Con & Conjure rb-5

by Lisa Shearin

  Chigaru spoke. “And to prevent a city-wide panic, or a coup breaking down the palace gates, Sathrik has publically announced that these mages and nobles are traitors who fled rather than face the consequences of their criminal actions. The truth is their only crime was to oppose my brother’s rule, and support mine.”

  And any chance Chigaru had of overthrowing Sathrik—and Sarad Nukpana—would die with them.

  Unless somebody stopped them.

  Last time I checked, I was someone.

  Tam looked at Mychael. “Sarad has made it known that he needs more mages to keep that Gate stable.”

  Mychael stood in silence, a muscle working in his jaw. “They’re coming here first.”

  “There is one thing that will prevent a full-scale invasion,” Chigaru told him. “Giving them the Saghred.” The goblin prince looked at me. “And you, Raine. Most of all, my brother wants you.”

  Chapter 5

  You’d think being told an evil king and his even-more-evil quasi-demigod minion want you at their mercy or thousands of people would die would be as bad as anyone’s day could get.

  You’d be wrong.

  The Seat of Twelve had to be told.

  The Seat of Twelve was the ruling council for the Conclave, which was the governing body for every magic user of consequence in the seven kingdoms. These were twelve of the most powerful mages, period. Thanks to the Saghred, I now had more power than any of them. This bothered them.

  A lot.

  In their collective opinion, anyone with that much power needed to be watched very closely. Which meant if I so much as blinked wrong, I’d find myself in a citadel containment room. And if I completely cut loose with the power the Saghred had given me, my head and shoulders would soon be parting ways.

  Before the meeting, Mychael needed to meet briefly with Justinius Valerian, the archmage, the supreme head of the Conclave of Sorcerers, the commander in chief of the Brotherhood of Conclave Guardians, and a crafty, foultempered old man.

  I loved the guy.

  Even better, he was right fond of me, too.

  Vegard and I were in the citadel on our way to Mychael’s office to wait. His office had wards and a well-stocked bar. I needed the former and wanted the latter.

  Naturally, we didn’t make it there.

  From the end of the hallway came a cool and crisp voice. “I hoped I would find you here, Mistress Benares.”

  Crap in a bucket.

  The voice belonged to an elven mage who thought he was about to get me right where he’d wanted me since the day I set foot on Mid.

  A tall figure stepped into view.

  Magus Carnades Silvanus was a pure-blooded high elf who wasn’t about to let anyone forget it. White-blond hair, glacier blue eyes, pristine porcelain complexion. His black and silver robes were elegant and expensive, and emphasized his cold beauty. Gleaming against the silk of his robes was a mirrored disk dangling at the end of a silver chain. I’d never liked mirror mages, and I’d never like Carnades Silvanus.

  As the senior mage on the Seat of Twelve, Carnades Silvanus saw himself as the champion of the elven people. I saw him as a self-righteous, narrow-minded jerk. Unfortunately, he also had the influence to convince a lot of powerful and dangerous people to see things his way.

  Two others stepped up behind him. Elves. Mages. Two mages on the Seat of Twelve. I’d seen them before with Carnades. Always standing a step or two behind, their deference to Carnades made it clear to anyone who cared to notice that they were nothing but lackeys. Lackeys who were probably two of the top mages in the kingdoms, but were still Carnades’s flunkies and hangers-on. As Carnades grew in power and influence, they moved up the ladder with him without doing a thing except what he told them to.

  Vegard came to reluctant attention. The Guardians’ main duty was the protection of the archmagus and the mages of the Seat of Twelve. Carnades was second in command only to the archmagus, and he was convinced that my involvement with certain goblins not only made me a goblin sympathizer, but a traitor to the elven people.

  He smiled, a dazzling white flash of insincerity. “I understand that your visit to greet your precious prince didn’t turn out as you planned.”

  I flashed him a smile of my own. “I don’t think anyone got what they paid for this morning. Too bad assassins don’t give refunds, isn’t it?”

  That wiped the smirk off his face.

  Carnades and Taltek Balmorlan had become the best of friends, and friends didn’t keep secrets from each other—especially not secrets that involved hiring the deadliest assassin in the kingdoms, who conveniently happened to be an elf.

  “You used your Saghred-spawned power to defend a Mal’Salin—a creature who would go to any length to kill an elf, any elf.” Carnades’s voice was a self-satisfied purr. “Except you, of course. Merely a continuation of the relationship that began in—”

  “Relationship?” Maybe I’d hit my head when I fell against that guard shack wall.

  “Your clandestine meeting with the prince at an estate in Mermeia was—”

  “A kidnapping. Mine. Prince Chigaru wanted me to find the Saghred for him. I refused.”

  “A second encounter was more public. An embrace at the goblin king’s masked ball two nights later.”

  “If your snitches had looked closely enough they would have seen that the prince had a dagger to my ribs. Stepping away from him wasn’t just ill-advised, it was impossible.” I took two steps closer to Carnades, close enough to make him flinch. “But I could hardly expect you to be concerned with facts.” I lowered my voice to the same purr. “You just want an excuse.”

  “Guardian, I want to speak to Mistress Benares alone.” Carnades said it without even looking at Vegard. He knew Vegard’s name; he just refused to use it. Just one more way to belittle Mychael’s knights.

  “It’s all right, Vegard,” I said. “I want to have a private chat with Magus Silvanus.”

  Vegard and Carnades’s two yes-mages moved down the hall and out of earshot. However, I did notice that Vegard stayed within his ax-throwing range. I gave him a knowing wink.

  “Let’s stop playing games, Mistress Benares,” Carnades said.

  “Works for me. I’m tired of this one anyway. For starters, stop with the ‘Mistress Benares’ act. You hate my guts; I hate yours, so why waste perfectly good dislike on acting polite when neither of us wants to. I know there’s another five-letter word you’d love to call me, but for now let’s just go with ‘Raine,’ shall we?”

  Carnades’s mouth twisted with distaste. “That would imply familiarity.”

  “Yeah, it’s offensive to me, too. But let’s try just this once.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, you’ve got your privacy. Talk.”

  “I want to see you dead.”

  “That’s nothing new, but you are dispensing with the small talk. I like that.”

  “The ideal end for you would be on an executioner’s block before sundown. That won’t be for another two hours. In my opinion, that’s two hours too late. Unfortunately, for the good of many, the desires of the few must be pushed aside.”

  “Meaning you don’t get to see my head lopped off before you go to dinner.”

  “That would be a much better start to my evening.” Carnades’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Though from what the Saghred’s history has shown us, I won’t have much longer to wait.”

  “So now you’re entertaining yourself by rewriting history?”

  “There’s no need to alter the truth,” Carnades said. “You’ve read Rudra Muralin’s journal. He was the Saghred’s bond servant, exactly like yourself. No doubt you’ve realized that you’re following in his footsteps.”

  “I am not now, nor will I ever be like Rudra Muralin,” I said, my voice tight with fury. The goblin was a thousandyear-old, seriously psychotic mage who’d used the Saghred to slaughter thousands and enslave thousands more. He was dead now. Permanently, thanks to Sarad Nukpana. In several pieces then reduc
ed to ashes, thanks to Imala Kalis.

  “You have used the Saghred more than a few times now,” Carnades continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “It becomes more a part of you each time. You don’t see this, but others can. I can. Soon its desires will become your own. When that happens, you’ll have become too dangerous to live. It’s only a matter of time.” His long fingers toyed negligently with the jeweled chain lying against his dark robes. “It will happen quite soon, I think.” His eyes gleamed in triumph. “If it hasn’t already.”

  My breath froze. Carnades hadn’t been at the harbor this morning; and even if he had, he’d have had no way of knowing about the goblin mages—and how the Saghred had made me want to kill the lot of them.

  “If that little dream makes you happy, keep having it.” My voice was steady, but the rest of me wasn’t.

  “Isn’t it odd that you claim to want to be rid of the Saghred and the power it has given you, but you have yet to expend any real effort toward achieving that end? The stone’s influence over you goes deeper than you will admit.”

  I forced a smile. “I’ve been a little busy. It’s hard to work on my own problems when more pressing issues keep coming up. Many of them were your fault; the others you kept sticking your nose into and making them worse. And on at least three occasions, if it weren’t for me, your own arrogant stupidity would have gotten you killed. I saved your life, and what thanks do I get?”

  The smile grew. “A chance to save your pirate cousin from probable torture and certain execution.”

  I went perfectly still.

  “You don’t believe me,” Carnades murmured.

  “Why wouldn’t I? Threatening innocent people with violence to get what you want. It’s the ultimate villain cliché, but from you, I believe it.”

  “Good. That will save me the effort to prove my sincerity. I assure you my associates and I would be doing nothing illegal.”

  “So torture and execution aren’t illegal in your little world?”

  “Neither I nor any of my associates would harm one hair on Captain Benares’s head. We would merely be apprehending a known criminal.”

  “Mychael and the archmage have granted Phaelan immunity while he is on Mid.”

  “That immunity ceases to exist once he is out of Mid’s waters,” Carnades noted.

  “Phaelan’s not leaving Mid anytime soon.”

  “I never said it would be his choice.”

  “That’s kidnapping.”

  “Not at all. Like yourself, I am merely warning you of the impending actions of others. Not that they would be committing a crime. They would merely be apprehending a known and wanted criminal. There are countless warrants for the infamous Captain Phaelan Benares’s arrest. Some of the rewards being offered are quite exorbitant. Your cousin must be exceedingly proficient at his chosen calling. They can’t all have him, of course. I understand there are plans to award him to the highest bidder. It would be the only fair way to settle any conflicting claims. And with such a wanted man as Captain Benares, there are certain to be conflicts.”

  “What do you want?”

  Carnades stepped closer. “I want nothing, Raine. In fact, I am offering you an opportunity to save the life of your cousin and help your own people.”

  “An opportunity. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it called that before. And let me guess, all I have to do is walk through the gates of the elven embassy of my own free will.”

  “Would that be so difficult?”

  “Then a certain elven intelligence inquisitor will escort me to a warded cell made just for me, and clap me into a set of custom-made manacles. Have I missed anything?”

  “In exchange for your cooperation, your family will not be harmed.”

  The Saghred twisted in my chest, my rage awakening it.

  Carnades knew. He laughed softly and his voice dropped to a bare whisper. “You want to obliterate me, don’t you, Raine? The urge is almost more than you can bear. How many nights have you lain awake wondering how much longer until you lose what little control you have left? Knowing that the instant you do there will be no going back.”

  “And all I have to do is let Balmorlan’s sicko mages get their hands on the Saghred by getting their hands on me, so you and yours can destroy every goblin breathing your air.”

  “Before they do the same to us,” Carnades hissed. “Before you further betray your people to help our enemies. Enemies who at this moment are planning our race’s destruction.”

  “Destroy them before they can destroy us. Brilliant. It never occurred to you to work with the goblins who have no interest in killing a single elf. Who want to bring down the goblins who do want the elves’ collective neck in a noose.”

  “There are no such creatures. Goblins kill. It’s what they are. Consumed by evil from the moment they are spawned.”

  “You want to see what evil really looks like?” I snarled. “Take a look in the mirror hanging around your own neck.”

  Carnades stiffened. You’d think I had slapped him. Believe me, I wanted to do a lot more than that, and the Saghred was eager to help.

  “You refuse my offer?” Frost rolled off his words.

  “And toss it back in your face.”

  “Very well. I offered you the chance to surrender voluntarily. Enjoy your last few hours of freedom—and if you see your cousin, tell him to do the same.”

  Surrender or thousands die.

  Don’t surrender, the goblins and/or elves will come and get you, and thousands will still die. I really didn’t want to think about what was going to happen to me in either one of those scenarios.

  I hate no-win choices. In my book, if you don’t have a chance of winning, then it’s not a choice. But either way, I was screwed and innocent people died. I didn’t believe for one second that King Sathrik would stay home and play nice—or Carnades and Balmorlan would crawl back under their collective rock—if I served myself up on a silver platter. But that’s exactly what the Seat of Twelve wanted to do with me as soon as they could vote on it.

  I’d been in this room before. Nothing good had happened in it then, and I didn’t see that changing now.

  In my opinion, it wasn’t a room for the Seat of Twelve to meet—it was a star chamber for passing judgment. I’d been in the hot seat last time, too. The dais was still there, but the throne-like chairs were around a massive table instead. Marginally less imposing, though it still said loud and clear that this group took themselves and their power way too seriously. No low self-esteem here.

  “What are the terms for the surrender?” Carnades asked.

  To Carnades, saving his own lily-white patrician ass and those of his yes-mages was his first priority, the rest of the island’s inhabitants and students be damned, or in this case destroyed.

  “There are no terms, because there will be no surrender.” Justinius Valerian gave Carnades a look that said loud and clear that he would not say that again. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to debate.

  Unfortunately the old man was in the minority.

  The Seat of Twelve was shaking in their designer robes. Scared mages meant trouble of the fatal kind for me.

  Fighting never occurred to men and women who depended on fancy magic and political maneuvering more than they did standing their ground and defending what was theirs. To them that was what they hired guards for. Actual fighting was barbaric and beneath them.

  Which was exactly what Sathrik Mal’Salin and Sarad Nukpana were counting on.

  Justinius was the top dog in this well-dressed pack. The old man had teeth and he knew how to use them. The same couldn’t be said for most of the others. Just because you were a mage-level talent didn’t mean you could use that power for fighting.

  That’s why they had established the Guardians.

  Five hundred knights against tens of thousands of goblin warriors, and at least a couple hundred of those warriors were mage-level talents—in black magic. And with Sarad Nukpana coordinating the inva
sion, I’d be willing to bet that there would be major-class demons among those numbers. I didn’t care how much magical ass Mychael’s boys could kick, outnumbered was outnumbered.

  If I surrendered, all I would do is buy Mychael and his Guardians some time, but when the goblins did attack, it would be ten times worse.

  King Sathrik Mal’Salin and Sarad Nukpana would have the power of the Saghred at their beck and call.

  They would have me.

  If they had me, they didn’t need the rock. They could use the Saghred through my link with it, and sacrifice victims the same way. Nukpana had the power to open the Gate. He was planning to use me to keep it open.

  I was a weapon, a conduit to cataclysmic power, and the goblin king was going to invade the Isle of Mid to come and get me.

  A human mage sat a little apart from the fray, calm and aloof—mainly from the borderline panic among her colleagues. I remembered her. She’d been the only one not in favor of throwing me in a containment room and throwing away the key the last time I was in this room. That didn’t make her a friend, but right now I’d take what I could get.

  “Not that I am questioning Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin’s word, but what proof do we have of this?” Her voice was strong and cut right through the din. “He desires his brother’s throne. No doubt he would have an equal desire in getting Mid’s help to destroy his brother.”

  A voice of reason. Always a good thing to have.

  “I have people getting that confirmation now, Magus Cagilian,” Mychael told her with a slight bow. “I hope we find no such evidence; but if an impending invasion is confirmed, we must be ready to begin evacuating the students.”

  Another mage spoke up; actually, it was more of a whine. “But the goblin king said that if we gave him Raine Benares they would not invade.”

  “And you believe him?” Justinius barked, a short laugh minus the humor. “He and Nukpana want the Saghred. They’ll use Miss Benares to get enough power to come and take it. If they get that far, we’re all toast.”