by Lisa Shearin
I smiled at Piaras and Ronan. “Would you gentlemen excuse us for a moment?” I crooked a finger at Mychael. “Paladin Eiliesor, a moment of your time in private, please?”
If Ronan hadn’t resumed putting away music in a rustle of papers, I could have sworn I heard Mychael growl. He may have growled, but he did follow me to a corner of his office.
“I won’t go anywhere near Tam,” I assured Mychael in my most emphatic whisper. “Hell, I won’t even look at him.” Tam wasn’t important right now; sticking to Piaras like glue was.
“Good, because you’re not going to Sirens.”
“Mychael, somebody slashed those shields while Piaras was practicing. Now there’s suddenly a lot of interest in hearing him sing. Powerful people kind of interest. I’d like to see just who these choice patrons are.”
Phaelan’s opinion of why those shields had been disabled was sounding more like truth than theory every second. And I’d seen it more times than I’d care to count in my line of work. Talented magic users kidnapped to be used and exploited by the rich and powerful. For obvious reasons, alchemists had the top spot on the list of mages most often kidnapped, but spellsingers ranked right up there. I’d done more than my share of magic user “seek and rescues.” Piaras was not going to be one of them.
I lowered my voice even further. “What if whoever slashed those shields wasn’t interested in killing you or me, or getting the Saghred?” I said. “What if they wanted to see just how much damage Piaras was capable of? You said it yourself that he’s a weapon; Ronan said he’s lethal. One of those choice patrons might be in the black market for a spellsinger.” I stared hard at him. “I hear you were a kick-ass prodigy in your day. Did anyone try to kidnap you?”
Mychael looked down at me, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “If you take one step toward Tam, Vegard will sit on you.”
Chapter 12
I’d been inside Sirens in Mermeia, so I knew what to expect. Piaras had never seen the inside of either one of Tam’s nightclubs. His brown eyes were wide as he took it all in.
The Sirens nightclub in Mermeia was mainly a gambling parlor. The Sirens on the Isle of Mid offered spellsinging as the featured specialty. So far there were only two links in what Tam planned to become a chain of Sirens nightclubs.
On the outside, Sirens looked less like what one would expect of a nightclub, and more like an expensive manor house. The diamond-shaped, lead-paned windows belonged to the restaurant part of the establishment. We were in the interior theatre where the shows took place.
On the main floor of the theatre were small tables, each covered in a crisp white cloth and set with a single pale lightglobe in its center. There were either two or four chairs at each table, with enough room between each for servers to discreetly fill drink orders—and to give Sirens’s guests privacy to enjoy the show. The second-floor dining suites were like private boxes in a fine theatre. Columns stretched from the floor to the high, vaulted ceiling, carved with mermaids and mermen—sirens that could sing men or women to their doom—or somewhere much more enjoyable. From what I could see, “frolicsome” didn’t even begin to describe the activities the carvings were engaged in. I steered Piaras around the columns.
The stage wasn’t large; it didn’t need to be. Sirens was about spellsingers, and what they could do to an audience. Spellsingers didn’t need space, just flawless acoustics, so that a whispered word sounded like it was being whispered directly into the ear of a patron at the farthest table from the stage.
Mychael had gone to Tam’s office. I stayed with Piaras.
Close to two dozen people were seated at various tables near the stage. When Ronan had said “choice patrons,” what I saw was pretty much what I’d expected. The mixture of elves, goblins, and humans had the air of privilege that only came with obscene wealth. Not surprisingly, the elves sat on one side of the theatre, the goblins on the other. The humans had arranged themselves more or less in the middle. Some of the patrons were magically talented; most were just rich. Of the talents, I didn’t sense any nefarious purpose, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
Ronan was conferring with one of his students onstage. She’d just finished a love song that quite frankly hadn’t done a thing for me. There were shields at the base of the stage that would prevent spellsongs from having their full effect. They could be strengthened or lowered as needed. They could have turned them off for this girl. Maybe it was just me she left cold, but I didn’t think so. With spellsinging, the sex of the singer and the listener shouldn’t matter. A truly gifted spellsinger could make you forget that you even had a sexual preference. Ronan’s student was a regally beautiful goblin who came complete with her own entourage. Two armed and leather-armored bodyguards stood nearby, their eyes alert to her and everyone else in the room. The goblin girl was dressed in the height of fashion, and wore more jewelry than was tasteful. I thought one piece was particularly tasteless. A mirror pendant hung from a rope of diamonds around the girl’s neck. A mirror mage. Figures. A human hairstylist fussed with elaborately jeweled clips holding back the girl’s waist-length blue-black hair. One of the clips pulled the goblin’s hair and the girl spun and hissed something, the back of her hand stopping just short of the human’s face.
“Countess Sanura Mal’Salin,” Piaras told me as if that explained everything.
It did.
Apparently Ronan invited his best students—or the most politically advantageous. For years the goblin royal family had snubbed the Conclave college, until about ten years ago when goblin aristocrats started filtering into the college classrooms—and their gold started flooding into the college coffers. I wondered if Mal’Salin gold was paying for Ronan’s recital hall renovation.
Six students lounged at a cluster of tables at the base of the stage: three elves, two humans, and another goblin. None of them had entourages. I chuckled. It looked like Piaras had a small platoon in his wake. The platoon was for me, but no one here knew that. Vegard and Riston hung back a few feet to give Piaras and me the semblance of privacy. The others deployed themselves around the theatre. I saw a familiar young goblin leaning casually against one of the siren-covered columns, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the countess with amusement.
“Is the goblin next to the column one of Ronan’s students?” I asked Piaras.
Piaras nodded. “Talon Tandu. He also works here.”
“Do you know if he’s any good?” I asked.
“I heard him briefly in the maestro’s tower yesterday. I thought he was very good.” Piaras was silent for a moment. “Paladin Eiliesor didn’t want you to come here.”
“He didn’t want me to leave the citadel,” I corrected.
Piaras’s lips turned up in a brief smile. “No, I distinctly heard the words ‘Tam’ and ‘Sirens.’ I also heard my name more than once. You don’t go into a corner to argue about giving someone moral support.”
Crap. The kid’s got elf ears, Raine. You’ve got a pair yourself. They’re not just there to look good.
“Sounds like we should have left the room,” I told him. “Eavesdropping is rude.”
“I’m sorry, but when I heard my name, I thought it might be something I needed to know.” He hesitated. “And when Paladin Eiliesor said it wasn’t safe for you to leave the citadel, he looked like he meant it. I needed to hear why. I can’t do a good job of worrying about you unless I know what I’m supposed to be worried about.”
“The only thing you need to be worried about is singing. And you don’t need to worry about that. You’ll be splendid as usual.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“You’re ignoring my avoiding.”
“How else am I supposed to find out what’s going on? Whenever I walk by, everyone stops talking. I walk down the halls at the citadel, and the Guardians stare. I think some of them are afraid of me. They don’t need to be.” He looked down. “I don’t want them to be,” he said quietly.
Crap again.
“Now everyone knows what I did to those Guardians.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “All this is just the maestro displaying the freak.”
I looked directly into those liquid brown eyes. “You are not a freak. Just because you didn’t mean to put those Guardians to sleep doesn’t change what you accomplished. And yes, I said ‘accomplished.’ If you were on a battlefield aiming at the enemy, what you did would get you called a hero, not a freak. You have a rare and powerful gift, and that can intimidate people, because they only see the gift and not the person behind it. You are not a freak—and don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I saw a flicker of what may have been belief in his dark eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but I was just telling the truth. No thanks needed for that.”
“You’re not a freak, either,” Piaras said solemnly.
“The jury’s still out on that one.”
“I know you’re not a freak.”
I exhaled slowly. “Thank you, sweetie. You can’t know how much I needed to hear that today.”
One of the other spellsingers—a pretty, dark-haired human girl—was stealing shy glances at Piaras.
I gave him a lopsided smile. “Who’s that?”
Piaras looked where I was looking, blushed, and quickly looked away.
“Katelyn,” he said so softly I barely heard him.
My smile broadened into a grin. I bit my lip to make myself stop. “Katelyn who?”
“Valerian,” he whispered.
“That Valerian?”
Piaras nodded. “The archmagus’s granddaughter.” He glanced at her, and she caught him looking. She smiled and gave him a shy wave. The tips of Piaras’s ears flushed pink.
“Have you heard her sing?” I asked.
He looked at Katelyn and kept looking. The kid was enraptured. “It was beautiful.”
I nudged him playfully. “Has she heard you sing?” Piaras nodded. “Yesterday in the maestro’s tower. Her lesson was after mine.”
“And…?”
“And what?”
“What did she think?”
Piaras flushed scarlet. “She said I had the most magnificent voice she had ever heard.”
I grinned and nodded approvingly. “Beautiful and she has flawless taste in men and music. I could like this girl.”
Piaras risked another quick look at her. “Me, too.”
“Piaras!” Ronan Cayle yelled. We both jumped. “It’s your turn. Quickly now. Our host needs his theatre back in another hour.”
I punched him on the arm. “Break a leg, sweetie.”
As Piaras made his way to the stage, I pulled out one of the chairs and made myself comfortable. I was far enough back to see anyone who came into the theatre. When I looked up, Talon Tandu was sauntering toward me like a sleek young cat, all cocky bravado, those aquamarine eyes checking me out from head to toe and taking their sweet time doing it.
I bit back a laugh, and heard Vegard’s muffled snort from behind me. Talon couldn’t have been much older than Piaras—at least in age. Though with his looks, he’d probably already had plenty of experience way beyond his years.
Talon’s pale eyes sparkled. “You don’t look the worse for wear from last night.”
Now that was a pickup line I hadn’t heard before.
“Silver-tongued little minx. I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you roll in the gutter with.”
He pulled out a chair, straddled it, and folded his lean arms across the backrest. His grin was full of fang. “I liked watching you wrestle last night. I think I heard a few of that shaman’s bones break. You went to a lot of trouble for one little book.”
“I take my education very seriously.” I folded my arms across my chest. It was the only way to get the kid to quit staring at my breasts.
Talon jerked his head toward Piaras. “Did he really knock out every Guardian in the citadel?”
“Not all,” I said. “Some of them couldn’t hear him.”
Talon laughed, a bright silvery ring. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give to have seen that. So you’ve come to hear the trained songbirds perform?”
“Sounds like you’re feeling less than honored.”
“Ronan opens the cage once a year and has us warble and trill for wealthy alumni and filthy rich parents.” His eyes were hard as they looked at something over my left shoulder. “How am I supposed to feel?”
I turned slightly. Sanura Mal’Salin had gathered up her entourage and was leaving the theatre.
“I’m here to listen to Piaras,” I said. “But I’d like to hear more about what happened last night. The men who tried to snatch you aren’t known for music appreciation.” I slouched down in the chair and crossed my legs at the ankles. “So what happened?”
“I was on my way to work, and somebody’s hired goons tried to kidnap me,” Talon said casually. “When you do what I do, and look how I look, you attract more than your share of pervs and overzealous fans.”
“You say it like it’s not the first time.”
The goblin shrugged. “I’ve been kidnapped twice before.”
I just looked at him for a moment. “Did Tam come after you those times, too?”
He arched one flawless eyebrow. “Tam? You know the boss?” He grinned slowly. “Exactly how well do you know him?”
“Yeah, I know him. How or how well I know him is none of your business. I asked you a question. Did Tam rescue you those other two times?”
Talon shook his head. “They happened at my previous gig, a spellsinging club in Mipor. It paid well enough, but the owner had an arrangement with certain patrons— wealthy and influential patrons, if you get my meaning.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I didn’t even try to keep the disgust out of my voice.
“If a patron liked what they heard and saw onstage, they’d pay the owner to arrange a private performance. I went once. I tried to leave, but the patron’s bodyguards had other ideas.” The kid’s voice was nonchalant; the rapid pulse in his throat wasn’t. “The next morning, I told the owner I wasn’t going again. Next time he didn’t ask me—”
“He just charged the patron more and had you kidnapped and delivered.”
“Pretty much.” Talon’s bravado was back. “That’s when I came here. I heard Nathrach took good care of his people and paid well. And last night he and some of the bouncers from the club came after me. I’ve never worked for anyone who’d do that.” He scowled. “Though what he makes me do is almost as bad.”
I didn’t move. “What does he make you do?”
“He’s making me go to college.” The kid was indignant. “It’s actually in my contract. If I don’t go to classes during the day, I don’t get to work at night.” He slouched down in his chair. “So that’s how I ended up in the maestro’s flock of performing songbirds.”
“Talon!”
We both jumped. It was Ronan again. I growled. Talon heard me and grinned. If the maestro did that one more time, I was going to give him a quick and dirty lesson in volume control.
“You’ll be after Piaras,” Ronan yelled. “Go warm up.”
Talon stood and gave the maestro a little mock salute. “Yes, sir. Be right there, sir.” Then the kid muttered something under his breath in Goblin.
It was highly creative and physically impossible. I think. He winked at me. “Later, gorgeous.”
As he made his way to the stage, I saw a tall figure in black robes enter the theatre through a door near the foot of the stage.
Carnades Silvanus.
Two other elves were with him. One looked like a bureaucrat. He was a full head and a half shorter than Carnades, blinking in the dim light as he fidgeted with a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. The
other elf was more familiar. Not him personally. I didn’t know him, just his type. He entered behind Carnades, not from deference, but to let the senior mage attract all the attention. This one didn’t want to be noticed, either personally or magically. He was using Carnades’s arrogant aura of power to cover whatever magic he was packing. Generally, if someone doesn’t want you to see what they’ve got, it means they’ve got a lot. I’d found that out once or twice the hard way. Today wasn’t going to be my third.
I half turned to Vegard. “The elves with Carnades. Who are they?”
“The little one’s Giles Keril, the elven ambassador to Mid. The other is Taltek Balmorlan. He’s with elven intelligence. Don’t know what he does.”
Which was exactly how Taltek Balmorlan and anyone else who worked for the agency liked it.
I’d done consulting work for elven intelligence. I was recruited by Duke Markus Sevelien, the agency’s chief officer in Mermeia, and I’d only worked with him. That’s exactly the way I liked it. Markus was an up-front and moral sort, which was a rare find in the agency. I’d always wanted to think that Markus sought me out because of my superior seeking skills, but I knew differently. Markus thought my being related to criminals helped me know the criminal mind. I didn’t want to come right out and admit it, but he was right. Truth be told, if it can be picked up, pried off, or in any way pilfered, my family’s made off with it at one time or another. Unfortunately those pilfered goods have occasionally included people. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s not something I can deny.
Most of my work for Markus involved finding pilfered elves—diplomats, intelligence agents, assorted nobles. The kind of people the less savory members of my family would love to get their ransom-grubbing hands on. It was gratifying work and I was good at it.
The agency was always looking to acquire fresh talent.
I sat up slowly. Sometimes they acquired without asking the talent.
Carnades spotted me—I’d already seen him—and the tension in the room popped up a couple of notches real quick.
