Magic Lost, Trouble Found rb-1

by Lisa Shearin

  “Knowing Ocnus, he probably made the offer,” Tam said. “But if he’s up to his usual tricks, Nukpana wasn’t the only potential buyer. And with the Mal’Salin family split into two camps, working for the family has become even more complicated than it used to be.”

  Phaelan tossed back the last of his drink. “Sounds like he’s holding out for the highest bidder.”

  “Ocnus is known for playing both sides of the fence, so that wouldn’t surprise me,” I said.

  Tam chuckled. “Sarad Nukpana doesn’t like to be played.”

  “Anything from the rumor mill on where Ocnus has gone to ground?” I asked. If Tam didn’t know, I had a real good idea.

  “Not a peep.”

  “Considering who’s after him, Ocnus has every reason to claw his way under the nearest rock,” Phaelan noted.

  I smiled. It was a slow smile, and it was borderline malicious.

  “I think I know just which one to turn over.”

  Chapter 16

  No doubt Ocnus had always wanted to be popular. Now I wanted to talk to him. So did Sarad Nukpana. But somehow, I didn’t think that was the kind of popularity Ocnus had in mind.

  Tracking the goblin snitch was simple enough. From time to time, Ocnus found it prudent not to be among his own people. Nothing like having a deal go sour to compel you to make yourself scarce. When the Goblin District was the last place he wanted to be, Ocnus had three favorite places to drown his sorrows: the Blind Bandit, the Sly Fox, and the Sleeping Giant. The Blind Bandit had burnt to the ground last month, the owner of the Sly Fox wanted to get his hands on Ocnus almost as much as Sarad Nukpana did, so that left the Sleeping Giant. Sure enough, Ocnus was in residence at the bar with his two hobgoblin bodyguards in tow.

  Bodyguard work came easily to hobgoblins. When you’re huge, furry, fanged, and yellow-eyed, you don’t need much else as a deterrent. Ocnus’s muscle-bound bookends were good at one thing—being big. To their credit, they did it very well. But speed, either of thought or action, wasn’t a burden either one carried.

  The Sleeping Giant was a dockside dive located on Cutthroat Alley. I know what it sounds like, but the locals liked the name. In fact, they thought they were being downright civic-minded by calling it what it really was. It told the nonlocal what was likely to happen to them if they dawdled there. If a nonlocal chose to ignore the warning that was their business, or life.

  Phaelan was waiting for Ocnus with two of his crew and a pair of Guardians in an alley off the aforementioned alley that ran beside the tavern. Tam was back at Sirens. He had a business to take care of. I told him I would take care of Ocnus.

  Mychael Eiliesor was taking care of me.

  There was no way the Guardian was going to let me out of his sight. I guess I should have been grateful he didn’t take the hardline security solution of locking me up somewhere. I was sure he still considered that an option, but since there was no way he could get the Saghred by himself, it was in his best interests to stay on my good side. And that’s exactly where he was. Really close. While Eiliesor’s proximity was rather nice, it wasn’t very practical. If I needed to draw a blade, I’d have to knock him out of the way first. And considering his size in relation to mine, I knew that wasn’t physically possible.

  I’d join Phaelan in a minute, but I wanted to talk to Eiliesor now. I had some questions. Nagging questions of the life-and-death variety. Eiliesor and I were behind some crates around the corner from Cutthroat Alley. Phaelan would let me know when Ocnus put in an appearance. I wanted the first hands around Ocnus’s throat to be mine.

  Eiliesor stood an arm’s length away, utterly still, his hands relaxed—and where they could immediately draw either sword or dagger. Always the Guardian, always on duty, always ready for anything. I wondered if he even knew how to relax. Not that I wanted him to start now, but I did wonder what a playful Mychael Eiliesor would be like.

  He must have felt me watching him. He looked down at me, his dark eyes unreadable in the alley’s faint light.

  “What are you thinking?” His voice was a husky whisper. Raising your voice in this part of the waterfront was never a good idea. Maybe he knew that. Or maybe it was just for me. Either way, it was a very nice whisper.

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  “You were smiling.”

  “Was not.”

  One corner of his mouth turned upward. “Yes, you were. What is it?”

  “I was wondering if you’re ever off duty.”

  “I am.”

  “Do you ever act like it?”

  His blue eyes shone in the half-light. “I’ve been known to. Is that what prompted the smile?”

  “It was. I just can’t imagine you being anything other than a Guardian.”

  “I don’t know what you may have heard about me,” he began.

  “By the book and all business.”

  The smile broadened slightly. “I do hold myself and my men to a higher level of accountability than some of my predecessors. It’s earned me a reputation that has its uses. Sometimes it makes my job, and the jobs of my men, a little easier.” The smile faded. “I take my position—and my responsibilities—very seriously. You’re in danger because of an object that is my responsibility, something I’m asking you to help us find.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “My reasons for agreeing to help aren’t exactly honorable, you know. I’m one big bull’s-eye for a lot of bad people until I can get this thing off of me, so I have a vested interest in helping you get what you want.”

  “That doesn’t lessen the danger you’ll be in over the next few days, nor does it lessen my appreciation for your help—and my admiration of you.” The Guardian paused awkwardly. “Mistress Benares?” His voice was oddly formal.

  “Yes?”

  “I would like it very much if you would call me Mychael.”

  I felt a smile coming on. I didn’t try to stop it. “I think I can do that.”

  If the light had been better, I would have sworn he had blushed. I felt a little warm myself.

  Now for the question of the night. “Do you have a plan?” I asked, my voice small and quiet even to me.

  Mychael seemed genuinely puzzled. “Pardon me?”

  “A plan. Say Ocnus actually knows where the Saghred is, and we get him to cough it up. Do you have a plan that’s going to get this thing off my neck while leaving my head attached to my shoulders?”

  “I do, but the details depend on where the Saghred is.”

  Now for the question I really didn’t want to ask. “What if the weasel’s lying? What if he doesn’t know a thing, and he just tried to con the wrong people? It wouldn’t be the first time. What then?”

  Mychael was silent for a little too long.

  “You are a seeker—and your father’s daughter.”

  I thought it’d be something like that.

  He moved a step closer to me. I didn’t move, and I didn’t mind.

  His voice was low. “If there is the possibility, however remote, that Ocnus Rancil knows where the Saghred is, I would prefer to get that information from him and then confirm it through more mundane means.”

  I swallowed. “Because the Saghred’s dangerous.”

  “That’s one reason.” Mychael paused uncomfortably. “No doubt you are a fine seeker, but your father had the beacon created to his skill level. He was an exceptionally gifted mage, one of the best our order has ever produced. He knew how to use the beacon to keep track of the Saghred. Unfortunately, that information vanished with him. But I am knowledgeable of how a beacon such as yours works—”

  “So you can walk me through it, if necessary.”

  He smiled slightly. “If necessary. Hopefully it won’t be.”

  “What are the chances that Eamaliel Anguis is my father?” I finally asked. “Really.”

  “From the beacon’s reaction to you, almost a certainty.”

  I was quiet for a longer moment, for an entirely different reason.

  “A nine-h
undred-year-old elven Guardian is my father.” I said it as much to myself as to the much younger elven Guardian standing in front of me. Like saying it would make it more believable. Or less terrifying.

  “He was connected to the Saghred,” I said. “I’m connected to the Saghred. He’s nine-hundred-years old and still alive. I’m going to be…?”

  “Just fine,” Mychael assured me.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Eamaliel had nearly continuous, daily contact with the Saghred for almost two years before he ever had the beacon made. And he wore the beacon for nearly a decade before anyone noticed he didn’t seem to be aging. You’ve never touched the Saghred, and you’ve only worn the beacon for two days. We’re going to find the Saghred, get the beacon off of you, and you’re going to be just fine.”

  “No magical leftovers?”

  Mychael was silent.

  “You’ve been reassuring until now,” I said. “More of the same would be nice.”

  “There could be some residuals.”

  “Residuals?”

  “When Eamaliel keyed himself to the beacon, he essentially keyed himself to the Saghred. The beacon acted as a conduit, and transferred some of the Saghred’s power to him. You experienced a taste of that last night with the Magh’Sceadu. With beacons and objects of power, any link is usually severed when the beacon is removed.”

  “Usually.”

  “With something as powerful as the Saghred, the residuals can be significantly more than mere magical leftovers.”

  “So some of what I can do now could stay with me?”

  “It’s possible that all of what you can do now will stay with you.”

  “Great. Every couple of hours I’m finding something new I can do.” I had a thought, and it made me faintly queasy. “Would Sarad Nukpana know this?”

  “He is a leading Saghred scholar,” Mychael said. “Yes, he would know.”

  I didn’t need to know that.

  Phaelan’s low whistle came from the alley. Show time.

  I slipped into the alley next to Phaelan. Mychael stayed around the corner. I’d told him before we’d left Sirens that I wanted a shot at Ocnus first. I was the one he had set up; I was the one with the beacon stuck around my neck. I felt that earned me certain rights and privileges. Before tonight, I’d never thought of strangling Ocnus as a right or privilege, but the past few days had been full of firsts.

  I looked around. No Ocnus. “Where is he?”

  Phaelan’s smile flashed in the dim light. “He’s finishing off his last pint now. I had Norleen giving him free ale. He’ll have to stop here before he leaves.”

  “Here?” Understanding dawned, and it didn’t smell good.

  Phaelan grinned. “Yeah, right here.”

  “Am I standing in…?” I looked down at my boots in disgust.

  His grin grew to wolfish proportions and he tapped his own boot in something wet. “Highly likely. Payback is hell, cousin. From Nigel’s stinking alley to Ocnus’s.”

  Now I remembered why I avoided alleys in this part of the waterfront. I was glad it was a cool night. In high summer, the smell would have been unbearable.

  Never think a night can’t get any worse. There’s all kinds of worse.

  “Who’s Norleen?” I asked, trying in vain to keep my mind off my feet.

  “The brew mistress here. I knew her when she worked at the Beggar’s Back. Brews fine ale, but the dwarf who owns this place is too cheap to sell the lady’s nectar at full strength. He thinks he can make more profit if he waters it down. But I understand you can get it full strength if you slip Norleen a little extra.”

  “Ocnus is no use to us drunk,” I reminded him.

  “No problem. Norleen made sure he filled his bladder before his brain. He’ll be just relaxed enough to make him receptive to questioning.” He grinned. “Or you could always speed things up and do a mind link.”

  My expression and accompanying gesture let him know what I thought of that. Doing a mind link on someone like Ocnus was akin to turning over a rock and finding squishy things underneath. With Ocnus, finding something squishy was always guaranteed.

  Phaelan nodded toward the shadows Mychael had blended into. Literally blended into. Eerie. Phaelan’s look wasn’t entirely approving. “What do you think about that one? I don’t trust him.”

  The two Guardians from Tam’s place were standing not five feet away. Phaelan didn’t seem to care. If his goal for the evening was to have the blond Guardian’s ax embedded in his skull, he was off to a fine start.

  “I don’t expect you will,” I told him. “His job is to uphold the law. Yours isn’t. If I want to get rid of this thing, I’m going to need some help. He’s my top candidate.” I looked at the tavern’s door. “Are Ocnus’s pet goons still with him?”

  “Never three feet from his side,” Phaelan said. “It’s enough to make me claustrophobic. He must be nervous tonight.”

  I snorted. “I wonder why. I hope Norleen gave them free ale, too. The less sober people we have to deal with, the better.”

  “Full strength to one, but the other’s not drinking. She tried, but no dice.”

  “Not a problem,” the blond Guardian rumbled.

  I jumped. I’d almost forgotten they were there.

  The Guardian grinned down at me. “Not to worry. We’ll entertain those two while you and the captain talk to Master Rancil.”

  He sounded only too happy to help. I could develop a soft spot for the ax wielder.

  Phaelan was right. Ocnus, and his bladder, had more than their fill of Norleen’s brew. We slipped farther into the alley. Apparently there were only so many places Ocnus’s twin mountains of muscle would go with him. Alleys that doubled as public urinals didn’t make the cut. Maybe they weren’t as dumb as they looked. The two Guardians drifted silently to either side of the alley entrance, and literally blended into the shadows like their commander. It was spooky. Ocnus came into the alley. His guards didn’t. I heard their boot scuffs. Then I didn’t. Like I said, spooky.

  Phaelan had done this sort of thing before and deemed it prudent to wait until Ocnus had finished doing what he came to do before apprehending him. Something to do with the possibility of accidents. Unlike most of Phaelan’s plans, I didn’t question the wisdom of this one.

  Once Ocnus was actually in the alley, I found a simply fascinating spot on the wall that warranted my complete and undivided attention. Phaelan would handle the more physical aspects of securing Ocnus. I was here in case Ocnus was still capable of defense of the magical variety.

  I heard a thump followed by a strangled squeal. So much for Ocnus being capable.

  Phaelan had him neatly pinned to the alley wall. “Hello, Ocnus.”

  “Captain Benares,” the sorcerer squeaked.

  I stepped out of the shadows, my most serious I’m-going-to-hurt-you-now look on my face. I was hoping Ocnus would buy my bluff and I wouldn’t actually have to do anything. Especially anything that involved touching him. From the widening of Ocnus’s eyes, I guessed I was the last person he expected to come face-to-face with tonight. Then again, Ocnus’s bulging eyes may have been due to Phaelan’s forearm on his throat. I told myself it was me. It helped keep the evil glint in my eye.

  Ocnus was still alive and walking around the city because certain people found him useful. Like now. Those same people had also allowed him to live because it would be difficult to explain to the city watch that they’d killed Ocnus just because he was annoying. While the watch all knew Ocnus and would understand the reason, the law wouldn’t let them approve of it.

  “Spending the Mal’Salin gold you earned last night?” I asked.

  “Last night was just business, nothing personal.”

  “Piaras Rivalin was beaten and we were both kidnapped.” I stepped in closer to Ocnus than I wanted to be. For people like him, intimidation and proximity went hand in hand. It was crude, but it worked. “Last night was everything personal.”

 
Ocnus managed to shake his head. “You don’t understand.”

  “I think I do. Word has it that Sarad Nukpana is looking for you.”

  Ocnus tried a smile, but it just came off looking queasy. “He gave me the night off.”

  Phaelan sighed regretfully, though I knew he didn’t regret one thing he was prepared to do. “Ocnus, you really need to work on your lying. You’ve been here less than an hour, and you’ve finished off five pints all by yourself. Even one of your guard dogs was hard pressed to keep pace.”

  The pudgy sorcerer looked around wildly.

  “They found something else to do,” I told him. “You might see them later.”

  “I think you’re having a bad night,” Phaelan surmised, “and you’re trying to drink yourself into a better one. It doesn’t work that way. Trust me, I know.”

  “I don’t think you have the night off,” I told Ocnus. “I think you’ve run away from home.”

  Phaelan adjusted his grip. “You running away from home, Ocnus?”

  The sorcerer squirmed a little and squeaked.

  “I think that’s a ‘yes’,” I said.

  “Your Mal’Salin friends wouldn’t get within a mile of this dump,” Phaelan said. “We think that’s why you’re here. You must have done something extra naughty to put an entire city between you. Care to share with us?”

  I leaned in close. “I’ll settle for where the Saghred is. Since Chigaru Mal’Salin already paid you the fifty tenari you were going to charge me, I’ll just take the information.”

  Ocnus’s eyes flickered to my chest. He suspected the beacon was there, at least that’s what I told myself. If I let myself think otherwise, Ocnus wouldn’t be in any condition to tell me anything. One of my fists flexed involuntarily. Then again he didn’t need all his teeth to talk.

  “The Saghred has always belonged to the Mal’Salins,” Ocnus managed. Phaelan hadn’t lightened the pressure on his neck, but I could hear a faint note of smugness. The smugness of someone pleased with a job well done.

  “Which one? King Sathrik or Prince Chigaru?”