by Lisa Shearin
However, those who hadn’t personally witnessed the battle between me and Sarad Nukpana had heard about it. Sarad had drawn on all the knowledge and power he contained by consuming the souls of six of history’s most evil mages. He had created a towering skinform that held a multitude of demons, all struggling to tear free of the confines Sarad had used to imprison them and bend them to his will. It had been nothing short of every nightmare brought to life.
I had used all of my black magic skills to summon a bull-horned demon lord.
It had been close, but in the end—thanks to Sarad’s concentration wavering when he saw Raine about to destroy the Saghred—his creation had crumbled, and the demon lord I’d made a deal with had carried Sarad screaming into the Lower Hells.
As a result, everyone in the palace now gave me an even wider berth than they had before.
That wasn’t a bad thing.
But death didn’t have to be dealt up close. A crossbow had killed me once and it could do it again. Though that time I had stood still in the middle of a street on the Isle of Mid and begged for death. Sarad Nukpana’s soul had taken over my body, possessing me, bringing with him the souls of those six mages. The only way to freedom had been death. At the moment of my death, Sarad had fled, taking the souls he had consumed with him. Mychael Eiliesor had frantically worked to repair the damage while the nachtmagus Vidor Kalta had forcefully held my soul in my dead body until my heart could beat again on its own.
I had no intention of being killed by a crossbow bolt again.
Someone had once said that you couldn’t come home again. You could, but if you were a goblin in the royal court, you’d better watch your back.
Those courtiers who didn’t want to kill me, also didn’t know what to call me.
Chigaru and Mirabai had wanted me to have the title of prince, indicating that I was their heir until they produced one.
I told them that I’d be their chancellor, but I’d drawn the line way before prince.
Also, there would be no robes and no ceremony. If I held the position, it would be on my terms. No discussion.
Chigaru had enough to deal with without arguing about my wardrobe choices.
While I was away, A’Zahra Nuru was the mage who would be taking over my job. I couldn’t even begin to say how many favors I would owe her when I returned. She already had apartments here, and she probably wouldn’t even set foot outside the palace walls for the duration. She had taken Chigaru under her wing when he’d been exiled by his brother, and that wing hadn’t moved since. There was not a doubt in my mind that had she not done so, Chigaru would not have grown into the fine man that he was. She had steadied an otherwise impetuous temperament, one that would have gotten him and many others killed long before now. The goblin people didn’t know it, but they owed their very lives to this tiny woman with a will forged of nothing less than tempered steel.
A’Zahra had taught Chigaru’s grandmother, as well as his mother, the late queen. After I had been forced to leave Regor and was no longer there to protect her, Sathrik had killed his mother and had taken the throne. Sathrik had banished Chigaru and strongly encouraged A’Zahra to retire. He’d provided her with a modest house and annual income in Mermeia, which was where I eventually ended up. A’Zahra Nuru had become my mentor. Black magic was like an addictive drug, and she had brought me back from the brink.
A’Zahra’s job was to work with her granddaughter Imala Kalis to keep Chigaru and Mirabai not only alive, but healthy. Their food tasters had tasters. Her secondary job was one Imala and I had begun in earnest the night Sarad Nukpana had been defeated—finding any Khrynsani sympathizers and getting rid of them.
There had been a lot of executions since that night. It had been unavoidable. To imprison them offered the possibility of escape, and these men and women ever seeing the outside of a cell was too great a risk.
The ones who we knew were inner-circle or upper-level Khrynsani had been executed immediately. When there was any doubt as to a courtier or court official’s allegiance, the person was interviewed and their mind examined. Refusal of either put them on the executioners’ list. Few were wholly innocent. However, there were a significant number who had faked their Khrynsani ties in order to survive. Many a noble family had had members imprisoned in the Khrynsani temple dungeons, held to ensure a magically powerful or politically influential relative’s cooperation. These were the people we wanted to make certain did not pay for doing what most would have done to save themselves or their family.
A’Zahra had been heading up the mages in charge of the interviews. If A’Zahra told me a man or woman could be trusted, I believed it without question. And mages she had recruited to work with were likewise beyond reproach.
Those people whose Khrynsani ties had been against their will were housed in a guest palace. They were guarded, but were taken good care of, and treated with dignity and respect. They, too, knew the qualifications of the mages interviewing them, and if they were truly innocent, this would be determined and they would be released and could reassume their lives free of suspicion and Khrynsani blackmail or influence.
We had few enough people whom we trusted without potentially alienating—or making enemies of—anyone. Hence, their treatment as temporary guests, not prisoners.
Imala had assigned four of her best agents to protect her grandmother. If A’Zahra hadn’t sensed me, she would have instantly picked up on the increased alertness of her guards when I’d entered the outer office.
They didn’t trust me.
I didn’t take it personally. Some days I didn’t trust me, either.
My office door was open. I stopped, leaned my shoulder against the frame and waited.
A’Zahra knew I was there, though I had made no sound. She had probably known the moment I had set foot in the palace.
Silence meant survival. At least it gave you a better chance. My enemies couldn’t kill what they didn’t know was there. The reverse was also true—stealth meant success in eliminating your enemies.
I hoped those days were over, but I wasn’t about to hold my breath.
My mentor normally wore simple gowns of fine fabric, but since returning to court, precautions were called for, such as gowns that left room for body armor beneath. A’Zahra’s magical talents were at an archmage level, so she would know before an assassin got within stabbing or shooting distance; but all it would take was a momentary distraction. All too often, mages had been killed due to a split second of inattention. I was determined that A’Zahra Nuru would not become a statistic. Entirely too much was at stake.
The diminutive goblin’s silvery white hair was elaborately styled and held in place with tiny, jeweled pins. More pale gems glittered on the lobes of her upswept ears. Her pale gray skin was still smooth over high cheekbones and fine features. I’d been told A’Zahra had been breathtakingly beautiful in her youth. In my opinion, she still was.
Having taught three generations of the Mal’Salin ruling family, A’Zahra was advanced in years, but not as far as one would think. Three generations of students would indicate old age anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms, except in the goblin court.
Life expectancy was significantly shorter for Mal’Salin monarchs.
That was another statistic I was determined to change.
“You’re looking comfortable in your new home,” I noted.
A’Zahra responded without pausing in her writing. “I do wish you would stop referring to your office as my home, dear. I have no intention of keeping this arrangement any longer than necessary. The very hour you return, this distasteful and distressing position is again all your own.”
I pushed off from the doorframe. “You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy the power, just a little,” I chided gently.
My mentor glanced up at me and leaned back, her small form dwarfed by my office chair. Admittedly, it was large for me as well. In the goblin court, you employed every defensive measure, including making yourself and your surroundings as
imposing as possible. My desk chair functioned much like the hood on an annoyed cobra. It was cheap theatrics, but it worked.
“I enjoy the power about as much as the accompanying and incessant itch between my shoulder blades,” she said.
I grinned. “I can assure you, ma’am, that the daggers are more likely to come at you from the front. My court enemies usually dispensed with subtlety.”
“Only because you goaded them to the point of exasperated rage.”
“What can I say? I hate to be kept waiting. If someone wants to kill me, I want them to get on with it.” I took a seat in one of my two guest chairs—after angling it ever so slightly to give me a view of the door, even though I’d closed it. I didn’t take chances lightly.
The adjustment wasn’t lost on A’Zahra. “I can assure you that my guards’ trustworthiness is beyond reproach. Imala selected them herself.”
I chuckled. “And after she did, you linked with each one to confirm that any homicidal tendencies they possessed wouldn’t be directed at you.”
“That goes without saying.”
“And Imala wasn’t offended at you vetting her choices.”
“That also goes without saying.”
“Imala and I are finding more people we can trust, but there aren’t nearly enough of them.”
“We’re goblins, dear. Intrigue and subterfuge are in our blood.”
“I am more than aware of that, but for once I’d like to experience it not being aimed at me and mine.”
“Imala is doing an admirable job rooting out the riffraff. At the rate she’s going, she’ll have the court tidied up within the month—quite possibly by the time you return.”
“That would be a wonderful homecoming gift.”
A’Zahra put her pen back in its holder. “Is your ship all packed for your little excursion?”
“It is.” I smiled. Eighty percent of the expeditions that had gone to Aquas never returned. Those that did make it home came back with less than half their original complement. Aquas did not welcome visitors. I hoped our expedition would be the exception.
A’Zahra wasn’t the first to refer to our expedition using a term with lesser gravitas. My parents had taken to calling it my “little trip.” While I seriously doubted prefacing their descriptions with “little” would positively affect our chances for survival, I could hardly blame them for trying.
I leaned forward. “Have you given any more thought to my proposal?”
“Aside from that it’s dangerous? Not much. Paranoia over who’s going to make the first attempt on Chigaru and Mirabai’s lives is a full-time job.”
“But you agree it’s needed?”
“If we’re invaded.”
“It will have to be in place before then.”
“I know. If we must battle Khrynsani and alien invaders in our very streets, we will need battle mages from every shade of magic—light to dark. I do not disagree with you on that point.” From her tone, she knew and she didn’t like it, but it was past time for the people I’d spoken to A’Zahra about to be able to come out of the shadows.
Some were dark mages; others were mages of mixed blood, either goblin and human, or goblin and elf. The time had long come and gone for talented individuals to stop fearing for their lives and hiding behind glamours and veils.
Even among goblins, black magic was scorned and feared. However, I knew through my own experience that sometimes the only solution, the only way to survive, was by using dark or even black magic. I didn’t consider myself evil. I was a man who did what was necessary to defeat evil. On occasion, that meant meeting black magic with black magic.
Then there was the issue of half-breeds—goblins who were half goblin and half elf, or half goblin and half human. In our not-too-distant history, such children would have been killed at birth, and never allowed to reach adulthood.
I had told A’Zahra that even black magic had its use, and those of mixed blood should not have to fear for their lives at being known for what they were.
Chigaru and Mirabai had agreed.
I knew that A’Zahra agreed, even if her granddaughter Imala hadn’t been of mixed goblin and elven blood. I also knew her one reason for reluctance.
The dark mages.
She had accepted what I was because she knew me. She knew she could trust me.
“You’re playing with fire, you know that, don’t you?” A’Zahra said quietly.
“I’m willing to risk getting burned to keep from being annihilated,” I told her.
“These dark mages could be Khrynsani spies.”
“And some of them are trusted friends and allies. Friends who I have enlisted more than once over the past few years to help me when no one else could. Talon wouldn’t be alive today if not for them. Neither would Raine and Piaras. In fact, if you take the series of events to their conclusion, without the help of my team of dark mages whom I personally can vouch for, we wouldn’t be sitting here in this office having this difference of opinion. There are others out there just like them. I only ask that we give those men and women a chance.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust your instincts in this…”
I finished the thought that she was reluctant to voice. “It’s that you distrust anyone who has even delved into black magic. I would not be taking four of these men and women to Aquas with me unless I trusted them implicitly. Once we land, we must reach Nidaar quickly, do what must be done, and get out. That can’t be done with an army, regardless of how small.” I paused. “When I return, we can discuss this further, but I assure you that we will be thoroughly confirming the loyalty of each and every one of the dark mages on the list that I gave you. Those more skilled in battle magic need to be brought on board first. Khrynsani mages were embedded with our army units, and now that they’re not, we have large defensive and offensive gaps in our ground forces. If we are to stand any chance at all against invaders capable of decimating an entire world, we need these men and women on our side and at our side.”
“Yes, I am more than aware of our present weaknesses. I have them staring me in the face before my feet even hit the floor when I get out of bed. That is, when I’ve been to bed.”
“You’re not sleeping?”
“As much as you are.”
I raised an eyebrow.
A’Zahra smiled. “Barrett is my spy in your household.”
“Of course he is.”
“He worries about you—especially now that you’ve returned. He’s determined that nothing is going to happen to you. And he knows I worry about you, too. It is still dangerous here. Perhaps even more so now than in the past.”
“Predators are at their most deadly when frightened or cornered,” I said. “Goblin courtiers only believe what they see and hear for themselves, and even then they will continue to doubt. We have had Chigaru lay out very carefully how he will conduct his reign. Which things will change, what will remain the same. The people see his actions and hear his words, but until they accept both, then yes, the capital will remain a very dangerous place.”
“As will any place you go.”
I laughed quietly. “Kesyn said much the same thing. For me, threats are expected.”
“On a ship, quarters are close—and so are your enemies.”
“What’s one more target on my back?”
“At least on a ship you’ll have all the people who want to kill you in one place.”
“I’ve taken every precaution possible to ensure my safety and Talon’s. I always have and always will, as you well know.”
“I’m not concerned about someone on board being bribed or blackmailed as much as I’m worried about mind control. The victim wouldn’t even be aware of it—before, during, or after.”
“It’s a scenario I’ve considered.”
“The Khrynsani have mages who can manipulate their chosen operative over any distance—”
“Mages who have not been captured,” I finished for her. “Believe me, I am only too awa
re of what the Khrynsani are still capable of, Sandrina Ghalfari in particular. She escaped from us once; it won’t happen again.”
“Is that pride I hear?”
“That’s mortification that she escaped the first time. Sandrina is a mess that we made. We should be the ones to clean it up. In the meantime, I’m surrounding myself with good people, people I trust.”
“And whom do you trust?”
“Aside from yourself, Kesyn, my family, and a few select friends, the same people I always trust—no one. Those I will watch. If I only took people with me whom I know and trust, I would be going to Aquas in a rowboat. This is far from the first time that I’ve had to watch my back, front, and both sides, and I’m still here.” I paused meaningfully. “Most of those who have made attempts on my life are not.”
“Most, not all.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Advocating violence now, are we?”
“Advocating survival. There are times when you cannot achieve one without the other. Unfortunately, we are living in one of those times.”
I smiled. “But we are living.”
“Exercising caution will ensure that we continue to do so. I know that you will be careful—most of the time.”
“And since you won’t be there to remind me when you perceive that I’m slipping, you’re doing it now.”
“With you, dear, I must do what I can when I can.”
I leaned across my desk and put my hand over hers. “I’ve always been grateful for it, even when I haven’t said so.”
A’Zahra turned her tiny hand beneath mine, entwining our fingers. “I know, but it is nice to have you say it.”
I raised her fingers to my lips and gently kissed them.
She gave me a tiny smile. “Insufferable charmer. Now run along so I can get some work done—and attempt to straighten out the mess you’re leaving me with. Your organizational skills are abominable.”
