“Do you have someone on the inside?” Imala asked.
Deidre shook her head. “Not among the dungeon guards.”
“I have two agents who—”
“Dalit and Airan?”
“Yes.”
“They’re already working with us,” Deidre said. “Airan has told me which of our people are in the general dungeon population, but the high-ranking prisoners are being kept apart from the others. That is all he was able to find out.”
“I know where those cells are,” Imala said.
“So do some of our most gifted people, both mage and mundane,” Deidre countered. “They can’t get anywhere near them.”
Tam’s smile was chilling. “They didn’t spend five years at the queen’s side and live to tell about it.”
“What does that have to do with—”
“Hiding and hearing, Mother. I know several passageways around the palace and the temple. Many a night I stood between the walls listening to my enemies—both court and Khrynsani—plot my death. I’m alive, most of them are not.”
“I also know of several ways into the temple,” Imala said.
“How many guards are around the Saghred?” Mychael asked.
“I can answer that one, Paladin,” Jash Masloc said. “Fifty guards around the clock since it arrived. However, those are just the ones in the temple and within sight of the altar. Unfortunately for anyone’s long-term health and survival, those fifty Khrynsani weren’t taking their eyes off of the Saghred. Though I believe the Khrynsani refer to it as worship.”
Those boys definitely weren’t going to like what we wanted to do to their newest deity. Stabbing and shattering weren’t going to go over well at all. I didn’t harbor any illusions that yelling, “Hey, look! Something shiny!” would get them all to look the other way while we got destructive on their precious.
Mychael told her the plan—Kesyn Badru, the Reapers, the rock, and us. When he finished, the room was silent again, this time with shock and a healthy heaping of disbelief.
Deidre glanced at Tam, a trace of amusement in her eyes. “I must say, my darling boy, that you and your friends are taking our family’s reputation of adventurousness to the point of insanity.”
“Someone has to take the big chances.”
Deidre closed her eyes and let out a resigned sigh. Then she opened her eyes and regarded Mychael. “Paladin Eiliesor—”
“Mychael, please.”
Deidre smiled slightly. “Mychael. Isn’t there any way to avoid unleashing Armageddon? Sarad seems to have already taken care of that. Wouldn’t your plan be unnecessarily redundant?”
“If there was any other way, we would do it,” he assured her.
“And Tamnais, you believe that Kesyn Badru, the teacher you publically turned your back on and whose career you unwittingly ruined, will help you summon these Reapers.”
“He always hated Sarad, and the feeling was more than mutual,” Tam said. “A chance to ruin Sarad’s dream of world domination? Kesyn would never forgive me if I didn’t let him have a piece of that.”
Jash spoke. “Mistress Benares, I take it that you will be using your unique skill set to clear a way to the altar once we’re in the temple?”
Tam raised a brow. “We?”
“Of course, ‘we.’ I’d never forgive you, either, if you didn’t let me have a piece of Sarad Nukpana.” Jash looked at me, waiting for his answer.
I looked back at Jash.
Silence.
“Is there something I should know?” While Jash’s question was directed at those of us who’d come from Mid, his eyes were on me.
Just because no one had said anything about the Magh’Sceadu ignoring me and making a beeline for Talon didn’t mean they didn’t know what that implied. My ribs and I had no doubt that Carnades knew. Yes, if any of us used magic we’d essentially be sending up a flare for Sarad Nukpana and his Khrynsani to locate us. But if there was no way out, no way to survive other than using magic, these goblins were counting on me being able to lay waste to whatever or whoever was about to do the same to us, namely fifty worshiping Khrynsani. The only thing I could lay waste to right now was a good dinner. The Resistance needed to know—at least the people in this room should. Mychael and I’d agreed that if we had to admit to anything, we’d say that my magic had become unreliable after my last encounter with the Saghred. That was the understatement of the millennium. While not entirely the truth, it wasn’t a lie. My magic could come back at any time. We didn’t think it was going to, but we didn’t know that for sure.
I glanced at Mychael and received a quick nod in return.
Oh, boy. Here we go.
I took a deep breath and dived in. “While vaporizing Sarad Nukpana and his boys would be the quickest—and undeniably the most satisfying—way to get to the rock, it’s not exactly a realistic part of our plan right now.”
No one said a word. Tam took a big swig of Barrett’s rescued port straight from the bottle.
I wished I had some.
I hit the highlights of what had happened in the elven embassy dungeons, and how the Saghred had consumed an elven mage through me; and while the rock was at it, it’d given my magic a figurative kick in the teeth. However, I was still left with all of the fun of being linked to the thing.
Lady Deidre Nathrach was stunned. I suspected it was an emotion she didn’t have much experience with. “You don’t have any magic?”
I shrugged. “It comes and goes, ma’am.” I decided partial truth would go down better than the full variety. I didn’t think the spark I was occasionally able to muster counted as a resurgence of my magic, but it was better than admitting I was potentially a permanent mundane in a room full of goblins, one of whom—namely Prince Chigaru—didn’t like me all that much to begin with. I’d rather keep the possibility open that if he messed with me, there wouldn’t be anything left of him to mess with anyone else ever again.
Prince Chigaru had been sitting quietly through all this, his fingers steepled in front of his face. “When was the last time you had your magic?” he asked quietly.
I’d had the answer to that one ready to go. “Yesterday on Mid.” I didn’t mention that magic was a miniscule spark on the tip of my finger.
“Your magic vanishing, do you know before it happens?”
“No advance warning, if that’s what you mean.”
“It is.” The prince turned to Imala. “Did you know about this?”
“I did.”
“And you did not tell me.” No direct accusation, just hard eyes. Mal’Salins didn’t like being given bad news.
“It had no bearing on our mission. We had to come here regardless. We’re taking many risks; this is merely one more, and Raine is bearing the brunt of it.”
I had to hand it to Imala—if lying had been a profession, she could have made a fine living doing it.
“Besides,” she continued coolly. “How do you think Raine feels?”
“What Raine feels is not—”
“Highness,” Imala reprimanded.
“It must concern her greatly.” The prince’s verbal turnabout was quick enough to give him whiplash.
Turnabout notwithstanding, Chigaru was still unhappy, which likely was a cover for fear. It was my experience that creatures with fangs tended to react badly to fear, so I wasn’t going to show any of my own.
I offered a nonchalant shrug. “I’m adapting.”
Tam stepped in. “Right now, we need to find Kesyn Badru.”
“Good luck,” Jash said. “No one knows where he is.”
“Is there a chance he was captured?”
Deidre shook her head. “We’d know by now. None of our people in the palace or temple have heard of him being brought in.”
Jash gave a short laugh. “Impressive as hell considering Sarad’s been pulling out all the stops to find him.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“Kesyn Badru was also Sarad’s teacher.”
I blinked at Tam. “He taught both of you?”
Deidre’s lips twitched in a smile. “Some men attract more than their share of bad luck.”
I jerked my head toward Talon. “Worse than this one?”
“Infinitely.”
Jash spoke. “Mistress Benares, excuse my bluntness, but if you don’t have any magic, then why are you here?”
“I really don’t have a good answer to that—at least not a sane one. Me getting myself bonded to the Saghred started this whole mess, so I’m here to do everything I can to end it.” I tried a smile, but it probably came off looking as scared as I felt. “You guys aren’t the only ones who live for flipping off Death.”
Chapter 8
Our meeting was over, and Mychael and Tam were speaking in hushed tones with Jash Masloc in the wide hallway outside the dining room. A young goblin, entirely too small for the sword he wore, stood quietly behind Jash waiting for them to finish. He held a folded stack of what appeared to be clothing.
Imala strode down the hall toward us, carrying a small stack of handbills.
She handed them to me. “Confirmation that Sathrik and Sarad know we’re here, and have for at least long enough to get these produced and distributed throughout the city.”
Piaras stepped up and looked at them over my shoulder.
Wanted posters.
Crap in a bucket.
I flipped through them.
Me, Mychael, Tam, Imala, but not Chigaru. Interesting.
“Why isn’t the prince included?” I asked.
“Sathrik’s exile of Chigaru is considered a private, family matter,” Imala replied. “To the people, Sathrik has gone out of his way to convey that he is ‘greatly saddened and disappointed’ by his brother’s betrayal and abandonment of their people.”
“Abandoned? I take it that’s Mal’Salin-speak for forced to run and hide for years or be captured, imprisoned, and killed in a dark dungeon.”
