He felt a surge of admiration for Robrand. He had confronted Geth with fire and steel. The old man had greater self-control. He didn’t deserve the ignominy that Narath had brought. Robrand hadn’t been the one who’d failed the town.
Singe hardened his heart. “Robrand, I-”
His old commander waved him to silence and sipped from a cup of watered wine, When he spoke again, his voice was calm once more. “One of Tzaryan’s ogres saw Ashi’s confrontation in the street and reported it. He was taken by her strength and-and by Geth’s gauntlet. When I heard him describe it, I recognized it myself. You don’t come across a gauntlet like that worn by a shifter every day. I tracked you down at the Barrel and discovered ‘Master Timin Shay.’” He glanced at Singe. “Didn’t I say you should chose a new alias?”
“It does the job,” Singe said.
“Either way,” Robrand continued, “you’re a distinctive pair. Although I’m surprised to see you together. I didn’t think that was likely to happen.”
Singe felt like Robrand had jabbed him with a knife. “There were … circumstances,” he said. It was a clumsy excuse.
Robrand shook his head. “I have a contract with Tzaryan Rrac, Etan. I have a duty to him. You were trying to gain access to Tzaryan Keep under an assumed name. I had to find out more. I decided it would be best to keep you close until I knew exactly what was going on.”
“And whether you could trust us?” Singe asked.
The old man’s face tightened for a moment, then softened again. “It would have been less risk to have Chuut restrain you in Vralkek,” he said, “but I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t want to think you’d changed that much, Etan-that if you were trying to get to Tzaryan Keep, you had a good reason for it.”
“And?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Robrand took another sip of wine, then set his cup aside and sat back. “When did you know it was me?”
“I got suspicious this morning when Dandra described her meeting with you,” Singe said. “There was a familiar pattern in how you manipulated her: implicating House Jorasco in your supposed scars so that we’d be too busy speculating about that to question whether you really had scars at all, telling her you distrusted kalashtar so she thought it was her own idea not to betray you with her powers-”
Dandra blinked. “But Chuut was supposed to bring Ashi from the tavern, not me.”
Robrand’s eyes flashed and his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Another lie. I beg your pardon. I know something of the skills of kalashtar. You might have been able to draw the truth out of me and you could have relayed that information to Singe or Geth, so you were the one I had to convince with my story-but I couldn’t let you realize it. Once I had you convinced, I knew that Singe and Geth would follow.”
Singe found himself matching Robrand’s smile. “If I need a new alias, you need new tricks. There were things through the day, too, like your note to us-written by Dandra so I wouldn’t see your hand-or the way the ogres who supposedly helped you dismount all the time didn’t look like they knew what they were doing.”
He looked at Robrand sideways. “You didn’t have Ekhaas gagged because she was a spellcaster-you had her gagged because she’d seen the General before. She could have given you away.”
“A clever man is most vulnerable when he’s trying to be clever,” said Robrand with a shrug.
Singe nodded. “I didn’t know for sure though until we actually met you. You were trying hard to hide your eyes in the shadows of the tree, but it was the hatred for House Deneith that gave you away.” He spread his hands. “Why even meet with us? You might have been able to get away with it if you hadn’t.”
“It was a risk I had to take,” Robrand confessed. “If I hadn’t, you would have just kept pushing.” He smiled. “Don’t deny it. You would have. At least this way, it’s out in the open and I have a chance to see you again, Etan.”
Warmth spread through Singe’s belly. “It’s been too long, Robrand. The last letter I had from you reached me in Karrlakton. You haven’t been in Droaam all this time, have you?”
“Tzaryan Rrac sought me out two years ago, just after the War ended.” Robrand took up his cup again. His face creased with memory. “He found me in Shavalant in Breland.”
“Shavalant’s hardly a village!”
“I’d been living in Xandrar before a few heirs of Deneith realized who I was and started making my life miserable.” He shrugged. “Shavalant wasn’t so bad.”
“You didn’t fight them?” asked Ashi.
Robrand looked at her and shook his head. “It would just have exposed me. Fighting doesn’t do much good when you’re one of the most reviled men in a dragonmarked house. No, I ran. Like a coward.”
Across the blanket, Geth stiffened.
Singe’s fingers clenched on the core of his apple. He flung it away into the gathering darkness outside the pavilion and wrenched the conversation in another direction. “Robrand, who is Ekhaas? Do you know what she would want with us?”
The old man snorted. “She’s just what Chuut said-a pest. A thorn in Tzaryan’s side. Have you ever heard of the Kech Volaar? They’re a clan of hobgoblins in Darguun. They consider themselves the protectors of the glory of the lost Dhakaani Empire. Usually you don’t find them much outside of Darguun, but Ekhaas has appointed herself as guardian of Dhakaani ruins in this part of Droaam.” He nodded along the road in the direction of their destination. “That includes the ruins near Tzaryan Keep. Your interest in them probably attracted her attention.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” Dandra asked.
“It will likely depend on Tzaryan Rrac’s mood when we arrive. What Chuut said was no idle threat-Tzaryan has warned her to stay away. The Kech Volaar carries no weight here.” Robrand took another sip of wine. His dark eyes watched them over the rim of his goblet and when he lowered the vessel, he wasn’t smiling. “But we’re drifting from my problem,” he said seriously. “Tzaryan is my master and you’re approaching him under false pretenses.”
Singe shifted uncomfortably under his former commander’s sharp-eyed gaze. “Not all that false,” he said. He glanced at Dandra, then back to Robrand. This was more than just a reunion. If he handled this right, they would have an unexpected ally in Tzaryan Keep. “If I tell you what’s going on-the truth of it-will you help us?”
“You know better than to ask that, Etan. You’re an old friend, but you’d be asking me to turn against a contract.”
“You’re not part of House Deneith anymore, old man,” Singe reminded him. He gestured to the ogres outside the pavilion. “Do you think the lords of Deneith would have approved this?”
Robrand’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t leave Deneith,” he said. “Deneith abandoned me. Tzaryan gives me something like what I used to have. He respects me. He doesn’t try to forget that I exist.” He set his goblet down and frowned, then looked up again. “I can’t promise to help you, but for the memory of the Frostbrand, I won’t give you away either-so long as whatever you’re doing poses no danger to Tzaryan Rrac or Tzaryan Keep.”
“It doesn’t. You have my word.” He drew a breath and began their story with the one detail that the old man needed to know whether he was going to help them or not. He owed that much to a friend. “Robrand, your nephew Toller is dead. He died defending a hamlet called Bull Hollow in the Eldeen Reaches, but he’s dead because of a man named Dah’mir.”
Robrand listened just as Singe had known he would, saying nothing and absorbing everything. Singe considered leaving things out of the story-Robrand would understand that there were things he couldn’t share-but found that he couldn’t. He laid everything before his one-time commander. When he finished, the circle within Robrand’s pavilion was silent. Robrand closed his eyes as he had after every battle Singe had fought at his side, committing the names and faces of the dead to memory. It was, the wizard knew, his way of mourning.