Robrand moved forward again. “Lord Tzaryan, there is something else. We encountered an old friend who had been attracted to Master Timin’s inquiries.” He gestured and Chuut, accompanied by a second ogre, stepped out of the ranks of Tzaryan’s troops. Between them, they held Ekhaas, her hands bound and the gag still in her mouth. Her eyes were wild and frightened. Tzaryan sucked in a sharp breath.
“Again, hobgoblin?” he roared. “By the Shadow, what did I tell you? Chuut, your mace-”
“My lord,” Robrand said before the ogre lieutenant could draw his weapon, “could I suggest something else? Imprisonment might be a better option. Ekhaas has knowledge of the ruins. She has refused to speak with our guests before now, but I suspect she could be … persuaded to share what she knows.”
Dandra stiffened at what the old man’s suggestion implied and she glanced at Singe. He looked uneasy as well, but said nothing. Tzaryan only nodded his heavy head in approval. “An excellent suggestion, General.” He looked down at Dandra. “Or did I see disapproval on you face, Mistress Kirvakri?”
He asked the question lightly, but his eyes were sharp. Within her, Tetkashtai cringed. Dandra swallowed. Ekhaas almost certainly knew something about Taruuzh Kraat, but she didn’t want to see the hobgoblin tortured. “Perhaps we could speak to her again,” she said. “After she’s had time to consider the alternative.”
Tzaryan bent closer. “And if she remains uncooperative?”
Dandra froze, staring into his black eyes.
Singe cleared his throat and answered for her. “This is your domain, Lord Tzaryan,” he said. “We are but guests.”
The ogre mage straightened and turned a smile on him. “I can see that you are a man who has learned lessons outside the library.” Tzaryan’s smile grew into a grin that left Dandra with no doubt that under his fine robes and well-spoken manners, he was as much a monster as any in Droaam. “Put any questions you choose to her tomorrow and we’ll see what lessons Ekhaas has learned.” He gestured sharply to Chuut and the ogre wrestled the hobgoblin on through the gate. Tzaryan nodded again to Singe. “Until the morning, Master Timin. General, I’ll take your report on the training in Vralkek in the morning as well.”
“Lord,” said Robrand with another bow, but the ogre mage was already rising back into the air, moving faster than he had descended. Dandra watched his form, crimson robes flapping in the moonlight, arc through the darkness toward to the tall tower with the dome top.
Tetkashtai whimpered in her mind. Dandra-
Her light was stretched thin with fear and fretting. Dandra felt a hollow echo of it in her own stomach. I know, she said. I think we need to watch our backs around Tzaryan Rrac.
No, more than that!
Hush, Dandra ordered her. It took an effort but she forced herself to rise above Tetkashtai’s fear. She wrapped the presence in calming thoughts, stifling her objections.
Singe waited until Robrand has dismissed the ogre troops before drawing him close. “Robrand-” he hissed.
The old man held up a finger, silencing him. “Careful,” he said. “Tzaryan hears more than you think. Flight isn’t his only gift.” He gave Singe a cold, hard look. “Would you rather she was already dead? At least you have a chance to save her now. I told you, you’re playing a dangerous game. Did you think you were the only one making the rules?”
Vennet watched Tzaryan Rrac soar through one of the open archways below the dome of his observatory, the wind of his passage rippling in his crimson robes, and decided that he wanted to learn to fly as well. To ride on Dah’mir’s back or in a Lyrandar airship were fine things, but to fly on his own power with the voices of the wind in his ears-
Tzaryan was staring at him. Vennet stared back at the ogre mage, meeting his back-eyed gaze fearlessly. “Teach me that,” he said hungrily. Across his back, his dragonmark itched as it hadn’t since he’d been a youth. In the days since the daelkyr’s voice had burned him clean, the mark had felt as though it was growing again, increasing in size and power, a gift from the lord of Khyber. He spoke to the wind and he’d never heard of any member of House Lyrandar manifesting such a power. What else was he capable of?
“Vennet, be silent,” said Dah’mir in reprimand. The heron stood atop a table piled with books and charts. He cocked his head and his eyes flashed. “Tzaryan?”
“It appears my general found them in Vralkek and escorted them here to keep an eye on them,” the warlord said. “They want access to the ruins. Just as you said they would.”
“You’ll grant it to them?”
“There’s not much to see unless they’re willing to dig.”
“They’ll dig. If they don’t, I’ve overestimated them.”
The ogre mage smiled, showing black teeth. “The human you named Singe tried to bribe me by offering to name me as his patron in a book.”
“Promises are as poor a currency as lies,” said Dah’mir. “Real knowledge is gold to those who value it.” He tapped a book with his beak. “Open this one and I’ll continue my payment for your services, Tzaryan. There is a secret written on the moons of Eberron if you know when and where to look.”
“Dah’mir!” called Hruucan from the scorched corner where he had squatted for much of the last few days. Vennet turned to look at him. His voice was a weary rasp and the tentacles that lashed the air were dim. “I feel him! He’s close. I want him!”
“In good time, Hruucan!”
“I hunger now.”
Dah’mir clicked his beak in frustration, then looked at Tzaryan. “Could you spare another slave?”
The warlord smiled again. “Knowledge is gold and you’ve paid me well. Is one slave enough?”
“More than enough.” The heron ruffled black feathers. “My enemies have proved clever. I’m sure they’ll find what they came here to learn quickly enough-and after they do, they’ll fall knowing the truth of how pathetic they are.” His voice sank into a snarl deep into his scrawny chest. “We’ll be your guests for another day, Tzaryan, no more.”
Tzaryan bent his head. “Your presence in my home is an honor, Dah’mir.”
Vennet turned away as the two lords resumed their discussion of moons and stars and secret knowledge and looked out of the observatory onto the night. Far below on the valley floor, a shadow moved against the pale stripe of the road. A lone rider was approaching Tzaryan Keep on a horse with muffled hooves. A breeze brushed against Vennet and murmured in his ear. Now who do you think that is?
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered in reply. In his head, he was flying as Tzaryan had flown.
CHAPTER 12
Tzaryan Rrac’s reply was waiting when Singe descended from his bed chamber to the dining hall below the next morning. An orc woman wearing the blue star of Tzaryan Keep hurried to meet him as soon as he appeared on the stairs. Without speaking or meeting his gaze, she extended a silver tray on which rested a folded note, then darted away as soon as he had taken the note from her.
Dandra was already up and sitting at one corner of a long, empty table. Her face was drawn and her eyes were dark. “Is something wrong?” he asked her.
“I didn’t sleep well.” She rubbed a hand across her face. “Tetkashtai doesn’t like Tzaryan Keep. She was fretting all night. It kept me awake.”
Singe unfolded the note and scanned it. He smiled in triumph. “I think I know something that will make you feel better,” he said, then read aloud “Master Timin, your request is granted. You’ll find the ruins to the northeast of Tzaryan Keep. You may explore them as you wish, so long as you and your party return to join me for dinner and share your discoveries. I will see you this evening-I regret that my stargazing has left me with a nocturnal schedule. Speak to the General if there’s anything you require. With respect, Tzaryan.” He looked up to find Dandra smiling as well, weariness washed away.