Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (36 page)

There
was a knock at the door.

“Come,”
Mychael called.

It
was the blond ax wielder, whose full name I’d discovered was Vegard Rolfgar.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir. But we have a message from the Khrynsani.”

Mychael
stepped forward to take the wax-sealed paper. “How was it delivered?”

Vegard
came in and shut the door behind him. “It wasn’t. Hugh and Teris were on watch
at the goblin embassy when two shamans stepped outside and tacked this to the
gates.” He grinned. “Hugh kind of thought it might be for us, so they retrieved
it. It’s addressed to the lady,” he said, indicating me. The blond Guardian
removed a long, narrow cloth-wrapped bundle from his belt. “The goblins used
this for a nail.”

Mychael
took the bundle and carefully unwrapped it. From his expression, he knew what
it was. I had a good idea myself. The last fold of cloth fell open. It was a
Khrynsani ceremonial sacrificial dagger. I hate it when I’m right. Judging from
the dark gems encrusting the grip above the nearly foot-long triangular blade,
and the single ruby topping the pommel, it probably belonged to Sarad Nukpana
himself. I knew then that whatever words were written on the parchment, it was
just an invitation to play. The real message was the dagger. Though if Nukpana
had ordered this one used to tack a note to a gate, at least he couldn’t use it
for more twisted purposes. But I was sure he had a spare. The crazies always
did. The dagger was a personal challenge, and I took it as one.

Mychael
studied the envelope. It was sealed with black wax, and appeared to be harmless
enough. But we both knew better. Nothing that Sarad Nukpana produced could be
harmless. I let Mychael finish his inspection. He included a scan that made me
feel more confident about his results. After another moment or two he passed it
to me, his distaste apparent.

“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.

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.”

“Except
Sarad Nukpana.”

“You’ll
be masked.”

“I’ll
be wearing the beacon.”

“You’ll
be with me,” he said. “And we’ll be surrounded by my men.”

I
couldn’t argue with that. Mychael already had two wins in his column against
the goblin grand shaman.

“You
and I, in addition to Piaras and Garadin, will be using four of the count’s
invitations,” Mychael said. “Vegard and Riston will be using the other two. My
men without invitations will get onto the grounds another way.”

“How
many men?”

“All
of them.”

Finally,
something I could agree with.

Though
Mychael could have emptied out the Guardian citadel on Mid, and I wouldn’t have
felt secure. The Guardians might be able to protect me from Sarad Nukpana, but
there wasn’t a thing they could do about the Saghred. That was my adversary to
face, and when it came down to it, I’d be going it alone, just me and the Soul
Thief. Not my idea of a fun date.

That
made me remember something else. Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin wanted the Saghred
almost as badly as he wanted to kill his brother. When you’ve been feeding a
hate as long as Chigaru and Sathrik, you get good at it. Nothing like a
potential reunion between homicidal brothers to add spice to the evening.