by Lisa Shearin
Then just to make sure everyone in headquarters heard, my nose decided to do it again. Even louder.
“Crap,” I muttered.
The wall vibrated as the cabinet was shoved away from the hole in the wall. Tam’s face appeared at eye level with me. He was not amused; actually, he looked rather pissed.
“And how long have you been here?”
I hoisted my mug. “About half a cup’s worth.”
“I’m here, too, Tam,” Mychael said.
“Dammit.” Tam blew out his breath to keep from saying something worse.
“Tam, I’d like to speak with Director Kalis,” Mychael told him. “May we come over?”
The lady’s face appeared next to Tam’s. She’d probably been up all night like the rest of us and she was still cute. “We’d be delighted, Paladin Eiliesor.”
Tam rolled his eyes and muttered something not so nice under his breath.
“Do ignore him,” she said. “He gets this way whenever he spends the night in jail.”
Mychael passed his hand over the opening in the wall, murmured a few words, and the hole in the wall turned into a wall with no hole.
Sedge Rinker just lost his peephole.
Mychael didn’t want anyone listening in on the four of us.
A few minutes later Mychael and I came into the conference room with a watcher right behind us bearing gifts—a tray laden with coffee and pastries. Leave it to watchers to know where to get great coffee and pastries. That should take Tam from pissed to pacified.
Mychael poured a cup and passed it to Imala Kalis.
“Thank you, Paladin.”
“Mychael.”
She flashed a smile, complete with that increasingly famous dimple. “Imala.”
Tam muttered something else.
“Oh here,” I said, pushing a coffee and pastry at him. “Eat this and put us out of your misery.”
He glared, but he ate.
“You okay?” I asked.
He growled around a bite of pastry.
I took that as a yes. Note to self: Tam is not a morning person.
Imala was looking at Mychael and me with a quizzical look on her face; a moment later quizzical turned to slyly knowing.
“Pardon my bluntness, Mychael and Miss Benares. But the two of you smell of smoke—and Nebian black powder.”
We’d cleaned up while on the Red Hawk, but apparently not enough to fool a goblin’s heightened sense of smell.
Mychael didn’t say anything. I certainly wasn’t going to admit to bombing and arson.
Imala Kalis’s lips turned up in a secretive little smile as if the two of us stinking of smoke had made her day.
“Markus is alive,” she whispered.
Mychael’s expression didn’t change one iota. Heck, he didn’t even bat an eye.
She waved her tiny hand that was holding a pastry. “But of course, you can’t tell me that. Quite all right, I understand completely. Though about the black powder . . . What you did—excuse me, may have done . . . The evidence is merely circumstantial, of course.” She actually winked at us. “Well-done. I wish I could have been there to see it, better yet to have helped. Bravo.”
I was getting told that a lot lately.
Mychael frowned. “While we are being blunt, Director Kalis—”
“Imala,” the tiny goblin corrected him.
“Imala. You spoke of Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin.”
“His name was mentioned, but not by me.”
“My question concerns his chief counselor. I recently sent a message to A’Zahra Nuru asking that she come to Mid. She sent word back that she would come. She has not arrived, nor have I received communication from her explaining—”
“Considering the present situation with Sarad Nukpana, I told Grandmother I didn’t feel it was safe for her or the prince—”
I blurted, “A’Zahra Nuru is your grandmother?”
“She is.”
I looked from Mychael to Tam. “Why didn’t either one of you tell me this?”
Imala shot Tam an arch look. “Tam prefers not to speak of me at all.”
“It is a relationship that not many are aware of,” Mychael explained.
My look spoke volumes and all of them loud. “Since when have I been one of the many?”
“Raine, you just met Imala last night, and I’m seeing her this morning for the first time in at least a year.”
“Almost two,” Imala said.
“And it’s been a busy evening,” Mychael reminded me. Like I needed reminding.
Imala took a delighted sniff of our collective smokiness. “And satisfying, I would say.”
In more ways than one. I felt myself blush.
Tam looked at me and his eyes widened slightly. I suddenly found the coffee in my cup simply fascinating. When I glanced back up at him, his eyes were still on mine, but they weren’t accusing or angry as I’d thought they might be. Tam’s gentle gaze told me that he understood. A moment later, I felt his lips brush my forehead in a warm kiss. He still stood three feet in front of me. He hadn’t moved, but had reached out with our umi’atsu bond. I gave him a small smile and sent a kiss to his cheek. Tam looked at Mychael and raised his cup in salute, as if to acknowledge the victory of a noble and worthy opponent. Mychael inclined his head in response.
Imala gave us all a quick, knowing look but didn’t say a word.
I realized that I’d been holding my breath.
“That doesn’t explain what’s going on with you two,” I said, changing the subject with no attempt at subtlety. I waved my finger back and forth between Tam and Imala. “I’m a little confused by something; actually I’m a lot confused. Tam, A’Zahra Nuru was your teacher; you trust her. You’ve said it yourself.” I didn’t mention that she was also the one who helped pull him back from the brink of the black magic abyss. Imala might not know that and if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to hear it from me. “And Mychael, you wouldn’t have asked A’Zahra Nuru here unless you trusted her. Am I correct in both instances, gentlemen?”
“You are,” Mychael said.
Tam nodded once.
“So what’s your problem with her?” I jerked my thumb at Imala Kalis and aimed my question directly at Tam.
“Imala is not her grandmother,” Tam said stiffly.
“Well, I wouldn’t expect that she is. From what I overheard, she wants Sathrik out; and from what I assume, she wants Chigaru in. While I’m not the prince’s biggest fan, getting rid of Sathrik sounds like one hell of a good idea. So what’s with the animosity?”
“It’s complicated,” Tam said.
“You’re a goblin, Tam,” I said flatly. “Everything’s complicated. You were the queen’s magical enforcer, and Imala is the head of the secret service. You were both serving in the court at the same time.”
“We were.”
“Considering your jobs, you’d think you’d have common ground.”
Imala blew out her breath through her nose. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?”
“So all you two did was piss each other off on a daily basis?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Imala conceded. “Weekly would be more accurate.”
“How pissed?”
Tam scowled. “She stabbed me.”
Imala snorted. “A mere flesh wound. He had driven me quite beyond rational thought.”
“Yeah, he’s done the same to me. In other words, he deserved it.”
“I thought so.”
“She tried to kill me,” Tam protested.
Imala turned on Tam in exasperation. “If I had truly tried, you would not be here.”
Tam glared at her. “And if I had truly desired retaliation, you would no longer exist.”
I clapped my hands together. “So, as far as goblin behavior is concerned, you two sound downright cozy.”
“Cozy is not in Imala’s vocabulary, and apparently neither is loyalty.”
“Tam is referring to the fact that I remained in the Mal’Sa
lin family service after he left. He sees this as a betrayal of the late Queen Glicara.”
“You serve Sathrik; enough said.”
“I believe we have been sufficiently over this ground—I serve the goblin people.”
“By carrying out Sathrik’s orders?”
“I do my job and I remain in power; but most important, I continue to gain influence with the people we will need.”
“We. You persist in using that word. Leave me out of this.”
“You’re in it whether you like it or not, and I had nothing to do with it. The fault is yours. Your relationship with Miss Benares has hardly gone unnoticed. Not ten minutes go by in the court without me hearing her name.”
“I’m famous in the goblin court,” I muttered. “Great. Just great.”
“Notorious would be a more apt description,” Imala told me. “Tam has thwarted Sathrik’s attempts to capture you, and he has spat in the face of the king’s commands.” She turned to Tam. “Your reasons are your own, but Sathrik has labeled your actions treason. Over the past few months, you have defied him at every turn.” Imala stopped and positively beamed. “Grandmother and I couldn’t be more proud.”
Since we’d set foot in the room, I’d had my eye on the biggest, most decadent-looking pastry on the tray. I handed it to Tam instead; he looked like he needed it. “Well, it looks like you can take the boy out of the court, but you can’t take the court out of the boy,” I said softly. “Tam, you should have walked away from me. Cancel that—you should have run.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know. Imala said you’re going to have to choose sides. I’d say you’ve already chosen. And when Sathrik made Rudra Muralin goblin ambassador, that wasn’t just to help him get the Saghred or me—it was to give him the authority he needed to legally take you out, wasn’t it?”
Tam’s silence answered for him.
“You needn’t concern yourself about Rudra any longer, Miss Benares.” Imala Kalis sank her dainty fangs into a pastry. “He isn’t missing. He’s quite dead.”
Chapter 18
“I made sure of it myself,” Imala continued without missing a beat. “I wouldn’t want to be mistaken about a thing like that.”
“How did he die?” Mychael’s voice was terse. The paladin was back.
“I assure you, I had nothing to do with Rudra’s demise. He was found behind the embassy at five bells this morning, propped against a garbage bin. I was all for leaving him precisely where he was. The garbage is due to be picked up later this morning, but propriety demanded I do otherwise. Propriety and precaution.”
“Precaution?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Rudra Muralin returned from the dead before. I wanted to make certain that it did not happen again. One mad goblin regenerating himself on this island is quite enough.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Imala,” Mychael pressed.
“Merely saving the best part for last. He was dried and shriveled and delightfully dead. Sarad Nukpana must have been very annoyed at not having Markus for dinner. When my people called me out into the alley to see, I maintained my professional decorum, but my staff was cheering and applauding.” She gave us a quick smile. “I do like to see my people happy; it’s good for morale.”
Goblin humor. What other race would applaud a dead body? On second thought, elves would, especially if their last name was Benares.
Mychael’s face was grim. “Where did you put his body?”
“His husk is lying in state in the embassy.”
Oh no. “Uh, Imala, last time Rudra Muralin died, the power buildup he had from using the Saghred all those years brought him back to life.”
One corner of Imala’s lips curled ever so slightly. To a casual observer, it almost looked demure. “That scenario is unlikely to repeat itself. I cut off his head.”
Tam’s lips twitched against a smile. “You what?”
“I cut off his head,” she repeated matter-of-factly. “I tried my dagger, but the dried skin was too tough, so I ended up using an axe. It was quite heavy, but once I got past the upswing it worked beautifully.”
I burst out laughing. The visual of that tiny woman dragging an axe across the floor and lopping off Rudra Muralin’s head was too much.
“Well-done, Imala,” Tam grudgingly congratulated her.
“Thank you. I derived immense satisfaction from it.”
“I imagine the Khrynsani in the embassy feel otherwise,” Mychael pointed out.
Imala shrugged. “What they feel is immaterial since they are no longer there. Eight Khrynsani came with Nachtmagus Janos Ghalfari. They have been out with him all night, and should they have the poor judgment to return, they will be taken into custody as accessories to kidnapping and murder. As acting ambassador, I can hardly be seen harboring criminals. Janos and his Khrynsani are connected to who knows how many murders in the past week. The two that we know of are enough for me to have their heads, if I can get proof. Killing an elven general is an act of war, and to slaughter our very own ambassador—while very much needed and long overdue—is treason in the eyes of our government.”
“Shit,” Tam hissed. “Where is Rudra’s head? Please tell me you didn’t leave it close to the body.”
Imala finished off the rest of her coffee. “Give me a little more credit than that, Tam. It’s on the other side of the room in a locked strongbox and only I have the key. The box is warded and my most trusted agents are standing guard. No one will get in that room without my permission.”
“You left him there?”
She arched one flawless brow. “To come and get you out of jail.”
“Rudra Muralin’s death solves one problem,” Mychael said, “but makes another one worse. Since it’s almost a certainty that Sarad Nukpana was responsible, he now has all of Muralin’s memories, power, and knowledge. Centuries’ worth.”
Damn. If he got his hands on me or the Saghred, he’d know exactly how to use both of us. Double damn.
“So in a way, Muralin’s not really dead.” Dread churned through me. “He’s just joined forces with Sarad Nukpana.”
“I seriously doubt that it was his idea,” Mychael noted, “but essentially, yes.”
“How much power would that give him?” I knew the answer, but I really wanted someone to tell me I was wrong.
“Enough to take any mage on this island,” Tam replied. “I know I’m stating the obvious here, but we need to find him. Now.”
The tunnels I’d seen when I touched Sarad Nukpana’s coach seat had smooth stone walls, a long corridor, and shafts of blue light from the ceiling. And rats. Mychael had only been here for four years. The archmagus had been here a lot longer.
My dad had been here for hundreds of years longer than that.
One of them had to recognize the place I’d seen.
We got to the citadel as fast as we could only to find that Talon had flown the coop.
Last night, he’d gone as far as the citadel courtyard with his Guardian escort, then he’d bolted. Not just bolted; he’d used that voice of his to freeze nearly thirty Guardians in their tracks to make his getaway. Vegard had been one of them.
Mychael, Tam, and I were now standing in that same courtyard and I’d never seen Vegard that pissed. The big Guardian was a barely contained, seething mass of fury. If I hadn’t been on the verge of dropping from exhaustion, I’d have been seething right along with him.
Talon wasn’t the only teenager missing from the citadel.
Piaras was nowhere to be found.
Mychael had his men patrolling the city looking for Sarad Nukpana add Talon and Piaras to their “people to be apprehended” list. Apprehended without undue force, but apprehended and brought directly back to the citadel.
“Talon asked me where Balmorlan and Carnades were going after they left headquarters.” Vegard was responding to Mychael’s rapid-fire questioning.
“And Piaras was here in the courtyard whe
n you arrived?”
“No, sir. He was on the stairs there leading up to the parapet.”
“His guards?”
“With him, sir. Likewise zapped by that little . . .” He clenched his jaw against what he really wanted to say. “Sorry, sir,” he said to Tam, “but your son caused a major security breach. Thirty Guardians, frozen like bloody statues. Anyone could have strolled through those gates and slaughtered the lot of us. How Piaras managed to avoid being—”
Tam spoke, his voice a marvel of forced calm. “Apparently Talon can now pick and choose who he wants the spell to affect.” Until now, Tam had been entirely too quiet. Scary, deadly quiet.
“He has enough focus for selective targeting?” Mychael was fighting to maintain what calm he had left. “That’s a dangerous combination under the best of circumstances. Tam, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know it had gone that far,” Tam snapped and so did his control.
That was probably the honest truth. Most mages came into their full power in their late teens to early twenties. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an age known for rational, responsible thought—or any kind of thinking before acting. And when their power came, it came fast. Last night, Talon had held one Nightshade. In the predawn of this morning, the kid had put thirty Guardians into suspended animation. I guess the Nightshade was just a warm-up.
Piaras had inadvertently put half of the Guardians in the citadel to sleep during one of our first days on the island. Talon had just stopped time for thirty Guardians in the citadel’s courtyard. He probably could have done more, but the men in the courtyard were all he needed to take out.
Two inexperienced, unbelievably powerful teenagers loose in the city, in all likelihood hunting Taltek Balmorlan. Talon knew what Balmorlan wanted with his father—and with him. And he knew that Balmorlan was likely responsible for the Nightshades who tried to kill us all. While I approved of their target, their methods and inexperience were going to get them killed.
Or worse.
I should have known Talon was going to do something like this the moment he agreed to go to the citadel. There was no way the kid was going to stay in the citadel while his father was imprisoned and charged with murder by elves. He probably considered being in the citadel a prison, too. And in a way Mychael had intended it to be just that. A full Guardian escort to get Talon here, the archmagus to keep him in. Next time, gagged and hog-tied would be the way to go.