“He saved their lives,” said Hweilan.
“Eh?” said Maaqua. “How in the fuming Hells do you figure that?”
“If Hratt hadn’t beaten them, I would have killed them. They were torturing my friend-and stealing from Ruuket and her children. Whichever way you look at it, what Hratt did to those rats, he did to serve the Razor Heart.”
Maaqua started to reply, but Buureg spoke first.
“I agree.”
The queen shot him a venomous look, and several of the others shook their heads in disappointment.
“I know those Hratt beat,” said Buureg, “or know of them. It is no accident that warriors their age are still doing midnight guard duty. They are worthless curs. Hratt did right.”
Maaqua waved it away. Hweilan caught the slight tremble in the queen’s hand. It seemed she still wasn’t entirely healed after her ordeal with Jagun Ghen.
“As you say, warchief,” said Maaqua. “But what this one did … that I cannot forgive.”
Buureg nodded. “On this, I also agree.”
The warchief stood and drew his knife. “Hratt, you betrayed your oaths. You betrayed your queen. You betrayed the Razor Heart.”
He paused, letting the gravity of the accusations sink in. Hratt did not move. Did not even look up.
“You know the punishment,” said Buureg. “You are condemned to the life of a slave-to continue your service to the Razor Heart as the worthless skulker you are-or to death. You choose.”
Hweilan groaned. She only thought she was done rescuing people tonight.
Hratt stood. Glaring at his guards, daring them to strike him again, he said, “I choose death.”
“So be it,” said Buureg, his tone approving, even proud. He stepped forward, knife raised.
Hweilan surged to her feet, but before she could speak, Maaqua said, “Stop! Warchief, a moment.”
Buureg looked to Maaqua. “My queen?”
“When your warriors found this one trying to flee, what was it he told them?”
“He told them nothing.”
“Ah,” said Maaqua, a mischievous glint in her eye. “But what was it he told you? Afterward?”
The warchief swallowed and cast a sidelong glance at Hweilan. “Hratt said-”
“She threatened to geld me,” said Hratt, pointing at Hweilan. “Subdued me like a lost lamb, stuck my crotch with her knife, and told me she’d finish the cut if I didn’t talk.”
“And you talked?” said Maaqua.
Hratt looked at Buureg’s knife, which he still had not lowered. “I did.”
“Hm,” said Maaqua. “So you betrayed your people to save your manhood. Then death it is. A most just judgment, warchief. But I am not satisfied.”
“What do you mean?” said Buureg.
“Hratt the rat chose to betray me to save his manhood. I demand satisfaction. Take your knife and bring me his manhood. Now.”
A low moan escaped Hratt, and his knees buckled. For a moment Hweilan thought he was fainting, but his collapse turned into a lunge. He barreled into the nearest guard with his shoulder, throwing the hobgoblin into Buureg, then lunged at the next.
The air sizzled, and a flash of light shot past Hweilan, striking Hratt between the shoulder blades. He screamed and collapsed.
Hweilan turned to see Elret standing behind her queen, a wand in one hand, still giving off faint sparks.
Maaqua yawned, then said, “Get up and do your duty, warchief. I’m growing tired.”
“No,” said Hweilan.
Maaqua rolled her eyes. “You aren’t starting that again, are you? Ruuket isn’t going to kill your big friend, and your three idiots are out of their hole. Why do you care what happens to that one?”
Hweilan did care, but it didn’t surprise her. She’d known Hratt only a day and had no strong affection for him. But this wasn’t about Hratt. Maaqua was still stinging from Hweilan tricking her and then having the audacity to save her life. Though she couldn’t strike Hweilan directly, she’d indulge her cruelty for all to see, all the while making it Hweilan’s fault. It was the queen’s way of getting back at the Hand. And her petty cruelty angered Hweilan. But she’d learned-from Gleed, from Ashiin, and even from Buureg today-that the best way to strike an enemy was with reason.
And so she said, “It’s my fault he betrayed you.”
“Don’t be an idiot, girl,” said Maaqua. “He made his choice. He will face the consequences.”
“No.”
Elret pointed the wand at Hweilan.
“Her wand won’t kill you,” said Maaqua. “But it will ruin your evening. I remind you that you are a guest here, girl. You make no demands on me. You are not Razor Heart. You have no say in our judgments.”
“Hratt can come with me.”
“Eh?”
“He chose death. You heard him. Let him come with me to Highwatch. Chances are very good that is a death sentence. And if he does live, will that not prove his loyalty to queen and clan?”
“No,” said Maaqua. “That would only prove he’d do anything to save his danglies.”
“Then I’ll buy him.”
Maaqua threw back her head and laughed. Several of the council joined in. Not Elret. She still held the wand steady on Hweilan.
Buureg pushed himself to his feet. “You heard Hratt. He chose death, not slavery.”
Hweilan looked down at Hratt, who still lay senseless. All four guards stood over him, their spearpoints lowered at his back. “I think,” said Hweilan, “he chose your knife between his ribs or a quick slash across the throat. Not death by gelding.”
One of the elders pushed herself to her feet. The old hobgoblin didn’t look as old as Maaqua, but Hweilan had no doubt it would have taken all ten fingers and then some to add up her decades. Her robes bore many of the same markings and runes of Maaqua and her disciples, but the medallion around her neck gave her away. A double axe head made of steel, its edges stained in what Hweilan was sure was real blood. A priestess of Maglubiyet. Hweilan was no expert on the rituals of goblin religion. But growing up in the shadow of the Giantspires, she and her people would have been fools not to learn the ways of the enemy.
“What he intended doesn’t matter,” said the priestess. “He made his choice. We all heard him. Only a coward turns his back when the rocks grow sharp.”
The councilors slapped their knees in approval as the priestess sat down.
“You speak for the High Chieftain, yes?” said Hweilan.
“I am Nesh,” said the priestess. “I read the omens and slake the Battle Lord’s thirst for blood.”
“Then read his will now,” said Hweilan. “Does the High Chieftain not love treachery when it preserves the strength of his people?”
The priests gathered nodded their assent, while the elders pointedly looked away from Maaqua. Elret’s eyes narrowed, and she still had not lowered the wand.
“He does,” said Nesh.
Hweilan turned her gaze on Maaqua. “Then tell the council, Maaqua, what would have happened had I not found you in your tower and taken you … where I did?”
“Sit down, girl!” said Elret. “The queen has already decided.”
“And you!” said Hweilan. “You were the one who asked me to do it. Begged me.”
All eyes turned to Elret, but the disciple said nothing. Her nostrils flared wide, and Hweilan could actually hear Elret’s teeth grinding.
Hweilan continued, “And I would never have been there-couldn’t have been there-had Hratt not told me the way. His …” Hweilan twisted her lip in an expression of utter disdain. “His ‘treachery’ saved your queen. Saved the Razor Heart. I ask you, Nesh, was this not the will of Maglubiyet?”
The elders and guards all looked to the queen, but every representative from the priesthood turned their eyes on Nesh.
Maaqua stared murderously at Hweilan. Finally, she smiled thinly, shrugged, and looked up at Elret. “Lower that wand and sit.”
Elret stood her ground.
“You defy your queen?” said Buureg.
Elret lowered her wand, then turned and spat. But she sat.