“Whoever is out there,” said Ekhaas, “is either incredibly clumsy or wants us to know we’re not alone.”
“The latter,” said a voice that was thick and strained like a scar. A small shadow detached itself from high on a wall and dropped softly to the street, then moved forward so they could clearly see an old goblin with thin cobweb hair, the parchment-like skin of his face stained dark to match the black clothing of the shaarat’khesh.
“We need to talk,” said Chetiin.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
21 Sypheros
The fatigue Geth had felt dropped away, burning into rage. “You!” he snarled. He shrugged off Dagii’s jacket and thrust the bundle containing the rod at Ekhaas. Wrath rang as he drew the twilight blade, then he charged at the goblin.
Chetiin had picked a good spot for a fight, a small open square, little more than a broadening of the street with the shutters on the surrounding buildings closed tight. Four running strides closed the distance between Geth and the goblin. Chetiin sank back into a crouch, hands raised in loose fists. Geth swung Wrath on the last step. The heavy sword arced down—and Chetiin slid out of the way.
Geth spun, letting the momentum of the blow carry him around, and turned Wrath in another blow that forced Chetiin to dodge with a little less grace. Dagii joined him, moving in on Chetiin’s other side with his sword at the ready. Chetiin slipped back into his crouch and rocked gently from one side to the other, his hands weaving along with his body and making it difficult to tell where he was going to go next.
“Geth,” he said, his strained voice low, “listen to me—”
The shifter answered with a fast backhanded swipe of his gauntlet. Magewrought steel swept the air. Chetiin stepped aside—and vanished. Geth and Dagii whirled, searching for him.
He reappeared behind Dagii. Geth caught the flash of a fist as Chetiin punched into the warlord’s leg at mid-thigh before darting back. It was a hard blow, delivered with precision. Dagii grunted and nearly went down, his leg numbed, but Ekhaas appeared to support him. Eyes flashing with anger, she drew breath to sing.
Chetiin’s hand dipped into a pouch at his waist and emerged to fling ash into her face. Fine gray particles floated in an expanding cloud. Ekhaas’s eyes went wide and her song turned into a fit of choking. Chetiin leaped away from her and Dagii and turned to face Geth again, dropping into a crouch once more. His wide eyes were hard, his big ears cupped, his teeth bared—and through them he spat, “Geth, I didn’t kill Haruuc!”
The protest was so feeble, so ridiculous, that the only answer Geth could manage was a growl that rolled out of his belly. Dropping into a matching crouch, he reached deep inside himself, drew on his fury … and shifted.
The lycanthrope ancestors of the shifter race had the power to become animals, but as their bloodlines had tangled together, that ability had been diluted. Shifters couldn’t take animal form, but they could assume the animal traits of their ancestors. Some shifters could manifest sharp claws or put on a burst of feral speed. Geth’s gift was sheer toughness.
The shifting spread through him like a heat in his blood. His skin thickened into leathery hide. His hair turned even more coarse and heavy. A sense of invulnerability washed over him. The growl turned into a shout and he surged forward, spinning Wrath in deadly arcs, holding his gauntlet ready to block any blow Chetiin attempted or to bash him should he try to skip aside again.
But the shaarat’khesh elder fell back before the attack. Light and quick, he swayed back and forth, looking for a way around, but Geth kept him contained. He pressed hard, forcing Chetiin backward until the goblin was caught in a corner of the square. His face tightened. Geth lunged.
And Chetiin turned to push off one wall onto the next and back to the first, each leap taking him higher. Wrath struck stone, grating out a shower of orange sparks. Geth twisted around to follow Chetiin as the goblin made a final leap from the wall and soared over his head.
He landed like a cat. Geth charged again, whirling as he swung. When Chetiin tried to dodge, he was ready for him. His gauntlet caught him with a punch that sent him tumbling. Chetiin rolled to his feet with blood trickling from his mouth. He leaped away as Geth came in again, drawing a dagger from one of the sheaths on his forearms and circling well away from the shifter.
“Why would I kill Haruuc?” Chetiin asked. “He was my friend.”
“You said he needed to be stopped. You thought he’d discovered the power of the rod.” Geth flung the words Chetiin had spoken over Haruuc’s body back at him. “You did what you had to do.”
“I didn’t.”
Geth saw his eyes flick toward Dagii, standing on his own again, and Ekhaas, able to breathe once more. In a moment, they would have the advantage. He slid forward. Chetiin’s eyes snapped to him and he slid back.
“You’re an assassin,” Geth growled. “An assassin from a clan of assassins!”
Chetiin’s ears pulled back. “Then why would I kill Haruuc in full view of every warlord in Darguun? Why would I leave Witness, a treasure of the shaarat’khesh, behind? Why would I put my clan in danger?”
He threw the questions like knives and they found their target. Geth hesitated. Why would Chetiin have let himself be seen? He could have struck from the shadows in some quiet corridor. He could have slipped into Haruuc’s own chambers. He could have arranged a quiet death for the lhesh so that it didn’t look like an assassination at all—
And in the instant that he hesitated, Chetiin struck. He threw himself forward in a swift tumble. His leg swept around and, small as the goblin was, kicked the shifter’s legs out from under him. Geth slammed down onto his back. Chetiin jumped on his chest, one heel kicking the wind out of him as he landed. The point of his dagger pricked the skin beneath Geth’s chin.
“I wasn’t the one who killed Haruuc,” Chetiin said.
He held the dagger under Geth’s chin a moment longer, then vaulted off to land well away from him, Ekhaas, and Dagii. Geth thrust himself up, wheezing as he sucked in air.
“Geth,” said Ekhaas, “I think we should listen to him.”
“Why?” Geth croaked.
“Because we’re alive. He could have killed any of us from the shadows before we even knew he was there, but he didn’t. He could have killed you just now, but he didn’t.”
Geth looked at her and at Dagii, then at Chetiin. “I saw you. You killed Haruuc right in front of me.”
“It wasn’t me. A disguise. An illusion, maybe.” Chetiin remained in his crouch, dagger ready. “Blood of six kings, I swear it.” He gestured. “Put away Wrath.”
“No.”
“Geth—” Dagii said. The hobgoblin sheathed his sword. So did Ekhaas. Geth grimaced and put Wrath away as well. Chetiin made his dagger disappear into the sheath on his forearm with a smooth gesture. Geth glared at him with narrowed eyes. A part of him wanted to trust the goblin elder. He’d been a wise and capable friend. The rest of him still stung from Haruuc’s death and Chetiin’s betrayal of their friendship.
“Why should we believe you?” he demanded.
“For the reasons I said. If I wanted to kill Haruuc, I wouldn’t have done it the way that it happened. It was far too public. If you believe nothing else I say, believe that.” He spread his hands. “You know I believed in Haruuc’s vision of a stable Darguun as much as anyone else. Such an obvious killing, especially when Haruuc had not named an heir, would have served no purpose.”
“Except to separate him from the rod if he’d discovered its true power,” said Geth.
Chetiin scowled and jerked his head at the windows around the square. “This isn’t the place to discuss secrets,” he said. “Come with me. There’s a place we can talk.” His face softened. “Trust me. On Haruuc’s memory and my word, I’m telling you the truth.”
Geth glanced at Ekhaas and Dagii. Ekhaas’s ears flicked and she nodded curtly. He looked back to Chetiin. “No tricks,” he said.
The goblin nodded. “After the last two weeks I d
on’t think I have any tricks left.”
The place he led them to was a fragment of brick wall standing in the middle of large swath of burned-out ruins. The nearest surviving buildings were some distance away.
“One of the fires that burned on the night of Haruuc’s death destroyed this area,” said Chetiin. “It will be reclaimed, but between the mourning period and the games, no one has had time. We won’t be overheard.” He squatted down in the shelter of the wall and looked up at them. “I’ve been watching you for the last few days, waiting for a chance to speak with you alone,” he said. “I saw you leave Khaar Mbar’ost tonight and I followed you to the tiefling’s house. His shutters fit badly. I know your plans. Who thought of creating a false rod?”
Ekhaas answered. “Midian. When he returned.”
Chetiin nodded. “I heard what you told Tenquis about the rod’s influence on Haruuc. Maabet, I should have seen it. Nothing he did in the last days of his life was like him.”
“You said as much when you argued with him just before his death,” said Geth. “You said, ‘You’re not the Haruuc I’ve known for so many years.’”
“If we knew truth when we spoke it, we’d all be seers.” Chetiin’s mouth tightened. “I didn’t guess that the rod had a hold on him. If anything I would have guessed that he had begun to grasp the rod’s power.”
“That’s what we thought you believed,” Geth said. “You also told Haruuc that he would destroy what he’d built unless he was stopped.”
“And you thought that I had followed through and stopped him.” Chetiin fell silent for a moment before adding, “I would have considered it. We swore to keep the rod’s powers secret by any means necessary.” He glanced at each of them in turn. “But we all swore to that. I wouldn’t have acted on my own. I would have come to you.”
“Then what happened?” asked Dagii.
Chetiin made a face and his ears folded down. “I was careless. When I left Haruuc after our argument—after he ordered me out of Khaar Mbar’ost—I was angry. I forgot the first law of the shaarat’khesh: watch and listen. Someone put a crossbow bolt in my back. Poisoned.”
Breath hissed between Geth’s teeth. “Just like Haruuc. Did you see who did it?”
“No.” Chetiin shook his head. “The bolt was bad. The poison was worse. It worked fast, burning in me. It made me weak and blind. Strandpine sap, I think. A big dose, maybe as much as they used on Haruuc.”
“And you’re smaller than he was. How come you’re not dead?”
“An assassin who works with poisons for many years develops a resistance to them,” the goblin said. “As it was, I was as good as dead. That probably saved me. I think if I had been any more alive, my attacker would have been certain to finish the job.”
“Lucky,” Ekhaas said.
“It wasn’t my only piece of luck. I drifted in and out of consciousness after that while the poison ran its course. When I finally woke up, I realized that I’d been stuffed up onto a ledge in one of the chimneys of Khaar Mbar’ost. If not for the ban on fires during the period of mourning, smoke in the chimney would have suffocated me.” He spread his hands. “The bolt had been pulled out of me, maybe to make it easier to hide my body. That spared me further exposure to the poison. My daggers had been taken, of course. When I managed to climb down, I discovered the ledge I’d been hidden on was above the fireplace in my own chamber.”
“Your chamber was searched,” said Dagii. “I was there.”
“Whoever attacked me did a good job. The ledge was invisible from below. Smoke and heat would have preserved my body. What little smell there might be would have been whisked up the chimney. I might never have been found.”
He said it with a chilling bluntness, as if talking about his own murder was the most natural thing in the world. Geth held back a shudder. “And we would have kept on thinking you’d gone into hiding. Why didn’t you come to us?”
“I overheard that Haruuc was dead and that I had done the deed. I didn’t know who had attacked me, but it was clear that anyone who found me wasn’t going to let me live long enough to explain. I could barely move, much less defend myself. It was two days after Haruuc’s death. I bandaged my wound, disguised myself, got out of Khaar Mbar’ost, and made my way to a shaarat’khesh house. It was deserted—those of my clan had fled the city or moved to more secure shelter—but it was enough for me. I spent eight days recovering there until the end of the mourning period.” His expression darkened. “With the beginning of the games, I was able to move around Rhukaan Draal in disguise. I learned everything that had happened—and I started to watch for my chance to talk to you. You gave it to me tonight.” He spread his hands. “Sit ya toomiish—those are events as they happened to me. I didn’t kill Haruuc, but someone wants it to look like I did.”
“If you didn’t,” asked Geth, “who did? And why?”
“You believe me then?”
“I—” Geth hesitated. He wanted to believe the goblin. What Chetiin had told them made at least as much sense to him as the idea that Chetiin could have turned on Haruuc. And yet the time he had spent since Haruuc’s death cursing Chetiin’s name wouldn’t leave him so easily. Both versions of events were incredible.
Dagii spoke into the silence. “I believe you,” he said firmly. “You have too much muut, too much atcha to have acted against Haruuc on your own. I know that you would have come to us first.”
Geth glanced at Ekhaas. The duur’kala’s ears were cocked. Slowly, she nodded. “I think you’re telling the truth,” she said to Chetiin. She smiled. “Khaavolaar, I hated thinking of you as a traitor!”
Geth’s gut felt a little hollow, as if he was a traitor now. He forced a smile to his face, though. “I believe you, too. It’s good to have you back.”
Chetiin didn’t smile. His dark-stained face remained pensive. “I’m not back,” he said. “Too many people think I was the one who put Witness into Haruuc’s eye.” He shook his head. “I’ve thought about it ever since I escaped, but I don’t know the answer to your question, Geth. I don’t know who actually killed Haruuc.”
“A changeling in your shape?” suggested Dagii.
“A changeling can’t imitate a goblin,” said Chetiin. “We’re too small. A changeling child might be able to, but no child could have done what I am told I did.” The muscles of his jaw tightened. “I can only come up with one plausible explanation. It was another of the shaarat’khesh,”
“One of your own clan?” Geth asked. “They would do that?”
“Not all of them. Shaarat’khesh can refuse a request, but there are those who would have considered it a challenge.”
“And they would have tried to kill you to do it?”
“I have my rivals,” Chetiin said grimly, “though so far as I knew, none of them were in Rhukaan Draal at the time. But yes, they would have.”
Dagii looked doubtful. “Why use your identity to kill Haruuc? The honor of his death would fall on you.”
Chetiin gave him a thin smile. “You fight open battles, Dagii. Among the Silent Clans, the assassin would be twice-honored: once for killing Haruuc, once for concealing his true identity.” The smile faded from his face. “But I’ve been in touch with shaarat’khesh I trust who remain in hiding in Rhukaan Draal. None of our clan has claimed Haruuc’s death. Maybe no one will—because of the trouble that it brought down on us, the clan is angry. I had to talk fast to get even old friends to believe my story. In any case, if Haruuc truly was killed by one of the shaarat’khesh, the blame doesn’t fall on the assassin, but on the one who hired him.”
“Then we need to think about why Haruuc was killed,” said Ekhaas. “What did anyone have to gain from Haruuc’s death?”
“They could stop him from becoming a tyrant,” Geth said. “They could prevent a war—they would have had their plans in place before he tried to turn the warlords away from Breland toward Valenar.”
Dagii shook his head. “Those are the reasons we’ve been chasing since Har
uuc’s death. Except that, as Tenquis pointed out, most Darguuls liked the way Haruuc was acting under the rod’s influence. They would still welcome a war with Valenar. Or with anyone else, never mind the consequences.” His ears flicked. “Could a non-Darguul have hired one of the shaarat’khesh?”
“It would be difficult,” said Chetiin, “but not impossible. If one of my clan wanted the honor badly enough—”
“We’ve forgotten something.”
They all turned to look at Ekhaas. Her ears were flat against her skull and her eyes were narrow. She pointed at Geth. “You said that after he killed Haruuc, the assassin looked at you and said ‘We swore we would do what we had to.’ That’s what made us all think Chetiin believed Haruuc had discovered the power of the rod.”
“And we were wrong,” Geth said, but Chetiin’s eyes opened wide and he drew a long hard breath. Dagii’s lips peeled back from his teeth. A moment later, Geth understood what Ekhaas had seen as well.
Only the six of them who had recovered the rod and understood its terrible secret knew about the oath they had made. The idea left him cold. He looked out across the burned ruins to the eastern sky. Khaar Mbar’ost stood as a silhouette between them and the coming dawn. “One of us hired the assassin? Who would have done that? Who could have done that?”
Dagii spoke through clenched teeth. “Midian.”
Geth whirled to question this blunt accusation, but Ekhaas was already talking, building up evidence. “He was the only one of us who wasn’t there. You, Geth, and you, Dagii were with Haruuc on the dais. Ashi was just off of the dais in the side room. I was with Senen Dhakaan on the floor of the throne room. Chetiin was lying wounded. But Midian was conveniently out of Rhukaan Draal. He could have hired the assassin, told him what to say to make his disguise as Chetiin even more convincing, and left for the ruins at Bloodrun.” She began to pace back and forth among the ashes as she thought. “You knew that Haruuc hadn’t really discovered the power of the rod, Geth. You told me and you told Ashi. If one of us had hired the assassin, we had time to stop the assassination.”
Word of Traitors: Legacy of Dhakaan - Book 2 Page 10