Magic Lost, Trouble Found

“It seems to be safe,” he told me. “Not clean, but safe.”

It was as much as I expected. I accepted it, and to Mychael’s bemusement, still did a scan of my own. I valued my life more than the Guardian’s feelings, but I got the impression that considering the author of the message, Mychael didn’t take my caution personally.

The pale cream parchment felt smooth beneath my fingers. I had my suspicions regarding its origin, and looked up at Mychael. His lips were pressed into a tight line. So much for his distaste. I was pretty sure I knew what kind of skin the parchment was made from. I steeled myself and took out a small dagger to use on the seal. Just because I had to open it didn’t mean that I couldn’t touch it as little as possible. I needed to read the message, and that would be difficult to do with the letter in the fireplace and me cringing in the opposite corner of the room. I could tell myself that the elf or human whose skin had been used for Sarad Nukpana’s personal stationery was long dead. It didn’t make it any better, just almost bearable.

I broke the seal. Nothing happened. No doubt Nukpana was saving all of his unpleasant surprises for a more personal encounter. The letter was written in goblin, which wasn’t a problem for me. His choice of ink was another matter altogether. I had a big problem with that. It was blood, and it had to have been fresh. Focus on the message, I told myself, not the ink source.

I read it. I didn’t want to focus on the message either. I felt more than a little lightheaded at the words scratched on that parchment. Sarad Nukpana wrote them to terrify me now, so I wouldn’t be able to fight him later. He wanted Piaras at our meeting. If he wasn’t, the deal was off, Saghred or no Saghred. He went on to assure me that killing a spellsinger so young and gifted would be a waste and was the last thing on his mind. Then he told me exactly what was on his mind, in calm, clinical detail. I clenched my jaw, sending my rage back to the hard knot in the pit of my stomach where it had come from. I wasn’t going to keep it penned up for long. Venting would come later, when I had Sarad Nukpana’s throat between my hands.

“What is it?” Mychael asked.

I handed the letter to him. “He’s getting greedy. Do you read goblin?”

“I do.”

“Good.” I wasn’t about to read it to him, not with Piaras in the room, or even with Piaras out of the room. I didn’t want to give life of any kind to the goblin’s twisted words.

Mychael scanned the page. From the expressions that flowed across his face, his reaction was much the same as my own. The Guardian just went up a couple of more notches in my estimation. Protective instincts in a man could sometimes be more of a hindrance than a help, but considering who and what Sarad Nukpana was, I’d take all the protective instincts from others that I could get, especially if that someone was a Guardian paladin.

“What is it?” Piaras was on his feet, and walking toward Mychael. “What does it say?”

I blocked his way. “No!”

My vehemence shocked even me. It froze Piaras in his tracks. From the look on his face, you’d have thought I had slapped him.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t need to read that.” My volume backed off, but not the intensity.

I had taught Piaras to read goblin myself. But I had taught him for mixing herbs for medicines, not to read the perverse ravings of a monster.

The young elf’s expression hardened. “Why not? If it’s about Grandma—”

“The only mention of your grandmother is to set up the trade.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t want to tell Piaras that either. Sarad Nukpana had made another reference to Tarsilia, detailing precisely what would happen to her should we not promptly comply with his wishes. Then at the point of her death, he would use what remained of Tarsilia’s life to fuel another Gate to come and get Piaras and me himself. Piaras was not going to read that.

“The trade for you?” Piaras asked quietly.

“Yes.” I told myself a half truth was better than none at all.

Piaras didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at me. He knew there was more, and he didn’t need any magical talent to tell him. If I had reacted that strongly, chances were he really didn’t want to know. But he felt he should. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I wasn’t all that sure he was wrong. The world was full of ugliness. Piaras was going to have to find out about it sooner or later. I just didn’t want it to be now, and like this.

“What else is in it?” he asked. His voice was quiet, but firm. He wasn’t going to back down. Part of me was glad.

I didn’t answer immediately. It wasn’t a comfortable silence for anyone, but most of all for me. “I would rather you didn’t see what he wrote,” I said at last. “It’s the product of a sadistic mind, and you won’t gain anything by knowing what’s in it. I don’t even want you to touch the letter. Just trust me this once, and don’t insist.”

“Is some of it about me?”

I hesitated only briefly before answering. “Yes.”

“He wants to hurt me, doesn’t he?” Piaras knew the answer to that question as well as Mychael and I.

“Yes, he does.”

My response sank in, and full realization came close on its heels. Piaras handled it well.

“He wants both of us,” he said.

“Wanting doesn’t make it happen,” I told him.

“We’re going to do everything within our power to keep both you and Raine safe,” Mychael said. “And get your grandmother back alive.”

Piaras carefully considered his words before he spoke. “Then I don’t need to know the details of the letter. But if there’s anything in it that I need to know before tonight, please tell me.”

I was confused. It was a welcome change of emotion. “Before tonight?”

“When we rescue Grandma. If there’s anything that I should—”

“We? No, no. There’s no ‘we.’ You’re staying here.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Actually Raine, it’s best that he go with us,” Mychael said.

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. If all went well, I was going to be strangling Sarad Nukpana in a few hours, but there was a real possibility I was going to do the same to Mychael Eiliesor right now.

“To retrieve the Saghred and go up against the Khrynsani is going to take every Guardian I brought with me,” Mychael said. “The safest place for Piaras is with us.”

I couldn’t fault his logic, but that didn’t mean I agreed with him. I had protective instincts of my own, and those instincts wanted to take hold of Piaras and not let go. My more practical side knew that wasn’t possible. At the very least, I’d have to let go of him to kill Sarad Nukpana. My second set of options involved locking Piaras in the deepest cellar in the city, or have Phaelan set sail with him immediately for the center of the closest ocean. Appealing, but hardly practical. And neither would put Piaras beyond the reach of a creature who could rip a Gate to anywhere he wanted.

So I just met Mychael with stony silence. Sometimes I hated it when I was right, but I always hated it when someone else was. Especially when their being right made me wrong. I’m irrational that way. It’s something I’m working on.

Chapter 19

Sarad Nukpana wanted the exchange to happen at midnight in the temple ruins near the Mal’Salin family compound. The Saghred was in the mausoleum on the embassy grounds. It sounded simple enough. Go to the party, take home one soul-stealing rock as a party favor, and while we were in the neighborhood rescue Tarsilia. Simple. Right.

Things were getting entirely too complex. Mychael’s plan for sneaking us unnoticed into the embassy involved wearing what I considered to be entirely too noticeable clothes.

King Sathrik Mal’Salin’s theme of choice for his debut in Mermeia was a masked costume ball. The masked and disguised part I could understand and completely agree with. Walking into the goblin embassy with a mask on appealed to me on many levels, and all of them involved my continued survival. But the fancy costume part went a couple of big leaps too far. I knew that highborn goblins and elves alike were jumping at any chance to attend and outdo each other in extravagance and drama, but that didn’t mean I had to join them.

Mychael said I did.

“So you propose we all just stroll in through the front door?” I asked.

“That’s the preferred way to enter when you have invitations.”

“Uh, Mychael, don’t those invitations have your name on them? Being Justinius Valerian’s official representative and all?”

I might have seen the beginnings of a sly grin. “They do. Which is why we won’t be using them. One of my men will be posing as me for the evening.”

“Does he know what he’ll be walking into? Aside from me and Piaras, you’re probably next on Nukpana’s most-likely-to die list.”

“He knows. He volunteered. Three more of my men will be accompanying him.”

“Then whose invitations are we using?”

“In addition to his home, the count is graciously allowing me to assume his identity for the evening. Gavril and I are cousins, so we’re similar enough in build and coloring. Add a mask and costume to that, and no one will know that I’m not him. Gavril, his bride, and four guests have invitations. They were due to arrive back this morning, but I sent word last week that considering the state of affairs here, he and his new wife might want to extend their honeymoon a few more days. They thought it was a wonderful idea.”

I heard only one thing. “We’re posing as newlyweds?”

“Yes.”

For one of the few times in my life, words failed me.

“The new countess is from Rina,” he said, mistaking the source of my concern entirely. “No one here has ever seen her, so no one will know that you’re not her.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">