Con & Conjure

Chapter 24

Whoever said waiting was the hardest part must not have been waiting on much of anything.

I was waiting for people to die.

On me. Through me. Talk about living from one breath to the next.

Just like Sarad Nukpana’s goblin mage prisoners were doing right now.

His injuries were probably all that was keeping him from starting the slaughter. With any luck, he’d never be able to hold a dagger again. No one had made him stick his hands through that Gate, but that didn’t matter. He’d blame me for that, too. That’d be fine with me; I’d gladly take the credit for crippling the bastard.

Now I was all that was standing between him and full control of the Saghred—he either needed me captured then dead, or just dead would be perfectly fine with him, though I know he’d rather have the fun of doing it himself.

The Gate had closed with Nukpana and the Saghred on the other side nearly twelve hours ago. I dimly recalled another sky dragon ride to the citadel that had been thankfully uneventful. I had no recollection of Mychael carrying me to his apartment or putting me to bed. Exhaustion would do that to you. I’d only been awake for about an hour. From the way my back ached, I think I’d spent nearly the entire day sleeping, or whatever, in the same position. Unconsciousness didn’t count as real sleep, but right now I was grateful for what I’d gotten. Every minute I could spend essentially out cold was one less minute wondering if any sudden chest pain was an impending heart attack or an incoming Saghred sacrifice. I think I’d rather have the heart attack. Generally those only happened once. That it could be fatal might actually be a plus.

Vegard was going to be fine. He was conscious within an hour after the Gate had closed, and was as sick as Mago in rough seas for the next five. Mychael hadn’t declared him fit for duty yet. Vegard was probably ready for what most Guardians considered duty. Mychael was saying Vegard wasn’t ready to return to duty guarding me yet. I didn’t think any man was truly ready for that.

Not going after the Saghred was not an option. Getting to Regor the normal way would take weeks. We didn’t have weeks. We might not even have days.

Mychael had come to see me when he’d been told that I was up. He’d been in emergency meetings all day with the archmagus, the Seat of Twelve, and half the Conclave trying to find a way to stop what Sarad Nukpana had set in motion the moment he snatched the Saghred through that Gate. But his main concern was doing what every paladin down through the centuries prayed he’d never have to do—protect the citizens, students, and mages of Mid from imminent invasion.

Sarad Nukpana had said he was coming after me, but the students weren’t being evacuated just to protect them from being killed—at least not in the normal way. Sarad Nukpana was many things, most of them evil and insane, but he wasn’t wasteful. The Saghred gained more power from magically talented sacrifices. Nukpana wasn’t only coming to Mid to get me, he was coming to power up the rock, to prepare it for conquest. Taking the lives of Mid’s students and mages would give him everything he needed and then some.

The Guardians who’d flown the reconnaissance mission to the plains outside of Regor had returned a few hours ago and reported a massive magical buildup as well as the construction of a framed platform that looked to be wide enough for at least a hundred men to go through standing shoulder to shoulder.

Wide enough for an army.

A hundred. Then a hundred more and hundreds after that, waiting on that plain outside of Regor for their turn to step through that Gate directly into Mid, an elven city, or any damned place the goblin king or Sarad Nukpana wanted them to be.

Even if we had a way to empty the Saghred of the souls it held now, unless we could destroy it, Sarad Nukpana would simply sacrifice more to feed it. Starting with Tam’s parents, Chigaru’s allies, Mid’s students, the Conclave’s mages.

The only people capable of stopping him.

Though as a silver lining to our catastrophe, we’d done some stopping ourselves.

With Carnades and Balmorlan laid low, their entire criminal network was crumbling or running like hell, some straight to their lawyers.

The documents I found in Taltek Balmorlan’s office would ruin them all. The fruits of Mago’s labor had been enough to get Carnades charged with treason, not to the elven government, those charges were still pending, but to the Conclave. The Conclave of Sorcerers was a neutral governing body. Neutral organizations frowned on its members starting wars.

Mago had a lawyer-to-lackey chat with Carnades’s two yes-mages on the Seat of Twelve—at least that was the profession Mago had chosen for the occasion. Living in a man’s pocket was enlightening. And if that man was the arrogant sort, he gave his lackeys no more consideration than the furniture. Furniture with ears, alert ears. Carnades’s yes-mages had heard things, seen things, and knew things. These mages were willing to ride Carnades’s robe hem to power, but not to the prison Mago convinced them they were going to. They sang. Two members of the Seat of Twelve laying down proof of extortion, bribery, misappropriated Conclave funds, and treason, carried enough weight to get a search warrant for Carnades’s office and home. More evidence was found, charges were brought, and the people rejoiced. Well, I was rejoicing.

I would have enjoyed it a lot more if Sarad Nukpana hadn’t been breathing down my neck from hundreds of miles away.

My ex-fiancé had vanished just like he’d appeared—without a trace. No one had seen Rache Kai, and no one was really looking for him. One killer on the island was an inconvenience; hundreds was an invasion. His note to Balmorlan said the deal was off and I believed him. And me sticking a certain poisoned dagger through a boot had eliminated the need to protect Prince Chigaru against a master glamourer/thief/assassin armed with the Nukpana family poison, a box of poison that Imala had taken into custody. I would have felt a lot better if she’d destroyed it. Though Imala, always the secret service director, said it would be a waste to destroy a weapon she hoped to soon put to good use. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Sarad Nukpana killed by his own family’s poison. It’d be ironic as hell.

Goblins loved irony.

Taltek Balmorlan was imprisoned in his own dungeon by the one man who could get him to admit everything he’d done and rat on the powerful and influential people he’d convinced to help him do it. People who also knew how and where to buy the services they needed to clean up the mess Balmorlan had made—starting with Balmorlan. Rache might soon find himself besieged with work offers.

We’d taken down the bad guys, but the evil ones had gotten away.

I’d glanced outside the apartment door once since getting up. It looked like Mychael had posted half a platoon of Guardians. I guess that was what it took to make him feel I was safe.

I’d had a bath. I was having a meal.

I had a visitor.

A visitor who insisted I finish eating before he’d give me any more news. He told me I had to keep my strength up. I was surprised he didn’t tell me to eat my vegetables.

Dads were like that.

After that, all similarities between my dad and every other dad in the seven kingdoms ended.

“Sarad won’t begin feeding the Saghred immediately,” he told me. “He has no reason to hurry and every reason to proceed with caution.”

If anyone else had been in the room, it’d seem odd for them to hear that kind of calm assurance from a kid who didn’t look old enough to buy himself a drink in a bar, even if he was a kid in a Guardian uniform. The young, blond elf sitting across from me was my father.

Arlyn Ravide, the young Guardian in whose body my dad’s soul lived, had died at the hands of the demon queen, the Scythe of Nen plunged through his heart. She’d wet the blade with his sacrificial blood, then stabbed the Saghred with equal ease to open the stone for her demon king consort to escape. The demon king was still trapped inside the Saghred, but Sarad Nukpana and five other inmates he’d plotted with while inside had escaped. My dad’s soul had escaped and occupied Arlyn Ravide’s lifeless body.

Dad’s real name was Eamaliel Anguis, a beautiful silverhaired, gray-eyed, pure-blooded high elf. He had been the Saghred’s Guardian and bond servant before me.

Nearly a thousand years before me. He was 934 years old.

Running for your life carrying the Saghred did that to you. I guess the rock didn’t want to be alone.

I’d only been stuck with the rock for three months. Dad had the Saghred and the people who wanted it chasing him the better part of a millennium. It had cost him his body when the rock turned its bond servant into its next meal.

It’d cost my mother her life.

“Sarad knows what it’s like to be inside the Saghred,” Dad continued. “He’ll want to be entirely sure of the ritual before he conducts it in public. King Sathrik will gather those of influence who oppose him but whom he dare not act against, to witness the sacrifices.”

I pushed my plate aside, appetite gone. “To take the fight out of every last one of them.”

“Exactly. So we have a little time.” Dad smiled. “Besides, it wouldn’t look good for Sarad to get sucked inside the Saghred again, only this time in front of the people he’s trying to impress.”

This wouldn’t be the first time the Saghred had been taken from a goblin king and a mad Khrynsani. Dad and an elite team of Guardians had done it that time, too. Now he was talking about doing it again.

Like I said, goblins loved irony.

I didn’t.

“Okay, what’s the fix?”

He arched a brow at me. “Pardon?”

“The fix. The way we’re going to get there. You’re talking like getting to Regor before Nukpana starts feeding souls to the Saghred isn’t our biggest problem.”

“It’s not.” He paused, the pause of a man who was about to say something he knew I didn’t want to hear. “We’ll be using a mirror.”

Oh hell.

I just looked at him. “You know I hate mirrors, right?”

“I’m not fond of them myself, but it’s our only option. The entrance mirror is here in the citadel. The exit is in a cave ten miles southwest of Regor.”

We would be there in seconds. Step into one mirror, step out of another. We’d be in the goblin capital in time for a midnight snack. Easy, fast, hopefully not fatal.

“The team will have to be small by necessity,” he continued. “No more than ten people.”

I took a breath and tried to let it out without it shaking. I failed.

Dad studied my face for a moment. “Raine?”

“My magic’s gone,” I said slowly. “You know that, right?”

“I know.” His eyes were steady. “I’ve talked to Mychael about it and we want you to be on Phaelan’s ship out of here on the morning tide.”

Running for the rest of my life. Dad had been doing it for almost a thousand years. How long until I was caught? Or just got tired of running and let them catch me.

No. No more.

It wasn’t going to end like that. I wasn’t going to end like that.

I wanted to live, and dammit, I wanted a life. A happy one. If anyone deserved all of that and more, and to never have to look over his shoulder again, it was the man sitting across from me. And all of it—my life, his life, the survival of everyone Sarad Nukpana wanted dead—depended on us doing this and not failing.

Dad sat there, watching me, probably reading my mind.

“You want to go.” He stated it simply, no question.

“Walking through a mirror to Regor to take on Sarad Nukpana and the goblin army with no magic? Hell, no, that’s not what I want. No one in their right mind would want that. But I’m not running and I won’t let anyone else risk death or worse while I go sailing with Phaelan.” I stood up and looked around for my gear. “Kick someone off that team of yours. I’m going.”

“Are you sure?” Dad asked quietly. “No one would blame you. Actually, it’d be a relief to all of us to know you were safe.”

“No, I’m not sure, but I’m doing it anyway. I can still do something that none of you can. I can sense the Saghred. Do you have any idea how I can sense the rock, but can’t tap my magic?”

“You’re treading untrod ground, Raine. No one knows.”

“Sarad Nukpana’s going to know I’m not packing.”

“Safe assumption.”

I snorted. “Glad assumptions are safe. I’m not.”

“It’s entirely possible that your magic is simply in shock from what you went through and should be coming back.”

“Should?”

Dad shrugged. “It’s a theory.”

“Theories aren’t going to keep Sarad Nukpana from frying me where I stand.”

His lips turned up at one corner in a crooked smile. “Then I’d suggest you keep moving.”

“Story of my life,” I muttered, finishing off the rest of my coffee.

The smile turned into a grin. “Story of both our lives.”

There was a knock on the door, then it opened and Vegard stuck his head in. The big Guardian was still a little pasty, but he was smiling.

“Good to see you up and alive, ma’am.”

I raised my mug in salute. “Same to you, darlin’.”

“Are they ready for us?” Dad asked him.

“Yes, sir.”

I looked from one to the other. “Ready?”

“You’ll see, daughter. Follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Justinius Valerian’s office.”

“The goblins will kill me!”

I knew that voice. It belonged to the best mirror mage on Mid—and the Conclave’s newest criminal.

Carnades Silvanus.

“Shit,” I spat.

We were listening at the door outside of Justinius’s office. We hadn’t gone in yet, and I was giving serious thought to going right back to Mychael’s apartment and crawling under the bed.

Dad chuckled. “Couldn’t have said it better. Unfortunately, he’s also the best. And that’s his getaway mirror in that cave outside Regor.”

“Carnades was the emissary to the goblin court a handful of years ago,” Vegard said. “It was Archmagus Valerian’s first try to get rid of him. The goblins hated Carnades and the feeling was mutual, so . . .”

I nodded. “He had a getaway mirror waiting nearby, though you’d think he’d have put the thing closer.”

“Ten miles was as close as he could put it without it being detected,” Dad explained.

“And all of this is good, how?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he murmured. His eyes sparkled with barely contained mirth. “And Carnades has definitely drawn the short straw today.”

The Lower Hells were officially frozen over.

I was going to Regor using a mirror with Carnades Silvanus as my tour guide.

I gave a second’s serious thought to going sailing with Phaelan. A lifetime of running wouldn’t be that bad. I’d be in fabulous shape.

Justinius snorted and laughed. “You don’t have to go to Regor to die,” he told Carnades. “You’ve got people on this island lining up to kill you. The advantage to Regor is they won’t know you’re there—if you don’t screw up. You get the team there and safely back again. Every. Last. One. Do it and you live—behind bars, but your head will still be attached to the rest of you. If you don’t . . . well, you’d be better off staying with the goblins. On your return, your level of cooperation will be taken into consideration at your trial. Understand?”

“Perfectly.” Icicles hung off of that one word.

I decided to add the cherry on top of Carnades’s bad day. I stepped into Justinius’s office and let Carnades see me. The expression on his face made the risk of death and dismemberment in Regor worth it.

The elf mage was still wearing his usual sumptuous black velvet robes, but now they were perfectly accessorized with a pair of magic-sapping manacles. Though they were bright and shiny and looked more like jewelry than restraints. I guess high-class criminals got the good stuff.

Carnades’s face turned a most unattractive shade of red. “You!”

I smiled. “Me.”

I thought I’d make his day even worse by confirming what he’d long suspected. I walked over to Mychael and got myself a good hug and a kiss. I deserved it—and so did Carnades.

I looked up at Mychael, his arms still around me. “So when do we get this show on the road?” I nodded toward my dad. “I’ve been told the big picture.” I wasn’t about to say “dad” out loud around Carnades. Maybe it’d scare him into behaving if he knew—or kick him one step closer to more betrayal. Some secrets were best kept that way.

“The mirror we’ll be using is downstairs in the containment area,” Mychael said.

That was surprising. I’d have figured Carnades would have kept it in his house. But I guess if he came screaming through a mirror with a hundred pissed off and racially offended goblins after him, he’d want Guardians for backup, not his butler.

“We’ll leave as soon as we gather our gear and the rest of the team arrives,” Mychael told me.

“Who’s the rest of the team?”

He gazed down at me. “You’re going?”

“Not my first choice for a romantic getaway, but yeah, I’m going.”

Mychael tightened his arms around me. “The two of us, Carnades, Tam, Imala, Prince Chigaru, and four others.”

I knew Dad was one of the four others. For Tam and Imala, now was the time to move against Sathrik, and prevent their people from being slaughtered to feed the Saghred. I knew that Prince Chigaru was determined to rescue his fiancée before she was forced to marry Sathrik. After that, Chigaru only had two goals: take his brother’s throne, then take his brother’s life.

“Carnades can take ten people through that mirror,” Mychael was saying. “In weapons and supplies, we’ll essentially be limited to what we can carry.”

Vegard stepped forward. “Sir, what about—”

“I need you here, Vegard.”

“But, sir—”

“As acting paladin.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“I need to know that you’re here,” Mychael told him, “working in my stead if we fail—”

“You won’t fail,” Vegard said vehemently.

“If we do, I want you to get the students off of the island.”

Justinius put a hand on Vegard’s shoulder. “I’ll make the announcement to the full Conclave within the hour. It would be good if you were there beside me.”

“Evacuate the students first, youngest to oldest,” Mychael told him. “Phaelan and Commodore Benares have offered their ships as transport.”

My throat threatened to close up. “And they’ll be damned fine guards,” I managed.

“Yes, they will,” Mychael agreed quietly.

Justinius dropped his hand from Vegard’s shoulder and motioned to me. He went to the far corner of his office, out of earshot, and I followed.

“Any sign of your magic?”

“No, sir.”

“It should have come back by now.”

“I was going with ‘if I don’t say it, it won’t be true.’ ”

“Doesn’t work like that.”

“I know.” I glanced at Carnades; he was glaring at me. I turned away so he couldn’t read my lips. “Does Carnades know?”

“Not from me or anyone else here. You play cards, girl?”

I knew where he was going. I nodded. “And I know how to run a convincing bluff.”

“Make this one your best.”

“Thank you, sir, but that goes without saying.”

Mychael was talking to Carnades. “If you want to destroy goblins, there are two in Regor that you’re free to cut loose on. Only on my command. You will not endanger the lives of this team, or we’ll gladly walk home from Regor.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Carnades snarled.

“No, I wouldn’t dare,” Mychael replied mildly. “I would do; and as I just said, I would do it gladly.”

Carnades lunged at Mychael.

Mychael met him with an armored forearm against his throat.

A blue-white spark flared to life at the tip of my finger. It didn’t grow. It just pulsed there. As far as magic went, it was smaller than tiny.

But it was mine. I didn’t know how, but I’d made it.

“You don’t have a choice, Carnades,” I said, hardly daring to breathe for fear of blowing that spark out. “And neither do I.”

The elf mage’s stare was silent and icy.

“Yeah, it sucks to be us. If Nukpana wins, the two of us will be at the front of his kill line. Are you with us or not?”

His stare didn’t melt. “Yes.”

And the tiny spark didn’t vanish. Its glow was fierce and bright. Determined.

I looked at Mychael over the spark and smiled.

“Let’s go steal ourselves a rock.”