Armed & Magical rb-2

by Lisa Shearin

The young Guardian looked to Vegard.

  “Give it to her,” Vegard ordered. “And your bolts, too.”

  He obeyed. Vegard was getting downright handy to have around.

  “Riston and Captain Benares are somewhere behind us,” Vegard told him. “Find them and tell them we’ve gone in there.” He jerked his head toward the alley. “We want backup.”

  The young man’s eyes went wide. “Benares?”

  “Yes, that Captain Benares,” Vegard barked. “Get over it.”

  “Yes, sir. Over it, sir. I’ll find Sir Riston.”

  Vegard and I crossed the street and stopped with our backs against the wall leading into the alley. I knew Banan had stopped somewhere in that alley. I could feel him. Turning that corner just might get our heads blown off.

  “How many ways out of that alley?” I asked Vegard.

  “One exit, one courtyard.”

  I somehow knew Banan wasn’t going for the exit. “He’s in the courtyard waiting for something, and I don’t think it’s us.”

  Vegard drew his ax off his back. His hands and the ax blade flickered with blue fire. Now that’s what I called backup.

  I checked around the corner. The alley was empty. We went in. The entrance to the courtyard was about halfway down the alley.

  The heat from two furnaces against the far wall hit us head-on. Leaning against walls and lying on tables were mirrors in various stages of completion. There were piles of sand for making them, and crates for shipping them.

  A mirror factory. Just my kind of place.

  Some of the mirrors were man height. They could have been mirrors to admire yourself in, or they could be an exit for Banan—or an entrance for his backup. I hated mirrors.

  Mirror magic took a lot of discipline and a lot of concentration, and could make a lot of trouble if the mage were so inclined. Mirror mages could use mirrors to translocate people, manifest creatures, or move objects from one place to another. Then there was the spying and peeking that could be done from any bespelled and unwarded mirror. I was sure there were perfectly moral mirror mages—I just hadn’t met any.

  Banan was there and he wasn’t alone. He could never resist leaving a crime scene without a souvenir. In this case, his souvenir was also a hostage.

  She was young, blond, and terrified. From her age and the simple robes she wore, she was probably a student.

  As leader of the Nightshades, Banan had spent a lot of time outdoors and looked it. His dark hair and tanned face were a startling contrast to his pale green eyes. He was rugged, he was handsome, and he knew it. He also fancied himself a ladies’ man. Unfortunately the ladies he fancied didn’t always fancy him back, and that was just the way Banan liked it. Murder was his job; rape was what he did for fun.

  Banan didn’t look concerned in the least to see himself on the business end of my crossbow. “Ah, Raine, you found us. I should have known you would sniff me out. You were magnificent back there. You performed just as I’d expected—and as my clients were promised. Everybody’s happy.”

  The bastard had set me up. Someone wanted to see what I could do, and Banan had set up the audition.

  “Well, almost everybody.” Banan’s grin was crooked. He thought it was charming. “My two targets survived, didn’t they?”

  “They did.”

  The elf shrugged. “Well, if at first you don’t succeed…”

  I pushed down the urge to pull the trigger. The girl was too close to Banan for comfort, either mine or hers. The urge didn’t go without a fight. That was fine; I didn’t plan to keep it locked down for long. As soon as I could get her out of my line of fire, I’d give Banan a performance I could be proud of. I’d even put a little magical something extra on the tip of the bolt that’d slice through his shields like hot butter.

  I gazed down the bolt’s shaft. I had a gratifyingly clear shot at the space between Banan’s green eyes. He pulled the girl tighter against him. Vegard growled low in the back of his throat, and his magic clawed the air with the sound. Banan ignored him, all of his attention on me. He didn’t consider Vegard much of a threat. His mistake.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to use the Saghred?” Banan taunted me.

  “I only use the rock against big trouble. You don’t make my list.” I kept my concentration where it belonged—on the sweet spot between Banan’s eyes. “Let her go.”

  The elf smiled. “Not going to happen.”

  I held the crossbow steady; my finger tightened on the trigger. “Never hurts to ask first.”

  A familiar fire bloomed in the center of my chest. Fire to consume Banan Ryce, and anyone who might step out of a mirror to help him. The fire and the Saghred’s power that fed it blazed under my breastbone, white-hot and raging. Just call it, came the whispered impulse in my mind. The power was mine for the taking. I shoved down the fire and the impulse. I swallowed them hard and held them down. The fire flickered and writhed, trying to get around my will. I pressed harder and it stopped. The tip of the crossbow bolt wavered.

  Banan saw it and laughed.

  “You want the power—and I know you want me.” His voice was low, compelling. “Put down the crossbow and take me, Raine. Like you have a choice.”

  The fire had diminished to a warm, soft glow, a harmless glow, a glow that only wanted to help me protect the girl. Just to help. Help me. My hands were sweating.

  The Saghred was talking to me inside my head. That was impossible. The Saghred was spellbound, under guard, and under lock and key.

  Only as long as you want it to be.

  It wasn’t a whisper; it wasn’t even a voice. It was the truth. If I willed it, the Saghred would shake off its bindings and destroy Banan Ryce.

  Banan faded into the background; so did Vegard and the girl. It was just me and the Saghred. The fire burned and the temptation grew. I clenched my jaw against them both. I would not be used.

  My finger tightened on the trigger.

  A flash of reflected mirror light blinded me.

  I dropped to the ground and rolled. If I couldn’t see, I was a target. Banan had been doing more than admiring his reflection. Strong hands grabbed me. I tried to bring the crossbow up.

  “It’s me!”

  Vegard.

  “I’ve got you.” Vegard took the bow and hauled me to my feet, pulling us both behind a stack of packing crates. I couldn’t see the crates, but I could smell the wood.

  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.”

  Chapter 2

  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 t
here 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 Sorcerers, 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 Sagh
red. 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.