Wild Card

by Lisa Shearin

  “Not all of them; I just help Janek Tawl from time to time.”

  “The chief watcher of the Sorcerers’ District.”

  I didn’t see what any of this had to do with finding those missing souls. I bit down on my growing impatience. “He’s good people, who right now is trying to save the lives of eight innocent children.”

  “And because I served as Queen Glicara Mal’Salin’s chief mage, you thought I’d know all about stealing souls.”

  This was going downhill fast, and gaining speed with every word. I sure as heck wasn’t going to try calling him “Tam” now.

  “I’m not saying that you’ve ever stolen a soul, or ever would. You’re a dark mage; you’ve made no secret of that. . .” I groped for words that wouldn’t make the hole I’d done a fine job of digging for myself any deeper, but those words had vanished quicker than Tamnais Nathrach’s goodwill.

  If he hadn’t had anything to do with his wife’s death, I could hardly blame him for getting defensive. He’d lost his wife, his job, and his home. That had to have left a wound, and now here I was in his office throwing salt at it.

  “I merely thought you might know something that could help us find those children’s souls. I’m not implying or accusing you of anything. You’ve left your past behind. All I want to know is, do you know who would do this, how, and why. Knowing the answer to any of those could help us find those kids.”

  Nathrach’s black eyes were on mine. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. His expression didn’t change. I resisted the urge to say anything else. I’d stated my case, then pulled my foot out of my mouth. I’d done all I could do. So I gave back what he was giving me—a silent stare—though I hoped mine looked less antagonistic than his did.

  “The witnesses saw a dark-robed man,” Nathrach said at last. From the flatness of his voice, I wasn’t sure if it was a question, a rhetorical statement, or what.

  “Yes, but no one saw his face.”

  The goblin mage waved his hand dismissively as if that were unimportant. “The creature with him was knee-height.”

  “Correct.”

  “A volak,” he said.

  “A what?”

  “A volak. A minor demon. Challenging to call, but once here, easily lured into service with the right bait.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Fermented human, elven, or goblin entrails is a favorite, but merely pickled will suffice for some.”

  I felt my lip curl. Kells hadn’t made it in yet with tea and refreshments, and as of right now, I’d rather do without.

  “Volak are especially talented in acquisitions,” Nathrach added.

  “Meaning stealing.”

  “Souls, to be precise. Though the mage controlling it must offer continuous rewards.”

  “More pickled entrails?”

  “No.” I got another flat look. “Do you truly want to know?”

  “Probably not. Just curious.”

  “Curiosity is an admirable trait—when it is not ill-advised.” He sat back in his chair. “The volak did the stealing. The mage, the collecting.”

  “For what reason?”

  The goblin paused.

  “Oh, come on,” I blurted. “You can’t stop—”

  “I can, and for the safety—and continued survival—of you and your watcher friend, it would be best if I did not say more.”

  “They’re children,” I said quietly.

  I didn't need my ears to know what word the goblin spat to himself. Tamnais Nathrach might be wicked, but he wasn't completely without morals. I could work with that.

  He exhaled in exasperation. “It’s a game, Mistress Benares.”

  “A game?”

  Nathrach held up a hand. I shut up. Yes, it’s possible.

  “A game that began in Regor entirely too many years ago,” he continued. “When it was outlawed there, and in any other kingdom where it had spread like a sickness, it went underground, sometimes literally. Now it is held once a year, with a maximum of ten players, in a highly secret location, and always in a different kingdom than the year before to avoid detection.”

  “What kind of game involves stolen—”

  “The game itself is quite common. Your cousin and Lord Mortsani were playing it upstairs last night. The difference is what they gamble with.”

  That took a minute to sink in because my mind, morals, and every shred of decency I had didn’t want to believe any living being would. . .

  Disbelieving words eventually made it out. “They gamble with the kidnapped souls of children.”

  “Among others.”

  “The bastard’s stealing children’s souls to use as chips?” My voice rose; I let it.

  “The chips used in the game itself will be the same as are used in any other casino. The souls will be cashed in prior to the game, and the player will be issued chips in accordance with the value of the souls they brought with them.”

  My rage continued to build. “Let me guess, magically gifted children are worth more.”

  “They are second in value only to full mages.”

  “So this mage and his demon buddy are gathering souls to take on vacation with him to play cards with the boys.”

  “I believe that he is already in his vacation destination.”

  I blinked. “The game’s here? In Mermeia? How do—”

  “I was awake this morning for a reason. Late last night, I received a warning that a certain individual had arrived in the city.” He paused. “He has been well-known in the past for organizing and running this particular game.”

  “So more children are going to go missing.”

  “I don’t believe so. I think your soul thief is merely a local who requested to join the game at the last minute. The game master arrives when the game is imminent. He arrived late yesterday afternoon. You said that eight children have been taken?”

  “That’s right.”

  “The minimal number of souls a player must bring to the table is five.”

  “The bastard picked up a few extra.”

  “From what you have told me, I can deduce ‘the bastard’s’ name—Sethis Mortsani.”

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “And he acquires yet another name,” Nathrach noted mildly. “I do not know the legitimacy of his birth or the moral character of his mother, but considering the child’s cries you heard last night, combined with stealing his wife’s jewelry but not selling the large stones, Lord Mortsani is looking for a larger payout than he can get at any casino in this or any other city.”

  “Mortsani’s so far in debt, he’d have to be turned loose in the goblin royal treasury to pay everyone back.” I nodded in realization. “He needed a game with higher stakes. He had the ring last night.” I froze. “Are you saying he has those kids’ souls locked in the stolen gems?”

  “That is precisely what I’m saying. It’s my understanding that any jewel larger than five carats will suffice. There are dark mages in Mermeia capable of the spell necessary to enable a jewel to hold a soul. The organization running the game wants the souls, but a valuable container is a desirable bonus.”

  “Who’s this organization?”

  There was another pause, though it was shorter this time. Nathrach realized that he’d told me too much to stop now.

  “The Khrynsani. You’ve heard of them?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  The Brotherhood of the Khrynsani was a not-so-behind-the-scenes instigator of every act of goblin aggression toward elves since. . . well, since a monk somewhere started writing that stuff down. They were an ancient goblin secret society and military order, with even more outdated beliefs. Goblins were meant to rule, and anyone who didn’t agree was meant to be enslaved or killed. Unfortunately, those who had an opposing opinion included every other race. Even more unfortunate was that the Khrynsani had what no group of megalomaniacal nutcases should have: power, money, and influence. Some of the most powerful families of the goblin aristocracy were secret Khrynsan
i members.

  “So in addition to starting wars,” I said, “they collect souls.”

  “As currency.”

  “To buy what from who?”

  “Knowledge and favors—from archdemons.”

  I froze. The Khrynsani were going to give those children to archdemons? Oh, hell, no.

  My reaction wasn’t lost on Nathrach. “I quite agree. It is among the vilest acts one being can perpetrate against another. The head of the Khrynsani started the game. Stealing the souls of children is right up his dark alley.”

  I scowled. “What’s he look like?”

  “He won’t be here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sarad Nukpana would see this gathering as beneath him.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Pray that you never do.”

  “Where’s the game being held?”

  “They would want privacy, security, and a location where it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see goblins.”

  “The Goblin District.”

  “A logical choice.”

  “That’s not a small island, and we don’t have much time. You’ve lived in Mermeia for three months. . .”

  “Now you’re asking me for more than information. You’re asking for involvement.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, and neither would Janek. The city watch has plenty of goblins and mages, but a mage with knowledge of the Khrynsani would certainly be welcome. I’m not asking you to put yourself at risk. If you have any idea of places where they could be, Janek and his people will take it from there.”

  “And you.”

  “And me. If they try to take those gems and run, I can track those children’s souls.”

  “The city watch has seekers.”

  “They do, but I’m better than they are.”

  “Beautiful and modest.”

  “I don’t see myself as either one. As to me being better, it ain’t bragging if it’s true. And I’ve already linked to the child in the ring. It’s a little boy—a little boy I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure wakes up tomorrow morning in his own bed with his parents by his side. I have a client who paid me to retrieve her property, property that now has children’s souls imprisoned inside. In my mind, that gives me multiple clients: the one who paid me in gold, and the others who are pro bono—those kids’ families.”

  Nathrach shook his head. “You don’t understand, Mistress Benares. The Khrynsani mage running the game is Sarad Nukpana’s second-in-command, Pavane Taregani. He will personally take possession of the jewels once they are cashed in. In fact, he will probably leave soon afterward, leaving others to oversee the game. He would have brought ample gold to pay the winner. Nothing your city watch has can go up against him, or those he brought with him, and survive. What I’ve observed thus far of the watch, even from those whose magic leans toward the dark. . . they are competent, but hardly impressive.”

  “Then help us.”

  “To do what? Paint yourselves as a target for retribution? Because I guarantee that nothing will draw Khrynsani vengeance to this city faster than attempting to stop this game. If that happens, there will be nothing the watch of this city could do to protect its citizens.”

  “So you believe we should just sacrifice the lives of the few to ensure the safety of the many.”

  “You say you’ve heard of the Khrynsani, but you do not know them. I do. I know them because I know their leader. I know what they can do because I’ve experienced what they’ve done.”

  I took a not so wild stab in the dark. “Your wife.” I kept my voice soft and respectful, as if she was in the room with us. For Tamnais Nathrach, she probably always was.

  “Yes. Among others who had the misfortune of being close to me. With more to come—including any who they perceive to be a threat to them or their plans.”

  “Those are the kind of people who need to be stopped,” I said quietly.

  “I do not disagree. The Khrynsani are like a nest of vipers. If you decide to strike them first, you must be prepared to be faster and utterly merciless. If you do not kill them all, you will not live to get a second chance. The Khrynsani perpetuate evil on a daily basis—hourly even. I am hardly in a position, nor do I feel the desire, to launch a crusade against them. They will come here for one night, play their game, and they will leave.”

  “Taking the souls of eight innocent children with them, children whose bodies will die at sunrise. Not to mention the souls the other players will bring with them.”

  “What would you have me do, Mistress Benares? If I don’t go after them, they won’t come after me.”

  “You’re the only one I know who could help.”

  “Know?” He barked a laugh. “You know me? If you truly knew me you would not put yourself in the same room with me. You do not know who I am, and you have no idea of what I have done.”

  “And I don’t care. You left it behind. That tells me you don’t like what you did, either. Yes, the Khrynsani murdered your wife. They got what they wanted—you out of their way. Looks to me like they’ve already won.”

  “I’m alive.”

  “Yeah, you are. Tell me, what kind of life is it?”

  “Nothing I say will dissuade you.”

  “Then why are you trying?”

  “To keep the best this city has from being slaughtered—or worse, from having their souls taken prisoner as well.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. When a dark mage of Tamnais Nathrach’s skill said we were in way over our heads, I believed it. But it wasn’t going to stop us from—

  “It won’t stop you,” the goblin said, as if reading my mind. He may have. Or my face was an open book; yet another reason I didn’t play cards.

  “No, it won’t, and it can’t. We have to try.”

  “I cannot offer assistance beyond that which I have already given.”

  “Then I won’t ask it again.” I stood to leave. Nathrach stood with me. “Thank you for what you were able to tell me. It will help.”

  “Do you even know what a Khrynsani mage is capable of?” he asked softly.

  “Trading the kidnapped souls of innocent children to demons for knowledge no mortal should have is as bad as it gets. So I’d imagine they’ve got the entire spectrum of evil pretty much covered.”

  Nathrach gave me the faintest of smiles, but there was no humor in it. “Pretty much. And exactly what can you do that would keep them from killing you—or worse—when they discover you’re there?”

  I swallowed. “When. . .?”

  “Oh, yes. When. Mistress Benares, you have no idea what you’re going up against.”

  I stepped around him and opened the door. “I don’t see it as a choice.”

  *

  Just because I didn’t see it as a choice didn’t mean I wanted to do it.

  I was scared. Terrified, actually.

  There, I’d said it.

  Tamnais Nathrach had said I didn’t know him, and he was right; I didn’t. But I’d always thought of myself as a good judge of character. The goblin dark mage was no coward.

  Refusing to get involved in this wasn’t an absence of bravery; it was a profusion of good sense. There came a time when the only thing you could do was run—or as Phaelan would call it, beat a tactical retreat. I could only imagine what the Khrynsani had done to force Nathrach to abandon those he loved, his post, his queen, and his people. His making a tactical retreat—whether temporary or permanent—wasn’t for me to judge. I felt a little guilty for some of what I’d said to the goblin mage, and after this was all over, I’d apologize.

  If you live long enough, said the pessimist that had a permanent residence in my head.

  Tamnais Nathrach hadn’t been able to narrow down any further where the Khrynsani would be hosting their card game, but he’d given me plenty.

  Best of all, what he’d told me had matched the intelligence that Janek had gotten through his counterpart in the Goblin Distric
t. I had no reason to believe that Nathrach had been anything but totally honest with me, and I was glad I wasn’t going to have to waste any valuable time convincing Janek.

  The chief watcher had put together a team and a plan.

  There were goblins on the city watch, most assigned to the Goblin District. Janek and his counterpart there were good friends, and he had a team that would be perfect for tonight’s activities. I presumed that meant they weren’t bothered by going up against Khrynsani. Part of the reason the Khrynsani had to be a secret society was that unless you were a goblin from one of the wealthy, old-blood families, you hated the Khrynsani and everything they stood for. The goblin watchers were probably looking forward to tonight’s raid and rob.

  Some quick reconnoitering and discreet questioning by those goblin watchers had netted us our most likely target—a town house that backed up to a canal overlooking the Daith Swamp. Not exactly what you’d call prime real estate, but for hosting an illegal card game, it was nearly perfect. The neighborhood had seen better days, but it wasn’t completely run-down. The house was canal front and swamp back, offering easy access and quick exit.

  There was one hole in Janek’s plan. He needed coverage on the canal between the town house and the Daith Swamp, coverage that wouldn’t raise suspicions. The launches the watch used were easily recognized, and the kind of men and women who chose watcher as a career would have trouble disguising themselves as anything else. Their presence would scare away the players before they even arrived. I knew someone who could have men in boats who wouldn’t look suspicious because they wouldn’t be seen; and if they were seen, they’d look perfectly at home on a backwater canal next to a swamp.

  That same someone had dreamed all his life of robbing a casino—and had stubbornly refused to sit this one out, volunteering both himself and his crew.

  Janek wasn’t particularly fond of Phaelan’s proposed solution, but with no time left to arrange for anything else, he knew he didn’t have a choice.

  Being a pirate involved a pretty straightforward approach to stealing. You made the target ship stop either by intimidation, cannon fire, or both. You boarded. You took. My cousin was a very good pirate. Plus, the Benares bloodline covered the complete thievery spectrum—pirates, highwaymen, con men, gamblers, lawyers, bankers—basically any profession that involved parting people from their money. Cross-training was encouraged.