by Lisa Shearin
Waking up to what I knew was a bright, sunny morning provided neither relief nor comfort.
Nocturnal instincts died hard.
“There is something good about it?” I muttered.
“I was being optimistic, sir,” Barrett said. “The morning sky is unreasonably bright.”
“You didn’t open the curtains.”
“No, sir. That would have been cruel to both of us.”
I sat up and pushed my hair out of my face. “When I leave, the house can get back to normal.”
“While we look forward to once more sleeping during the day, I speak for the entire household staff in saying that we would rather you didn’t have to go.”
“That makes all of us, Barrett.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, Barrett holding my robe open for me. “Someone has to do the dirty work.”
“For which you are eminently qualified, sir,” he said with a straight face.
I gave him a quick grin.
“It was the highest of compliments, Your Grace.”
“I’m sure it was. Is Talon awake?”
Barrett gave me a look. “Is that a question you truly need to ask?”
I chuckled. “Of course not. What time did he get to sleep?”
“When the cook arrived two hours ago, she found him foraging for a snack. Lord Talon has adapted very well to nocturnal life.”
I scowled. “He’s about to get a rude awakening. Literally. I told him he needed to be up this morning.”
“Director Kalis and Magus Azul are downstairs to accompany you to investigate the remains of her home. After that, Captain Phaelan Benares arrives from the Isle of Mid.” Barrett gave me a meaningful look. “You will be gone. We will be here. For the sake and sanity of the staff, Your Grace, let Lord Talon sleep.”
*
Agata Azul’s house had been completely consumed, reduced to ash, even the stone foundation.
Whoever had fired the canisters didn’t need to be a firemage; the canisters’ contents had been crafted by one—a master of his or her art.
Or a master of demons.
The stench of freshly harvested brimstone was strong in the air. There were two types of fresh brimstone: molten and quick-dried into powder. The canisters would have been packed with the latter.
Fresh meant the firemage had recently made a trip to the Lower Hells. Very recently.
I gazed around at the destruction. This had been meticulously planned, which lessened my guilt somewhat about being the cause, but did nothing to affect how I planned to deal with it.
Find the perpetrator and take it out of his—or her—hide.
I wasn’t eager to go up against the dark mage again, but since she hadn’t gotten what she wanted last night, I was certain that we would be encountering her again.
Encountering her again made me think of another who might be crossing my path again soon.
Sarad Nukpana.
Fresh brimstone of this type came from the Lower Hells, which was where Sarad Nukpana was now—or at least where he was supposed to be. Before the destruction of the Saghred, Sarad had been after Agata Azul. He had needed her then just as much as I did now and for the same reason. The dark mage had said that Sarad had warned her about my strength. Did this mean that she was working for Sarad? Was she his representative on this plane since he was presently unable to leave Hell? Or was he already here and had more important things to do—for now?
Agata had walked over to where a burnt limb from a nearby tree had fallen onto her small “lawn” of crystals, now blackened. The crystals had disintegrated into a cloud of ash. Agata bent and touched one of the larger crystals surrounding her property. It collapsed, the flakes carried away on the breeze.
The heat produced by those incendiary grenades had burned so hot that indestructible sentry crystals had been reduced to ash.
“This was no firemage work,” Imala said. “A pyromancer did this. I know Tam has some high-powered enemies, but do you?” she asked Agata.
“A Khrynsani agent has been insisting on a meeting,” Agata said. “I refused him. I believe this is the result.”
“This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment attack,” Imala said. “This was planned.”
“She’s right,” I said. “When did the Khrynsani agent first contact you?”
“Last week.”
“Those canisters would have taken longer than that to make. A pyromancer can’t just throw some ingredients together and stockpile them. They also had to have been highly customized to destroy your sentry crystals. If this was Khrynsani work, it was planned before they contacted you.”
“They knew you’d refuse,” Imala said. “This was their backup plan. When Tam showed up on your doorstep, they knew he needed you for the same purpose and they couldn’t wait any longer.” She paused. “You know as well as I do how the Khrynsani react to refusal.”
Agata nodded. “Retaliation and revenge.”
“And they don’t stop until they get it. They’re known for making an example of those who defy them.”
“I know. They do not tolerate refusal.” Agata’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “I have news for them, I do not tolerate being threatened.”
Chapter 18
Phaelan Benares arrived around noon.
Most of the mirrors capable of trans-kingdom travel were located in the palace. Most, but not all. I knew the absolute last place Phaelan would want to step out of a mirror into was the Mal’Salin palace. To tell you the truth, it wouldn’t have been my favorite destination, either. You couldn’t listen at a mirror as you would a door before stepping through. You had no way to know what was waiting on the other side. I’d never found that to be a particularly comfortable sensation.
Within two days of returning to Regor, I’d had a mirror installed in my study that could easily handle trans-kingdom travel, and had a talented—and trustworthy—mirror mage on retainer.
When Phaelan stepped through my mirror, it appeared to be under his own power, without Raine’s boot applied to his backside. His weapons weren’t drawn, but he had hands on the grips of two swords.
The elf pirate instantly went into a fighting stance.
“Welcome, Phaelan.” I raised my hands, having already stationed myself out of blade reach. I’d also made sure that other than my mirror mage, we were alone.
I’d had the lights turned up. When a highly nervous, mirror-hating, heavily armed elf came for a visit, you wanted him to know there was no danger lurking in the shadows. It was a little bright for my or any other goblin’s comfort, but assuring Raine’s cousin that he hadn’t walked into a nest of goblin assassins was more important.
“Your house?” Phaelan glanced around, his shoulders relaxing.
“My home. Be welcome and at ease. You are safe here. You have my word.”
The elf lowered his hands from his weapons. Reluctantly, but he did it. I’d already alerted the staff against making any sudden movements, and to announce their presence when entering a room. Goblins made no sound when they walked, especially indoors. I didn’t want any accidents.
I stepped forward to shake his hand.
Funny thing, hand shaking was supposed to indicate that you were unarmed. Phaelan was bristling, and I was only less so, and only because I was in my own home.
“Are Gwyn and Gavyn here yet?” Phaelan asked.
“Not yet. They’re due on the tide within the next two hours. I’ve had a mirror installed in a warehouse next to the harbor for your crew to come through.”
Phaelan nodded in approval. “I couldn’t just have them sit around and wait for the Fortune to be repaired. It’s a waste of good talent. They’ll come through when they have a ship to board, and Gwyn and Gavyn to keep an eye on them. I thought that would be best.”
“I think everyone would agree with that.”
Nearly a hundred heavily armed elven pirates suddenly appearing on the capital’s waterfront could cause a situation none of us wanted to deal with. I’d
kept the expedition as secret as I could. Ships were provisioned in Regor’s harbor all the time. The Wraith was a sleek merchant ship that ran between Dragalon and Nabé in Nebia, and the Caesolian port cities in between. At least that was her cover. The merchant who owned the Wraith on paper was an actual merchant. If she was stopped, her hold would contain what was listed on the trading manifest. She was fast, sturdy, and exactly what we needed.
Imala, as the director of goblin intelligence, was the true owner.
The Wraith, and the goblin intelligence agents who sailed her, was one of the best sources of information on the west coast. Imala wouldn’t be going on the expedition, but she would know what happened every minute that we were gone. The Wraith was discreetly gunned to protect herself from pirates. How ironic that on this voyage, pirates would be protecting her. Barrett appeared at the door. “Your Grace, may I offer your guest refreshments?”
I turned to Phaelan. “Do you require refreshing?”
The elf pirate glanced around uneasily, hands twitching to be on his weapons. “Yeah. Salt air and water as soon as possible.”
*
Regor’s warehouses, shipping offices, inns, and taverns resembled any other large city waterfront in the Seven Kingdoms. What was different was that it was nearly deserted.
Goblins were nocturnal, as were our businesses’ operating hours, and it was late morning on a bright, sunny day. I had been readjusting myself to a daytime existence for the expedition. It had taken only a few days for me to revert to being awake at night and sleeping during the day. Most of those going with us were elves or humans—day dwellers. The crew of the Wraith was used to being among humans, so it wouldn’t be much of an adjustment. I’d had enhanced protective spectacles made for the expedition’s goblins, though they were more like goggles. Our sensitive eyes weren’t made for a desert environment. Fortunately, we would be doing most of our travel at night when goblin eyes were at their best. For that, I’d had goggles made with clear lenses as well to protect our eyes from blowing sand.
After what had happened last night with Agata, I had four guards accompanying us, courtesy of Imala. Also with us was my best friend, Count Jash Masloc. He was a battle mage and tactician without peer, and would be going on the expedition as my second-in-command. The guards were staying out of sight, and I’d glamoured myself and Phaelan in dress and appearance as minor merchants. Jash did the same for himself.
To keep Phaelan’s mind off of goblin assassins jumping out at him—even though to anyone who might see him, he was a goblin—I filled him in on what Raine might not have told him, since I’d only informed Mychael of it yesterday.
The Heart of Nidaar.
Phaelan stopped in the middle of the street. “The rock has a name?”
“Yes.”
“You give them a name; they give you trouble. Especially with a name like the Heart of Nidaar. That’s worse than a name. Now the damned thing thinks it’s important.”
“It’s just a rock,” Jash said.
Phaelan jerked a thumb at him. “This guy didn’t get up close and cozy with the Saghred, did he?”
“Fortunately for him, no,” I said.
The elf turned to Jash. “Anything with a name like that is never ‘just a rock.’ The only stones I want anywhere near me are the two I was born with—or the shiny kind I can sell. This Heart of Nidaar doesn’t eat souls, does it?”
“No,” I told him.
“Good.”
“The legend says it powered a city in ancient times,” I said.
“And now the Khrynsani want it to power Gates.”
“That’s what we believe, yes.” I felt the weight of the ring on my finger. I sighed. Best to tell him now and get it over with. I tilted my hand slightly so he could see the ring. “This is a piece of the Heart of Nidaar.”
Phaelan jumped back a solid five feet. “You’re wearing it?”
“We believe the Khrynsani tore apart my house looking for it. So yes, to keep it safe, I’m wearing it.”
“I would ask if you’re crazy, but you just answered my question.”
“Feeling evil?” Jash asked me.
“Of course not.”
“Can you take it off?” Phaelan asked.
In response, I did.
“And you’re still breathing,” he noted with something that vaguely resembled approval. “That’s a start.”
“Not all jewelry is evil,” I told them both. “If this is part of the Heart of Nidaar, then this may well help take us there. Our expedition gem mage is wearing a pendant with a slice of the Heart.”
Phaelan went pale. “Another pendant? We’re doomed.”
*
Phaelan, Jash, and I had been waiting inside the warehouse’s office. From the way he’d been pacing for the past hour, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Phaelan had jumped into the harbor and swam to meet his father’s ships.
He wanted that badly to be off of a goblin dock and back on a Benares deck.
I didn’t blame him. I was equally impatient to get underway. Sandrina Ghalfari had a head start. We’d been playing catch-up. Until we got to Aquas, we would have no way of knowing whether we were too late.
Sandrina and the invaders might already have the Heart of Nidaar. If they did, our mission would go from being merely dangerous to probably suicidal.
We would do what we had to do.
The Wraith was docked near the warehouse. Supplies for the expedition were being loaded in the unmarked, well-used crates used by merchant ships all up and down the coast. Even our clothing was chosen to blend in with the crew of the Wraith. Their typical garb included shirts and trousers with sturdy boots. For going ashore or dealing with bad weather, a long or medium-length coat was added. The canvas and leather was treated to be waterproof and warded to be blade resistant. The length also allowed concealment for the bladed weapons that no goblin would ever go into a strange port without. Stylish, yet eminently practical.
The reason I’d given at court for my upcoming absence was another trip to the Isle of Mid. With the possibility of an impending invasion, no one would think anything of me going to Mid and holing up in the Guardians’ citadel for secret tactical meetings. Gearing up for a war took place behind closed doors, and that’s where those in the palace thought I was going to be. The only people who knew otherwise were A’Zahra, Imala, Barrett, Chigaru, and Mirabai. Those going on the expedition, other than the ship’s crew, would be using a glamoured disguise.
I hoped there hadn’t been a leak, but this was Regor, the goblin capital, filled with goblin courtiers who loved secrets more than life itself. What had happened last night with Agata Azul had been an attempt to kidnap her and force her to work for the unidentified mage. At no time did the mage who had used demon zombies to attack us mention anything about what she wanted Agata to do for her, nor did she mention the Heart of Nidaar.
“Gwyn and Gavyn are twins,” Phaelan was telling Jash. “There’s not much magic in our family—at least not on Dad’s side—but what Gwyn and Gavyn have goes beyond the bond that some twins have.” The elf grinned. “They’re telepathic, which can come in handy when working the high seas together.”
“And of unquestioned value when crossing that sea,” Jash noted.
“I haven’t seen either one of them in almost three years, but Dad said they’re the best choice for what you need—after me, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And naturally,” I said, “the legend of a city filled with treasure had nothing to do with your desire to accompany us.”
Phaelan clutched his hand over his heart. “You wound me. Raine trusts me to protect the fleet on the way to Aquas.”
“And to look to your own interests once we arrive.”
Phaelan raised a finger. “Extracurricular activities that coincide with your own.”
“We may have to destroy the Heart of Nidaar, which may destroy the city—and its treasure—as well.”
“And I may try to t
alk you out of that, at least until I can fill a few bags.”
I gave him a grin filled with challenge. “You’re welcome to try.”
Chapter 19
Phaelan and his spyglass were scanning the northwest horizon for signs of his siblings. The scowl told me he couldn’t see them. Yet.
We were waiting inside the warehouse where the mirror had been installed.
I knew how Phaelan felt about mirrors. However, other things were waiting inside the warehouse to be loaded onto the ships that the elven pirate captain would like even less.
A dozen firedrakes and four sentry dragons.
Each ship would be carrying three firedrakes and one sentry dragon—including Phaelan’s new ship, the Kraken.
Jash jerked his head toward Phaelan. “Did you tell him?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh good, I get to be here to watch.”
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”
“Sure I do. Besides, it’s fun.”
I walked over to where Phaelan stood gazing out the window. He inhaled and his nose twitched. He smelled something here in the warehouse and his nose didn’t like it. The rest of Phaelan would soon share that opinion.
The east coast of Aquas was four weeks’ sail from Regor. A sentry dragon’s range was three days. They were essentially overgrown hunting hawks—that is, if a hunting hawk was the size of a warhorse. Unfortunately, they often behaved like warhorses, too. The vast majority of sentry dragons in service were females. They were larger and stronger, and while they weren’t any more intelligent than the males, they had infinitely better focus. The males were easily distracted. Not a good quality for an animal in military service. When it came to firedrakes, the males and females were equal in intelligence and focus. We would be bringing both with us. As to telling Phaelan that we’d be bringing some ladies on board—and not the species he preferred—once again, I knew it was best to simply get it over with.
“Phaelan.”
He turned and I gestured him over.
