Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 02 (17 page)

“About
a thousand years.” I sat down and squeezed my eyes shut against the headache I
knew was on the way from the link with Megan.

Phaelan
whistled. “Impressive.”

“And
scary.” I told him what I’d read yesterday and just now. I didn’t have to
explain why any of it was scary; that part was obvious.

What
I didn’t tell him was about Tam. Phaelan was a rogue and a scoundrel himself,
so you’d think he wouldn’t mind his cousin being semi-involved with someone of
like character. You’d be wrong. It wasn’t the obvious elf/goblin prejudice. I
think it was that in Phaelan’s opinion, no man would ever be good enough for
me. I had enough problems right now without Phaelan finding out what had
happened last night.

My
cousin sat down in the chair across from me. “So let me get this straight. When
you fed Sarad Nukpana to the rock, you basically rang the dinner bell. And the
antique goblin shaman who’s probably still alive and kicking—”

“Rudra
Muralin,” I told him.

“Right.
The really old guy. He’d always fed the rock all the souls it could hold, so
the next time it wakes up, the Saghred will expect you to serve it breakfast,
lunch, and dinner on a silver platter since you’re its . . . What did you say
Nukpana called you?”

I
leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. “Bond servant.” My headache had
officially arrived and was setting up house between my eyes.

Phaelan
didn’t say anything else. I kept my eyes closed; the darkness and silence felt
wonderful. Too bad it couldn’t last.

“You
ready to get out of here?” Phaelan asked quietly.

I
opened my eyes into a squint. My cousin looked as grim as I’d ever seen him.

“I
can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Why
not?” Grim turned into angry. “You did your seeker thing and found the Saghred
for that paladin. Hell, you even retrieved it for him. End of job. You don’t
owe anyone here a damned thing. The only thing you should be seeking now is a
way to get off this island.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve told the crew to be
quiet about it, but to get the
Fortune
ready to leave in a hurry.”

“I
mean I
really
can’t leave yet. I’m still connected to the Saghred. Bond
servant, remember?”

Phaelan’s
dark eyes flashed. “Yeah, I do. And from what I’ve seen, no one here’s breaking
much of a sweat to do anything about it.”

“It’s
only been two days. Things have happened.” Entirely too much had happened.
“It’s complicated.”

“When
someone I’m doing business with tells me there’s been a complication, that
means the only problem they’re having is deciding which way to screw me over.
I’m not going to stand by and watch that happen to you or Piaras.”

I
froze. “What about Piaras?” It occurred to me I hadn’t even seen him since his
inadvertent audition yesterday afternoon.

“First
Nightshades collapse the stage so somebody can watch you pick it up,” Phaelan
said. “Then somebody slashes the shields on the music room so Piaras can knock
out the Guardians in the citadel. Banan Ryce as much as said you auditioned for
whoever hired him—and I think Piaras auditioned for someone besides Ronan
Cayle. Maybe Ryce’s employer, maybe someone else. It could be anyone. Every
mage on this island knows by now that you and Piaras are packing some serious
firepower. They’re either thinking the two of you are a threat—or a really
valuable commodity.”

Carnades
Silvanus thought I was a threat. The Khrynsani saw me as a commodity to be
acquired—and last night in that alley they’d damned near succeeded. Did anyone
think Piaras needed to be locked up or acquired?

I
closed the book and got out of the chair. I needed to get dressed and find
Piaras.

“Don’t
worry. I’ve been keeping an eye on him for you,” Phaelan said. “What he did
yesterday impressed the maestro and whoever slashed the shields, but some of
the Guardians the kid put nighty-night might not be so impressed. A couple of
them could be really pissed off.”

I
hadn’t thought of that. “Where is he?”

“Having
another lesson with ‘the maestro.’ ” Phaelan scowled. “By the way, Ronan
Cayle’s a mean bastard and I don’t like him.”

“He’s
a mage, and you don’t like any of them.”

“I’m
keeping an eye on you, too,” he said quietly.

I
started pulling my leathers out of the closet. “Thank you. I’m sure my
Guardians will appreciate any help they can get. I seem to be a challenge.”

“Who’s
protecting you from them?”

I
stopped. “I don’t need protecting from them.”

Phaelan
snorted. “Are you so sure about that? What about the paladin?”

“What
about him?”

“He
has his duty. He’s also not completely in charge here. He takes his orders from
the archmagus, and possibly from this Seat of Twelve I keep hearing about.”

“I
know.” I pulled out my daggers. “I met one of them yesterday.”

“Did
you like anything about him?”

“Not
a thing.”

“That’s
what I’m talking about, Raine. A lot of these mages want what you can do, but
they don’t want to go insane to get it. You haven’t gone off the deep end yet.
That makes you very valuable to a lot of powerful people. There’s bound to be
competition, and it’s going to get ugly. So you just say the word—I’ll get
Piaras, and we’ll get the hell out of here. Nothing the Guardians have at their
docks can catch the
Fortune
.”

I
didn’t remind Phaelan about the sentry dragons or weather wizards who could
suck the wind right out of his ship’s sails. Leaving Mid would mean leaving my
only chance at getting my life back, but I wasn’t going to put Piaras in danger
doing it.

“You’ll
be the first to know when I’m ready.”

The
pair of Guardians on duty outside Mychael’s office saw me
coming. I was dressed in my working clothes:
trousers, above-the-knee boots, and my favorite doublet, all in formfitting,
supple brown leather. I liked the doublet because it had steel links woven
between the outer leather and inner lining. It also had leather sleeves to hide
the weapons, a pair of knives in forearm sheaths I carried when I knew someone
was going to jump me, but I just didn’t know when.

Vegard
walking by my side was probably all that kept Mychael’s sentries from drawing
steel. They stepped in front of the door to stop me from barging in, but they
did step politely.

“I
need to see the paladin,” I told them. “And no, I don’t have an appointment;
and no, he’s not expecting me.”

“We
can’t open the door, ma’am.” He was a young Guardian and sounded almost
apologetic.

“Can’t
or won’t?”

“Can’t,
ma’am. The paladin sealed the room.”

“What
for?” Vegard demanded.

“The
spellsinger is in there.” His eyes were a little wide.

“Ronan
Cayle?” I asked.

The
other sentry nervously cleared his throat. “Him, too. But it’s the other one,
the young one from yesterday.”

I bit
my lip to keep from laughing. They were afraid of Piaras. Then Phaelan’s words
came back to me. If these two were afraid, there just might be some who were
pissed. My intention had been to tell Mychael about Banan Ryce’s newest
prisoner, and then find Piaras. I could do both here. Good.

I
assumed my most reasonable tone. “Surely you can—”

“Just
tell the paladin Miss Benares is here to see him,” Vegard interrupted. “Now.”

“Yes,
Sir Vegard.”

One
of the Guardians passed his hand over a crystal mounted next to the door. The
crystal flashed once and within a minute, I heard muted voices and a few
seconds later Mychael opened the door.

And
Sarad Nukpana was standing right behind him. He was smiling.

I
knocked Mychael out of the way, whipped out a knife and slashed the goblin’s
throat.

My
knife passed straight through.

It
was a mirage. What kind of sick mage bastard creates a mirage of Sarad Nukpana?

The
sentries behind me had drawn steel, and all of it was pointing at yours truly.
I froze, keeping my hands where they could see them.

“Stand
down,” Mychael ordered. “Miss Benares was startled by the mirage. Sheath your
weapons.”

They
did, and so did I.

“Dismissed,”
Mychael told them.

They
saluted, left, and closed the door behind them.

“My
mirage hasn’t dissipated yet,” Ronan Cayle told me. “My apologies if it
startled you.”

Piaras
was standing next to a raised music stand. “Maestro Cayle was helping me
improve my repelling spellsongs. He wanted to know what I was most afraid of.”

Phaelan
was right—Ronan Cayle was a mean bastard.

“An
amazing likeness, don’t you think?” The flame-robed maniac was actually pleased
with himself.

My
empty knife hand twitched. “Yeah, amazing. Uncanny even.”

Mychael
moved between me and the maestro. He didn’t think I was going to do anything;
he was just being prudent. I knew I wasn’t going to do anything, either, but
that didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about it.

“Raine,
a spellsinger must be able to stop
anything
in its tracks,” Mychael
said. “And they can’t let their fears get in their way.”

“If
you can’t think, you’re dead,” I muttered.

“Exactly.”

“So
what’s wrong with using spiders and snakes?”

“I’m
not afraid of spiders and snakes,” Piaras said. “I’m afraid of Sarad Nukpana.”

Yeah,
me, too. I understood Cayle’s motivation, but that didn’t mean I liked him
subjecting Piaras to his little exercise in terror.

“So,
did you stop him?” I asked Piaras.

“It
took a couple of tries, but, yes, I stopped him.” He sounded pleased—and
relieved.

“A
couple
? You’ve done this more than once?”

“Three
with the Nukpana mirage,” Cayle chimed in. “Five with Magh’Sceadu. After a
number of attempts, the fear begins to fade and the exercise isn’t as
effective.”

My
knife hand started to twitch again.

Magh’Sceadu
were a Khrynsani creation made from goblin elemental magics. They were tall and
hulking, almost hobgoblin in shape—if hobgoblins were made of black ink. They
absorbed magic in those who had it, the life force of those who didn’t, and the
bodies of both. Khrynsani shamans used what was taken to power their own
sorceries.

Piaras
had taken on six Magh’Sceadu last week—and had failed to stop them. That had
been the first of only two times that I’d directly used the Saghred. I had
destroyed all six Magh’Sceadu.

“Did
you stop the Magh’Sceadu?” I asked Piaras.

He
winced. “Not exactly. Apparently I think they’re scarier than Sarad Nukpana.”

I
nodded. I could understand that. Sarad Nukpana had only wanted to plunge a
sacrificial dagger through Piaras’s heart. The Magh’Sceadu wanted to suck his
soul out one slurp at a time.

“You
did fine, Piaras,” Mychael told him. “You’ve made definite improvements.”

Piaras
smiled and blushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

“I
need to speak with you,” I told Mychael quietly.

“Concerning?”

I
hesitated. “The missing students.” I didn’t say “kidnapped” since I wasn’t sure
if that had been made public knowledge. Piaras knew some of it. I didn’t know
about the maestro.

Ronan
Cayle froze. “They’ve found Megan?”

“You
know her?”

“She’s
one of my best students. Have they found her?”

I
looked to Mychael.

“It’s
all right. I’ve told Ronan you’re helping us.”

"I
linked with her this morning,” I told the maestro. "She’s unharmed.”

His
amber eyes bored into mine. “Do you know where she is?”

“Unfortunately
I haven’t been able to see enough to pinpoint their location.” And most
unfortunately, my way had been deliberately blocked. “I did see another
prisoner,” I told Mychael. “A boy. Student age, dark hair cut short, hazel
eyes, athletic build. Does that match any new missing-persons report?”

Mychael
shook his head. “I met with Sedge this morning. No students or citizens have
been reported missing in the last twenty-four hours. I’ll send a man to watch
head-quarters with the boy’s description. Something may have come in by now.”

Ronan
Cayle took the music off of Piaras’s stand and filed it in a leather case, and
apparently his emotions along with it. “Master Rivalin, why don’t you get some
water and rest for a few minutes, and we’ll meet downstairs in an hour to go to
the dress rehearsal.” He was brisk and all business.

I
blinked. “Pardon?”