Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 02 (3 page)

The
girl screamed.

“Stay!”
Vegard ordered me.

I
nodded past the tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t crying, but apparently
my eyes were. Vegard let me go, and I heard him step out from behind the crate.
He swore.

I
blinked my eyes back to working order and looked where Banan had been.

He
was gone and the girl along with him. The surface of one of the big mirrors
rippled from recent use. Banan had just dragged his prize out of another mirror
somewhere on the island, the mirror this one had been linked to—and there was
no way in hell of finding out where it was. Mirror magic left no trace or
trail. As a seeker,
that
was why I really hated mirrors.

Guardians
ran into the courtyard; Riston and Phaelan were with them. An officer I didn’t
recognize approached us. He saluted Vegard; then he looked at me. I was tear
streaked, dust covered, and I imagine I wasn’t much to look at.

“Ma’am,
I need you to come with us.”

I
knew I wasn’t being arrested—at least I didn’t think I was. It’s
just that certain members of my family have had
extensive experience with what being arrested looked and felt like. What had
just happened to me met both criteria. You know what they say—if it looks like
an arrest and feels like an arrest, chances are it is an arrest.

I was
sitting on a bench outside Justinius Valerian’s office. Now that I was out of
the screaming crowds and actually sitting down, it felt less like an arrest and
more like sitting outside the headmaster’s office, waiting to get yelled at.
Vegard was sitting next to me. I wasn’t sure if he was there as a guard or as
an accused accomplice. I didn’t want to ask. These were Conclave walls; they
probably had ears.

I
sighed, leaned back, and closed my eyes. That felt good. Too good. “I am in so
much trouble,” I muttered, my voice sounding as tired as I felt.

“No,
you’re not,” Vegard said.

I
opened one eye and looked at him. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve
been in trouble.” He glanced around. There was no one in the archmagus’s outer
office but us. “This ain’t it. Besides, you just saved the archmagus, the
paladin, and every dignitary on that stage—and all the Guardians on duty around
it. There’s some grateful men in our barracks right now who think mighty highly
of you.”

The
Guardian punched me affectionately on the shoulder. I winced. Amazing how using
magic can even make your hair hurt.

The
big lug was grinning like a maniac. “I think you’re about to become the old
man’s pride and joy.”

I
smiled a little. It sounded like I was Vegard’s pride and joy, too.

I
leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes again. “Then why are we sitting
out here?”

Vegard
didn’t have an answer for that one.

I
did. I’d just magically cut loose in a packed city square, and I was related to
the most notorious criminal family in the seven kingdoms. It probably didn’t
matter that I was just trying to help. Someone had paid Banan Ryce a lot of
money to kill Mychael and the archmagus. Someone who didn’t get what he paid
for. And that kidnapped girl was in the worst kind of danger. My mind kept
going over what had happened in that courtyard. And I kept telling myself that
I never had a clear shot at Banan. Telling myself that didn’t make it any
easier to take. When I heard the office door open, I didn’t want to open my
eyes and look, but I thought it might be a good idea if I did.

Mychael
Eiliesor was standing in the open doorway. He looked pissed. I wasn’t
particularly cheerful, either.

Mychael’s
hair was rich auburn, his features strong and classically handsome, and his
eyes were tropical-seas stunning—and lock-up-your-daughters-and-wives trouble.
The outer package was gorgeous; the man inside was dangerous. You didn’t get to
be commander of the Conclave Guardians by being any other way.

He
looked at my dust-covered self, and then at Vegard.

“Vegard,
you’re dismissed. You’re off duty until the evening watch. Get some rest;
you’ve earned it.”

I
didn’t ask what I’d earned. I’d be finding out soon enough.

Vegard
saluted his commander and left. I stood up. I was stiff and achy, but I got
there.

“Are
you hurt?” Mychael asked.

I
shook my head, and managed a weak grin. “But that stage sure was heavy.”

Mychael’s
eyes were unreadable. “Yes, it was.”

“I
take it the archmagus wants to see me now.” I didn’t ask it as a question.

“He
wants to see you.”

Justinius
Valerian was the supreme head of the Conclave of Sor
cerers, commander in chief of the Brotherhood of
Conclave Guardians, and the craftiest spellslinger in the seven kingdoms. I’d
heard he was a foul-tempered, nasty old man.

I’d
only seen the archmagus of the Conclave at a distance. The old man sitting in
front of me holding a glass of whiskey wasn’t quite what I’d imagined. What
once might have been lean had turned grizzled. What might have been a luxurious
head of hair was now a fringe of downy, white tufts on a liver-spotted head.
Only a pair of gleaming blue eyes gave a clue to the man himself.

“So
you’re the one who’s giving me ulcers,” he said.

“It’s
the least I can do since I’ve driven you to drink.”

Valerian
snorted, a sort of laugh. “This job did that years ago. Or at least it gave me
a good excuse. After this morning, you probably want to join me.”

“I’ll
pass.” I didn’t think dulling my wits around this man would be a good idea.

He
took a sip of whiskey, savored it, and swallowed. “I’ve been archmagus for a
long time—some people say too long. Dealing with sons of bitches like the
Nightshades is part of my job; I knew that coming in. Most times it’s just an
annoyance.” His bright blue eyes were hard as agates. “This morning went beyond
that, and right now I’m way the hell beyond annoyed. No one endangers my
people—especially not my students.” He leveled those eyes on me. “Do you know
what you did out there?”

“Death,
destruction, and chaos—all courtesy of yours truly.” Nothing like a nice,
public display of Saghred-enhanced power to get me all the attention I never
wanted.

“You
let the cat out of the bag is what you did,” he said point-blank. “You also
didn’t cause the destruction and chaos; the Nightshades did that. And because
of you, the only people who died today were Nightshades. We have wounded to
take care of, but not one of my people was killed, and for that you have my
thanks.”

“You
and Mychael were his intended targets,” I told him.

“I
know.”

“He
intends to try again.”

“Of
course he will. He didn’t do his job. Whoever hired the bastard isn’t happy
with him right now.”

“Any
idea who that might be?”

The
old man chuckled dryly and took another sip. “That list started when I took
office and gets longer every day. The same is true for Mychael here.”

I
looked from one of them to the other. “So who’s at the top of the list this
week?”

The
archmagus leaned forward. “There’s a couple of front-runners,” he said quietly.
“Mychael and I will deal with it. You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you?”

I
shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. If that bolt had hit you, you’d be dead, and
I’d be screwed. I understand you’ve been voted the mage most likely to get me
out of this mess. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He
grinned broadly. “That makes two of us. But this isn’t your fight. If you see
another bolt coming at me, just duck. I’ll take care of it—and Banan Ryce.”

“I
couldn’t keep him from kidnapping one of your students.” I couldn’t keep the
anger out of my voice, either.

“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.”