“So I heard. I also heard you did what you could.”
“Tell that to the girl Banan Ryce took. He wanted a human shield against me, so he took one. And he probably picked this particular one because she was beautiful and blond.” I paused. There wasn’t any easy way to say this. “Banan Ryce likes blondes—a lot.”
“I know.” Mychael’s voice was carefully emotionless. “We’re doing everything we can to find her as quickly as possible.”
“Who’s we?” I asked bluntly.
“The Guardians and the city watch.”
“He took her through a mirror. Good luck.”
“There are several likely locations for an exit mirror of that size. They’re all being checked.”
“And if you don’t find it—or her?”
“We’ll expand our search as far as necessary.”
“Does your city watch have any seekers?”
“They do.”
“Are they any good?”
If my question offended him, he didn’t show it. “Yes, they are.”
I looked at Mychael; he looked at me. I hadn’t asked whether they were good enough. Mychael knew what I was thinking, and what I wanted to do. I felt directly responsible for that girl’s kidnapping and whatever was happening to her now, and I wanted to be the one to find her. Mychael knew how good a seeker I was. He also knew that my connection to the Saghred made me one of the most dangerous people on the island. As paladin, Mychael wasn’t about to let me loose on his island. He didn’t have to say anything; I could see it in his eyes.
The only sound was the ice clinking in Justinius Valerian’s glass. “Yes, we do think you’re dangerous.”
I could add mind reading to Justinius Valerian’s list of talents.
“What I did with that stage today was all me, no help from the rock,” I told them point-blank. “Just my own skills enhanced by contact with the Saghred. I was completely in control the entire time. Collapsing that stage was more than an assassination attempt for the two of you; it was an audition for me. Someone wanted to see what I could do, and apparently they got what they wanted. Banan said I performed perfectly and that he had a happy client.”
“You’re sure you didn’t use the Saghred?” Justinius asked.
I snorted. “Positive. I didn’t get dizzy, fall down, and throw up. When I chased Banan Ryce into that courtyard, the Saghred offered to help. Insistently. I told it I didn’t want its help.” I looked at Mychael. “The Saghred’s wide-awake. I thought it was bound.”
“It is.” His lips were set in a grim line. “It was as of this morning.”
“Before Miss Benares took on the Nightshades?” Justinius asked him.
I didn’t like that question, or what it implied about my future.
“I checked the containment room myself just after sunrise,” Mychael said. “And got a report from the guards on duty. At that time, the Saghred was spellbound and quiet.”
Justinius leaned back in his chair. The only sound in the room was the wood creaking.
“Then bindings aren’t enough,” he told Mychael. “We need more.”
“I’ll take care of it, sir.”
The old man’s bright eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “The Saghred’s got you where it wants you. The Nightshades want you where they can get you. And Eamaliel Anguis is your papa.”
I took a shallow breath. “That hits the high spots.”
The Saghred was also known by its pet name, Thief of Souls, which pretty much described its favorite activity of slurping souls and sometimes the bodies they came in. One of those souls trapped inside was my father—a Conclave Guardian named Eamaliel Anguis. He had been the Saghred’s protector, until the Saghred decided to turn its protector into its next meal.
“He’s in there?” Justinius asked.
I nodded.
“Has he been talking to you?”
“Sometimes. Mostly it’s Sarad Nukpana.”
Sarad Nukpana was a goblin and the high priest of the Khrynsani, an ancient goblin secret society and military order. He was also chief counselor to the goblin king, Sathrik Mal’Salin. But most of all, Sarad Nukpana was a first-rate psychopath. Nukpana and his boss wanted to get their hands on the Saghred and bring back the good old days of annihilating armies. Thanks to me, Nukpana was imprisoned inside the Saghred, but a shaman that powerful wasn’t about to let a little thing like being a disembodied soul get in the way of vengeance. He didn’t want me dead, just tormented for eternity.
Justinius took a healthy swig of whiskey. From the way my morning was going, joining him was sounding better by the second.
He set the glass down. “Sarad Nukpana’s not someone I’d want in my head.”
“No one asked what I wanted.”
“And you want me to change that.”
“It’d be nice if you could help.”
Justinius straightened in his chair. “My not-so-illustrious predecessors didn’t have any luck turning that rock to dust, but then I like to think I’m a better mage than they were.”
“Do you have any immediate ideas?”
“Not a one. But Mychael just dumped this on me late last night. Brilliance takes time.”
“Time’s something I’m running out of.”
“Mychael said the rock’s not affecting you, and from what I’m seeing I’m inclined to agree.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Feeling evil?” Justinius asked.
“No.”
“Having an urge to overthrow governments, kill thousands?”
“No and no.”
“Take over the world?”
“Too much work.”
He laughed, a bright bark. Then the laughter was gone. “You sure you want to be rid of it?”
I knew the “it” he was referring to. Power. “What I was born with was working just fine as of last week,” I told him. “I’m a very good seeker,” I said with a meaningful glance at Mychael. “I’m an average sorceress. That was good enough for me, and I’d like to have that back.”
“Some of my mages would be foaming at the mouth to have what you have now.”
Justinius Valerian’s eyes had never left mine, but they changed focus, and I felt the barest hint of the power that’d earned him his title. He was seeing me inside and out. It was the type of seeing that’d earn any other magic user the business end of my fist. Considering who Justinius was, I thought I’d let him finish. He was just assuring himself that I wasn’t actually on the verge of a world-domination rampage.
“You’ll be fine,” he concluded. “But considering who your papa was, that’s not all that surprising.”
“Who my papa is,” I corrected him.
“You’re absolutely sure about that?”
My father was alive. Nine hundred years’ worth of alive. The last year or so had been inside the Saghred, the other eight hundred and something years the result of an extended lifespan from too much contact with the Saghred. A fate I really wanted to avoid.
“Unfortunately certain,” I said.
“Poor bastard.”
I nodded in agreement. “His daughter’s not in too great of a state, either. But at least I’m not sharing his accommodations—or his roommate.”
“Sarad Nukpana isn’t someone I’d want to spend eternity with.”
I didn’t have a response for that.
I’d been in the Saghred once before. It had only been for a few moments, but it’d been enough time for me to see that it wasn’t a vacation destination, more like someplace you went after a lifetime of pulling wings off of flies, then working your way up to things that screamed. A Sarad Nukpana kind of place. I had met Sarad Nukpana up close and personal last week, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience. It was looking more like I was my father’s only chance at freedom—or resting in peace.
“Girl?”
“Sir?”
“Let’s keep that bit of information to ourselves for now.”
“Nukpana or my father?”
“Both, but especially who’s little girl you are. That doesn’t need to leave this room.”
“I wasn’t about to yell it from the battlements. I’m not sure how I feel about it myself.”
“Contrary to how old I look, I’m not old enough to have known your papa in his early Guardian days. But history’s told me plenty about the bastards he was up against. I’m ashamed to say the archmagus back then was one of them; and a couple of his top mages were a few more. History has an annoying tendency to repeat itself. I’m going to see what I can do to keep that from happening. The Conclave did your papa wrong. I’ll do whatever I can to make up for it.”
“Thank you.” And I meant it.
“Though the first help I might be giving you is of a legal nature.” He glanced at Mychael. “I heard from your friends the Khrynsani last night.”
I swore silently. Mychael tried not to look concerned, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Actually, I didn’t see their representatives directly,” Justinius continued. “They filed their formal complaint with the magistrate. He brought the papers to me. Your ship hadn’t docked yet.”
“What papers?” Mychael’s voice betrayed no emotion.
“The papers charging Miss Benares here with grand larceny, attempted murder, kidnapping, and false imprisonment.”
I blinked. “Of who?”
“Grand Shaman Sarad Nukpana. The Khrynsani have requested that we turn you over to them for prosecution.”
“What?”
“We won’t do that,” Mychael assured me.
“I should hope not!”
“Actually, we can’t do that,” Justinius said. “Not legally, anyway.”
“For the Khrynsani to have any legal claim, they would have to go through the elven embassy,” Mychael told me. “That would take time; no doubt they want to resolve this quickly.”
