either. If you ask in Zilargo, though, I don’t think you’ll find anyone who would admit to anything more than regret at Haruuc’s assassination.” He gave Midian another shake. “What do you have to say to this?”

The gnome looked at Ashi. “I’d say you have more imagination than I thought you did.”

Ashi’s lips pressed tight, and for a moment it seemed that she might lose her temper. She kept her emotions in check, however, and Geth could see Vounn’s influence in that. She raised a third finger. “After the assassination, Midian slipped out of Rhukaan Draal. Whether he actually went to Bloodrun doesn’t matter. He must have anticipated we’d send a messenger for him, though, and he dealt with him. When the city reopened after the mourning period, he returned-and discovered that by killing Haruuc, he’d only made things worse. For a little while, we were all working toward the same goal of finding a way to keep Tariic from succumbing to the curse of the rod.” She cocked her head to one side. “It’s even possible he came up with the idea of a false rod before he found out about the curse. We just gave him the perfect chance to propose it. He may have intended to steal the true rod all along.”

A growl escaped Geth. “And it might have worked if Tariic hadn’t recognized the false rod!” Another idea occurred to him. “Wait-why dress as Chetiin again to steal the rod? He couldn’t have known that I’d come rushing up from the coronation to get it.”

“He would have made sure someone else saw him,” said Chetiin. “Saw me. He had the perfect scapegoat.”

“I think he already knew you were still alive,” Geth said. “I may have given it away to him.”

“Even better. He would have turned you against me again.”

Geth felt blood rush into his face and the hate he’d felt since Haruuc’s death turned into a sick feeling of shame in the pit of his stomach. “He did,” he said. “Chetiin, you’re the one I owe an apology to. You’re no traitor.”

“No, I’m not,” the goblin said, “but I hold no anger for what you thought. You were manipulated. We all were.” He nodded to Midian. “Paatcha. Your plan was cunning.”

Midian’s eyes danced although there was no warmth in them. “What plan?”

The gnome’s smug satisfaction burned in Geth. He pushed Chetiin aside, bending down to snarl in Midian’s face. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? You think we can’t beat you. Well, you’re wrong.” He thrust a hand at Tenquis, still leaning against the wall and following everything with weary golden eyes, though color at least had returned to his face. “We know where you hid the Rod of Kings. Tenquis realized that the connection between Wrath and the rod was still active. We followed it.” He stepped back and looked at the others. “He hid the rod in Haruuc’s tomb.”

Surprise passed across all their faces, but none of it was as sweet as the look of shock and anger that finally broke through Midian’s mask.

Geth bared his teeth at him. “Yes,” he said, “it was clever, but now you’re not the only one who knows. Now we all do.”

“So does Tariic.”

Tenquis’s words-the first he had spoken-were unsteady, but angry and determined. Geth turned sharply to look at him. They all turned. The tiefling shoved himself away from the wall and stood straight, head held high. “I’m sorry, Geth,” he said. “I couldn’t hold back. Horns of Ohr Kaluun, I tried, but I couldn’t in the end.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I gave Tariic what he wanted.”

The sick feeling returned to Geth’s stomach. “He knows?”

Tenquis nodded.

“Clever,” said Midian.

They walked out through the front gates of Khaar Mbar’ost.

It was simple. It was direct. The great courtyard within the gates and the plaza beyond it were both crowded with Darguuls prepared for celebration of Dagii’s victorious return. No one paid any attention to them as they passed through, moving in small groups to avoid notice. Ekhaas and Ashi went first, Ashi’s face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat that Aruget produced from his sack. Chetiin and Tenquis followed, the tiefling hunched beneath a cloak, both of them tottering like frail elders. Geth knew it wasn’t much of an act on Tenquis’s part at the moment. Every few steps, he staggered a little before catching himself. Geth had tried to help him at first, but Tenquis had shaken him off in a flash of temper.

“I just need to find my balance,” he’d said through his teeth. “I’m used to having a tail behind me.”

There was deep pain behind the angry words.

When the other four were safely out of Khaar Mbar’ost, Aruget and Geth struck out. Geth kept his head down and stayed close to Aruget, trusting to the hobgoblin’s bulk to shield him. A cloak draped over his shoulder concealed both his great gauntlet and, held tight in his hand, Wrath. The sword seemed to echo his own simmering rage-and his fear. He could feel the Rod of Kings through the blade, a distant but distinct presence. The rod wasn’t moving. Tariic didn’t have it. Yet.

His eyes darted to the sack Aruget carried over his shoulder. In spite of having cloaks and hat, gauntlet and sword pulled out of it, the sack was once again full and heavy.

It shifted a little bit.

Aruget bounced it on his shoulder to disguise the movement and hissed, “Stop squirming.”

“I couldn’t feel my leg,” muttered a voice from inside the sack.

“I could make that permanent, Midian,” Geth said under his breath. “Move again, and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

He’d been in favor of killing the gnome right there in the corridor outside the torture chamber, but others-primarily Midian himself, backed up by Ekhaas, Chetiin, and eventually Aruget-had persuaded him otherwise. Whatever Midian might have done, they all shared an interest in keeping the Rod of Kings out of Tariic’s hands. Only the gnome knew exactly where the rod was hidden in Haruuc’s tomb. If they were too slow in reaching the tomb, every moment might be precious. They needed Midian.

But not one of them trusted him. He went into Aruget’s sack. Geth couldn’t say that he cared if the gnome ever came out again.

And there was Aruget. He glanced at the hobgoblin-or rather, at the changeling wearing a hobgoblin’s face. Ashi had pulled him, Ekhaas, and Chetiin aside and whispered the truth to them.

Agents of Zilargo and Breland, shadows of two nations lurking in the twilight of Darguun.

“It’s more common than you know,” Aruget said abruptly. It was vaguely disconcerting to hear him speak without his familiar accent. “Everyone has their fingers in the jam jar.”

Geth blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “You knew what I was thinking?”

Aruget’s ears twitched. “I’m good at reading faces, and you had the look of someone who just got his first peek behind the curtain at a brothel.” He looked down at Geth. “We won’t be the only agents in Darguun. Every nation, every dragonmarked house has its eyes and its hands here. I’m certain Haruuc knew it. I imagine it pleased him. Being a part of the Shadow War is like a rite of passage-children don’t play these games.”

“Children don’t assassinate kings,” Geth said. “When did you know it was Midian and not Chetiin?”

Aruget shrugged, jostling the sack and bringing another soft grunt from Midian. “I suspected Midian was up to something when he made arrangements to leave Rhukaan Draal. I didn’t expect such a direct action, though. Assassination is a last resort. Killing the ruler of a nation is unheard of.” His voice was cool, unflinching.

“You couldn’t have warned us about him?” Geth asked.

“My orders were to watch. I work for Breland, not Darguun.”

Geth clenched his teeth. “Why are you helping us now, then?”

“Once I had the final piece, the puzzle turned out to be bigger than I thought.”

The sack chuckled quietly. “We’re cold-hearted bastards, Geth,” said Midian.

Aruget turned slightly so that the sack swung against the side of a wagon. Midian let out a muffled curse that Aruget covered with a well-timed cough-a cough that turned into a soft curse of his own. He twisted, giving Geth a little more cover, at the same time moving a hand across his face, as if scratching his nose. When he lowered his hand, his features had shifted just enough that he could have been any hobgoblin. “Keep moving but get your head down,” he said. “Tariic’s here!”

Geth heard the hoofbeats of trotting horses over the noise of the milling crowd in the plaza. He dropped his eyes, feigning great interest in his feet. His hand curled tight around Wrath. When Aruget paused, along with everyone around them, to turn and shout praise to the passing lhesh, he paused, too. He couldn’t bring himself to call Tariic’s name, though. The hoofbeats didn’t slow. When they’d passed, he risked a glance up.

Tariic rode on into Rhukaan Draal without even acknowledging the cheers of his subjects. Two hobgoblin guards followed him.

“Now we’re in trouble,” said Aruget. “If he goes to his quarters, he’ll notice that Wrath and your gauntlet are missing.” He quickened his pace.

Geth risked another glance back at Tariic. Haruuc’s nephew didn’t look happy. “He doesn’t have the rod yet.”

“It won’t be for want of trying. If he’s here, he’ll have left someone at the tomb. Daavn, probably. Maybe Makka too.”

Geth allowed himself a grim smile. “Good.”

Two hobgoblin soldiers guarded the great red stone arch, probably intended more to raise an alarm if anyone approached than to provide actual protection. From his hiding place among the shacks that were the fading edge of Rhukaan Draal, Geth didn’t even see Chetiin slip past the guards, but somehow the shaarat’khesh elder was abruptly behind them. One guard went down with a knife in his back. The other turned, only to meet a second knife as Chetiin dropped down from above.

“He’s got them both,” Geth growled. “Move.”

They raced for the cover of the arch. Ekhaas and Ashi took the lead, Geth kept pace with Tenquis, and Aruget stayed close to Midian-now freed from the sack. They all clustered in the shadows of the arch and peered through the open gates to the ridge where Haruuc’s tomb lay.

Half a dozen bugbears wearing the red corded armbands of Khaar Mbar’ost attacked the dagger-thick stone of the tomb door with picks, hammers, and bars. The banging of their efforts was louder than the rush of the cataract, but so far all they’d managed to do was scar the carving of Haruuc. Daavn and three more hobgoblins watched their slow progress along with Makka and, perched on his shoulder, Pradoor. Horses picketed to a low line cropped the grass close to them.

Ashi scowled. “Why so many?” she asked quietly. “Tariic could have hired a wizard to get into the tomb with magic, couldn’t he?”

“One more person who would learn about the rod,” said Aruget. “Tariic doesn’t have to explain himself to servants. And I doubt if anyone except Daavn, Makka, and Pradoor is going to survive long after that door is opened.”

Ashi’s scowl deepened.

“There are too many for me to hold with a song,” Ekhaas said.

“And Pradoor might resist it,” Geth added. His skin crawled a little at the memory of the blind goblin woman chanting her spell in the torture chamber.

“We don’t have to go through them,” said Midian. “I already have a way in, remember? I always planned on getting the rod out again the same way. I could slip in and get it without anybody knowing.”

Geth and all of the others only glared at him. The gnome shrugged. “You don’t think I’d bring it back to you? Send Chetiin with me.”

Chetiin’s jaw twitched. “I don’t value my life so little.” A wounded expression crossed Midian’s face and he hunched back in a sulk.

A little too far back for Geth’s liking. “Stay where I can see you.”

Wounded turned to frustrated. “Do you want to hold my hand?” He stuck out his arm.

“That’s not a bad idea. Does anyone have a piece of rope?”

Ekhaas did. Geth tied one end around Midian’s wrist and the other around his own. Midian gave him a sour look, but submitted before slouching back.

“I have a plan.” said Chetiin. He sketched lines in the dust to mark the course of the ridge and touched points along them. “A few of us show ourselves among the rocks of the ridge here and here. Daavn will try to protect the rod. He’ll send his men to hunt us down. Makka will certainly go as well. Once they’re away, the rest of us get up to the tomb.”

“Who takes the ridge?” asked Geth.

Chetiin considered. “Ashi, Ekhaas, and Aruget. If they stay close to the wall, they should be able to get into the shelter of the ridge without attracting attention.”

Ashi peered out at the rough landscape. “I can do it.” Ekhaas and Aruget gave nods of agreement.

Geth turned-the movement bringing a tug and a grumble of complaint from Midian-to Tenquis. “You’ll be able to get the door open quickly and quietly?”

The bandaged stub of the tiefling’s tail waggled and his golden eyes narrowed with hate. “I’d rather have a long knifepoint conversation with Daavn,” he said, “but like Grandmother says, there’s more than one way to sour milk.” He gripped the collar of his vest and whispered a word. The embroidery of the vest writhed and the slight bulges of pockets reappeared. “I have everything I need.”

“Then we’re ready.” He looked to the others. “Rat and Tiger dance for us all.” He stretched out his hands to Ashi and Ekhaas-and felt his left brought up short by the rope tied to Midian’s wrist.

There was no grumble of complaint and Midian’s arm didn’t yield. Geth turned.

Midian squatted behind him, unmoving and apparently intent on something in his hand. The rope that should have been tied to his wrist seemed to pass completely through it. Ekhaas hissed and swept a foot across the ground where the gnome crouched.

And a glittering crystal disk no bigger than a coin bounced off the stone of the arch. Midian vanished. The rope was tied to a bar of the iron gate.

“Tiger, Wolf, and Rat, I thought we searched him!” Geth snarled. “Where is he?”

Ashi pointed. “There!”

The sun shone off a shock of pale hair, just visible above the long grass on the near side of the grazing horses. Midian moved with such stealth that the grass around him barely swayed. It was easy to guess where the Zil was going: his own secret way into the tomb. Maybe he was going to fetch the rod for them just as he’d said, but Geth doubted it.

“I could stop him,” said Chetiin.

“No.” Geth drew Wrath. “We’re in a race now. Ekhaas, Ashi, Aruget-go!”

“Wait. Let’s put honey in the trap.” Aruget grabbed Geth’s chin and turned his face toward him. He studied the shifter, then let him go. Hobgoblin features melted and reformed. Ears shrank and hair grew out. Small eyes become large and wide. In only moments, Geth stared at himself wearing Aruget’s armor. Aruget-Geth smiled and said in eerie mimicry of his growl, “Daavn will be more likely to chase a face he knows. Ko isn’t the only one who can imitate you.”

He jerked his head and he, Ashi, and Ekhaas stole out of the gate, moving along the low wall in the opposite direction to the way Midian had gone. They ran low and fast, heading for the nearest fold in the ridge. Geth realized he was holding his breath.

“Midian has seen them,” Chetiin said. Geth swung around to look for the gnome-just in time to see his arm swing as he hurled something back at the horses, then dropped into the grass.

“Down!” Chetiin said.

They pressed themselves against the ground. Geth kept his head up just enough to see the hurled object-an ordinary stone-hit one of the horses on the flank. The startled beast reared just a little and danced forward a few steps. The other horses reacted to it, raising their heads and looking around.

The movement was enough to draw the eye of one of the hobgoblin guards. He swung around.

Ekhaas, Ashi, and Aruget-Geth were caught in the open. “Toh!” cried the guard. Daavn, Makka, the hobgoblins and bugbears all swung to look as well.

Their friends froze for an instant, then dashed for the cover of the ridge. Geth saw Daavn’s eyes go wide-and Makka’s narrow with bloodlust. He grabbed Wrath so he could understand the words that were shouted.

“Get them!” Daavn ordered. “Kill them!”

The guards were in motion as soon as the command was ordered.

“They’re mine!” roared Makka. He charged, swinging his fists and bashing hobgoblin guards aside, with Pradoor clinging to his shoulder and cackling like a mad thing. The other bugbears, picks and hammers still in their hands, stood still, obviously uncertain whom to obey. Daavn drew his sword and screamed at them to follow as he took off after Makka. The bugbears roared as Makka had and leaped to the pursuit. They didn’t bother descending the steep stairs cut up to the tomb but jumped from rock to rock across the face of the ridge.

The distraction had worked, although not just for them. Midian was up and running, stealth abandoned for speed. He looked to be heading for a particularly rough section of the ridge about two long arrowflights away from the gate. Geth waited a heartbeat longer, until Daavn and his men were well away from the tomb, then pushed himself to his feet. “Go!” he said. “Tenquis, can you run?”

“You should have asked that before,” the tiefling snapped, but he was up already up and running nearly as quickly as Geth himself, if a little more unsteadily. Geth stayed close to him. Chetiin, faster than either of them, paused at the bottom of the stairs, then darted up ahead.

Tenquis was grimacing in pain by the time he reached the top, but he lurched over to the tomb door and ran his hands over the scarred surface. Geth felt a fresh burst of anger for Daavn and Tariic. The fine carving of Haruuc was nearly destroyed. Only his fierce, watchful face remained. Tenquis caught his look. “It can be repaired,” he said. “A good artificer or even a magewright with a little time can fix anything.”

The bugbears had taken their tools with them, but Tenquis reached into one of the pockets of his vest and pulled out the heavy steel pry bar Geth had watched him slide into it. He threw it to Geth. “When I tell you, work that in about there”-he pointed to the seam between the door and the frame where a bugbear’s pick had already broken a hole-“and get ready to heave.”

“That’s not going to work. I told you, the pivots are broken.”

“And I told you an artificer can fix anything.” He pulled more objects out of his pockets: a couple of tiny flasks, a stick of bright red chalk, and several roughly polished stones. The flasks and the stones he set to the side. Taking the chalk in one hand, he spread the fingers of the other wide and touched them lightly to the door on the side where the pivots had been. His face took on a distant expression and, after a moment, he started to trace out stange lines on the door with the chalk.

Geth looked to Chetiin. The goblin crouched on the edge of the space before the tomb, watching the ridge where Ekhaas and the others-and their pursuers-had disappeared among the age-carved rocks. Shouts and cries, the scrape and clatter of metal against rock came back over the ridge. Their friends were doing their job, keeping Daavn and his men busy. Geth still felt fear for them in his gut.

“Have you seen them?” he asked.

“Glimpses,” said Chetiin just as Ekhaas’s voice rose in a song that ended in a crash and a short, swiftly silenced scream. Geth’s hands tightened on the shaft of the pry bar.

“Geth, I’m ready,” Tenquis said.

Both Geth and Chetiin turned around. Tenquis was dusting shimmering powders from the tiny flasks over the chalk-marked door and onto his hands. He nodded at the broken spot he had pointed out before and Geth quickly set the end of the pry bar into it. When he was ready, he nodded back to Tenquis. The tiefling took a deep breath. “As soon as you feel the door shift, work the bar with everything you’ve got,” he said. “We only have one chance at this.”

He picked up two of the stones, a near match in color and grain for the stone of the door, and held them against his palms with two fingers of each hand. He spread his other fingers and, stretching his arms, pressed them against the door at the top and bottom of his chalked lines. His eyes closed and his face tightened in concentration. His lips moved in a rapid, nearly inaudible whisper.

There was a clash of blades from the ridge and another sharp scream. Chetiin turned to look. Geth kept his eyes on Tenquis and his grip steady on the pry bar. He could feel sweat forming on his palms.

Tenquis’s teeth clenched. His whispers slid between them.

Stone creaked.

Through the steel bar, Geth felt a distinct vibration as the door shivered and rose by the tiniest fraction. He threw his weight against the bar, hauling at it. For an instant, steel grated against stone, then the tip of the bar caught again and held. Geth strained, his muscles cracking and popping.

The door moved.

Geth groaned at the weight of it. He ground his teeth together until they hurt and heaved harder on the bar. The thickness of stone that stood out from the frame grew slowly. A finger’s width. A finger’s length. Two fingers’ lengths. A dagger’s length.

Darkness appeared. Chetiin seized a loose rock and shoved it into the gap. Geth drew back the pry bar and thrust it into the darkness before the stone could crack. The heavy steel squealed as it took the weight of the door. Geth drew a breath and shifted, letting the ancient heritage of his blood give new energy to his muscles before he stepped around, worked his fingers into the thin gap and pulled. Tenquis moved with him, hands resting steady on the stone, whispers rising.

The gap grew. Geth could have slipped through sideways. “Enough!” he gasped at Tenquis.

“All the way or it will swing closed on us,” said the artificer, and even those few words interrupting his whispers brought new creaking from the unseen pivots. Geth groaned again and kept pulling. Step by step, back until the mouth of the tomb gaped wide. He waited for a shout from Daavn or one of his men as they caught a glimpse of what was happening and realized they’d been tricked. None came.

“Almost there!” said Tenquis-and pulled his hands away from the door, getting out from behind it. There was a crunch and a grinding sound as the magic that had held the shattered pivots together faltered. For an instant, Geth felt the unbearable weight of the door against his arms. He pulled with all his strength, trying to hold in the straining cry that threatened to escape him.

The door shifted one last time, then ground to a stop, striking the side of the tomb with a gentle tap. Geth’s arms and shoulders felt heavy and numb. His legs trembled, but he limped around to the front of the tomb and the doorway.

Chetiin was already standing in the shadows, poised at the top of a dark staircase. Tenquis pulled a stone that glimmered pale as moonlight from his pocket. Geth drew Wrath. He could feel the presence of the Rod of Kings pulsing in the sword.

They stepped down into Haruuc’s tomb together, moving away from sun and into shadow. The cold stench of cave damp and slow decay rose to meet them. Tenquis’s moonstone-shedding just enough light for shifter or dar or tiefling eyes to see-revealed walls that changed from worked stone to rough, natural rock as they descended. The stairs became rougher, too, hacked out of the floor of a steep passage wide enough for two broad-shouldered men to walk side by side. The words that the hobgoblin priests had spoken at Haruuc’s funeral came back to Geth.

Traditions tell that the People were born in caverns and lived there before we emerged to fight beneath the sun and the sky. When we pass through the gates of death, we return to caverns, the womb and the grave.

The steep passage grew taller. Glints of light shone ahead, reflections of the moonstone, and they emerged into a cave perhaps twice as big as Geth’s quarters in Khaar Mbar’ost and far taller, heaped with gold and treasures.

Lhesh Haruuc Shaarat’kor sat on his throne in the midst of this tribute, both eye sockets empty now as they stared at the stone sky.

Geth stopped at the bottom of the passage and looked on the remains of the father of Darguun, haste brushed aside by a curious sense of awe. He’d watched the corpse being carried down into the tomb, had walked with it through Rhukaan Draal. Haruuc was as dead now as he’d been then, yet somehow there was a particular solemn majesty about him. It wasn’t so much the wealth that surrounded him as it was the unnatural stillness of something dead, alone in the unchanging solitude of one of Eberron’s small secret places. Geth felt like an intruder. He lowered Wrath and bent his head in a nod of respect.

Tenquis must have felt it too. He bowed low, a flourishing gesture that was distinctly tiefling. Chetiin, however, didn’t move at all for a long, long moment and it took all that time for Geth to realize that this would be the first chance he’d had to see Haruuc up close since Midian had attacked him.

When the goblin finally moved, he walked directly up to Haruuc’s seated corpse, knelt down, and opened a small chest that rested by Haruuc’s feet. From inside it, he took the ugly, crystal-set dagger named Witness-the dagger that had been stolen from him, the dagger that had killed Haruuc. He pressed the flat of the blade to his heart as he looked up at the lhesh and Geth heard him murmur, “You will be avenged, my friend.” He slid the dagger into an empty sheath on his right forearm, then turned back to Geth and Tenquis. “Find the rod,” he said.

Geth raised Wrath again and swung it around the cave. Awareness of the Rod of Kings prickled across his senses. To the left and across the cavern-the sword pointed directly at a pile of rolled carpets. Geth had to admit that it was a good hiding place. If by chance the tomb was pilfered while the rod was within, the fine but bulky carpets would almost certainly be ignored in favor of gold and gems. “There!” said Geth. He stepped toward the carpets.

Something flickered in the very corner of his vision, high up among the shadows of one wall of the cavern. Something pale, quickly obscured by the movement of something dark that gave a soft snap.

He threw himself back with a curse at the same moment a crossbow bolt hissed through the space where he’d been. It sank deep into the wood of a treasure chest. Shadows leaped across the cavern wall as Tenquis raised the moonstone. Its pale light revealed Midian, perched in the mouth of narrow crack, already sighting along the stock of a small hand crossbow once more. The gnome gave a crooked grin and winked at Geth before he squeezed the trigger.