The Trouble with Demons

by Shearin, Lisa

  “I’ve made Sedge aware of that.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. That’d be guaranteed to make an already tense situation worse. Most goblins and elves didn’t get along in the best of circumstances. For years the goblin royal family had snubbed the Conclave college, until about ten years ago when goblin aristocrats started filtering into the college classrooms—and their gold started flooding into the college coffers, funding scholarships and teaching fellowships—all for goblins.

  “Does Carnades or any of the Seat of Twelve know that Muralin could pass for a student?”

  “Not yet,” Mychael said.

  “Are you planning to tell them?”

  “I’d rather resolve the situation before it becomes necessary.”

  I knew what Mychael meant. If Carnades or any of his like-minded colleagues found out that a goblin grand shaman was responsible for opening a Hellgate, and that he also looked like a student, Carnades would order every male goblin student brought before the Seat of Twelve. He’d call it questioning, but it’d be an inquisition. And he’d lock up any likely candidate, which meant any goblin student with above-average magical skill would find himself in a warded cell. That would be a lot of students. Carnades would claim it was to ensure island security and safety—he’d do it because he wanted every last goblin out of the college and off of the island. Once the aristocratic parents of those students got word, ugly wouldn’t begin to describe what would happen. Carnades would be better off with a demon infestation.

  I had a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. “Right now Tam and I aren’t the most trustworthy witnesses to a lot of people. Ronan gave you his statement, too. Right?”

  Mychael was quiet for just a little too long. “I asked Ronan for a description of Rudra Muralin, but he was unable to provide one. Apparently Ronan never saw him.”

  The sinking feeling in my stomach turned into a knot. “What?”

  “Ronan was unconscious, and the spellsingers in the cell never saw Muralin, only the Khrynsani shamans he left to stand guard.”

  Tam swore. “Some of my men know him on sight, but they can’t testify.”

  I knew why. A dark mage hit squad didn’t exactly make for star witnesses. “So it’s the two of us, and Piaras and Talon. That’s it. If I didn’t hate Rudra Muralin so much, I’d be impressed. We can’t legally touch him, can we?”

  “Let’s get him in a warded cell first,” Mychael said.

  Tam frowned. “Mychael, he’s got the Mal’Salin family behind him.”

  We all knew what that meant. The Mal’Salins wanted me any way they could get me, and the testimony of Piaras and Talon, because of their connections to Tam and me, wouldn’t stand up to a light breeze in a courtroom.

  Low, warm laughter bubbled up around me. Sarad Nukpana.

  “An accused murderer, a Benares, a corrupted nightingale, and a wastrel half-breed,” the goblin murmured in my head. “Even if you found Rudra Muralin, you have no credibility, so you have no proof.” The laughter continued. “I guess you don’t live a millennium and not pick up a trick or two.”

  Mychael and Tam froze. They could hear Sarad Nukpana.

  Through me.

  Through the Saghred.

  Oh no.

  “Greetings, gentlemen.” I could hear the slow smile in Nukpana’s voice. “I cannot tell you how good it is to be heard by someone other than Raine. Not that she isn’t a sparkling conversationalist, but the three of you—all together like this—it’s simply charming.” His next words came out as a resonant purr. “And a death sentence for Paladin Eiliesor should anyone on the Seat of Twelve discover that he’s in an umi’atsu bond with a dark mage and the Saghred’s bond servant. I didn’t think you were such a risk taker, Paladin Eiliesor. Or since we’re all on such intimate terms now, may I call you Mychael?”

  “What do you want, goblin?” Mychael’s voice was cold and hard.

  “Such vehemence and disrespect to my race, elf.” Sarad Nukpana made tsking sounds. “No doubt Tamnais is mortally offended.”

  “Not at all,” Tam shot back smoothly. “I’m not your kind of goblin.”

  “I ask twice,” Mychael demanded. “What do you want?”

  “Why, to be of service, noble paladin. Although your boorish behavior makes me reconsider my generosity.”

  I put a finger to my lips. “Let’s see . . . The containment spells are down, the Saghred is vulnerable, and Rudra Muralin’s made a deal with Hell so he could get his hands on your little prison. I’d think you’d be asking for our generosity—and protection.”

  “But I am not the one needing protection.” Nukpana savored the words, and I could almost see the smug glee on his face. “There are many on this island who are in mortal danger of their lives—and their souls. And unless you act quickly, it’ll be too late to save either one. Rudra Muralin has made a deal with the demons—they get the Saghred for him, and in return, all of the students and mages on Mid are theirs to do with as they will.”

  “Muralin wants me to get the Saghred for him,” I said.

  The goblin laughed softly. “He is merely lining up an alternative plan should his other fail. A most enterprising young man, Rudra Muralin. Either way the demons will get all of those precious, magically gifted children.”

  “We are listening, Primaru Nukpana,” Tam said, his tone the very model of calm propriety, but his eyes were blazing.

  The goblin’s satisfied sigh floated through our minds. “There, that’s much better,” he murmured. “Was that so difficult? You should take note, little seeker. Polite respect for your betters can soothe almost any insult. Tamnais has not forgotten his courtly manners.” He paused meaningfully. “Nor has the goblin court and royal family forgotten him.”

  “I’m certain they haven’t—nor I them,” Tam shot back smoothly. “What do you require?”

  “I require many things, but it would be rude to put my desires first. A better question might be what do the demons require—besides your students?”

  “Spit it out, goblin,” I said. “What do the demons want?”

  “To be more precise, little seeker, I know what their queen desires above all else. With little else to do inside the Saghred, I’ve had the leisure to acquire knowledge from my fellow inmates. The queen wants her husband and king restored to her. Why else would the queen of demons lower herself to the indignity of dealing with one as vulgar as Rudra Muralin?”

  “And how would consorting with Muralin get His Demonic Majesty back to home and brimstone hearth?”

  “Rudra Muralin wants the Saghred. The demon queen wants what is inside the Saghred. Her lord and king was the Saghred’s first victim. His queen desires his soul’s release.” Nukpana paused. “I desire my release.”

  “There is no escape from the Saghred,” Mychael said. “The stone cannot be opened, cracked, or destroyed. Many have tried; none have succeeded.”

  “None of them had what the demon queen has her vassals scurrying all over your island searching for. So far they have been unsuccessful.” He paused suggestively. “I believe Mistress Benares can find what the demons cannot. That is the way you make a living, is it not? And with the enhancement the Saghred has given your previously mediocre abilities, I must admit that you have become quite proficient.”

  “You need to work on your flattery,” I told him. “And why would I want to find something to let you and a demon king out of the Saghred?”

  I heard the smile in his voice. “Don’t forget about your father.”

  “I haven’t,” I said once I’d unclenched my jaw. “Again, why would I want to do this?”

  “Such a harsh daughter you are. I shall have to tell Eamaliel that his only child cares not what happens to him.”

  “Are you going to tell me, or do we play guessing games all night?”

  “Forthrightness isn’t a quality goblins embrace willingly. You should have learned this long ago from Tamnais. Where would be the anticipation, the sweet torment?”

 
“What if I tell you to go to hell? I’m sure Muralin’s demons could help you make travel arrangements.”

  “You can tell me to go anywhere you like, little seeker, but we both know that I am not going anywhere—unless you find the object with which to free me before the demons find it. They will free their king, and I will be left behind. I would not like that at all.”

  “And you expect me to take on demons and free you from the Saghred out of the kindness of my heart? My family isn’t known for kindness or having hearts.”

  “Oh, but you do have a heart, Raine. You will risk everything to protect those whom you love. Is my nightingale enjoying his foray into higher learning?”

  “For the last time, Piaras is not your nightingale.”

  “Are you so sure about that, little seeker? You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you’ve contaminated young Piaras with the Saghred. You’re too close to him, and now it’s too late.” He paused. “Closeness breeds familiarity, as you, Tamnais, and Mychael are discovering. Familiarity can take many forms.”

  Suddenly there wasn’t nearly enough air in the room.

  “Yes, you’re beginning to see now. You have asked yourself how Piaras was able to see that Volghul this morning when no one else could. And how he knew precisely what to do to hold the beast. He is certainly talented enough to do what he did—and as he said, Ronan Cayle is teaching him well.” I could hear the slow smirk in Sarad Nukpana’s voice. “But young Piaras lacks experience—experience that coincidently I have. You may want to ask him if he has had any dreams lately. Or an inexplicable urge to do something that he really shouldn’t.”

  “What are your terms?” Mychael snapped.

  “The seeker finds what the demons desire and frees me, or I will infect Piaras’s mind to the point of madness, or compel him to do something so naughty that Inquisitor Taltek Balmorlan will have his legal excuse to take him back into custody. Either she helps me, or the inquisitor gets his excuse—and he takes her nightingale.”

  Tam hissed.

  “And Tamnais, I seriously doubt your half-breed spawn learned to do what he did this morning in a cabaret. The young are so easily influenced.”

  “If you touch my son, I—”

  “You are welcome to come and get me. Raine can tell you precisely where I am. Free me, and I shall release the song-birds.” Nukpana sounded confident enough to start packing his bags now. “But of course, the final choice is yours.”

  What choice did I have? What choice did any of us have? Son of a bitch.

  “I have been called much worse, little seeker.”

  Mychael’s jaw tightened. “What is the object?”

  “The Scythe of Nen.”

  “Which is?”

  “A key to unlock the Saghred.”

  So much for what that purple demon who killed Professor Berel was trying to find.

  “What does it look like?” I asked.

  “I know not. But I strongly advise that you find out, and quickly.”

  Sarad Nukpana’s voice trailed off and evaporated. There was none of the usual taunting laughter. He knew he had us. Laughter would have been redundant.

  Chapter 14

  Tam ran through the apartment to Talon’s bedroom door. It was locked. Tam kicked it once and the lock ceased to be a problem—and so did most of the door. The kid was halfway out the window when Tam jerked him back into the room by his collar.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  Talon looked at his dad like he’d lost his mind. “I have a date.”

  Tam blinked. “A date?”

  “You know, with a girl.”

  Tam gave him a shake, and I couldn’t help but notice that the kid’s boots weren’t touching the floor.

  “Okay, okay. Technically a woman.” Talon grinned lasciviously. “Two women, actually.”

  Tam put him in a chair, but kept his hand right where it was. “I told you not to leave this room.”

  “Well, see, here’s the thing. When you told me not to leave, it was after I’d already set this up. So technically my plans supersede—”

  “Nothing!” Tam roared in his son’s face. “Your plans supersede nothing!”

  “You don’t have to get so—”

  “Yes, I do.”

  In a split second, Tam’s voice went from a roar to a tight, hissing whisper. Talon’s aqua eyes went wide as saucers. I think he wanted the roar back.

  “I’m sorry?” Talon guessed.

  With some effort, Tam unclenched his hand from the back of his son’s neck. “You could have been.”

  Talon stopped just short of rolling his eyes. “Give me some credit. I take precautions; I always carry protection.”

  A vein I’d never noticed before was throbbing in Tam’s temple. “That’s not the kind of protection I mean.”

  “My bodyguards?” Talon shrugged. “They can come along; I don’t mind. They just can’t watch. I’m not into that.”

  If Piaras hadn’t been in even more danger, I would have enjoyed watching Tam’s attempts at parenting a goblin teenager.

  I raced back through the apartment and flung open the door. “Phael—”

  Phaelan and Vegard fell into the room from where they’d been trying to listen through the door.

  “The damned thing’s soundproof,” Phaelan said indignantly, as if him getting caught eavesdropping was entirely the door’s fault.

  “We couldn’t hear a thing, ma’am.” Vegard managed to sound incensed and apologetic at the same time.

  “I’m sure Tam had it built that way,” I told them both. “Phaelan, Guardians took Piaras back to the Fortune. I need to know if he’s still there.”

  “He should be.”

  I felt my own temple start to throb. “Does your crew know to keep him on board?”

  Phaelan had to think about that one. “You would think so.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “Dammit!”

  “Dammit, what?”

  I told them what Sarad Nukpana had said.

  Vegard’s next words blistered the air blue, and if I hadn’t grabbed his arm as tight as I could, he’d have been running for the ship. As it was, he almost jerked me off my feet.

  “You won’t get there in time,” I told him. “Phaelan, get hold of your ship’s contact wizard. Tell him to keep Piaras on board. And if he’s gone—Go. Get. Him.”

  “You have a contact wizard?” Vegard asked Phaelan, his tone somewhere between disbelieving and impressed.

  “My one concession to magic.”

  Contact wizards could relay telepathic messages over great distances. I’d told Uncle Ryn about them years ago, and he saw the wisdom in being able to communicate instantly with any ship in his fleet. Within a year, all of his ships had a contact on their crew. Phaelan didn’t like magic, but I’d never heard him complain about contact wizards. The stone in the ring Phaelan wore let him stay in communication with any contact in Uncle Ryn’s fleet.

  Phaelan had moved a few paces down the hall and was talking in low tones to his ring. Touching the ring’s stone and projecting his thoughts was all he had to do, but that smacked too much of magic for Phaelan’s comfort. He could talk to his right boot for all I cared, just as long as I could be assured that Piaras was still on the Fortune surrounded by pirates.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Five Guardians showed up at the Fortune about a half hour ago and said that Mychael wanted to see Piaras immediately,” Phaelan said. “They had a signed and sealed note from Mychael, and the kid recognized the one with the note, so he went with them.”

  My blood ran cold. “Mychael, did you—”

  “No, I did not.” The intensity of those four little words was frightening. “I want that Guardian’s name, Phaelan. Does your wizard have it?”

  Phaelan asked and smiled fiercely as he listened to the answer. “The Guardian didn’t give his name, but Piaras did.” He looked at me. “He said to tell you that he had gone with Sir Jari Deven
t.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked Mychael.

  “Knighted last year.” The muscles worked in his jaw. “He’s the younger brother to the defense attaché at the elven embassy.”

  Oh hell.

  “Who reports to elven intelligence,” I finished for him.

  “Were the other Guardians elves?” Mychael asked Phaelan.

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Find out.”

  Phaelan did. “All elves,” he reported. “All in Guardian uniforms. But this Jari person was the only one who came forward; the others stayed on the dock. Think we’ve got some fake Guardians?”

  “Probably. One traitor is too many.”

  “My contact wizard said they looked real enough. Military bearing, the works.”

  I glanced sharply at Mychael. We were thinking the same thing.

  Professional soldiers, like elven embassy guards.

  “Carnades couldn’t get Piaras this morning at headquarters, so Balmorlan’s making his move now,” I said.

  Since we’d arrived on Mid, Piaras and his spellsinging voice had attracted the wrong kind of attention from the worst kind of people—people who recognized him for the dangerous weapon he was, and each one of them was determined to possess that weapon for themselves. Taltek Balmorlan, an inquisitor for elven intelligence, had Piaras kidnapped a week ago and imprisoned him in the elven embassy until he could get him off the island.

  “Embassy guards?” Phaelan asked, his voice deathly quiet.

  Last week, he’d seen embassy guards slaughter six Guardians and load an unconscious Piaras into a waiting coach—and he hadn’t been able to do a damned thing to stop it. I wasn’t the only Benares wanting payback. As embassy guards, Balmorlan’s men had diplomatic immunity, and as a wanted criminal, Phaelan’s testimony wouldn’t have been worth the parchment it’d have been scratched on.

  “Cousin, we need to do something permanent about Taltek Balmorlan,” Phaelan told me.

  “Agreed. Let’s get Piaras first, then we can make Balmorlan sorry.”

  “My contact wizard said Piaras armed himself before he left the ship.” Phaelan paused meaningfully. “Heavily.”