Ipid ran to catch Arin and fell into his shadow as they made their way to the Fork in the Road. Already word of Üluth’s humiliation was spreading through the camp. Warriors in loose clumps discussed the incident with a mixture of laughs, disapproving frowns, and outrage. Ipid furtively watched those reactions in hope of better understanding the political dynamic of the Darthur, but he could not be sure if the reactions marked one-off curiosities or a shift in broader perceptions.
He did notice that the men fell universally silent when Üluth appeared, staggering well behind Arin and Thorold. They diverted their eyes and mumbled to themselves or walked back to their tents. No one dared draw the huge warrior’s attention or ire. It did not bode well for Üluth, yet the other clansmen obviously still feared him enough to remain quite. He had lost their respect, but not their admiration. Ipid knew that as long as he had the one, the other was never completely gone.
The door of the Fork in the Road was already open when they arrived. Two hulking guards flanked it. They nodded in unison when Arin strode past them. Thorold spoke a few words to the guards – something about not allowing any disturbances – and followed. After what he had just seen, Ipid stayed as close as humanly possible to Arin.
Inside the inn, the tables had been pushed back so that only one remained in the middle of the room. The chairs from the merchants’ room had been arrayed around the table and were occupied by the members of the Ashüt. Arin took an open seat at the center of the table facing the door with Thorold immediately to his right. Surrounding him were the eleven Darthur representatives on the council – one from each clan with a seat remaining open for Üluth, the representative of Arin’s own Tavuh Clan. The Darthur were all grizzled warriors in their middle years who, by Ipid’s estimation, had been selected more because of their prowess in battle than their deftness of mind. Though Ipid could not tell any differences in their dress, Arin had told him that the cut of their vests clearly denoted their clans.
Gathered at the other end of the table were the four non-Darthur members of the council. They spoke together in a tight group that showed their wariness of the warriors surrounding them. The final two seats at the table were taken by Belab, who sat at a corner of the table as far as possible from the other Ashüt members, and Üluth, who angrily pulled back a chair and sullenly sat halfway down the table.
By that time, Ipid had already found his small stool behind Arin’s seat and had his notebook out and ready. At that same moment, Thorold jostled past him with a long sheaf of parchment. He spread the map out on the table in front of Arin and placed stones on each of the corners to keep it from curling. There was a collective murmur from the te-ashüte at the appearance of the map, and many of them stood from their seats to get a better view.
“May our ancestors guide us to honor through their wisdom and example,” Arin intoned to start the meeting. “May we mark their stories and use them to guide this council.”
“Uhhrr ruhhmp!” A collective roar from the now standing te-ashüte answered Arin little prayer. The te-ashüte nodded to each other and found their seats but most of their eyes remained on the map.
“To give you perspective,” Arin casually spoke to his fellows, “we are here.” He stepped to the end of the table and planted his knife in the table through the end of the map where Gurney Bluff was depicted by a red dot that had been added by the former innkeeper.
There was a collective “Ah!” from the men at the table as they crowded around the map with renewed interest.
“If you will permit me, I will now explain what I have learned about this world and present my plan for conquering it.” Arin swept his hand across the map for emphasis and then basked in the murmurs of approval that followed his bold words.