by Lisa Shearin
“I really like the sound of that, sir.”
Yeah, it sounded good, but the agency wasn’t known for giving a damn about anyone’s laws. Like certain members of my family, if they saw something or someone they wanted, they just took it or them. Mychael glanced at me. He knew it, too. But right now, getting Piaras into the Guardians was the best he could do. I had to agree; anything was better than nothing at all. Besides, it was what Piaras had always wanted.
“We’ll go ahead and have you fitted for your uniform,” Mychael was telling Piaras, “but you’ll wear civilian clothes until then.”
“How long, sir?”
“Two days at the most, and I’ll be on my feet and back in charge,” Justinius said.
“At least three,” Mychael countered.
“Two, with no arguments.” The old man’s bright blue eyes narrowed in challenge.
“We’ll see.”
“Mychael, you can prop me up with a stick if you have to, but come hell or high water, in two days I will be robed and in the Great Hall tapping Cadet Rivalin on the shoulders with a sword.”
“Sir, I-”
“Son, you know as well as I do that I needed to be on my feet yesterday. That’s not possible, but in two days, I will be making a speech and lifting a sword. I will show myself to be completely in command of this island. I have no choice. We have no choice, and you know it.”
Mychael’s silence said the old man was right; the scowl said that he didn’t like it one bit. I didn’t want Justinius to hurt himself, either, but the quicker Carnades got booted out of the big office, the better off we’d all be.
“Good. Since that’s settled, how about I plant a little surprise for Sarad Nukpana.” Justinius crooked a bony finger at Piaras and indicated the chair next to his bed. “Contact is necessary for this, Cadet Rivalin.”
Piaras looked as if getting within touching distance of the archmagus was the last thing he wanted to do. Though with the alternative being Sarad Nukpana roaming around in his head, the kid quickly got over his squeamishness.
It just looked like the old man had his hands on either side of Piaras’s head. From the sweat starting to bead on Justinius’s forehead, there was a lot of hard work going on. After at least five minutes, the old man released Piaras, leaned back on his pillows, and took a couple of deep breaths. Warding Piaras had taken more than he could really spare. He glared at Mychael like he defied him to say one word about it.
“There,” the old man said when he had his wind back. “That’ll take care of it. And I left a little something extra for the goblin. The worse the impulse he tries to plant in Cadet Rivalin’s head, the worse the shock that goblin’s going to get.” He winked at Piaras. “A little negative reinforcement.”
“Will I get shocked?”
“Nope, though you might feel a twinge.”
“Oh boy,” Piaras muttered.
Justinius’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” He leveled his gaze on Mychael. “So, are you any closer to finding the Hellgate-opening son of a bitch who tried to spellsing me to death?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Most of the best mages alive are on this island,” Justinius snapped. “Make them earn their keep and go slam that Hellgate shut; the work will do them good.”
“Unfortunately, sir, we suspect some of our most qualified mages are helping Rudra Muralin open it. At least six of them. And I’m certain he has more allies among the Conclave and/or our faculty.”
“Do you have names?”
Mychael nodded. “They’re all on your list.”
“Would those be the same enemies he’s watching slither out of hiding?” I asked.
“The very same.” Mychael handed Justinius a familiar folded parchment. “This was delivered to Tamnais Nathrach this morning. It’s Rudra Muralin’s demands.”
The old man took it. “Why Nathrach?”
I thought I’d answer that one. “He hates Tam more than anyone else on this island-besides me.”
Piaras gave me a questioning look.
“Rudra Muralin wants the Saghred,” I told him. “He’s made a deal with the demons; they get the Saghred for him, and in return, they get all of the students and mages on the island.”
Piaras stood straighter. “Sir, where’s Katelyn?”
“She’s safe,” Justinius told him, never taking his eyes off of the letter. He finished it, carefully folded it, and calmly handed it back to Mychael. “This Rudra Muralin. Exterminate him.”
I liked the old man’s choice of words.
“Now, what are you doing to find and close that Hellgate?” he asked.
Mychael told him the same thing he’d told me. Guardians, watchers, demonology faculty, and some grad students taking the ultimate final exam.
“That’s one problem and hopefully a solution,” I said, “but we have another one. A bigger one. Rudra Muralin wants the Saghred, and he’s opening a Hellgate to scare us into giving it to him. But the demon queen wants to release what’s inside the Saghred. I don’t know if Rudra Muralin knows about the Scythe of Nen and the queen’s plans. The cocky bastard might know and just not give a damn. But those demons do. The only thing we need less than Rudra Muralin and rampaging demons is a demon king freed for the first time in a couple of millennia-along with anyone or anything else that can squeeze out of the Saghred with him. There are no containments on that rock in your basement. If the demons get their claws on that Scythe of Nen, reach the Saghred, and open it-”
Mychael interrupted me. “Potentially thousands of souls looking for bodies to possess, and my Guardians will be first ones they find. Yes, I know. My men are aware of the danger and are taking measures to defend themselves.”
“I need to find out what this Scythe of Nen is and get it,” I told him. “Quickly.”
Mychael frowned. “You?”
“Yes, me. You know anyone else better qualified than a seeker and a Benares to find and make off with something valuable?” I turned to Justinius. “You wouldn’t happen to know what the Scythe of Nen is, would you?”
“Not a clue.”
I had no idea what time it was; my body was telling me it was way past time to get some sleep. I blew out my breath and gave the old man the shortened version of the demon queen’s demand delivered by her undead warriors at Sirens.
“So the demon queen and Sarad Nukpana both want this Scythe of Nen,” he said.
I nodded. “Right. Nukpana doesn’t know what it is, but the demons do. And to add a sick twist on this whole mess, the demon queen-or that bobbing, talking head thing she sent to Sirens-wouldn’t tell me. She thinks that I know what it is, where it is, and that I’m lying to keep her from getting it.”
“A scythe would indicate a blade of some kind,” Piaras offered. “Or so you’d think. But aren’t scythes large and used to harvest wheat or something?”
“Size is relative,” I said. “The Saghred is its own self-contained world. The smallest dagger would be massive if seen from inside.”
“Every type of steel, stone, and spell has been used to try to destroy-and open-the Saghred,” Mychael said. “Obviously none have succeeded.”
“Professor Berel was killed because the demons believed he had it,” I reminded them. “He was screaming that he didn’t have it-not that he didn’t know what it was.” I liked this train of thought; it might actually lead somewhere besides a dead end. “Professor Niabi said she didn’t know what Berel could have been carrying that the demons would want, but she did tell me that demonologists have all kinds of talismans and trinkets. She just might know what this Scythe of Nen is. If so, it’d save us time that we may not have. If not, I’ll just do it the old-fashioned way. Have the locations of the demon sightings been reported to you or the chief watcher?”
Mychael’s brow creased. “Both.” He didn’t know where I was going with this, but I finally did. At least I felt as if I knew
something; it was a welcome change.
“It stands to reason that if the demons were sent to look for something, they’d pop up as close as possible to where they thought it was. Those locations just might help us do more than find that Hellgate.”
Justinius Valerian’s eyes were brilliantly bright. The old man hadn’t heard my entire idea, but he liked what I’d said so far-a lot. In an instant, Mychael’s solemn expression turned forbidding.
I held up my hands defensively. “I’m looking for the Scythe of Nen, not a pack of dark mages bent on world domination. Yes, I would love to get my hands around Rudra Muralin’s throat. All I’ve managed to do to him so far is leave my teethmarks in his ear.”
Justinius grinned impishly. “Your what?”
I told him about my tussle with Muralin on the catwalk above the stage at Sirens right after the goblin had tried to spellsing him to death.
Justinius laughed, a dry wheeze. “He tried to kill me, and you bit him.”
“And used my knees, elbows, and fists anywhere on him I could get to. Unfortunately, that’s all I could do.”
“Sounds damned gratifying to me.”
“I didn’t get nearly as much out of it as I wanted.”
“A dead goblin.”
I nodded. “Would have been the ideal conclusion. And if I could have done that then, we probably wouldn’t be doing all of this now.” I rubbed my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Probably a little after two bells.”
The sun would be up in a few hours. “I don’t have time to sleep, but I need it,” I said.
“Yes, you do.” Mychael glanced at Piaras. “You both do.”
“Cadet, I have a spare room down the hall,” Justinius said.
“Until Mychael can get your big brothers on guard duty, you need to sleep somewhere warded. Sarad Nukpana can’t reach you here. And Miss Benares, I have a guest room right next to this one that you’re more than welcome to.” He winked. “Don’t worry. Your virtue’s safe with me.”
I snorted. “Because you don’t have the strength right now to get out of bed.”
“Sadly true.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want my sleep warded. I want Sarad Nukpana to come looking for me.”
Chapter 19
I think I fell asleep somewhere between the bedroom door and the pillow.
I was back in the citadel guest room I’d occupied before I’d moved onto the Fortune. Mychael didn’t like what I was going to do. If I wouldn’t accept a ward, he at least wanted me guarded. I told him I was perfectly capable of having a nightmare by myself, but I conceded to the guard. This earned Vegard the mind-numbingly dull job of watching me sleep. He’d guard my physical body; protecting my dream self was my problem.
When I opened my eyes-or more accurately when my dream self opened her eyes-I wasn’t in my bedroom back home in Mermeia. I wasn’t really anywhere that I could determine. Part of my brain wondered if I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even conjure a decent setting-the other part of me didn’t give a damn because I had gotten what I wanted.
Sarad Nukpana was waiting for me.
The goblin made a show of looking around. There was no one but the two of us and he knew it. “Apparently your father is unavailable.” His eyes glittered brightly. “So much more intimate this way, don’t you think? Though it is unfortunate that your bed is missing.”
“I’m not here to see my father. I’m here to talk to you.”
“Why, little seeker, this keeps getting more delicious.”
“Don’t excite yourself, goblin. I’m not your midnight snack-and neither is Piaras.”
Nukpana shrugged elaborately. “You didn’t believe me. What happened to Piaras tonight was entirely your fault. You forced me to stage a demonstration of my control. Though I would think you would be more grateful. Without my influence, your songbird would have never survived. Only my skill with a blade kept him alive.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “Either way, your little show bought us time to stop Piaras from killing that Guardian, traitor though he is.”
Nukpana negligently waved an elegant hand. “My point was made; I needed to do nothing more. So I released the boy. Have you come to submit to my request? Or do you require further demonstrations?”
I smiled and didn’t say a word. My smile was genuine and I could virtually feel the evil twinkle in my eyes. I trusted Justinius’s work; better yet, I trusted the old man’s viciousness. If he said he had a nasty surprise in store for Sarad Nukpana, I believed him. Hell, I wanted to watch it happen.
“I’m not submitting to anything, but I am going to find the Scythe of Nen.”
Nukpana was utterly still. “And release me.”
I shrugged. “That’s what you want, but it’s not my first order of business.”
“I dislike your games, seeker.”
My voice dropped, low and angry. “I dislike you, and I don’t play games. So let’s save us both time and aggravation and just cut the crap. I don’t know what the Scythe of Nen is. You say you don’t. The demons do-and your fellow inmates include at least one demon. Either ask him or get close enough to find out.”
“We all want something. Ask him yourself, seeker.”
“See, here’s the thing. I can’t. You’re in the Saghred; I’m not. You want out of the Saghred; I couldn’t care less if you rot. But if you don’t want to do business with me…” I shrugged. “Your continued imprisonment would be, in your own words, entirely your fault.”
The goblin’s narrow-eyed silence told me I had him by the short hairs, he knew it, and he did not like it. Tough. None of this was my idea of a good time, either.
“You gamble with your nightingale’s life.”
“I only bet on sure things.”
Nukpana’s gaze went distant. I knew what he was doing-or what he was trying to do.
“Having a little trouble finding him?” I asked innocently.
The goblin’s lips were a thin, angry line. “His mind is warded.”
“It seemed like an obvious solution.”
“A solution that needs reinforcing to maintain its effectiveness. Or did the archmagus fail to mention that?”
He didn’t. And I didn’t respond. Nukpana had lied before and he could be lying now.
Or not.
“I’ll take that as a no,” the goblin said. “Perhaps he was too weakened from his initial effort. Reinforcing such a ward would drain a healthy man. For one in such a fragile condition as Justinius Valerian… No doubt he hopes I will abandon my efforts when I spring the trap he has laid for me in Piaras’s mind. Your archmagus did not take into account my motivation. I am a desperate man. Pain lasts mere moments-existence in the Saghred is an eternity. Piaras’s mind cannot remain warded forever, but forever is all I have.” Sarad Nukpana’s gracious veneer had cracked, reminding me that not only was he a sadistic monster, he was now a desperate sadistic monster. “Rethink your impertinence, seeker.”
“Rethink your cooperation. Do you want the Scythe in my hands or demon claws? I need that information.”
“From the demon king.”
I nodded once. “That’s him. If the demons get this Scythe of Nen first, you know you’re going to get left behind. So you have to ask yourself who do you trust more-me or the demon queen?”
Nukpana sneered. “You or a queen of demons. You present me with a most difficult choice.”
“I never said it’d be easy.”
“I do not know what the Scythe of Nen is. I did not lie when I told you that. But even if I did, you will never find it without my help. You need me, seeker.”
“And that would be because…”
“You lack, shall we say, a certain necessary quality. You could be in the very room with the Scythe of Nen and you would not recognize it for what it is.”
“If you don’t think I have what it takes, why don’t you get someone else to run your errand?”
“Because I believe you to be one o
f the few individuals on this forsaken island who could survive long enough to get what I require. It is quite simple: I have the knowledge you need; you have the freedom I want. Mychael said it himself: the Saghred cannot be contained. That means that I cannot be contained. Piaras isn’t the only desirable target. I can plant suspicions and questions in the minds of certain highly placed mages, questions that Mychael, Tamnais, and yourself do not want asked. Or I could confirm that which Carnades Silvanus already knows-that you and Tamnais are in what he would call an unholy alliance. And the knowledge that your paladin has joined you both in your bond would make Carnades, quite possibly, the happiest mage on Mid.”
“You’re lying. You can only communicate with me because of my link to the Saghred.” I said it, but I didn’t know it for a fact.
“Communicating with those outside of your realm of influence would be difficult, but not impossible. It will require substantial effort on my part, but the reward will more than compensate for any discomfort I may suffer. And if you doubt that what I say is true, ask your father. He spent hundreds of years with the stone. Ask him if he ever heard whispered voices in the still, secret hours of the night.” Sarad Nukpana was finished playing. “Find a way to release me, or prepare to spend the rest of your life imprisoned-or walking to the executioner’s block to join Tamnais and Mychael.”
“Tell me why I can’t find the Scythe myself.”
“I will share my knowledge, but only because it benefits me. The Scythe of Nen is of demon make. They made it; they can find it.” His smile turned sly. “But as with any demon-crafted object, it will react to that which it is not. When it reacts, you will recognize it for what it is.”
“Is it too much to ask that just once a goblin would give me a straight answer?”
“Anything a demon crafts or uses absorbs their corruption, their evil, their impurity. To counter that, and to find the Scythe of Nen, you will need the help of someone pure.” His eyes glittered wickedly. “And as untouched as freshly fallen snow.”