Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 02 (26 page)

“Can’t
afford?”

“The
office of archmagus is an elected position.”

I
blinked. “He’s afraid of losing his job?”

“Yes,
he’s afraid of losing his job because he knows what will happen if he does.
Carnades Silvanus has enough support on the Twelve and enough influence with
the wealthier alumni to get himself elected if Justinius loses the support base
he has. After what nearly happened to you and Piaras this afternoon, I don’t
have to tell you what the Isle of Mid would be like with Carnades as
archmagus.”

“So
the old man picks his battles carefully and watches his back.”

Mychael
nodded. “And tonight he’s depending on me to do the watching. And he’s told me
to protect those children as best as I can. According to Sedge Rinker’s report,
even though Gustin Sorensen is a spellsinger, he’s no longer a student. And he
wasn’t abducted through a mirror. There were witnesses, and they can’t say
whether the kidnappers were human or elven.”

“But
I’ve seen him. He’s there with those two girls. They were guarded by
Nightshades.”

Mychael’s
silence told me more than I needed to know.

“No
one other than you and Justinius is going to believe the word of a Benares
whose soul has been ‘contaminated by dark forces.’ ”

“Unfortunately,
they’re not. Carnades doesn’t even believe you’ve linked with the students.
He’s demanding a test of your abilities—that is, after you’re in elven
intelligence custody.”

I
swore. “It’s not my seeking abilities he wants tested.” I resisted the urge to
pace. “Mychael, it’s just a recital.”

“I
know it’s just a recital. But to the Twelve and the department deans, it’s the
college’s most profitable alumni fundraiser.”

I was
incredulous. “This is about
money
? Tell me you’re joking.”

Mychael’s
lips were a thin, angry line. “Some of the college’s biggest financial
supporters have traveled a great distance for this event. If it were up to me,
I’d tell them all to go home. But it’s not up to me.”

“Meanwhile,
you’re told to protect and defend. And if anything happens to those
spellsingers tonight, it’s your ass.”

“It
won’t be the first time it’s been on the line. Unfortunately, my job is as much
about politics as protecting the citizens of this island.”

“Then
why do you do it? No, let me rephrase that. How
can
you do it?”

“Because
I know I’m better at it than anyone else,” he said with an intensity and
conviction that was almost frightening. “And if I didn’t do it, mages like
Carnades would reduce the Guardians to ceremonial guards—or personal enforcers.
It has happened before, and I will fight to my last breath to keep it from
ever
happening again.”

I
nodded in grim approval. “Not on your watch.”

Mychael
eyes were like blue steel. “Not on my watch.”

“If elven
intelligence wants to get their collective hands on me, it’s not because of who
I am or what they say I’ve done,” I told him. “As to me being dangerous, they
don’t fear that; they want it for themselves. Most of all, they want it before
the goblins can get it.”

I
stopped talking. What I’d read in the tub clicked into place with what I’d just
said.

“What
is it?” Mychael asked.

“Rudra
Muralin said in his journal that his bond with the Saghred was so strong that
he could use it from anywhere to do whatever he wanted. Distance didn’t matter.
The stone only had to be two things—awake and fed—and it didn’t have to be
anywhere near him. He claimed that he and the Saghred were one and the same.”
More pieces fell into place. “Mychael, no one’s actually tried to steal the
Saghred, but the Khrynsani and elven intelligence want me really bad. When
Sarad Nukpana came to me in the tub, he said that the Saghred was conserving
power. In his journal, Rudra Muralin wrote that before he did anything big and
deadly with the Saghred, he had to sacrifice souls to it— magically gifted
souls were preferred.”

It
all came together, and I realized with dawning horror what had happened and
what was going to happen.

“Was
my father a spellsinger?”

Mychael
was puzzled. “He was. Why?”

“What
about Sarad Nukpana?”

Mychael’s
blue eyes widened in realization. “Before he became the Khrynsani grand shaman,
yes, he was a spellsinger.”

“When
Piaras sang the Saghred to sleep, Nukpana told me that the Saghred hasn’t had
such a treat in years. Then he said those with the sweetest magic are the most
delicious. Does that mean what I think it means?”

Mychael
stood utterly still. “Spellsinging is known as the ‘sweet magic.’ ”

Sarad
Nukpana had told me that I was doing the Saghred’s will and I hadn’t believed
him.

“Mychael,
we’ve just brought the Saghred back to the biggest buffet in the seven
kingdoms, and Banan Ryce has been gathering dinner. Tonight he’s going after
dessert.”

Phaelan
knocked as he opened my door. “You decent, cousin?”

I
scowled. “And I’m dressed, too.”

He
looked from me to Mychael. “Something I should know about?”

“The
kidnapped students are all spellsingers, the Saghred likes spellsingers as
sacrifices, and tonight Sirens is hosting the cream of Ronan’s crop.”

“That’s
a trap waiting to happen. So just cancel the damned thing and lock down your
spellsingers.”

“The
Twelve won’t cancel the recital,” I told him. “It’s political.”

“Sounds
like you need to get yourself a new Twelve,” Phaelan told Mychael. “Just get me
the names of the ones you don’t want to keep.” He glanced back over his
shoulder for eavesdroppers and lowered his voice. “I know people.”

Mychael’s
smile was more like a baring of teeth. “I just might take you up on that.” He
looked down at Phaelan’s rapier and sighed. “I really hate to tell you this,
but I can only allow Guardians to have swords in Sirens this evening.”

I
couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Even now?”

“Especially
now.”

“And
especially considering who he is,” I shot back.

“Raine,
I can’t make any exceptions.”

Phaelan
shrugged, unbuckled his sword belt, and tossed it on my bed. “As a guest here,
I humbly comply with my host’s wishes.”

Mychael
just looked at him. “You’re bristling with daggers, aren’t you?”


‘Bristling’ is such a negative term, I prefer ‘amply armed.’ ” My cousin turned
to me. “Speaking of ample, there’s no room in that bodice for anything other
than you. You wearing a thigh sheath?”

I
linked my arm through Mychael’s. “Now what would be the sense of wearing just
one? I have two thighs.” I glanced up at Mychael. “Welcome to a night on the
town with the Benares family.”

Chapter 18

It’s
tough to go against your upbringing. Most times I try. From
now on I wasn’t even going to bother.

I was
a Benares. As far as Taltek Balmorlan was concerned, I was also one of the most
powerful mages in Sirens. Yes, my power came from an evil rock locked in the
Guardians’ basement, and I had no intention of using that power, but no one
knew that and I wasn’t going to tell them.

I was
going to keep them guessing and shaking in their designer robes.

But
if anyone so much as laid one finger on Ronan’s spellsingers, all bets were
off.

Mychael
had taken every precaution to protect those kids. He’d ordered all of Sirens’s
mirrors bespelled to prevent their use by mirror mages. Mirror mages needed a
crisp, clear image to do their thing. Mychael’s spells distorted whatever was
reflected in the mirror as an undulating wave, its pattern constantly changing.
Try putting on makeup, doing your hair, or getting dressed in front of an undulating
wave. Some people it’d make sick; most people it’d just make ugly. All the
dressing rooms at Sirens had big, full-length mirrors. If any of Ronan’s
spellsingers wanted to admire themselves, they’d better have done it before
they got here.

Seeing
someone or something step out of my reflection was one of the reasons why I
owned only one mirror and it was just big enough to see my face in. Anything
that popped out through that mirror would be small enough for me to stomp on.

Ronan
had gathered his students and Mychael told them that, due to the recent student
abductions through mirrors, Sirens’s mirrors had been warded as a safety
precaution. That didn’t go over well, especially with Countess Sanura
Mal’Salin. Mychael ignored the goblin girl’s outburst and proceeded to lay down
the law for the evening: no going out the stage door into the alley, and if
they needed to leave the dressing-room area during the recital, they would have
to do so in the company of a Guardian escort. He didn’t want to scare the kids,
just make them aware of the safety precautions being taken and that he expected
nothing less than their full and complete cooperation.

Mychael’s
talk left out the words “Saghred” and “sacrifice.” Like he’d said, until we had
irrefutable proof— meaning from a source other than me—we had to keep our
private suspicions from becoming public allegations.

I had
all the irrefutable proof I needed. I had told Piaras everything—and made sure
he had enough steel on him to discourage any takers.

When
Mychael finished talking, every last one of Ronan’s students still insisted on
singing. The show would go on. Dammit.

I was
backstage looking out into the rapidly filling theatre. I wanted to know who
was here and where they were. Phaelan was standing next to me looking cool and
confident, even without his rapier. He noted my glance at his side and
chuckled.

“Since
you only have two daggers, just let me know if you need to borrow anything.
I’ve got you covered.”

“I
just might take you up on that.”

The
house lights were still up, so we could see everyone as they entered and were
escorted to their tables. That made it impossible to miss when Taltek
Balmorlan, Giles Keril, and party arrived.

Phaelan
saw where I was looking. “A shark and a weasel. Are those our primary targets
for the evening?”

I
nodded. “They’re two of them. Unfortunately, there are a lot more. I’m also
keeping an eye out for a thousand-year-old psychotic goblin teenage
spellsinger.”

“Rudra
Muralin?”

“The
very same.”

I had
warned Mychael about the possibility of Muralin masquerading as a student, or
as one of the many Mal’Salins here for Countess Sanura’s performance. There
were a lot of young and good-looking goblins in Sirens tonight. But Rudra
Muralin had fallen into the Great Rift. I’d imagine bouncing down a ravine
hadn’t done him any good, though if contact with the Saghred kept him alive for
a millennium, it could certainly repair any damage. So that meant any young
male goblin was a potential candidate.

Phaelan
and I were within sight of the dressing room that Piaras was sharing with Talon
Tandu. I had checked their mirror myself. Even glancing at it made me nauseous.
Nothing was coming through that mirror.

The
door opened and Talon Tandu sauntered out. I guess it was taking Piaras longer
to dress because he had more clothes to put on. Talon’s costume consisted
solely of silver silk trousers, slung low on narrow hips and leaving little to
the imagination. His otherwise bare chest was covered by a long, aqua, silk
dressing gown that perfectly matched his eyes. Eyes that saw me and liked what
they saw.

“Evening,
gorgeous. Since all the mirrors in this place are warded, I thought I’d let you
tell me how hot I look.”

I
gave him a flat look. “You’re sizzling. I can barely stand the heat.”

“Likewise.
You should doll up more often. It suits you.”

Ronan
swept by, his robes this evening edging more toward the gold and orange end of
the flame spectrum. “Talon, you’re first. Get dressed.”

The
goblin gave the maestro a little salute. “Yes, sir.”

I
waited until Ronan had gone. “You are dressed, aren’t you?”

“Oh
yeah. I’ll drop the robe before I go on and whatever else is left is what I’m
wearing.” He shrugged. “Most of the people out there have seen me perform.
They’d be disappointed if I wore too many clothes.”

“And
you can’t disappoint your adoring fans.”

Talon’s
crooked grin was full of fang. “Finally, someone who understands.”

“And
your song?”

“Ronan
said to keep it tasteful and decent,” Talon said smugly.

“Is
that possible?”

“It
was during rehearsals.” The kid had a sparkle in his eyes that he shouldn’t be
old enough to have. “It won’t be onstage.”

“And
you wanted to go first?”

“I
wanted to get it over with. We drew numbers for our singing order. Naturally, I
cheated. Then there’s the added plus of Ronan being too busy with the rest of
his songbirds to be pissed at me after what I’m going to do out there.”

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