Con & Conjure rb-5

by Lisa Shearin

  “Whose flash of brilliance was responsible for putting the elf and goblin embassies next to each other?” I asked.

  Mago leisurely pulled a cigar from an interior pocket in his doublet and lit it. “The maze that is the bureaucratic mind is a mystery best left unsolved.”

  A key turned in the lock and one of the guards wheeled in a cart with several covered dishes and a bottle of wine. He nodded to both of us and left. Of course, he locked us in.

  We looked at the food, then at each other. We couldn’t touch any of it. Drugs were favorite goblin interrogation tools.

  “It would smell divine, wouldn’t it?” Mago said. “Goblin torture is indeed cruel.”

  “Our excuses for not eating?”

  “This afternoon has been quite traumatic and we have nervous stomachs.”

  “Which nicely complements the nervous rest of us.”

  “Indeed. I’ve developed an unfortunate case of indigestion.”

  I looked at the tray. “Better than a fatal case later,” I muttered.

  Mago was studying me intently. “For a moment I could see you,” he whispered.

  He wasn’t talking about Symon Wiggs. I got up and went to the bed, which conveniently was in the shadows. I was shaking. From exhaustion, but mostly from fear. I was an elf in a goblin embassy, a wanted and hated elf. This glamour was the only protection I had and I was about to lose it.

  Literally and figuratively.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?” Mago said. “I’ll keep watch.”

  “I can’t go to sleep. I’ll wake up as me.”

  Mago smiled gently. “Would that be so bad?”

  “It was this afternoon. When I’m Symon, the Saghred can’t get to me.”

  “As Symon you can’t defend yourself.” Mago pulled back the bed covers. “Raine, you can’t run from who you are.”

  “Or what.”

  “You’re not a what. The only way that would ever be true is if you start believing what others say—others who want what you have for themselves.”

  “They’re welcome to it.”

  “They’re not and you know it. You’re defending that stone as fiercely as you’re protecting the rest of us. You know what’ll happen if anyone other than you gets hold of it. You won’t let that happen.”

  I snorted. “I’m just all kinds of noble, aren’t I?”

  His smile was back. “Yes, you are,” he said softly.

  I tried to think of a glib comment for that; but truth was, I was too exhausted to make the effort.

  Mago helped me off with my boots, but first I took the boot knife and stuck it under the pillow. I lay back with an exhausted sigh.

  “Mago?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d rather sleep in a cathouse than a house full of cats,” I managed before I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

  I woke up in the same place where I fell asleep. I loved it when that happened.

  I was also me again, wearing the same singed, torn, and bloodstained clothes I’d had on at the hotel. That was the thing about glamouring—when you let go of one, you not only got yourself back, you got the clothes you’d been wearing. I guess it beat the hell out of popping out of a glamour naked.

  Mago was standing by the window, the drapes pulled wide open, letting in the morning sunlight, anything he could do to make it uncomfortable for any goblins to try to come and get us for some pre-breakfast interrogation.

  I dragged myself out of bed and actually managed to stay on my feet. Amazing. “You stayed up all night.”

  Mago shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Though I’m usually engaged in a more entertaining activity than watching you sleep.”

  “When did I lose—”

  “About five bells,” he replied. “The hour before that you phased in and out.” He smiled slightly and shook his head. “Even in your sleep, you were determined to hold on.”

  The key turned in the lock. I took a breath and held it. Well, Raine, you’ll see what happens when it happens.

  The same guard who had brought our food opened the door. “Both of you will come with me,” he said, his tone brusque. The guard saw me and his eyes widened in shock.

  I couldn’t run, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to hide. I went with a glare instead. The guard quickly stepped back into the hall and closed the door. No key turned in the lock this time. We heard him talking quickly in hushed, hissing tones with others.

  “I do believe you’ve put a slight crimp in their morning,” Mago noted. “Bravo, cousin.”

  The bravo had yet to be proven, but if anyone tried to take me anywhere I didn’t want to go, and tried to force me to tell them anything I didn’t want to say, their morning wasn’t going to be crimped, it was going to be ruined. “If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s ruining someone’s day.”

  Mago chuckled. “Too true.”

  The talk ceased outside our door. The door opened again, slower this time. The guard cleared his throat, and respectfully inclined his head to me. “Would you both please accompany me?”

  Mago turned to me and smiled. “Such a polite young man.”

  Chapter 14

  I didn’t know where we were being led, but I was determined to make an impression.

  I succeeded.

  I’d made no effort whatsoever to clean up. My leather doublet was singed with multiple black stripes where some of the firemages’ bolts had breached my shields. The goblins we passed in the embassy’s corridors knew that everyone else who those bolts touched had been instantly vaporized. I only had singed leather.

  When walking among predators, don’t act like prey. Mago walked, but I stalked. It was a little something I’d picked up from Tam. That man could wear blood like a fashion accessory. Goblins admired that. When a goblin killed an enemy or a rival, most of the time they didn’t hide it; they flaunted it. So I figured that the best way for me and Mago to stay uninterrogated was to act like it would be the last mistake anyone here ever made if they tried it.

  Our escort stopped at a closed door. Nothing fancy, no guards posted outside to keep a screaming prisoner from running out. Just a door. The goblin opened the door and stepped back for us to enter.

  I looked before I stepped.

  Imala Kalis stood behind a desk. Her dark eyes widened briefly in surprise. “Hekai, you may go.”

  Mago and I came inside, and the guard closed the door behind us.

  My cousin let out the breath I didn’t know he’d been holding. “Director Kalis, you are the most breathtaking vision I have ever beheld.”

  I opted to collapse in a chair.

  “Well, we aren’t going to be tortured,” I muttered. “That’s always a good start to the day.”

  Imala came running around her desk and did something most ungoblin-like. She hugged me. Not easy to do with me sitting down, but she managed. “How did you get—”

  “Last night, your boys brought in a skinny elven banker named Symon Wiggs from the Satyr’s Grove—”

  Imala did the math in an instant and beamed. “A glamoured witness to a murder. Perfect.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to call us witnesses,” Mago told her. “We saw the ‘after,’ not the ‘during.’ ”

  “Regardless, you were one of the first to see Chatar’s body. And I’ll wager the first to investigate the room.”

  “Guilty as charged,” I said.

  She raised a quizzical brow. “Why a banker?”

  I negligently waved the hand that wasn’t holding my head up. “Just another iron I have in the fire.”

  “Raine, know that this is the highest compliment I can give—it’s a shame you weren’t born a goblin. Though if you had been, my job would be in danger.”

  “And make a career of being scared out of my mind?” I snorted. “You can have it and keep it. There’s not enough money in anyone’s treasury to pay me to do it.”

  Imala was looking closely at Mago.

  My cousin hadn’t shaved,
hadn’t bathed, and quite frankly looked as if he didn’t give a flying fairy about either one. Personal elegance was not his primary concern right now. Mago looked a little shady and a lot disreputable.

  “And you, sir, the prince’s banker, now bear more than a passing resemblance to another dark-haired elf of my recent acquaintance—Captain Phaelan Benares. And here are the two of you, fresh from a night of adventure.” Imala’s dark eyes shone. “I thought it odd yesterday that the two of you were not only together, but knew each other. Now I can clearly see that your last name isn’t Peronne.”

  Mago may have been up all night, but he swept her a bow that would have been perfect in any court. “Guilty as charged. Will you keep my secret, gentle lady?”

  Imala laughed, a delighted sound. “I’ve never been called ‘gentle,’ but I keep secrets for a living, Master Peronne . Rest assured; your true identity is safe with me.” She turned to me. “Mychael’s worried sick about you; he and his men are tearing the city apart.”

  Mychael was alive. My vision blurred and I quickly closed my eyes to stop them from going further. “No doubt with Carnades right behind him.”

  “So you know about the price on your head.”

  “It’s only the latest gossip at the Satyr’s Grove.” I ran a hand over my face. “Can you let Mychael know I’m safe . . . well, at least alive and that I’m here? Without anyone else knowing?”

  Imala’s lips quirked at one corner. “Private goes without saying,” she assured me. “I’ll take care of everything.” She shook her head in wonder. “Including you. You took on at least five firemages.”

  “Nine.”

  “The Saghred?”

  I nodded. “Apparently the rock was having too much fun to let me die.”

  “Do you require a healer?”

  “Mychael would be nice,” I said with a sudden lump in my throat. “Though just food and some more sleep would do, but I don’t think I have time for either one.”

  “Time?”

  “Price on my head, assassins to find. I have a busy day planned.”

  Imala’s expression softened; something I hadn’t seen it do very often. “Raine, there are many others in this city qualified to track down assassins. As to the price on your head, you’re safe here. This is my embassy,” she assured me. “Anything you want is yours.”

  My eyes got misty again. “Thank you.”

  “None necessary. We’ll get you fed and then a bath and clean clothes.”

  “And if Carnades and his Seat of Twelve henchmen find out that I’m here? I don’t want to make trouble for you.”

  Gentle was instantly replaced by a glower. “No one can force you to leave; if they try, it’s an act of war.”

  “And if Carnades claims that I’m being held against my will?”

  “Unless you tell them otherwise, our keeping you here would be a goblin act of war against the elves.”

  “Don’t worry, Imala. I have no intention of lying to anyone. Right now, the goblin embassy is the safest place for me.” I started. “Where’s Tam?”

  Imala raised her hands in a calming gesture. “After he claimed Chatar’s body and had it sent back here, he was to meet with the island’s chief watcher. He should be back within the hour.” She got the chair from behind her desk and pulled it up next to mine. “What happened from the time we were separated at the hotel?”

  I let Mago tell Imala about our day and night of adventure. My cousin was an excellent storyteller and he didn’t disappoint.

  “So that’s how we ended up here,” I said when he finished.

  Imala smiled until her dainty fangs showed. “From elven banker to hero of the goblin people.”

  I blinked. “Hero?”

  “Hero. For an elf to act in such a courageous fashion in defense of so many goblins, putting her own life and future at risk without thought—”

  “Uh . . . it wasn’t like the Saghred left me much time for thinking.”

  “But you directed its power at those who were killing my people.”

  “I definitely did that.”

  “Do you have regrets?”

  “None. I did what I had to do, and now the Seat of Twelve has put a price on my head. Though I’m probably not the first or last Benares to get that dubious honor.”

  “From the reports I’ve received, the elves among the Twelve are responsible for the bounty on you.”

  “Carnades Silvanus probably knocked a couple of them over so he could sign his name first to my arrest warrant. But it was a friend of his in elven intelligence who was directly responsible for what happened today, though I’m willing to bet Carnades’s money paid for some of those firemages.”

  “That would be Taltek Balmorlan.”

  I nodded. “Also known as my other iron in the fire. If one of your people gets him in their crosshairs—take the shot. We’ll all be better off.” I glanced at Mago. “Our chances of taking him down our way are pretty much shot to hell after he and Carnades saw us getting into a goblin embassy coach.”

  Mago’s smile was borderline mischievous. “Nothing’s been shot to hell yet.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You have another plan?”

  “Let’s just say I haven’t given up.”

  “Speaking of not giving up.” I pulled Rache’s glove out of the front of my doublet. “This belongs to Rache Kai. I took it out of his room at the Grove last night.”

  Imala raised one flawless eyebrow. “My, you do have other irons in the fire.”

  “Rache was a bonus. We didn’t expect him to be there, but while we killed time waiting for supper with Balmorlan, I wanted to have a talk with my ex. He admitted to being hired to assassinate Chigaru. He wouldn’t spill who did the hiring, but Taltek Balmorlan is the front runner.”

  “Well, there are two suspects I can remove from the list,” Imala told me. “Sathrik didn’t hire Rache Kai; neither did Sarad.”

  “Distaste of hiring an elf?” Mago asked.

  “That and they would hire the assassin they thought best qualified to complete the job. I am more than familiar with Rache Kai’s qualifications. However, goblins prefer a more personal touch. They have someone on the inside and it appears that someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to make it look as if the threat to the prince’s life has now ended his own.”

  “Chatar didn’t commit suicide,” I told her.

  “I would be surprised if he had. As you no doubt remember, he never shied away from confrontation of any kind.”

  Like wanting to obliterate me that day on the pier. “I got that impression.”

  “That included being accused of the assassination attempt. Chatar vehemently maintained his innocence, and he didn’t seem to feel the weight of any guilt. Hardly the behavior of a man about to commit suicide.” Imala was silent for a moment. “You have done so much for our people already, but I have to ask—”

  I knew where this was going. “If I could tell you who the murderer was by touching the corpse?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Raine. If there was any other way—”

  “I’ll do it.” My voice said the words, but I wasn’t eager.

  I still had nightmares about a corpse I’d touched to find how and where he had died. It’d been one of Sarad Nukpana’s victims whose life force he’d fed on to regenerate his body. The goblin had left a surprise message for me, delivered by a corpse who grabbed me and didn’t let go until Nukpana had promised to do the same to everyone I loved and then me.

  No, I wasn’t eager to have a repeat of that experience.

  But Sarad Nukpana hadn’t infested Chatar’s body.

  At least not that I was aware of.

  Way to be paranoid, Raine.

  “Thank you,” Imala said.

  “You might want to hold off on those thanks. The last corpse I touched reached up and touched me right back. There was unsightly screaming involved.”

  “I would have done the same.”

  I smiled, my first real one of the morni
ng. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “You believe the murderer to be here, among your own people?” Mago asked Imala.

  “It’s likely that they’re here in this very building at this very moment. Now that they have eliminated Chatar, they would again be focused on their primary task.”

  “The prince is well protected?”

  “By my most trusted agents. His Highness is quite safe.” Imala smiled in a vicious flash of tiny fangs. “His potential killer is not.”

  Mago chuckled. “You do appear to be a lady who enjoys her work.”

  “What the lady will enjoy is catching the bitch or bastard who’s made themselves so inconvenient.”

  “And he—or she—tried to make Chatar’s death look like a suicide so you wouldn’t dig any further,” I said.

  “I’ve got news for them; I haven’t even begun digging yet.”

  “If someone felt Chatar needed killing, it was in all likelihood because that someone wanted him quiet,” Mago noted.

  I glanced sharply at Mago. “Think he might have said something to the girl? You know . . . pillow talk? You’d tell your bartender your troubles. Is the same true for working girls?”

  My cousin smiled. “I make it a point not to share my troubles with anyone outside of the family. One can’t be too cautious.” He turned to Imala. “Did Chatar make it a habit of frequenting bordellos?”

  “Not that I am aware of,” Imala replied. “He has a mistress in Regor who he hasn’t seen in some time. With the prince being in exile, his retinue hasn’t exactly stayed in places where such . . . creature comforts are available. Since they arrived, more than a few have visited the finer establishments Mid has to offer.” She smiled, her dark eyes shining. “We are a most passionate people.”