by Lisa Shearin
After a few minutes I sensed someone standing at my left shoulder, patiently waiting for me to finish what I’d been saying. I turned to look and damned near lost it.
Vegard was a vision of servile propriety in black tunic, poofy black knee breeches, black hose, and . . . did my eyes deceive me? Nope, they knew what they were seeing—black shoes with darling black silk rosettes on top. The big Guardian’s blond hair was pulled back and tightly braided, his beard was closely trimmed in dandy fashion, and a pair of delicate gold-rimmed spectacles were perched on what was definitely not Vegard’s real nose.
“Hello, I’m Marc, and I’ll be your server today.”
As I looked up at him, I had to bite my bottom lip as tears welled up in my eyes. Fortunately, my back was to Balmorlan so he couldn’t witness my facial contortions.
Vegard, the consummate professional, didn’t bat an eye—which were now green, by the way.
“Would you like to hear our chef’s specials?” he asked.
“Of course,” Mago told him, knowing that I was well past the power of speech.
I got myself under control as Vegard—excuse me, Marc—prattled on about the sauce for this fish or the glaze for that steak, and even went so far as to make wine recommendations for each. Impressive.
Mago ordered the best cut of beef in the largest portion the restaurant had. Mid was an island and a rocky one at that. Fish were plentiful, but beef would most definitely be an import—a pricey one.
I handed my menu back to Marc with a bright smile. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
Balmorlan ordered the fish.
I proposed that we not talk business until after we’d eaten. Balmorlan didn’t like it, but then Balmorlan wasn’t going to like much about our meeting, though he wouldn’t know it until the results jumped up and bit him on the ass.
As we chatted and ate what was quite possibly the best meal I’d ever had, I became painfully aware that Taltek Balmorlan wasn’t what one would call a scintillating conversationalist. Mago, on the other hand, was well educated, well traveled, well-heeled, and well . . . interesting. Everything Balmorlan obviously was not.
I knew there had to be an accepted way to discuss buying something of questionable legality with money that was not your own. Since I had no clue what that was, I went with the direct approach. It seemed to be the way Symon would handle it. And since Balmorlan apparently accepted me as the genuine article, I just cut to the chase.
“You didn’t ask me all the way here from D’Mai for lunch.”
“I would have preferred a more private meeting location.”
“Such as your embassy, which is considered elven soil and is subject to elven law.” I dabbed my lips with my napkin and laid it carefully on the table. “I’m not an elf and the people whose interests I represent aren’t elves. So you can understand my suspicion of your elven privacy.”
“Symon, Symon, you misjudge me. Have I ever gone back on my word or not delivered what I’d promised?”
I had no idea what Balmorlan had promised or delivered, so I went with a stony silence. It seemed like the right response.
Balmorlan pursed his lips in annoyance and lowered his voice. “You can’t still blame me for your operation in Tamir.”
“Can’t I?”
“Your associates got what they paid for. However, it was beyond my control that the intelligence I was given reported that the garrison was empty. There was no way I could have known that your partners’ men had been set up for an ambush.”
“Your intelligence was obviously lacking.”
Balmorlan shrugged. “The loss of life was regrettable, but unavoidable given the circumstances.”
“And now you ask me here to attempt to sell those I represent yet another disaster in the making.”
“Ah, but you came. And I can I assure you that your employers will be delighted with their purchase.”
“Their delight has yet to be seen, and I came only because I was ordered. This meeting was not my choice.” I gave Balmorlan what I hoped was an oily smile. “Though it is my choice whether or not I reject your offer.” I sat back in my chair. “What do you want? And don’t waste any more of my time. The quicker I can get off of this cursed rock, the better.”
“I’m offering them power.”
“Pardon me?”
Balmorlan leaned forward. “Power. I’m offering you and your associates a chance to eliminate those who oppose you once and for all. No more risks, just profits and unquestioned power.”
I gave him a scoffing laugh. “For once and for all and on your word. An amusing proposition, but not one I’m inclined to accept.” My humor vanished. “I require proof. Tangible proof.”
Balmorlan smiled the smile of a man with a secret. “I can provide it. Proof of how with one strike, your associates will be in unopposed possession of all southern Nebia.”
One strike. I forced my breathing to remain even. He couldn’t mean—
“I can provide this for you and your associates,” Balmorlan was saying.
“Now?”
“By this time tomorrow.”
“For a price.” I forced the words out.
“Naturally.”
The son of a bitch was selling the Saghred’s power. Power he didn’t have.
Yet.
Unless he got his hands on me, and he was giving himself one whole day to get the job done. Cocky bastard. Simply killing me wouldn’t get him the Saghred’s power. The rock was locked and guarded in the citadel. The only thing my death would do would be to let the Saghred latch on to the first mage it could lure within touching distance. Taltek Balmorlan couldn’t steal the Saghred, but he seemed confident that he could steal me.
Within one day.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust myself to say anything. However, I did trust myself to put the steak knife that had found its way into my hand to good use. I toyed with the handle.
Mago cleared his throat. “Considering the history of my colleague’s dealings with you, his associates can hardly be expected to accept any claims at face value.”
Balmorlan bristled. “You’re saying that I’m a liar?”
“Not yet,” I said smoothly. “My associates now find it prudent to proceed with caution to any offer you make.” I paused. “They will only tolerate being burned once,” I said with quiet menace. “They will not allow it to happen again.”
Mago spoke. “You seem confident that you can deliver the promised results, Inquisitor Balmorlan. But you understand that we cannot share your confidence, let alone assign monetary worth to it based on a few words—”
“Meaning we want to know precisely what you’re selling,” I broke in. I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear the son of a bitch say it.
“Very well,” Balmorlan said. “By this time tomorrow, the Saghred’s power will be mine.”
I didn’t move. “From what I’ve been told, the Saghred’s bond servant is an elven seeker by the name of Raine Benares. This Benares woman is a magic user; you are not, so I fail to see how you could not only claim to possess and wield such power, but offer it to others.”
“By possessing Raine Benares,” Balmorlan replied smoothly. “My own mages will be able to wield the stone’s power through her. And best of all, my claim to the woman will be perfectly legal.”
I leaned forward, hopefully the very picture of a skeptical negotiator, not a banker about to dive across a table with a steak knife. “To claim is one thing, to gain cooperation is quite another.”
“Her cooperation is not needed,” Balmorlan said. “Once she’s in custody, I have a specially constructed cell waiting with magic-neutralizing restraints. I’ve retained the services of mages eager to taste the Saghred’s power for themselves.”
Mago’s eyes were the flat black of a shark, his voice cold. “If the woman is chained and can’t access the stone’s power, how can these mages—”
“The Saghred is hungry,” Balmorlan told him point-blank. “It
’ll bond with my mages like a starving demon being offered fresh meat.” He paused and smiled. “Except in the Saghred’s case it will be fresh souls. The stone will have to be well fed before it can be properly used. We’ll feed it through the elf woman, and once the Saghred is satisfied, my mages can put the stone’s power to good use.” He tossed back the remainder of his drink. “Raine Benares is merely a conduit for souls and power. She’ll be used as long as she remains useful. You’re aware of what the Saghred can do?”
I knew the answer to that one. “I am.”
“Then you know that my offer is genuine. I’ve arranged a demonstration of the Saghred’s power that will more than prove the validity of my offer.”
Demonstration? That would be some trick since I was sitting right here.
“Where and how?” I asked.
Taltek Balmorlan grinned. “Let’s just say I’ve taken the liberty of moving your luggage from the Greyhound Hotel to a safer location.”
Chapter 8
Mago didn’t move a muscle. “Safer?”
“It’s also safe to say there will be no need to pay your hotel bill.” Balmorlan smiled, showing us his teeth.
Teeth I wanted nothing more than to knock out.
“There’s a tavern on the corner of Hobwell Street that will provide us with a splendid view and adequate protection,” Balmorlan continued. “I’ve arranged a table by the window. As soon as we arrive, the show will begin.”
“That’s nearly two blocks from the hotel,” Mago noted. His voice was calm, his posture nonchalant. He always had been a good actor.
When hundreds of lives depended on it, I could fake calm, too. “I’m not fond of surprises,” I told Balmorlan. “Just what is this demonstration of yours?”
“There will be an attack on the Greyhound Hotel, but the primary target is its occupants. At this moment, Raine Benares is in the hotel meeting with her goblin prince.”
I froze. A meeting I’d canceled to be here.
A meeting Taltek Balmorlan knew about. Who the leak was or where it was didn’t concern me, not now. Snarling and lunging across the table for Balmorlan’s throat wouldn’t save Prince Chigaru, his court, or any of the hundreds of innocent people staying or working in or around the hotel. If it was only safe outside of a two-block area, there was going to be collateral damage. A lot of collateral damage.
Balmorlan didn’t care about any of that. It was simply a way to make his point. The smirk the smarmy bastard was wearing told me that he had something we wanted, something we couldn’t resist. He was right—he had his life and I wanted to take it.
“She’ll hardly stand by while the prince, his retinue, and every other living thing inside are annihilated,” Balmorlan continued. “However, to have a chance of saving anyone, she’ll have to use the Saghred.”
Mago’s face was expressionless. “And if this Raine Benares is ‘annihilated’ along with the others?”
Balmorlan waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll be the only creature who will survive. The Saghred would hardly allow its bond servant to be killed before it has found a suitable replacement. And after having used the Saghred, my associates will see to it that Raine Benares is arrested as a public menace.” He chuckled. “Someone with that much power can hardly remain on the loose among our citizens. So you gentlemen will have your proof, while my associates eliminate a political inconvenience. And if you’re experiencing any guilt at the unavoidable loss of life, don’t bother; my associates had already planned this. It would have happened whether you had accepted my invitation or not.”
I had no doubt that every time Balmorlan said “associates” he meant Carnades Silvanus.
There would be no Saghred demonstration. I was here and so was the rock’s power, but that wouldn’t stop Balmorlan from having everyone in that hotel killed. The only thing there would be was death and a lot of it. Deaths that in Balmorlan’s opinion only the Saghred’s power could stop. I didn’t doubt his opinion. Balmorlan wasn’t a mage, but he knew what mages could do, couldn’t do—and what was beyond their power. I was betting he’d arranged a demonstration of the latter kind.
And I wouldn’t be sitting in a tavern while it happened.
Balmorlan pushed back his chair and stood. “The bill has already been taken care of, gentlemen. I have a coach waiting for us. We’ll begin negotiations after you’ve seen the obvious value in—”
“What do you mean you’re out of lobster bisque!” roared the red-haired mage (aka Mychael) at the next table.
Marc/Vegard visibly cowered. “Sir, if you will allow me to—”
“To what? Explain why you brought this vile—”
Vegard gasped in indignation. “Sir, the ingredients are the finest—”
“Swill!”
“The chef assures me that it surpasses even the—”
Vegard/Marc didn’t get a chance to finish; the gaped-mouthed mages around us didn’t get the chance to regain their composure. Mychael’s fist came up and knocked the bowl from Vegard’s hands, hands seemingly desperate to catch the bowl, not to direct the fishy contents onto Taltek Balmorlan’s head, down the front of his doublet, trousers, and probably into his boots.
It was a really big bowl of soup.
It was beautiful.
Hotel destruction delayed.
I had to fight the urge to kiss that redheaded mage smack-dab on the lips.
Vegard/Marc stared at Balmorlan in abject horror. “Sir, I am so sorry.” He grabbed a pair of cloth napkins from a nearby table and began dabbing at the soup covering the elf’s silk doublet; the napkins doing nothing but spreading the fishy mess around. Balmorlan was trying to stop Vegard from dabbing; Vegard was determined to stop Balmorlan from leaving.
We had quite the commotion going, and within moments an impeccably dressed man came running out of the back near the kitchens, took one look at the scene in all of its sogginess, took a deep breath, and strode toward us. “Sir, if you will allow me to assist,” he told Balmorlan. His voice was the very essence of professional calm. “I’m the manager, and on behalf of the owners, I offer you our sincerest apologies. Come with me and we can take care of this.” He lowered his voice. “The fish sauce will be difficult to get out, but not impossible. We have something in the kitchen that will take care of it without too much damage to your clothing.” He smiled with every bit of charm he could muster. “We’ve had worse stains,” he whispered. The manager gripped Balmorlan’s upper arm with both hands, not giving the inquisitor any choice except to go with him.
I really hoped there were cats in the alley behind the kitchen. Fish-loving, hungry cats.
Our coach was waiting just down the street. The city watch normally wouldn’t let a coach park on the street, but coaches didn’t normally have plainclothes Guardian drivers and outriders, either.
I ran to the coach as quick as Symon’s scrawny legs would carry me, spitting curses the entire way. If any of Balmorlan’s spies reported back to their boss, he’d think I was just pissed at having to clear out of the best hotel in town, or not getting the best of the son of a bitch in our first meeting. The Guardian “footman” saw us coming and got the coach’s door open fast. They had no idea I was a glamoured Raine Benares. Mychael had given them an assignment and they did it without asking questions. All they saw was the pissed off little man they’d driven to the restaurant who now desperately wanted to hurt someone.
No doubt Taltek Balmorlan would wonder why we didn’t wait for him at the Swan Song or show up at that tavern.
No doubt I didn’t give a damn.
Mychael was waiting in the coach, his mage glamour gone and the Guardian paladin back in spades.
I pulled myself inside and quickly sat down; Mago was right on my heels.
Mychael tapped twice on the wall behind him and the coach quickly moved out into traffic. “You two are getting out at watcher headquarters.”
That was only halfway to the hotel.
“No deal, I’m—”
Mychael’s eyes blazed. “Raine, I’m not making any deals with you. He’s set you up—”
“And people are going to die unless I’m there,” I shot back.
“You’re not going to be one of them.”
“Damn right, I’m not. I’m also not getting out of this coach until it gets to the hotel. I can’t hide, Mychael. Not now.”
“Balmorlan said the show wouldn’t start until we joined him at the tavern,” Mago said.
“With this many lives at stake, that’s a chance I can’t take,” Mychael replied.
“What could he do that we’d need to be two blocks away?” my cousin asked him.
“Magic of the worst kind.”
“Balmorlan collects mages, remember?” I said bitterly. “The more lethal, the better.” I didn’t say that he’d be paying any black mages, supernatural assassins, or whatever was waiting at the hotel, with the money we were supposed to get with the transit numbers that we didn’t have. Mago didn’t need me to remind him.
Mychael glowered. “Which is why you won’t be there,” he told me.
“Balmorlan already thinks I am there.” I leaned forward in my seat. “Mychael, it’s me he wants; whatever he’s about to do is my fault, so what I do about it is my decision. And if it’s something that only the Saghred can handle, then I’ll handle it.” I felt my glamour start to waver. I stopped and steadied my breathing. I knew from experience that pain wasn’t good for a glamour, apparently neither was rage. I couldn’t go back to being myself, not yet. If there was any chance that I could get out of this without taking the lead role in Balmorlan’s horror show, I owed it to Mychael to keep my head down. But if the bastard forced my hand, I’d have no choice. I leaned back in the seat and forced myself into a calm I didn’t feel. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “Balmorlan won’t get a chance to have me hauled off. If I’m caught, I’ll die of embarrassment first. That’d ruin his day.”
“My men can handle anything Balmorlan has planned,” Mychael assured me. “It’s what we train for. My men are inside the hotel, outside the hotel, on rooftops around the hotel, and hell, they’re even on sky dragons patrolling above the hotel.”