Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 02 (12 page)

Sacrifices
fed the stone, but it wasn’t what Muralin had used to awaken the Saghred,
direct its power, and then put it to sleep afterward.

Rudra
Muralin had been a spellsinger. A young, talented, really powerful spellsinger.

Like
Piaras.

There
was a knock at the door. I almost jumped out of my skin.

Vegard
looked at me and I nodded once. I closed Muralin’s journal and put my hand over
it. Vegard partially opened the door and looked out.

He
stepped back and Nelek slipped through and closed the door quickly behind him.

From
the look on his face, he wasn’t the bearer of good news. “Ma’am, Chief
Librarian Kalta has requested that I collect the books. He said to tell you
that three hours is ample time for your study.”

Vegard
said the exact word I was thinking.

“I’m
sorry, sir.”

“Not
your fault, Nelek.”

The
librarian pulled a slender leather-bound book out of his robes and handed it to
me.

“I
thought this might be of interest to you,” he said. “It was written in the last
century by a goblin historian named Okon Nusair. It’s an obscure work about the
legends surrounding the Saghred. Since Nusair didn’t document the sources of
much of his information, it’s considered fiction by serious scholars. It’s
rarely checked out. Paladin Eiliesor may not have been aware of its existence.”
Nelek looked nervously at the closed door. “The chief librarian is in a meeting
and I could tell him I was unavoidably delayed in fulfilling his request.”

I
gave him as much of a smile as I could. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

The
librarian smiled shyly and shrugged. “At the very least, it’s a good companion
volume to Rudra Muralin’s work.”

The
book felt smooth and almost pliant under my hands. Creepy.

I
opened it and flipped through the still-crisp pages. I shouldn’t have any
problem reading it since it was written in modern-day Goblin.

In
Rudra Muralin’s handwriting.

Oh
hell.

I
opened Muralin’s journal on the table. The handwriting was identical—and
written nearly a thousand years earlier.

I
carefully closed both books, and told myself I was not going to scream.

My
father had been nearly nine hundred years old before the Saghred had taken him
last year. History said Rudra Muralin died about a thousand years ago as the
result of a dare.

On a
challenge from the goblin king, Rudra Muralin used the Saghred to create the
Great Rift in northern Rheskilia. The Great Rift was a mile-wide, nearly fifty-mile-long
tear in the mountains of the Northern Reach. In one of the aftershocks that
followed, Rudra Muralin fell off the highest edge into his newly created gorge,
bringing an abrupt end to a notorious shamanic career. A couple of his more
devoted disciples followed him like lemmings.

So
said history. History’s been wrong before.

And
if history was wrong, the greatest and craziest shaman to ever wield the
Saghred was alive and well and could be anywhere—including here.

“I’d
like to check both of these out,” I told Nelek, my voice surprisingly calm.

The
librarian looked at me like I’d just asked him to run naked through the stacks.
I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but one way or another I was leaving here
with both of Rudra Muralin’s books. They were small enough to fit under my
jerkin if necessary. I remembered the kid tacked to the ceiling. I smiled, and
Nelek swallowed nervously. I’d like to see Lucan Kalta try tacking me anywhere.

“But
the books are from the restricted section,” he said as if that explained
everything. It didn’t.

“Restricted
books can’t be checked out?”

“Only
those with the highest scholarly qualifications can—”

Time
for a change of tactic. “How are Paladin Eiliesor’s scholarly qualifications?”

“Impeccable,
but—”

“The
paladin needs to see these.” I gave him my most earnest look. “Nelek, isn’t
it?”

“Yes,
ma’am.”

“Nelek,
you heard what happened yesterday in the square?”

“I
wasn’t there, but I talked to some who were.” He paled. “Terrible business.”

“Yes,
it was. And as you can understand, the paladin is working hard to find who was
responsible. He would have come here himself, but he simply couldn’t spare the
time. Information in these books could really help him.”

He
looked incredulous. “Those books?”

“These
books. But it needs to be kept secret. Get these books for the paladin and keep
it quiet, and you’ll have the gratitude of the paladin and the archmagus.”

Nelek’s
eyes widened. “The archmagus?”

“The
archmagus.”

Nelek
glanced nervously at Vegard.

“Their
undying
gratitude,” Vegard told him.

That
man was unbelievably handy to have around.

The
librarian hesitated a moment longer, then drew himself up. “I’d be proud to
help. I have a good friend at the checkout desk. Let me see what I can do.”

“Quick
thinking, ma’am,” Vegard told me, after Nelek had gone.

“I do
what I have to. I’m sorry I had to lie to your friend.”

The
Guardian shrugged. “You did what you had to. Are those two little books that
important?”

“They
are. I need to read them, and seeing how Lucan Kalta feels about me, if I let
them out of my sight, I’ll probably never see them again. Just how much pull
does Nelek really have around here?”

“Usually
enough.”

“You’ve
checked out books on the sly before?”

“All
the time in my student days. A lot of stuff I wanted to know was in books I
couldn’t get my hands on.” There was a gleam in Vegard’s sky blue eyes. “Make
friends in high places, or distribute coin in the right places.”

“So
how does Lucan Kalta know if someone walks out with his books?”

“My
student days were before Lucan Kalta.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,”
Vegard agreed.

“Kalta
just seems to know,” Riston said. “We’re still not sure how.”

I
picked up both books and considered the available space in my jerkin. There
wasn’t as much room as I would have liked. “I’d like to see him try tacking me
to the ceiling,” I muttered.

Vegard’s
chuckle was downright evil. “I
want
to see him try.”

Nelek
came back in record time, but he wasn’t alone. The two assistants who had
brought the books stood behind him.

“We’re
here for the books, ma’am,” he said, brisk and professional. Then he gave me a
quick wink. “Marten and Cecil, if you would take the history volumes, I’ll take
care of the other two.”

After
the assistants collected the two goblin histories, Nelek held out his hand. I
hesitated and then gave him the journals, never taking my eyes from his. He got
the message loud and clear. If he tried to go anywhere with those books other
than the front desk, I was going to tackle him.

“The
chief librarian requested that I escort you to the front desk,” Nelek said,
watching the two librarians walk around the corner and into the stacks. His
mouth curled in a tiny, conspiratorial smile. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll take
care of your request.”

Vegard
and I traded a look. You gotta love friends in high places.

A
tall figure stepped out of the stacks, blocking our way.

His
hair was the color of winter frost, eyes the pale blue of arctic ice, an
alabaster complexion, a cold, sharp beauty. Pure-blooded high elf. His black
and silver robes were understated and elegant, and clearly cost a small
fortune.

Nelek
instinctively clutched the books to his chest. “Magus Silvanus, always a
pleasure to see you.” The librarian didn’t sound pleased in the least; he
sounded terrified.

So
this was Carnades Silvanus, senior mage on the Seat of Twelve, Ailia Aurillac’s
faculty advisor, and parental brownnoser.

I
sensed Vegard and Riston come to reluctant attention behind me. They had to.
The Guardians’ main duty was the protection of the archmagus and the mages of
the Seat of Twelve.

Silvanus
was as tall as Mychael, which put the top of my head level with his jaw. He
looked down on me—in more ways than one. I’ve always made it a point not to
dislike someone on first sight, but I was willing to make an exception for this
one. Gleaming against the black silk of his robes, a mirrored disk dangled at
the end of a silver chain. A high elf
and
a mirror mage—no wonder I
didn’t like him.

“You
must be Raine Benares, the seeker we’ve heard so much about.” Silvanus smiled,
revealing perfect teeth. The smile was as fake as the charm he tried to put
into his voice. “I’m Carnades Silvanus.”

He
extended his hand for mine, palm up, his long fingers slightly curled. He was going
for a hand kiss, not a handshake. I was brought up to believe that it’s rude
not to shake someone’s hand. I was also brought up to trust my instincts. The
touch of a hand was all it took for some mages to assess another’s magical
strengths or weaknesses. I didn’t want Carnades Silvanus knowing either of
mine.

I
inclined my head; I tried for gracious. “Magus Silvanus.”

He
left his hand out a moment longer, then slowly lowered it, never taking those
arctic eyes from mine. “I understand you’re assisting the city watch in their
investigation of Ailia Aurillac’s disappearance.”

“I
understand it’s a kidnapping.”

“So
it appears. Have you made any progress in your investigation?” he asked
politely.

“The
paladin and chief watcher are aware of my findings. Since the investigation is
ongoing, I can’t discuss them publicly.”

His
smile was back. “But you are a private consultant— and I’m hardly the public.”

“The
paladin or chief watcher will have to determine who knows my findings.” I tried
a fake smile of my own. “That decision’s not mine to make. I’m only a
consultant on this case and a guest on this island.”

“My
apologies, Mistress Benares. I meant no offense. I merely asked out of concern
for Miss Aurillac’s safe return.”

“We’re
all concerned about that. I understand you’re her faculty advisor.”

“I
am. Miss Aurillac is a splendid young lady and one of our top scholars.”

I
glanced at his mirror pendant. “So her specialty is mirror magic?”

“Ailia
is gifted in many areas and has yet to choose a specific area of study. But
yes, one of them is mirror magic.”

“And
the others?”

“She
has an interest in spellsinging and alchemy.”

I
snorted to myself. Like her daddy’s coffers didn’t have enough gold. I’ll bet I
knew what he wanted her to major in.

“I
want to thank you for what you did in the square yesterday,” Silvanus said. “I
was on that stage. Your skills are very impressive—your strength even more so.”

“You’re
welcome.” Thanks was the last thing I expected from him. It’s been my
experience that if one hand is extending an olive branch, the other hand is
about to stab you in the back. “I’m glad I was there to help.”

Carnades
saw the books in Nelek’s hands. “Ah, Rudra Muralin’s journal. I understand
you’ve been studying all afternoon, Mistress Benares. Study is admirable.”

One
of my hands curled into a fist, ready to fight for that journal if I had to.
“You’re familiar with Muralin’s works?”

“I
have a keen interest in goblin history. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“An
elf studying goblin history. That’s unusual.”

“Understanding
your enemy is the first step to defeating him. Education is the key to that,
not ignorance. We bury our past at our peril.”

I
could add bigot to the list of reasons why I didn’t like Carnades Silvanus.

“My
interest is academic,” Silvanus said. “What is your interest?”

“The
same as yours,” I shot back smoothly. “Education.”

A
boom shattered the silence and I almost jumped out of my skin. A black-robed
librarian quickly bent and scooped up the massive book that had landed flat on
the marble floor.

I
felt the barest touch on my wrist. Silvanus.

My
memories of the past week flashed through my mind in an instant.

I
reacted instinctively, which meant in the next instant Silvanus’s hand was
twisted at what I knew to be a painful angle. Any hand that touched me without
permission got treated the same way; it didn’t matter if he was man or mage. No
means no.

Vegard
and Riston weren’t at attention anymore, and I think Nelek was about to faint.
I held up my other hand indicating that they should not interfere. To my
surprise, they stayed put.