Taak growled and bared his teeth. Midian was certain he would have drawn his sword and struck at Senen except that Riila caught his arm. “Our word is true, lhesh,” she said. “Not all Kech Volaar stand against you. Our information comes from one who sends you her deepest respect.”
Dismay broke through the ice in Senen’s eyes. “Who makes up such lies?” she demanded.
Tariic spoke before Riila could. “Do not answer.” He appeared calm, but Midian had seen his reaction when Riila and Taak had first presented their news to him. The lhesh had taken the day to master his emotions. His control made his presence seem that much larger-the hall of honor could have been empty except for him and Senen.
“Ekhaas, who was in your service, stood with Geth and Chetiin when they tried to take my life,” he said slowly, “and the Kech Volaar have long had an interest in the Sword of Heroes that Geth bears.” He raised the Rod of Kings. “I had not thought that the clan that helped Lhesh Haruuc find this great relic of lost Dhakaan would turn against me, but perhaps seeing it in the hands of a true ruler was too much for Tuura Dhakaan.”
He leveled the rod at Senen Dhakaan. “By the blood of the Six Kings that you claim to honor, speak the truth, Senen Dhakaan. Do the traitors who sought to kill me hide in Volaar Draal?”
It seemed to Midian that he heard an echo in Tariic’s words. Tell me everything, Midian… He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his secrets from spilling out, but this time the power of the rod wasn’t directed at him. Senen faced Tariic and, without an instant of hesitation, said, “Yes.”
Horror rose in her eyes as the word emerged from her mouth. Roars of anger erupted in the hall. It was difficult to hear Tariic as he shouted another question. “And you hid this from me? Answer!”
Rage replaced horror. Senen drew a ragged breath and spat, “Yes!”-then opened her mouth even wider, the first note of song rolling up from of her chest.
Midian’s gut flipped. The song of a duur’kala! But Tariic was ready. “Be silent!”
The order was forceful enough to bring quiet to the entire hall. Senen closed her mouth so suddenly that her eyes bulged, and she gagged on the song sealed in her throat. Tariic pointed the rod at her again and said, “Do. Not. Move.”
Senen went still. Tariic allowed silence to linger in the hall for a heartbeat more before he spoke again. “Pradoor, I will listen to the teachings of the Six.”
Pradoor, standing in Tariic’s shadow the whole time, stirred. “Lhesh,” she said in her high, thin voice, “the gods of the Six speak to this in many ways. The Shadow decrees that a slave who conceals knowledge from her master has stolen that knowledge from him. The Mockery prescribes that the hand that steals shall be struck off. The Fury demands that vengeance suit the offense.”
“Ta muut, Pradoor.” Tariic looked back to Senen, his eyes running over her body before pausing at her belt where a knife was sheathed. Once again, he let silence take hold. Midian could feel the crowd in the hall holding its collective breath, waiting for the lhesh to pronounce his judgment. And finally… finally…
“Senen Dhakaan,” said Tariic, “take the knife at your belt and cut out the tongue that dared hide knowledge from me.”
The unnatural stillness that gripped Senen vanished, replaced by a straining as she fought to resist the command. Tariic thrust the Rod of Kings at her. “I said, cut out your lying tongue, Senen!”
Senen’s hands seemed to move of their own accord, the right snatching the knife from its sheath, the left reaching past lips and teeth to pinch the red muscle of her mouth and stretch it taut Memories flowed unbidden out of the dark places of Midian’s mind. Memories of himself in Tariic’s chambers, a captive only a short time after he had tried to take the lhesh’s life. Memories of writhing on rich carpets as Tariic stripped his knowledge, his identity, from him. You serve me now, Midian. You serve Tariic. Zilargo is nothing to you. You are not worthy to kiss the ground I tread. Pradoor, watching and cackling. Tariic’s deafened bugbear servants holding Ashi and forcing her to watch as well. Tariic himself, hated-and adored.
If he’d been able to take up a knife, Midian would have leaped across the hall of honor and driven it into Tariic’s eye socket, the same way he’d killed Haruuc.
No. He would rather have plunged the knife into his own eye. Another memory: ripping a knife through his own belly and offering the bloody blade to Tariic. Tariic laughing. You live by my kindness, Midian. You will do as I say, now and forever.
Midian crawled to him through a pool of his own blood and kissed his boot, and in return Tariic gestured for Pradoor to go to him. Stop the bleeding.
“Stop the bleeding, Pradoor.”
Memories folded like a piece of black paper, disappearing back into the shadows. Senen was on her knees, hands limp at her side, mouth bloody, knife and severed flesh on the floor before her. Pradoor was feeling her way forward, milky eyes staring at something only she could see but that brought a smile to her withered face. Tariic…
Tariic stood triumphant, his gaze sweeping the hall. “Let her be returned to Volaar Draal!” he said. His voice rang like a battle cry. “Let her be a message for the Kech Volaar to consider. Let them weigh whether they will please me and surrender those they shelter. Let all consider”-he thrust the Rod of Kings into the air-“the justice delivered to those who defy Lhesh Tariic Kurar’taarn!”
The roar of the crowd was all-embracing. Even the representatives of the Five Nations and the dragonmarked houses looked at each other and nodded as if in agreement that yes, the lhesh of Darguun was justified in what he had commanded. Midian looked up at Ashi and found her still staring at Senen as Pradoor murmured prayers over the broken duur’kala.
Awareness of intense pain filtered into his brain. Ashi’s fingers had tightened on his in a crushing grip. Midian drew a hissing breath through his teeth and grabbed for her arm, poking hard in just the right spot. Ashi grimaced and her grip loosened. Midian jerked his hand free and flexed aching fingers.
“You couldn’t have done anything,” he said. “Not with your dragonmark, not without it. She was doomed. You should thank Tariic for his mercy in sparing you a similar fate.”
Her eyes narrowed. He smiled at the unspoken admission. She knew about the Kech Volaar. Of course, she did. And she knew that they knew it. He gave her a graceful bow.
“Maybe we can discuss it when I get back,” he said. “I have to meet someone. Tariic has a little errand for the two of us-just in case the Kech Volaar don’t find the right answer to the message that he’s sending. A surprise visit to some old friends, if you will.” He ran a hand over the hilt of his dagger.
Ashi stiffened and drew her lips back from her teeth-a shockingly savage expression in someone dressed with such elegance-but Midian was already slipping back into the cheering crowd and out of the hall of honor. He followed the edge of rumor as word spread through Khaar Mbar’ost of what had just taken place. A moment in his room was all he needed to change courtly clothes for traveling gear. His companion in Tariic’s errand was already waiting for him in the courtyard when he reached it, their packs ready along with a horse.
He hadn’t wanted aid in the errand. He’d argued to Tariic that he was capable of dealing with Geth and the others by himself. That it was a point of pride. That it would be easier to slip into Volaar Draal if he were alone. Tariic had overruled him. “Geth, Chetiin, Ekhaas, and Tenquis will die,” he’d said. “Get yourself into Volaar Draal, then call on Riila and Taak’s informant. It shouldn’t be difficult to find her. If she wants to show her respect for me, she can help you get him”-he’d thrust the Rod of Kings at Midian’s companion-“into the city as well. Until the traitors are dead, you’re allies. I command it.”
The command had been unnecessary. Midian might have protested, but he would have done whatever Tariic asked. He crossed the courtyard to his new ally.