Piaras stepped from the gondola by himself without a stumble. Just before we had disembarked, he had given my hand a firm squeeze, then stood resolutely, his jaw set. My little brother was growing up.
I looked at Mychael standing by my side—and kept looking. He was magnificent. Regal in the purple and gold of an ancient Pengorian knight, the paladin’s surcoat looked almost black in the flickering torchlight, entwined vines and leaves finely embroidered in gold thread on the soft suede. Mychael’s mask was etched gold, the perfect setting for those glorious blue eyes. The costume, the embassy, a king’s masked ball. Mychael clearly belonged here. I didn’t.
He caught me looking. I quickly glanced away.
I felt him raise my hand to his lips. “You’re beautiful,” I heard him murmur.
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never been very good at compliments, especially those addressed to me.
He smiled and kissed my hand again, taking his time before draping my arm over his to escort me inside.
To get inside, all of the guests had to walk up the stairs flanked by yet more royal guardsmen sporting enough enameled steel to anchor a ship—or sink one. They didn’t seem to mind the weight. They also didn’t seem to blink. Eerie. Though I’m sure the Mal’Salins frowned on such displays of weakness. And when a Mal’Salin royal frowned, heads rolled, or so I’d heard.
At the top of the stairs, I saw a small goblin lady, her bearing regal, wearing a gown of the most ethereal fabric that I had ever seen. The color shifted and shimmered with the torchlight. Her hair and face were completely covered by a pale cloud of a veil that fell past her shoulders. Beneath that, she wore a mask as well. She reached out one tiny, gloved hand and placed it lightly on the arm of a goblin who was dressed as a jester, but he apparently had left his good humor at home. His bearing was straight, either from naturally good posture or tension. Considering where we were, it could have been both. I might not be the most nervous person here tonight, but I think I had the most reason.
The lady tilted her head to look up at her escort as he said something to her.
I knew her.
I tried to get as close to Mychael’s ear as possible. Not easy in my hat.
“The couple at the door, the small goblin lady…”
“Yes?”
“A’Zahra Nuru.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Do you recognize her escort?”
“No, but he’s probably one of the prince’s courtiers. He’s too short to be the prince.”
“Well then, let’s see if they get in.”
I wasn’t anywhere near as casual about it as Mychael, but on a positive note, at least I knew what the primari was wearing. Chances were once she was inside, she would be meeting Prince Chigaru. If I couldn’t avoid my enemies this evening, it’d at least be nice to spot some of them before they spotted me.
The goblin primari gave her invitation to one of the guards at the door. He looked at it and then at her. He returned it to her and the door opened. She started to step across the threshold, then paused, glancing back over her shoulder. The beacon still vibrated happily inside my bodice. I fought the urge to cover it with my hand. I knew the gesture wouldn’t do any good and would only draw attention.
A’Zahra Nuru paused a moment longer, then she and her escort entered the embassy.
Now it was our turn.
The guard gestured us forward. Mychael swept up the steps without hesitation. Piaras, Garadin, and I followed with Vegard and Riston Kirkwode, the dark-haired Guardian from Tam’s place.
The guard scrutinized the invitation then our masked faces, each in turn. I hope the Count of Eilde, or his politics, hadn’t bought us more problems than perks. The guard turned to confer with a superior. The officer was checking another invitation, and the guard had to wait until he was finished. Next to me, Piaras took a breath and held it. While he did that, I entertained myself by wondering which was closer—the dagger in my bodice, or the throwing knives in the hidden pockets of my gown.
Mychael waited seemingly without a care in the world. He even began humming a tune currently popular in the eastern kingdoms. He had nerve. The humming continued, and with it came a smile. It was contagious. A corner of the goblin guard’s mouth turned upward. He turned away from the still-busy officer and returned the invitation to Mychael.
“There’s no need to keep you waiting, sir. On behalf of His Royal Majesty, King Sathrik Mal’Salin, I bid you and your guests welcome. Please enter.”
Chapter 20
“It’s not the song that matters, but how you sing it. Or in this case how you hum it,” Mychael was explaining to an amazed Piaras. “A light and friendly tune to inspire light and friendly thoughts.”
I really didn’t care how he did it, I was just grateful that he had. I kept telling myself that there was probably nothing to the sentry’s reaction to either our invitation or to us. But it would take more than my own assurances to convince my heart rate to return to normal. Call me insecure.
While we waited our turn to enter the ballroom, I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with the lay of the land. Others were obviously doing the same thing, but I was probably the only one, or at least one of the few, looking around in case I needed to make a quick getaway. The floorplan of the goblin embassy was similar to that of other great houses along the Grand Duke’s Canal. The first floor was reserved for entry and less important rooms. Mermeia was prone to flooding, and no noble wanted to constantly have to rescue the ancestral portraits and Great Aunt Gertrude’s favorite chairs from rising waters.
We were in a lavish reception area, with an imposing staircase that swept up to a landing in front of a massive stained-glass window, again featuring the House of Mal’Salin crest. From there, the stairs split to either side to continue to the third floor, and the grand ballroom. All around us, guests were removing the outer cloaks they had worn to protect their finery. Piaras and I had left ours in the gondola. We had no intention of leaving the way we had come in. Since the count had been nice enough to loan us everything we needed for the evening, it would be rude to knowingly leave behind something we had borrowed. In my mind that also included returning the costumes we were wearing without any unsightly slashes, holes, or bloodstains.
The lighting in the embassy was dim enough for goblin comfort, but bright enough so that the elven or human guests wouldn’t bump into each other. As in Tam’s place, the lighting was purely for theatrical effect. Playing tricks on the eyes with light and shadow.
I didn’t like it one bit.
I wasn’t just being paranoid. I was being watched. The black-garbed Mal’Salin guards and courtiers blended in all too well with the decorative shadows. They were watching me; but to be fair, they were also watching everyone else. And just because the official color for Mal’Salin guards was black didn’t mean there weren’t watchful loyalists lurking around wearing silver gossamer or pink butterfly wings. I was certain the embassy was positively seething with those alert for troublemakers, and especially watching for me. While Sarad Nukpana hadn’t requested that we attend the ball, I know he had to have been expecting it.
Garadin hovered by my side. Vegard was an oddly comforting presence just behind my right shoulder. The blond berserker was as armed as he could be and not clank. If all hell broke loose at some point in the evening, as a Guardian, Vegard was more than qualified to acquire any weapons he needed from one of the many Mal’Salin guards taking up useful space. I welcomed his company.
I leaned over to Garadin. “You’d think if Sathrik was that paranoid about someone trying to stick a knife in his ribs tonight, he would have just stayed home.”
“Murder and intrigue are as natural to the Mal’Salins as breathing,” he told me.
“Then Sathrik’s in for the time of his life tonight.”
I tried to locate A’Zahra Nuru without being obvious. Considering the vision restriction of wearing a mask, and the plumed velvet enormity that was the hat on my head, doing anything subtle was next to impossible. But I tried, and I looked, and I didn’t see the goblin primari. That was good and bad. I didn’t want to run into her, but I also wanted to keep anyone who I knew was after me in my line of sight. The beacon was no help. It just continued to hum happily. I would have liked to have shared its positive outlook, but my other senses that I had had for far longer, and trusted far more, told me otherwise.
I just wanted to find the Saghred before Sarad Nukpana found me.
“Are you ready?” came a deep voice close enough to touch.
It was all I could do to keep both feet on the floor.
It was Mychael.
“Don’t do that!” I managed, once I got past my heart in my throat.
“Shall we?” he said, offering me his arm.
I hesitated, then placed my hand on top of his. “Let the fun begin.”
As we made our way up the black marble staircase, I hoped that we didn’t draw too much attention clumped together as we were. We were supposed to be the Count of Eilde and his new bride just home from their wedding and honeymoon in Rina. Accompanying them were her younger brother, Tamas, his tutor, and a pair of bodyguards. Fortunately there were others who were similarly grouped. I guess when most of your guests are from the aristocracy of various kingdoms, there will be more than your fair share of burly types looking uncomfortable in unaccustomed finery. That being the case, Vegard and Riston didn’t look in the least bit out of place fidgeting with their embroidered collars.
Once on the landing, I saw that the portion of the window not taken up with the serpent crest was clear glass and gave me a good view of the gardens behind the embassy. The moon was on the wane, but still provided ample light. On the edge of the trees was a stone wall approximately head height.
Mychael paused next to me. “That’s the outer wall of the temple ruins. The mausoleum is at the center.”
The beacon thrummed against my chest, as if sensing an impending reunion, a little thrill of excitement to add to its happiness. As a result, my stomach experienced a similar sensation, though it was neither thrilling nor happy. My hand went to my stomach again. The wave of nausea wasn’t a remnant from the gondola ride.
