“Give her to us, or die.”
Chapter 8
“Put me down,” I whispered from between clenched teeth.
Vegard had one arm around my legs. If there was going to be a fight, he’d need all the arms he could get, including mine. I was still disoriented, but if Carnades had sent his personal guard goons after me, I was going to take some slices out of them before they got their hands on me. I still had the blades strapped to my forearms, and I wanted a chance to use them.
“Rolf, that’s Vegard! Are you blind, man?”
Uncle Ryn?
The Fortune wasn’t the only pirate ship anchored in Mid’s harbor. Phaelan’s dad, Commodore Ryn Benares, was visiting with three of his best ships. Uncle Ryn’s definition of “best” was his ships and crews that were best qualified for the most ruthless work. He was here to motivate Mid’s mages to find a way to free me of my link to the Saghred. As soon as that blessed event happened, he and his boys would be on their way. If the Conclave didn’t want pirates in their harbor and town, they’d better get to work on my problem. Mychael had given permission for Uncle Ryn to have his ships drop anchor in Mid’s harbor with the strict understanding that he was there as my concerned uncle, not as Commodore Benares.
I felt the Guardian’s shoulders relax, but only slightly. “Commodore?”
“Aye, Vegard,” came my uncle’s amused rumble from somewhere in front of us. “You’ve wandered into my new home away from home.”
“Put me down!” I didn’t bother with quiet.
“Let’s take it slow, ma’am,” the Guardian cautioned. “You’re going to be a bit unsteady on your feet.”
“I can stand.” Truth was I had no idea what I could do. Upside down wasn’t the best position to make that assessment.
Vegard carefully set me on my feet. As soon as he did, somebody spun the room in a big circle and I promptly landed on the floor. I put my hand over my eyes and just lay there. I couldn’t even see the room, and it still felt like the damned thing was spinning.
“Ooooo, not feeling so good.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” I dimly heard Vegard say. “The paladin had me get you out of there quick.”
Everything flooded back, making me even sicker. The blue demons, Carnades, the giant yellow demon I’d squashed, my dream, my possible marriage—and all of them were the Saghred’s fault.
I’d used the Saghred, but mostly the Saghred had used me. No wonder I wanted to toss my cookies. I also felt raw and exhausted and I had the worst headache of my life. The stone floor of wherever we were felt wonderful beyond belief against my flushed face.
A pair of massive black boots appeared in my line of vision.
“Hi, Uncle Ryn.” My voice was muffled from half of my face being smushed against the oh-so-delightfully-cool floor that I never wanted to leave.
“Afternoon, Spitfire.”
Spitfire. Uncle Ryn’s pet name for me. Also the name of a particularly ill-tempered breed of small dragon. Uncle Ryn had always meant it as a compliment, so I’d taken it the same way. I didn’t feel much like my namesake right now, and I’d have chuckled at the irony except I was trying really hard not to move. If I moved, the contents of my stomach were going to do likewise. That’s what my stomach was telling me, and I knew it wasn’t bluffing.
“Sorry for the less-than-hospitable greeting, Vegard,” Uncle Ryn was saying. “But the only chances I’m taking right now are at a card table. Rolf doesn’t know you, and you had my niece over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”
Swearing and sounds of a scuffle came from behind us. The scuffle concluded with three sharp punches followed by a quick succession of oofs and pained grunts.
“Sorry, Captain Benares, sir.” The man sounded like he was talking through a bloody lip and possibly some loose teeth. “We didn’t recognize you in the dark, and we’ve been ordered to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stop everyone by any means.”
“Our apologies, sir.”
“The boys are a little on edge, son,” Uncle Ryn explained.
“Most of them never saw demons before.”
I slowly sat up, gingerly holding my head as motionless as I could. “They saw demons? What did they look like?”
“Like something that shouldn’t be here.”
“Blue or purple?” I hesitated, not really wanting to ask. “Or were they yellow?”
“None of the above. Red with horns and tails.”
I swore. Just what we didn’t need—variety.
Phaelan’s boots joined his dad’s in my line of vision. I hadn’t tried looking any higher than footwear. I thought it’d help my stomach to keep my eyes on the floor. Generally, floors didn’t move. That went well, so I tried looking up at my cousin and uncle, then ever so slowly over at Vegard.
“Okay, boys. Hit me with it. What happened?”
Phaelan grinned. “You did.”
I would have kicked him, but that meant I’d have to move. Phaelan knew that, the bastard. “I mean after that.”
“A couple of watchers got sick when they saw the pile of yellow . . . mush that used to be that demon, and Carnades started making completely unreasonable demands.” Phaelan’s grin grew wider. “Then that blue demon the paladin was questioning somehow managed to escape that metal circle thing that was keeping him—”
“Somehow managed?”
“The paladin glanced at the professor, the professor winked at the paladin, and next thing we all knew, that blue demon was free and hot on Carnades’s heels. The blue ones like him for some reason.”
“Can’t imagine what that would be,” I muttered. If I could ever show my face again without getting arrested, I owed Mychael and Sora Niabi a big thank-you.
“While Magus Silvanus was occupied, the paladin told me to get you out of there,” Vegard said. “The quickest way was you over my shoulder.” The Guardian winced in apology. “Sorry all that jostling around made you sick, ma’am.”
“It wasn’t you, Vegard. It was the rock.”
He went a little pale. “The Saghred?”
“That’s the one.”
Uncle Ryn squatted down next to me, and I still had to look up at him. Elves were usually tall and leanly muscled. Uncle Ryn was just big. He wore his dark hair short, his beard trimmed, and had a booming voice that’d carry clear up to a crow’s nest. He had a booming laugh to go with it and a sense of humor to match. He was somewhere around fifty, but he didn’t look it, and he sure as hell didn’t act like it. I was a firm believer in being happy doing your chosen work. If you had to make a living at something, you should enjoy doing it. Ryn Benares was still in his prime and basking in the benefits of his chosen calling—the most feared pirate in the seven kingdoms.
He took one of my hands in his and gently wrapped his other arm around my waist. “Let’s get you off the floor, Spitfire,” he rumbled softly.
“Careful.”
“That goes without saying. My shirt’s clean and I’d like it to stay that way.”
Uncle Ryn got me on my feet and I didn’t mess up his shirt. It was one of the first things to go right all day. I hoped it was a sign that things were going to improve, but I wasn’t about to place any bets.
“You steady enough?” he asked.
“Only one way to find out.”
Uncle Ryn slipped his arm from around my waist, but didn’t step back. I didn’t fall down or throw up. Two nice surprises.
“I’m good,” I told him. “Thank you.” I turned to Phaelan.
“So what happened after that demon went after Carnades?”
Phaelan just looked at me. “Raine, I’m a wanted man standing in the middle of city watch headquarters with a demon running amok. What do you think I did?”
I grinned. “Ran like hell.”
“Damn straight. But it wasn’t running. It was a tactical retreat.”
“Of course.”
“I tried to catch up with you and Vegard, but his legs are longer than mine. And w
ith that crazed blond berserker look he’s got going, people got out of his way. Apparently I’m not scary enough right now.” He glared at Ryn’s men who’d tried to stop him at the door. “I’ll have to work on that.”
I looked around. We were in a warehouse that looked like it’d been abandoned until recently. Uncle Ryn had been in port for nearly a week, and it looked like he’d started stocking this place the moment he dropped anchor. Food, ale, weapons, black powder—and every bit of it in ample supply.
“Looks like you’re all moved in,” I noted dryly.
Uncle Ryn nodded. “And prepared.”
I snorted. “For a war?”
“To finish whatever anyone here starts. Don’t get me wrong; I respect what Paladin Eiliesor’s trying to do, but I’m not staying on the Red Hawk when my son and niece are up to their pointy ears in trouble.”
I stood on tiptoe and gave my favorite pirate a peck on the cheek. “You know how to make a girl feel loved, Uncle Ryn.”
His smile was warm. “I do my best, Spitfire.” The smile vanished. “I heard the high points of what happened this morning. Now what were the two of you doing picking fights with demons?”
Phaelan answered before I could. “I didn’t pick a fight with anything. I couldn’t even see the things. Raine’s the one who bounced a brick off its head.”
Uncle Ryn looked at me like I was a couple arrows short of a full quiver.
I raised my hands to stave off the obvious. “I know what it sounds like. But the demons were cloaked, no one could see them, and they were killing a mage.”
“So the brick made them stop killing the mage?” Uncle Ryn asked.
“Well, unfortunately not. But it did make that one uncloak so everyone could see them.”
“And pissed it off,” Phaelan added. “And all of its friends.”
Vegard cleared his throat uneasily. “The paladin needs to know that you’re safe.”
I laughed. It made my head hurt, so I tried to stop. “Vegard, I haven’t been safe since I met Mychael. And if Carnades gets his way, I’ll be safely behind bars as soon as he can find me.”
Uncle Ryn scowled. “I’ve been hearing that name from the men working the docks. They always spit after they say it. Who and what is Carnades?”
I thought I was best qualified to answer that one. “Until the archmagus gets back on his feet, Carnades is the senior mage on the island. He thinks I’m dangerous.”
“He thinks right.”
“He also wants me locked up.”
“Only over my dead body.”
I resisted the urge to kiss him again.
Phaelan felt the need to elaborate. “Carnades thinks Raine’s a dark mage who called her demon ‘minions’ here to do her dirty work, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. He tried to arrest her for ‘practicing black magic and consorting with demons.’ ” My cousin snorted. “I think someone’s bounced a couple of bricks off his head. That or his ballast has shifted.”
Uncle Ryn’s scowl turned into something darker. “How much influence does this mage have?”
“Entirely too much,” I told him.
“He could have you imprisoned?”
“And then some.”
“Then you’re staying here with me.”
Uncle Ryn’s voice said no arguments. I didn’t want to give him any, but I had to.
“Sorry, Uncle Ryn, but I can’t.”
“And why not?” he rumbled.
“Let’s just say that something’s happened, and there’s someone I need to have a heart-to-heart talk with.” I said it through gritted teeth, and the threat of violence that came out with my words wasn’t lost on my cousin.
Phaelan knew exactly who I meant and swore. “Tam Nathrach. Raine, he’s trouble; always has been, always will be.”
“So are you,” I shot back.
“Touché. So what kind of trouble has he gotten you into this time?” His eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously. “He didn’t get you—”
I just looked at him. “No, I am not pregnant.”
But you might be married, chuckled the pessimist in my head. My pessimist was starting to think this was funny.
“Ma’am, I’ve been told not to let that happen,” Vegard said.
I didn’t move; I didn’t even blink. “Not let what happen?”
“You get within half a mile of Tamnais Nathrach right now.”
I blew out my breath in exasperation and relief. “Let me guess. It was Mychael, and he didn’t tell you, he ordered you.”
“Right on both counts, ma’am. He said bad things would happen if the two of you got anywhere near each other.”
My little voice snorted, then chortled. If he only knew.
“Vegard, bad things have already happened, and they’re going to keep happening until I can get a handle on what’s going on. The first—and absolutely necessary—step to doing that is to see Tam.”
The Guardian looked decidedly unenthusiastic.
“Did Mychael order you to sit on me again?” I asked.
“Just to try to discourage you.”
“Next time you see him, tell Mychael I’m not easily discouraged.”
Vegard almost smiled. “I think he already knows that, ma’am.”
Chapter 9
Getting from Uncle Ryn’s hideout—excuse me, land-based headquarters—to Tam’s nightclub involved going to ground. Literally.
A rats’ warren of tunnels ran under the entire island. There was no way I could show my face on the streets right now. With Carnades running around waving a warrant for my arrest and/or execution, the quicker I got myself underground, the better. I guess it was too much to hope for that the blue demon had caught up with Carnades and eliminated him and most of my problems in one fell swoop.
I’d never liked tunnels before; I didn’t like tunnels now, and that feeling was unlikely to change in the next hour or so that we’d be spending underground.
Hours underground.
That thought made me breathe funny and put a twitch in my left eyelid. I tried telling myself that I’d just obliterated a couple of demons, one of which had been the size of a small house. We’d have lightglobes or torches, so it wouldn’t even be dark.
Most of Mid’s tunnels were natural; they’d been there for eons and weren’t likely to collapse on our heads.
I could tell myself all that, but it wasn’t going to improve how I felt. Nothing good had ever happened to me in a tunnel or cave. Multiple near-death experiences in a cave just a few days ago only further convinced me that Fate was going to finish the job the moment I set foot in the dank dark.
Think about the destination, Raine. Not the journey.
I had to get to Sirens, and when I did, Tam and I were going to talk.
I’d first met Tam at his nightclub in Mermeia. I was on a case to retrieve a client’s ring that her husband was about to gamble away at one of Tam’s high-stakes card tables. I came to Sirens that night as a customer; I conned my way upstairs as a seeker who was going to do her job come hell or high water.
Tam was overseeing the tables himself that night. He knew I hadn’t come to play, and somehow he also knew I was armed. I didn’t want any trouble, but I wasn’t leaving without that ring. Tam behaved like the perfect host, welcomed me to Sirens, and asked how he could be of service. I wanted to tell him he could serve me just fine by getting the hell out of my way. I tried to step around him; he blocked me. I had daggers strapped to my thighs under my gown and I considered using them, but I was in a high-class establishment and told myself that I could resolve this in a civilized manner. I told Tam why I was there, simply and directly.
My client got her ring back; Tam delivered it to her personally. It was a public relations coup and he knew it.
Tam told me later he did it to impress me. He needn’t have bothered. Being a Benares, I’ve always been attracted to rogues. Kind of like a moth to flame. And if Tam and I had really formed an umi’atsu bond, I wasn’t just sing
ed; I was fried.
The entrance to the tunnels was in the shipping office at the back of the warehouse. I guess if you did business with certain people and dealt in certain commodities, a trapdoor in the floor of your office that led to tunnels could come in handy. The shipping office wasn’t large. It was no more than ten paces deep and not much more than that across. It had a desk and a couple of chairs with faded ledgers and maps scattered across the desk. The musty, cloying smell of old paper and mold made the air thick. Though that could be as much from cramming so many people into such a small space as anything else.
Uncle Ryn had assured me that this tunnel, after a couple of turns—and a little over an hour—would put us directly under Mid’s entertainment district. Leave it to a pirate to find the nightclubs, bars, and brothels on his first day in port. Like father, like son. His men knew the way, so I could keep my spells to myself. Yes, I was a seeker and could have easily found my own way to Sirens, but since I didn’t know who or what Carnades had looking for me, the safe thing to do was to keep my magic under wraps.
There would be nine of us going down into those tunnels and under the city to Sirens. It sounded like an unnecessary crowd to me; to Uncle Ryn it was barely adequate security. Phaelan, Vegard, and myself had an escort of six of my uncle’s most levelheaded crewmen. Level heads were good when going into a place where heavily armed and murderous bad guys might run at you out of the dark. I hated it when that happened. My eyelid twitched again and I put my finger on it to make it stop.
“Nervous?” Phaelan asked.
My eyelid fluttered under my finger; I pressed harder. “Guess.”
“Sarcasm won’t help,” he told me.
“It’s all I’ve got.”
“Tell me again why we’re going into a rotting, dark hole in the ground rather than taking our chances on the streets.”
“Carnades.”
Vegard and a crewman moved the desk in the corner of the office, exposing an iron ring attached to a trapdoor in the floor. Vegard opened it, and Phaelan and I gingerly leaned forward and looked down. Way down. It was just your basic nonthreatening, perfectly harmless, yawning black pit.
The Trouble with Demons Page 9
