Singe looked him over with narrow eyes. “No,” he said tightly. The others paused.
“Singe!” Dandra said. She stepped between the two men, staring at the wizard with a harsh expression. “Why not?”
“I don’t trust him.”
Dandra’s eyebrows rose high. “You don’t trust him? You’ve fought beside him! He rescued both of us.” She twisted around to look over her shoulder. Geth dropped his gaze to the floor rather than meet her eyes. Dandra let out a hiss of frustration. “Il-Yannah, I’ve had it with this feud of yours!” He saw her shift as she turned back to Singe. “What did Geth do that was so terrible you can still hold it over him nine years later?”
Geth’s head snapped up, his heart leaping into his throat. “Dandra, don’t-”
It was too late. Singe’s eyes flashed. “He abandoned his post,” the wizard seethed. “The coward abandoned his post at Narath and because he did, the Aundairians got into the town behind our lines.” Singe looked past Dandra to glare at him. “The massacre at Narath is his fault. More than a thousand people died because of what he did. Geth killed the Frostbrand. Geth killed Narath.”
Silence. Geth could feel the weight of Natrac’s gaze, of Ashi’s and Orshok’s as well. In the cell, Ekhaas watched, her ears pricked forward.
Dandra turned slowly. “Geth, is that true?”
He ground his teeth together.
Dandra stood fast, her dark eyes wide. “Is it true?” she asked again.
Geth looked at her-at all of the people he’d called friends-and the secret that he had only ever spoken before to Adolan slipped between his lips. “Yes.”
CHAPTER 14
Bastard.” Singe’s voice was cold. He picked up one of the torches Robrand had left behind. “You know what? If you want to stay here, you can stay. I don’t want to look at you.” He threw a glance into the cell. “Ekhaas, we’ll be back.”
The hobgoblin said nothing and Singe didn’t wait for a reply. He turned to the others. “Come on.” He started down the dark hallway toward the stairs without looking back.
Ashi and Orshok looked confused but they followed him. So did Natrac, though he turned to glance back with a strangely bleak expression in his eyes. Geth twitched his head away.
Dandra lingered. “Geth, I-”
He bared his teeth and snapped at her. She flinched back, then turned and darted after Singe and the others.
After a long moment, Geth turned to look at Ekhaas, still sitting silently in the cell. The hobgoblin’s eyes glittered as she watched him. “Truth tears its way out of the belly.”
“Shut your mouth,” Geth snarled, but Ekhaas just sat back.
“I owe you no kindness, shifter. I’m here because of you.” She looked at him with cold anger-and nodded toward his sword. “I know why you asked to stay and I’m pleased that your curiosity stung you.”
Rage swept over him and he strode into the cell, ripping the Dhakaani sword from his scabbard. “Tiger’s blood, if I’m going to suffer for curiosity, then I want an answer!” He held the naked blade in front of her, the torchlight from the hallway casting dark gleams into the twilight-purple byeshk. “I drew this in Zarash’ak and a gang of goblins scattered. I drew it against you and you tried to take my head off.” He twisted the sword. “What is it?”
Ekhaas’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a lhesh shaarat, a warlord’s blade. Goblin, hobgoblin, or bugbear, any descendant of Dhakaan recognizes a lhesh shaarat. They’re the weapons of kings and heroes. Anyone who dares draw one proclaims his power. The goblins you faced in Zarash’ak probably fled in fear at the mere sight of you holding it.”
“You didn’t flee.”
“I know that the weapons of heroes can be stolen by cowards, shifter.”
His lips drew back. “My name is Geth,” he spat. “Use it.” He lifted the blade and light ran along it. “And I didn’t steal this. I fought for it. Do the Dhakaani remember a ghost fortress called Jhegesh Dol?”
“Jhegesh Dol?” Ekhaas’s ears lay back. “What do you know about Jhegesh Dol?”
“More than I want to.” Geth drew a breath between his teeth, then looked down at Ekhaas again. “I found this sword there. A Gatekeeper told me it was the sword of the hobgoblin who killed the daelkyr master of Jhegesh Dol. Do you know anything more about it?”
“Nothing I can recall.” A hungry expression crept across Ekhaas’s face. “Why?”
Geth showed her his teeth. “Because I took a good chunk out of Dah’mir with it.”
Ekhaas blinked and surprise broke through her hostility for the first time. “Khaavolaar. The dragon? You injured him with the sword?”
Geth nodded and Ekhaas’s ears flicked forward-then lay back sharply.
“But you didn’t kill him?”
“If I’d killed him, I’d be back in the Eldeen instead of talking to you and we wouldn’t have anything to worry about,” Geth said. He turned the sword and slammed it back into its sheath.
Ekhaas watched him with something like amazement in her eyes.
“What?” he growled at her. “Suddenly I’m worth talking to?” He turned away from her and stared back out into the corridor.
There was light coming down the stairs into the dungeon-the light of a torch, but accompanied by the sound of only one pair of feet.
Unease stirred in him. The footsteps that echoed down the stairs were quick and lively, but also heavy. A man’s footsteps. A half dozen possibilities for who might be making those footsteps flicked through his head. The steps were too heavy to be Dandra and surely Singe wouldn’t be coming back to face him. They were too loud for Ashi-the hunter moved in near-silence. Neither Orshok nor Natrac would have need for a torch. Tzaryan’s orc slaves wouldn’t have needed a torch either, and Geth hadn’t seen any of the slaves move in anything more lively than a worn shuffle. The steps were definitely too light to belong to an ogre.
Robrand had come for him.
He swallowed. He shrank back into Ekhaas’s cell. The hobgoblin’s ears twitched. Geth motioned her to silence and closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself for the confrontation he had been dreading for nearly a decade.
But the footsteps stopped well before the cell and a voice called, “Chain?”
There was a muffled reply, but Geth’s eyes sprang open as horror knotted his gut. He knew that voice. Slowly, cautiously, he peered around the edge of the doorframe and down the hallway.
Vennet d’Lyrandar stood with a torch in one hand, wrestling the bar from across the door of Chain’s cell with the other. Geth stifled a curse.
Behind him, Ekhaas shifted. “What?” she said, her voice pitched lower than a whisper. “What is it?”
He glanced back, put a finger across his lips, and gave her a shake of his head, then glanced back out into the hall. Vennet looked like a nightmare. His clothes were dirty and stiff with dried blood, his eyes fever bright, his long blond hair tangled and wild, yet at the same time the half-elf stood tall and proud, as if utterly unaware of how he looked. As Geth watched, he hauled the bar away from the cell door and let it fall with a thud that echoed along the hallway, then swung the door wide. “I’ll expect the return of a portion of your fee, Chain,” he said. “I didn’t think you would need rescuing.”
Chain emerged from the cell, squinting against the light of the torch while at the same time trying to stare at the sight of Vennet. The bounty hunter looked as shocked as Geth felt. “Vennet, what are you-?” he began, then caught himself and stood up straight. “I’m working on your contract,” he said in a tone more like his usual gruffness. “I’ve followed your target here and come close to capturing her.”
Vennet’s hand snapped out and slapped the big man. “Don’t whistle and call it wind.” He gestured to the bar. “Close the door and put that back, then come with me. There might be a use for you yet.”
Chain stared at Vennet as if ready to punch him back, but Vennet glared back at him without fear. After a moment, Chain swallowed and looked away, pushing the cell door closed with one hand and reaching for the bar with the other. Geth eased back into the darkness of Ekhaas’s cell and listened as he laid it back into place. Two sets of footsteps climbed the stairs. The light of Vennet’s torch faded from the hall.