by Lisa Shearin
I settled back in the cushions, and leisurely crossed my legs at the ankles. “Enlighten me.” Chigaru Mal’Salin wasn’t exactly the information source I had in mind, but since no one else was willing to talk, I’d take my knowledge where I could get it.
The prince’s black eyes glittered in the dim firelight. “What do you know of the Saghred?”
I knew it was goblin. When Garadin had taught me goblin history, he had concentrated on the crazies—which meant I had a more than adequate knowledge of the Mal’Salin dynasty. The Saghred had been temporarily in the possession of Omari, a Mal’Salin king who had elevated insanity to an art form.
“A legendary talisman first heard of in your peoples’ Fifth Age,” I said, as if reciting from Garadin’s lesson. “It was said to be a black rock that fell from the sky. It was incredibly heavy, but it was only the size of a man’s fist. Rumor had it King Omari wanted to use it to destroy anyone and anything he didn’t like, which was pretty much everyone and everything. Rumor also had it the rock was more than capable of all of the above and then some. Only shamans of the highest order could wield it—at least for a while. Eventually they all went insane and destroyed themselves. The Saghred was contained in a specially made casket of white stone from the Sorce Mountains. The Guardians took it away from King Omari. They tried to destroy it and failed, so they hid it. It was never seen again.” I paused, mostly for air. “I couldn’t walk all that well if I had a rock that heavy hanging around my neck, Your Highness.”
“No doubt,” the prince agreed. “And the Saghred is not an object safely transported. Which is why the Guardian charged with protecting it had a beacon made to enable him to watch his charge without having to keep it with him, or remain in the Saghred’s hiding place for the rest of his life.”
I realized where this was going, and it wasn’t anyplace I wanted to be. “Let me guess, you think his jewelry commission was a silver medallion.”
The goblin prince didn’t answer. He just smiled.
“A beacon with which to locate the Saghred,” he told me. “In my people’s language, the word Saghred roughly translates as ‘Thief of Souls,’ something else it is said to do. According to legend, shamans who had fallen from royal favor were sacrificed to the stone. The shamans doing the sacrificing received enhanced powers from the stone in exchange for their gift. Those enhanced powers came with an extended life and insanity; being sacrificed meant your soul was trapped for eternity inside the stone.”
The prince leaned forward in his chair. “And if I may correct you, Mistress Benares.” His silken voice was little more than a murmur. “While all the shamans who used the Saghred did go insane, only a few actually destroyed themselves. Most were taken by the stone.”
The only sound was the crackle of the fire. “Taken?” I whispered.
“While using the Saghred. If the stone hungered, it would feed to sustain itself. Those shamans were absorbed, Mistress. Their powers and souls added to those already trapped inside—trapped for eternity with the very colleagues they had sacrificed with their own hands.”
“Not much of a welcoming committee.”
The prince smiled. “No doubt. Goblin armies that carried the Saghred before them were indestructible—and their adversaries were annihilated. My brother and Sarad Nukpana want the Soul Thief very badly. I do not want them to succeed in acquiring it. My wants are simple, Mistress Benares. You have the beacon. You are a seeker. You will help me find the Saghred first. Once I have it, you and the boy will be allowed to leave here alive and whole.”
I had the lodestone to an ancient soul-stealing rock hanging around my neck. Wonderful. I had no intention of being caught in the middle of some twisted sibling rivalry. And under no circumstances was I going to help a Mal’Salin, any Mal’Salin, or anyone working for a Mal’Salin gain possession of something with the pet name “Soul Thief.”
“My skills in the craft are marginal at best,” was what I said. “I’m hardly qualified to help you.”
“One does not need to be a mage to use a beacon—or for the beacon to use you. I had been told that this particular beacon was keyed to its maker. Yet, according to my teacher, you have been able to tap its power quite effectively.”
So much for wondering if Primari A’Zahra Nuru sensed me outside Tam’s nightclub this morning.
“I am curious to know how you can do this,” the prince continued, “but that’s not important at the moment. Finding the beacon was one problem for my brother, finding someone who could wield it was another matter altogether. So now I must not only keep the beacon from my brother, but you as well. And since there is the possibility that Sarad Nukpana will be able to locate the Saghred on his own, we must find the Soul Thief first.”
“And if I refuse?”
As expected, he cast the barest glance at Piaras. I needed no further elaboration, and I hoped the prince didn’t see the need to give it.
“Sathrik murdered our mother with his own hands, Mistress Benares. He killed or exiled her most trusted counselors, and he has tried to kill me on numerous occasions. Now he has brought that shaman from the lower hells to rule beside him.” He paused, and I could see the muscles working in his jaw. “Even more that his diseased mind desires will be his once he has the Thief of Souls. Sarad Nukpana only needs spilled lifeblood to open it, and a soul sacrifice to tap its power.” His voice dropped to the barest whisper. “My brother has everything, with even more to gain. I have nothing left to lose.”
His eyes were jet orbs. Not only was he determined, he was desperate—and probably willing to do things a normal person would find just a little bit insane. Unfortunately his brother wasn’t here for him to take it out on. After being brought up in the same house as Sathrik Mal’Salin, I could almost understand the mentally unstable part. And on a certain level, I could understand and almost sympathize with his motivation, but not with what he was trying to do.
“Your decision is quite simple in my eyes,” he continued. “You are either for my brother, or you are against him.”
“I don’t see myself ever being for Sathrik Mal’Salin.”
“Then you will find the Saghred for me.”
I hesitated. Not the best move, but I didn’t want to get what I was about to say wrong. Such things have a way of blowing up in your face. Especially when I say them.
“From what I have heard of your brother and Sarad Nukpana, and from what I have been told of the Saghred, getting the three of them together in the same room is the last thing anyone wants to happen.”
“Then we are in agreement.”
“Understand my dilemma, Your Highness. I’ve heard what your brother and Sarad Nukpana are capable of. I do not know you, or your plans.”
“My plans are no concern of yours. Regardless, you are hardly in a position to bargain.”
“True. But you say that my friend and I will not be harmed, that we will be released once you have what you want. You’re asking for my complete trust on your word alone. I’ve never dealt with you, so don’t take this personally, but the elven people have had bitter experience with the word of a Mal’Salin. It’s often been open to interpretation, usually by the Mal’Salin who has just given their word.”
There was an angry hiss behind me, and the sound of a blade clearing its scabbard. The prince didn’t move. The guard next to Piaras didn’t move. I certainly wasn’t going to move. I also wasn’t going to get too excited about my chances for long-term survival. I didn’t hear the blade go back where it came from, and I really didn’t want to turn around and find out where it was.
The prince had been resting one of his hands on an intricately carved armrest. It snapped off under the pressure of his grip. I hoped it was wood rot, though I knew better. I tended to have that effect on people.
When the prince spoke, his voice was calm. “Unlike most of my family, my word is my sacred bond. You can believe that or not. But I had you brought here at great risk to my people and to myself because my brother gets clo
se to his goal, and the Guardians grow increasingly desperate, as do I. So you see, Mistress Benares, neither one of us has any choice.”
I didn’t consider getting cozy with an object nicknamed Soul Thief much of a choice.
Prince Chigaru’s dark eyes drifted down to where the amulet rested against my chest beneath my doublet.
“Remove it.”
I made no move to comply. “I can’t take it off.”
“I am not interested in what you want, Mistress Benares. I have given you every opportunity to end this without any actions we would both find distasteful.”
“She can’t take it off. It won’t let her.” Piaras’s voice was strong and quavered only slightly.
Like a spark beneath cold embers, I felt the power flare to life under the young spellsinger’s words. The danger was there, and it was real, palatable in the room’s chilled air. I didn’t know if Piaras realized what was happening, but the prince knew something was different. He had been schooled in the magical arts too well not to know. But I don’t think he recognized Piaras as the threat he was. Yet. The last thing I wanted was for Chigaru Mal’Salin to see Piaras as anything other than harmless. I needed a distraction.
I pulled the amulet from beneath my shirt.
Piaras’s response was immediate and impassioned. “No!” He lunged for me, but was restrained by the two guards.
I forced myself to ignore him. Fortunately, Prince Chigaru didn’t have that problem. His attention was instantly riveted to the amulet gleaming in the firelight. I took a deep breath. Mission accomplished. It brought up a whole new problem, but I was prepared to deal with that any way I had to. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be pleasant for anyone in that room, including myself. I didn’t care. My hands were untied, there was a window in the room, and I was more than ready to leave. I could feel the amulet stir, its warmth spreading through my body. I think it had had enough, too.
The prince had stood and was now leaning over me, his hands resting on the armrests of my chair, effectively pinning me in my seat. His hair fell in a dark, silken curtain around us both, concealing us from sight. He made no move to touch me, or take the amulet. He just stared at me in a way no one had ever looked at me before. It was awe mixed with recognition of elemental power and an overwhelming desire to possess it. I didn’t like his look one bit. I stared back. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a large dust-covered vase on a side table. It wasn’t close enough for me to get my hands on, but I didn’t need my hands to introduce it to the back of Prince Chigaru’s head. It was a pleasant image and I treated myself to a small smile. The goblin misunderstood it entirely. His problem, not mine.
“It has bonded to you,” he breathed. “The Soul Thief itself shines through your eyes. You glow with the power of death.”
I recoiled, more from his words than from a Mal’Salin prince only inches from my face.
There was a scuffle in the shadows, then a grunt as Piaras hurled himself at the goblin prince, taking both of them to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The guards, no longer distracted by their prince’s attention to me, tried to pull Piaras off, only to receive kicks for their trouble. One flick of thought and the vase flew from the table into my hands. It was large and metal and made a satisfying solid sound when it came in contact with the guards’ heads. The wrestling mass parted briefly and I was rewarded with a clear shot at Prince Chigaru’s shoulder. It wasn’t the body part I had in mind, but I wasn’t in a position to be picky, so I took it. The doors crashed open and more goblins poured into the room—armed goblins who weren’t happy to find their prince on the floor. Armored hands slammed me back into my chair, and a sword point made sure I stayed there. Piaras was jerked upright, both arms wrenched behind his back.
The prince stood and slowly wiped blood from his lip. His eyes were blazing. Piaras didn’t flinch or look away.
Prince Chigaru addressed the guards. “Secure our guests in the room upstairs, post guards, then report back to me.”
Chapter 11
The door closed and locked behind us. The lock sounded all too substantial, and the footsteps of our guards didn’t fade away down the corridor as I’d hoped, but not really expected. Prince Chigaru’s guards were following his orders to the letter. I was considered too valuable right now.
We were in what had probably been a guest bedroom. It had been finely appointed in its day. Now, the brocade upholstery was threadbare, the velvet bed hangings thin and tattered, and the heavy smell of damp and mildew hung in the air. There were a few other pieces of furniture, but most were covered with dingy sheets, dust, or both. Two lamps had been lit on the mantle, but the fireplace was dark and cold, as was the room. The only other source of light came from a sliver of moonlight peeking through a pair of etched glass doors.
I made my way around the room, knocking on walls, checking for hidden doors. All activities anyone watching would expect of a new prisoner. My stroll ended at the glass doors. They led out onto a small balcony, and were locked, but the lock could be easily picked. Another Benares family talent. It also had other attractions. I moved on, not wanting to draw attention to our most likely exit. Apparently Prince Chigaru hadn’t planned too far ahead for holding prisoners. Lucky for us. It was probably also the reason why we were being held in the same room. Lucky for me. I didn’t want to escape only to have to search for and free Piaras.
When I had looked down into the garden, I saw that our host had made up for any oversight. Five armed Mal’Salin royal guards were posted below to make sure things didn’t get interesting. I didn’t sense any surveillance in the room itself, but there would probably be someone watching or at least listening to us soon. There were too many places in the wall that would perfectly conceal a pair or two of prying eyes. But I wasn’t going to wait around for them to arrive. I was going to remove us from Prince Chigaru’s royal hospitality as soon as possible.
The prince assumed that between the guards and The Ruins, that I would be disinclined to try to escape. My first rule was never assume. This went nicely with my second rule—always try to escape. While I occasionally failed at the first, I had always succeeded in the second. Tonight wasn’t going to be an exception.
Piaras was standing perfectly still in the center of the room by a settee at the foot of the canopied bed. While this sort of thing didn’t happen to me all the time, it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence. But I thought I could safely assume that Piaras had never been taken prisoner by Mal’Salin royal guards, led bound and blindfolded through The Ruins at night, threatened with torture by a goblin prince, then topped off the evening by attacking the aforementioned royal. I felt my lips curl into a quick grin. Come to think of it, those were all firsts for me, too.
Piaras was watching me, his liquid brown eyes wide and intent. I knew he was probably scared to death, and with good reason. Prince Chigaru wasn’t happy with him, and I know the guards he kicked were less than amused. Piaras was still alive because the prince thought he could use him to compel me to find the Saghred for him. And he was right. I wouldn’t allow them to hurt Piaras. That left one option: get out of here as quickly as possible. I went to the settee and sat down, motioning to Piaras to sit beside me. We were facing the outer wall. No one could be watching from there and reading lips. Then I used my version of the spell Garadin used last night to keep Piaras from overhearing our conversation. If anyone was spying on us, I was going to make them work for it.
Piaras sat, opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. I think he was more than a little overwhelmed. I was feeling a little that way myself.
I took his hand and gave it a light, reassuring squeeze. “I’m not happy here either,” I said in the barest whisper, my lips close to his ear. “Don’t worry, we won’t be staying long.”
“How?”
“Through the glass doors. There’s a trellis on the outside wall that should hold our weight.”
“Are there any guards?” he asked.
That question surprised me. G
ood. He may be scared, but he was keeping his wits about him.
“Five.”
He started to stand, probably to take a look for himself. I tightened my grip on his hand.
“Someone could be watching. Let’s not give ourselves away yet.”
He sat back down and drew a deep breath. It shuddered as he exhaled. Probably the first good one he’d had since we were brought here. The hand I held trembled slightly, as did the shoulder touching mine.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed.
“For what?”
“For being worthless.”
I just sat there for a moment, waiting for that one to make sense. It didn’t. “Where did you get that idea?”
“I haven’t done anything. All night, I haven’t done anything to help.”
“What do you call what you did downstairs?”
“Stupid. I just made things worse. I could have gotten us both killed.”
No, just you, I thought. Prince Chigaru needed me—at least for now. I didn’t say that out loud, but I’m sure Piaras was well aware of how close he had come. Besides, he was feeling bad enough.
“It was a little impulsive, but you were just trying to protect me.” I draped a sisterly arm around his shoulders, and gave him a quick hug. “It was also very brave. There just happened to be a couple dozen goblins on the other side of the door when you did it. Not your fault.” I tried to give him a smile. “Neither one of us was hurt, so don’t worry about it.”
He looked down at the floor. “I wasn’t brave; I was scared.”
“You were scared and you still attacked the prince to protect me.” I grinned. “Sweetie, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but that’s called brave.”
He looked up. “It is?”
“If you weren’t scared and attacked the prince, that’d make you suicidal and a couple of other things you don’t want to be.”
Piaras almost smiled. “Thanks. Though none of this would have happened if I hadn’t gotten myself caught.”
