“Coincidence,” Ekhaas said, but Ashi’s probing expression didn’t change. Ekhaas sighed, leaned her head back on the cold stone of the cell’s wall, and gave her some of the truth. “I’m here with Tariic,” she confessed. “Haruuc is courting the favor of my clan, the Kech Volaar. I’m part of Tariic’s delegation as a representative of my clan.”
“They didn’t have anyone more senior to send?” asked Ashi.
Ekhaas raised her ears in angry pride. “I am senior now,” she said. “The name of my clan means ‘Wordbearers’ in our tongue. The Kech Volaar gather history. The history of Dhakaan is the most important, but the duur’kala of the Kech Volaar gather tales of all kinds. When I returned from the Shadow Marches with the story of the discovery of Aram and the defeat of Dah’mir, I gained a certain amount of recognition in the clan.”
She stopped herself short of claiming that being sent to accompany Tariic was a reward, but she let Ashi assume what she would. There was still disbelief in her friend’s face. “Does Tariic know you were out stealing the casket?” Ashi asked.
“Ah.” Ekhaas’s ears dipped along with her pride. “Tariic is almost as much human as he is hobgoblin. He wouldn’t have understood… what needed to be done.” She bared sharp teeth. “Tonight was the best chance I had. I was supposed to be at a banquet given in Tariic’s honor, but I knew no one would miss me.” A harsh laugh from Ashi brought her head up. “What?” she asked.
“I was supposed to be at that banquet, too,” said Ashi. She stretched out her legs and tried to settle herself more comfortably on the hard bench. “Were you at the reception ceremony?”
“Yes, at the back of the delegation. It was astounding. The rhythm was perfect.” Her training as a duur’kala brought the music back into her memory and she clapped out the desperate rhythm of the climax. “Were you there?”
“I was supposed to be the one performing the sword dance.” Ashi’s mouth twisted. “My mentor decided I wasn’t good enough and sent my instructor out instead. We had an argument about it afterward.”
Ekhaas frowned. “That’s too bad. Tariic would have been even more impressed at having the bearer of the Mark of Siberys dance for him.”
Ashi flung up her hands. “That was the idea!”
“Who’s your mentor?”
“The person Tariic has come to Karrlakton to see.” Ashi sat back again. “Lady Seneschal Vounn d’Deneith.”
Once again, Ekhaas could only stare at Ashi, but this time she had no words. Ashi must have mistaken her silence for incredulity. Her mouth twisted even farther. “Tariic is lucky he only has to deal with her as a diplomat. Since I got here, she’s been hammering on me like a smith on a sword-and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She squeezed her hands into tight fists. “Rond betch, if I could stick a knife in her…”
She kept talking, pouring out a litany of restrictions and punishments that Ekhaas had to admit were more appropriate to the training of a child than a grown woman, but the duur’kala was only half-listening. Ideas and possibilities began rearranging themselves in her head. Her ears twitched. Blood of Six Kings, she thought, was it possible they could be so lucky?
There was scarcely a break in Ashi’s rambling tales of Vounn’s heavy-handed mentoring. Ekhaas had to speak over her to get a word in. “Ashi, how bad was the argument you had tonight with Vounn? Will she take you back?”
“Take me back?” Sitting forward, Ashi groaned. “Ekhaas, she’s never going to let me go. I don’t think I’m even a person to her. I’m just an asset of Deneith-or I will be once I’m trained to her satisfaction. Even then she’ll probably still want me under her thumb.” She lifted her head and looked around the cell, then laughed. “You know, I was almost frightened of what she’d do when the watch contacted Deneith and she found out I’d been arrested. Now I wish I could have been there to see the look on her face. I wonder how she reacted.”
Muffled voices from an outer room of the watch station reached Ekhaas’s ears. “I don’t think you’ll have to wait long to find out,” she said. One of the voices was the watch station commander, and it sounded as if the proud man was actually being subservient. The voices were getting closer. Ekhaas turned to Ashi. “Listen to me,” she said. “You need to smooth things over with Vounn. Ease the tension between you. Apologize to her.”
“What? Why-?” Ashi said, then she heard the voices as well. For all her talk of anger and confidence, the color drained from her face and she stood up. “Betch.”
“Apologize,” Ekhaas hissed, standing with her, then the door of the room beyond the cell opened-and Ekhaas felt the heat fade from her cheeks, too.
The station commander was the first one through the door, followed by four humans armed with spears and wearing the crest of House Deneith on polished breatsplates. After them came Vounn d’Deneith. The lady seneschal wore a fine gown, too fine to be marching through a watch station. She’d probably come straight from the banquet.
After Vounn, and dressed just as magnificently, came Tariic. He’d put aside the spiked armor he’d worn for the reception ceremony, replacing it with a high-collared doublet of black leather stitched so heavily with bronze it could have turned a blow. Heavy bracers and high greaves on his boots were likewise Darguul in style, but Tariic had added a long, full-sleeved Karrnathi coat that swirled behind him.
Four hobgoblins, members of his honor guard, followed Darguun’s emissary, but Ekhaas hardly noticed them. Vounn’s face was a dispassionate mask. Ekhaas could read no emotion in it at all. Tariic also aspired to present an emotionless mask, but he didn’t succeed nearly as well as Vounn. His skin, naturally a rich red-brown, was tinted an even brighter red by suppressed anger. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles stood out and his dark eyes focused on empty air rather than look at her. His ears were most telling, however, standing straight and stiff.
Vounn glanced at the station commander. “Thank you. I’ll call when we’re ready.” The man nodded and left the room. One of the Deneith guards followed and took up a position outside the door, presumably to be certain no one tried to eavesdrop, before closing it. Tariic, however, was the first to speak to the prisoners.
“Ekhaas of Kech Volaar,” he said, “you dishonor our hosts by stealing from them. You dishonor me, and you dishonor my uncle. You dishonor your clan, and you dishonor Darguun.” He spoke with admirable restraint-and in the human language, obviously for the benefit of Ashi and Vounn. Heat returned to Ekhaas’s face, and she surprised herself by feeling vaguely ashamed. In her mind, she knew she actually had very little to fear-Tariic couldn’t afford to mistreat her-but in her gut she still felt guilt. Stealing the reliquary while in Karrlakton as a guest of House Deneith, even if she was only part of a larger group, broke ancient laws of hospitality. It reflected badly on Tariic as the leader of the delegation and, through him, badly on Lhesh Haruuc.
On the other hand, he probably had no idea what was inside the small casket. She wanted to argue with him and point out that the reliquary of Duural Rhuvet was an important part of their heritage. At the very least, she should correct his galling statement that she had dishonored her clan. She’d done no such thing. If she’d brought the reliquary back to Volaar Draal, the stronghold of the Kech Volaar, she would have been honored as a hero and a protector of Dhakaan’s glory. Shame turned to anger- and she swallowed both emotions. There were larger and more important things she needed to tell Tariic.
She looked down and away, her ears bent in contrition. “Sit gath’muut chib-rhu,” she said. I am without honor in this, high one. Formality demanded that the apology be spoken in Goblin, but Ekhaas was fairly certain that Ashi and Vounn would understand the spirit of her words.