Magic Lost, Trouble Found

Chapter 8

In my opinion, the best source for information on Sarad Nukpana would be from a former member of the goblin royal family—especially from a primaru, or shaman of the royal blood. I considered Primaru Tamnais Nathrach a friend. Tam wanted to be more than friends. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I figured that friends or more than friends don’t normally kill each other, regardless of the Mal’Salin duchess they used to be married to, so I felt relatively safe paying Tam a visit.

Tam was one of those scoundrels who’d come into my life and actually stayed there. I knew him well enough to trust him—to a point. There were things about Tam that I’d probably never know, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I think that was part of his appeal.

In addition to locating missing people, I was often hired to find missing objects. Some of those objects were magical; most were mundane—and small and valuable and shiny. Mermeia was more than a favorite retirement destination for mages; it was a playground for mages and nobles alike. The kind of playground where if you wanted to play, you had to pay. Tam owned Sirens, the most exclusive and notorious nightclub and gambling parlor in the city. Most of the money that found its way onto Tam’s tables came from the healthy bank accounts of the mages or nobles placing the bets. Some of those bank accounts were less than healthy. Tam wasn’t directly involved in stolen goods, but he did have clientele who routinely came into unexpected bounty. Tam had no problem with that bounty being spread around his establishment—even if that bounty had yet to be converted into the coin of the realm.

Tam and I met as a result of yet another cash-strapped noble working his way through the remains of his wife’s inheritance to support his gambling habit. One wife in particular drew the line at her grandmother’s favorite ring. She hired me. I tailed her husband right to Tam’s high-stakes card table. The husband tried to compel me to look the other way. I don’t compel, and I sure as hell don’t look the other way. Tam’s been known to avert his eyes, as well as have troublemakers like me tossed into the canal behind his club. Tam may be a scoundrel and an opportunist, but he’s also a savvy businessman. It looked good for him to return the lady’s ring. He told me later he did it to impress me.

Tam considers me a challenge; I consider Tam a work in progress. I also think there’s a gentleman lurking under that calculating exterior. Tam thinks “gentleman” is a dirty word.

I talk dirty to Tam every chance I get.

This morning I wanted to talk to Tam about his former in-laws—and whether they had contacted him when they had arrived in town. After his wife’s death, Tam had asked to leave the royal family’s service. I had always suspected politics played an equal role in his decision. I wanted to know if someone had tried to pull him back in. Working for the Mal’Salin family wasn’t usually fatal, but telling them you were quitting almost always was, even if you were family. Especially if you were a talented shaman who had once provided a valuable service. Many felt Tam’s talents were wasted on a nightclub. I disagreed. Tam had had more than one bad experience in his former line of work, and he’d left that life behind to do what he enjoyed. Good for him.

I knew Tam wasn’t a loyalist when it came to King Sathrik Mal’Salin. I also knew there were many in the Goblin District who shared Tam’s political leanings. And with the king and his Khrynsani in town, it was healthier to keep those leanings to yourself. The politics of Tam the business owner was that if it was good for business, he was in favor of it. I couldn’t see the Khrynsani being good for anyone’s business, except possibly an assassin or an undertaker. I wasn’t so sure about the politics of a primaru and former member of the Mal’Salin family, but I did know I trusted him enough to ask.

I crossed Heron Row a block down from Tam’s place and stopped. Sirens was closed during the day, but apparently that didn’t stop Tam from having visitors.

This wasn’t just any visitor. I knew this lady. Or at least knew of her.

Primari A’Zahra Nuru had a direct connection to, and the ear of, the Mal’Salin family.

The primari, or shamaness of the royal blood, had taught the goblin queen mother, as well as the late queen. She had also been Tam’s teacher and mentor. When Sathrik, the queen’s eldest son, took the throne after his mother’s sudden death, he encouraged Primari Nuru to retire. He provided her with a modest house and annual income in Mermeia, far removed from the goblin court. It seemed the new king didn’t want his dead mother’s tutor underfoot. Hardly unexpected considering A’Zahra Nuru’s rumored abilities and Sathrik’s recent activities, most notably the questionable circumstances of his mother’s death.

Primari A’Zahra Nuru was hardly retired. According to Markus, she was Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin’s most trusted advisor. And now here she was visiting Tam. Chigaru’s retainers had taken on King Sathrik’s Khrynsani guards in Nigel’s garden last night. A’Zahra Nuru drops in on her former student this morning. The odds were against a coincidence. If I wanted answers, it looked like I had come to the right place.

The diminutive goblin wore a simple gown of pale mauve silk, and her silvery white hair was elaborately styled and held in place with tiny, jeweled pins. More pale gems glittered on the lobes of her upswept ears. As with Tarsilia, the years had been kind to A’Zahra Nuru. Her pale gray skin was still smooth over high cheekbones and fine features.

The primari must have wanted to see Tam very badly to be out on a bright, sunny morning. Goblins were mainly nocturnal, by preference bordering on necessity. They could be out during the day, but their dark eyes were painfully sensitive to sunlight, and most chose to just remain inside. Shops and businesses in the Goblin District were open during the day, but kept extended hours in the evening for the convenience and comfort of their clientele. During the day, the windows were kept shuttered and the interiors dimly lit. Any human or elven customers had to make do the best they could. If goblins ventured out during the day, they wore dark-lensed spectacles. A’Zahra Nuru wore a stylish pair of these perched on the bridge of her patrician nose.

The amulet tingled in the center of my chest, and I had the sensation that someone had just woken up from a long nap. It knew something I didn’t, and I suspected the goblin primari had everything to do with it. She hadn’t hesitated in her progress down Heron Row, but I knew that she had sensed me, the amulet, or both. My hand instinctively went to the disk, and I pulled farther back into the shadows of a side street. What she was using weren’t shields. It was a searching spell, completely silent and more complex than anything I could have attempted, let alone pulled off. It spread toward me like surface ripples on a pool.

Sensing something that subtle was another first for me.

I didn’t try to stop it. I knew better. A block or deflection would have announced my presence like slamming a door in Nuru’s patrician face. My stomach fluttered as the spell flowed through me. The primari hesitated a fraction of a second, then continued on her way. I continued breathing again. The amulet was proving to be as good a watchdog as it was a nuisance. But just because it growled at strangers didn’t mean I was going to trust it with my own neck.

I waited until the primari was well down Heron Row before crossing the street to Sirens’ front door.

Tam’s bouncers weren’t on duty, but Tam’s wards certainly were. And they were at full power. Tam’s wards at half-strength were something to behold, full power would take care of anything short of a magical tidal wave. It looked like a certain goblin primaru was feeling a little insecure this morning, and I was willing to bet that insecurity started last night and intensified with his mentor’s visit this morning.

I knocked, even though I was sure Tam’s wards had already announced me. After a few moments, a small section of the door slid open, just large enough for the pair of amber eyes that looked out. I recognized the eyes and the elf they belonged to. Lorcan Karst, Tam’s floor manager. I heard the sound of locks being unfastened and wards being shifted. The door opened.

Lorcan was tall and lithe, and like most elves, deceptively slim and much stronger than he looked. Lorcan in particular was more dangerous in other ways than most realized. Rarely did anything happen that he couldn’t control—one way or another.

“Mistress Benares, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

He didn’t look surprised to see me—pleasantly or otherwise.

“Is your boss in?” I asked.

“He is.”

“If he’s not too busy, I need to speak with him.” I paused. “And if he’s busy, I’m willing to wait.”

Lorcan stepped aside and ushered me into the dimly lit interior. “I will ask. May I have Kell get you anything from the bar while you wait?”

The barkeep looked up from his work and waved in greeting. I smiled back.

“Nothing, thanks,” I told Lorcan. “Morning, Kell,” I called across the empty dance floor.

The big goblin continued to put away glasses. “It’s been too long. Where have you been keeping yourself?”

“Here and there. The usual.”

I paused to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Many of Tam’s employees were also goblins, and Tam wanted his people to be comfortable. I had been here often enough to know where everything was, but I wasn’t in the mood to trip over a wayward chair. To my left, next to the long, sleek bar, was an area with only a pair of elaborately carved doors behind a small desk. Tom had commissioned the doors from a local artist. I had looked closely at the panels. Once. I don’t blush easily, but suffice it to say what the carvings look like from across the room are entirely different from what they really are. Behind those doors, and up a flight of stairs was the most exclusive gambling parlor in Mermeia.

Gambling wasn’t illegal in Mermeia, but exploiting certain magical advantages was. Combining gambling and sorcerers was either a very good or a very bad idea—depending on which side of the table you were on. For sheer profitability, a fancy Conclave education had nothing on what a moderately talented sorcerer could learn and earn in an upscale Mermeian gambling parlor. Nudging a pair of rolling dice, manipulating a deck, compelling your fellow players to study the insides of their eyelids while you did a little reconstructive work on the game board. The possibilities were nearly endless. Tam ran a legitimate establishment, or at least that’s what the city watch believed. I didn’t buy it for a minute.

Lorcan escorted me to my favorite booth against the back wall. I knew the way, but the elf was a gentleman and a good manager, so I let him do his job.

“I will let Primaru Nathrach know you are here,” he said.

I nodded. Tam already knew I was here, but I was willing to let protocol take its course.

Lorcan vanished behind a discreet set of velvet drapes concealing the narrow hallway leading to Tam’s private office, and Kell had disappeared into the back room, so I made myself at home. Other booths in Tam’s place were better for being seen, but this booth was better for seeing—and leaving. Even in Sirens’ relatively safe surroundings, having access to the back door, and to the alley and canal beyond was occasionally useful. Tam liked keeping behavior in his place as civilized as possible. An occasional discreet vanishing act on my part did wonders for sustaining our friendship.

My gaze drifted to the stage. The evening’s entertainment was setting up. One of them, a young goblin, had stopped and stood openly watching me. I watched him right back, and considering how easy he was on the eyes, it wasn’t hard work. He had the body of a dancer, all sleek muscle, and he was dressed to accentuate every angle. Knowing a thing or two about muscle tone and what it takes to acquire and maintain it, I knew that his hadn’t come entirely from dancing, though no doubt he did that well enough or Tam wouldn’t have hired him.

He looked toward Tam’s office and bowed slightly. “My primaru.”

I turned to find Tamnais Nathrach watching us both with amusement.

Seeing Tam always made me breathe funny.

Like many goblins, Tam wore his black hair long. Normally it was pulled away from his face with a silver clasp. This morning it was loose, slightly disheveled and fell in a shimmering wave to the middle of his back. Looked like someone had spent the night here. Tam crossed the floor to me like a big, beautiful, and dangerous cat that had just awakened from a very satisfying nap. If I listened closely enough, I could probably hear him purr. He wore trousers and matching boots of dark, soft leather. Over that was a long silk dressing robe woven with an intricate pattern of silver and blue. He let the robe fall open, treating me to a view of smooth, silvery chest. Tam noted my appreciative glance with a sly smile and a bit of fang peeking into view.

He nodded toward the stage. “I see the two of you have met.”

“Not really,” I said.

“We are ready, my primaru, if you would like to listen,” the young goblin said.

“Very much so.” In a whisper of silk, Tam slid into the booth next to me.

While the musicians prepared, Tam took my hand and barely brushed my palm with his lips.

Seeing Tam made me breathe funny; touching Tam made me forget how.

“It’s been too long,” he whispered, his dark eyes shining in the half light.

Kell had said the same thing. Somehow it was different coming from Tam. I didn’t have to be told why.

After the night I’d had, on top of virtually no sleep, I thought I’d probably spook horses and scare small children. From the look I was on the receiving end of, Tam didn’t agree. Though knowing Tam, he probably hadn’t noticed anything going on above my neck.

Tam and his voice were like fine, dark silk—he was provocative, his voice was seduction itself, and both made you feel completely decadent. I wasn’t entirely immune to his charms, and I didn’t entirely mind. I had always told myself that Tam didn’t mean anything personal by it. It was a harmless little game that we both enjoyed. Perhaps if I told myself that long enough I’d begin to believe it.

The music began. Drums and two other percussion instruments established a languid beat, and then the low, vibrant tones of a goblin flute joined with the melody. The tempo increased slightly to the pulsing rhythm popular for the current mode of dancing. The young goblin began to sing, his body moving in perfect time to the drums. It was a love song that only a goblin could love, full of seduction, deception, and betrayal with just a touch of death thrown in for good measure. But it wasn’t the words that held my attention; it was the singer, or more to the point, his voice. His rich tenor gave meaning to the song far beyond the words. As the music increased in energy and intensity, so did his voice and his dancing. If I hadn’t been acutely aware of what he was doing, I could have easily found myself enchanted.

Although he was not in the same class as Mychael Eiliesor, the young goblin was a spellsinger of impressive power and control. It wasn’t unusual for establishments like Tam’s to employ spellsingers—a little subliminal singing to compel patrons to order more drinks, or to convince them they’re having the time of their lives was fairly common. This goblin’s skill was a little much just to raise bar tabs. If he had wanted to, he could have done much more. But then, Tam had never been one for doing things halfway.

The song concluded, and we both applauded, Tam with more enthusiasm than I.

“He’s good,” I murmured.

“Yes, he is,” Tam agreed.

“Too good.”

Tam looked over at me, a slow grin playing with the corners of his mouth. “I offer only the best. My clientele expects it from me. If they want shoddy spellsinging, they can go down to the Troubadour.”

“I wasn’t talking about his singing. I meant what’s going on under it.”

“He wasn’t aiming at you, darling, so where’s the harm? Spellsingers have to make a living, too.”

He wasn’t aiming at me, but he easily could have been. And after last night, I was a little more sensitive about that sort of thing. Not to mention, a spellsinger that gifted could easily find work more suited to his level of talent and probably better paying, though I knew Tam wasn’t cheap. He paid his people well, and then some. The result was an intensely loyal staff.

“That was well worth the wait, Rahimat,” Tam told the spellsinger.

The young goblin looked pleased. “Thank you, my primaru. With your permission, we will perform it tonight.”

“You have my permission and my blessing.”

With a bow to Tam and another glance at me, the spellsinger turned and began speaking in low tones with his musicians.

Tam was standing by the booth. I hadn’t seen him move. “You wish to speak with me privately?”

I looked away from the spellsinger and stood. “I do.”

Tam slipped his long-fingered hand to the small of my back. “Kell has brought refreshments to my office.”

The narrow hallway leading to Tam’s private domain was lit by illuminator globes set into recesses in the wall. The resulting light was pale golden, and very flattering, the same as the lighting in the main room. Everything and everyone looked better in low, soft lighting. Throw in a couple of strong drinks, and even Tam’s hobgoblin bouncers would look irresistible. I’d always found the glow to be a little too perfect. I’m sure Tam had added a few magical touches to enhance the effect.

Tam opened the door and stood aside for me to enter. A warm caress passed over my skin as I stepped across the threshold and through his shields. Being on friendly terms with the proprietor helped. Tam made sure his shields knew I was always welcome. Trust was a wonderful thing.

A door was open behind the mahogany desk. Through it I saw the corner of a bed, with pale sheets spilling into a pool on the floor.

“You would welcome a few extra hours of sleep.” He didn’t ask it as a question.

“I would welcome a few hours of sleep, period.”

“That could be arranged.”

From the sound of his voice, that wasn’t all that could be arranged. “Tam, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

The goblin went to a small sideboard in the corner and poured Nebian jasmine tea into a pair of gold-painted porcelain cups so fragile they looked like they would shatter if you looked at them wrong. I could smell the delicate floral brew. Nebian jasmine was rare, and importing it was prohibitively expensive unless you had the money or the contacts. Tam had both.

He handed me a cup, deliberately brushing my hand as he did so. “What is so important that you cannot spare a few hours for me?”

I slid into one of the two overstuffed velvet armchairs facing the desk. “I don’t have a few hours. I have a problem.”

“Don’t you always? You need to make time. Play is important.”

“Play is your business, Tam, not mine.” I took a sip of tea, closed my eyes and inhaled. Night-blooming jasmine. A moment of pure and complete bliss. It’d be nice if I could make it last.

“It’s also my business to make people happy.” His voice dropped to a low, suggestive purr. “What would make you happy this morning?”

“Other than a few hours of sleep, the same thing that always makes me happy. Knowing things that the bad guys want to keep secret.”

“Those aren’t the fun kind of secrets.”

“They are to me. Now more than ever.”

“I’m probably going to regret this, but is there anything I can do to help?”

“Without endangering yourself or your business,” I finished for him.

“That would be nice, but with you, it’s usually not possible.”

I paused before continuing, taking both my time and another sip, and sniff, of tea. “You heard about Simon Stocken?”

“I heard.”

I didn’t say how I knew, and Tam didn’t say how he heard. Tam would never betray me, and I extended the same courtesy to him. But at the same time, we didn’t share anything we didn’t have to. Our relationship operated strictly on a need-to-know basis. I think there are things about Tam that I’d rather not know; and I’m positive there are things about me that I’d rather Tam not know. It’s not a lack of trust, just good sense. I’ve always been a practical girl.

“I received a shipment of Caesolian red and some vintage liqueurs from him just last week,” Tam said. “I have two other sources, but they lack Master Stocken’s particular acquisition skills and attention to detail. I suspect my cellars will suffer before I find a suitable replacement.” His expression darkened. “If I can find one. Do you know who was responsible?”

“Why? Want revenge?”

“Possibly.”

“Sarad Nukpana.”

I like to give little gifts to my friends, and to myself. If Tam could somehow cut short the goblin grand shaman’s trip to our fair city, it would make a lot of people feel better—especially me.

Tam was silent for a moment. “More than a few individuals in the Goblin District would love to send Sarad Nukpana home in a large box, in small pieces. But just because they want it, doesn’t mean they’re going to volunteer to make it happen.” He regarded me soberly. “Is your interest professional or personal?”

“Both.”

Tam sighed. “Who hired you?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.” Especially since I had become my own client.

He shook his head and took the chair opposite mine. “Are you willing to take some advice?”

“I’m willing to listen.”

“Find another case.”

“I’ve already been given that advice.”

“You’d be wise to take it.”

“Too late for that.”

“It’s only too late when you’re dead.” Tam exhaled slowly and settled back in his chair. “I heard his shamans paid you a visit last night,” he said.

“You’ve always said I need to get a social life.”

“Raine, you’ve never met him. I have. Trust me, this isn’t anyone you want to have notice you.”

Too late for that. “I hear he’s quite the nutcase,” I said.

Tam voice was steady. “He’s also brilliant, skilled, sadistic, and utterly insane. He’s a monster, Raine. Do us both a favor and walk away from this one.”

“I can’t. At least not without help.”

He was wary. “What kind of help?”

“Just information.”

“And you think I have this information.”

“It would certainly make my life easier—and possibly longer—if you did. The Khrynsani also paid Nigel Nicabar a visit last night.”

“What did Nigel have to say?” Tam asked.

“Not much, because he’s dead.”

That seemed to be news to Tam. “Nigel’s dead?”

“Bobbed to the surface just off the Grand Duke’s Canal this morning.”

The tiniest smile creased Tam’s lips. “You have to admit that’s not a grievous loss to the necromancer community.” He paused and the smile vanished. “You think I know something about this, don’t you?”

“I think there’s a better than average possibility.”

To someone who didn’t know him that well, Tam’s face was an expressionless mask. But I knew him that well. There was plenty going on behind those large, dark eyes, and most of it had to do with deflecting my questions.

“I have nothing to do with Nigel,” he said. “And even less to do with the Khrynsani. I have my vices, and while some are arrestable offenses, it’s nothing I would burn in the lower hells for.”

“Some people would say that’s open for debate,” I said. “I know you like to watch those you don’t want watching you. The Khrynsani definitely qualify.”

Tam waved a negligent hand. “King Sathrik’s throwing himself a party two nights from now. Someone has to see to the catering.”

“I don’t think Sarad Nukpana’s minions are here to make tiny sandwiches or arrange flowers, and neither do you. Try again.”

“Unless it affects me, there are some things I’m content not to know. You should do the same more often.”

“Maybe next time.”

“The direction you’re heading, there’s not going to be a next time. The Khrynsani have come for whatever reason, they’ll do what they came to do—and then they’ll leave. When they do, Mermeia’s goblin community is going to let out a collective sigh of relief.”

“Not exactly welcoming their new king and his counselor with open arms?”

“Let’s just say many of us are reserving judgement. Anyone that chooses Sarad Nukpana as his chief advisor isn’t going to win many loyal subjects in this city. As long as Sathrik and his pet shamans are in town, I’ll be spending as little time as possible in the Goblin District. Too many Mal’Salins there who are best avoided.”

“Not eager for a family reunion?”

“I loved my wife,” Tam said point-blank. “I’ve never had similar feelings for her relatives. I’ll be staying here for the rest of the week.”

Time to put my cards on the table. “Sarad Nukpana wants something that Nigel had. Nigel doesn’t have it anymore and neither does Sarad Nukpana. I need to know what that something is and what it does. And I need to know it sooner rather than later.”

Tam sensed my mood shift. Playful, it wasn’t.

“I don’t know what they were looking for,” he told me. “But if Sarad Nukpana wants it, it would be best if you weren’t in his way when he finds it.”

I put my cup and saucer on the side table. “The only people who know I’m asking questions are people I trust not to betray me.” I paused meaningfully. “Or lie to me.” I threw that in for good measure. I was sure Tam had a perfectly good reason for not being totally honest. Quentin hadn’t been totally honest with me either, and look what kind of trouble that had caused. I was tired of getting the runaround, and was feeling a little spiteful. What I was wearing around my neck earned me the right to instill some guilt. If I was lucky, it might bear useful fruit.

Tam’s dark eyes widened beguilingly. “You trust me?”

For a brief instant, he looked sincere. I was touched. Almost.

I couldn’t help but smile. “With my life, yes. But not with the rest of me.”

His answering grin exceeded my own. He looked almost boyish. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay?” He indicated the pack at my feet. “It looks like you’re running away from home.”

I made a face. “You’re closer to the truth than you think. I had accommodations, really good ones, but they fell through. And I won’t be responsible for putting Khrynsani on Tarsilia’s doorstep again.”

“Then I insist that you stay here.”

“I thought you were staying here.”

His dark eyes shone. “I am.”

“You don’t give up, do you?”

The smile vanished. “I’m almost as persistent as Sarad Nukpana.”

I stood and picked up my pack. “I know. That’s why I won’t stay here. I need sleep, not a wrestling match.”

Tam raised his right hand. “I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”

“Gentlemen—perfect or otherwise—don’t make promises they have no intention of keeping.”

Tam stood smoothly, his expression solemn. “I never do.” Then solemn turned to something else as he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Would you like a bath as well?”

Getting naked in Tam’s immediate vicinity didn’t seem like the best—or at least not the most direct—way to get to sleep, but I couldn’t deny that I needed and desperately wanted a bath.

“Is that a polite way of telling me that I need a bath?”

Tam stepped closer, his fingers trailing from my ear to lightly brush my throat. “I smell goblin blood on you.” His voice had turned husky.

I didn’t move. “He was asking for it.”

“No doubt, especially if the blood is Khrynsani.”

I saw no reason to deny it. “The blood is.” I paused. “Its owner was.”

Tam looked at me then laughed quietly. “So I assumed. I’ll have the tub filled.”

Tam’s tub was a wonderful place to think.

Even if Tam wasn’t a gentleman, at least he was trying. Tam was a businessman, and he considered me an investment. Tam never made an investment unless he knew it would pay him full dividends later. I reached for the soap. That was fine with me, later wasn’t now. For now, Tam had left me alone in his plush little apartment to make myself at home.

There was more to Tam’s private domain than a bedroom behind his office. There was a sitting room with a plush couch and more overstuffed chairs; there were rugs you could sink in up to your ankles, one of which was strategically placed in front of a carved marble fireplace, along with the tub. I had looked at the carvings before getting into the tub. Same people, same activity. Apparently wooden doors weren’t the only medium Tam’s naughty artist friend worked in.

Soaking in the hot, scented water made me realize just how tired I was. But it also helped me think a little more clearly about my encounter with Sarad Nukpana.

It stood to reason that since Nukpana had hired Quentin, he might have heard of me. Quentin worked for me. A natural, logical chain of progression. No scary conspiracy there. What it didn’t explain was why the goblin grand shaman had seemed downright tickled to see me. Maybe he was just the friendly type. Yeah, right. Just your friendly neighborhood psycho.

I leaned back in the tub to wet my hair. I didn’t think Tam knew about the amulet and why Nukpana wanted it. But based on Tam’s reaction to the mere possibility of my path crossing Nukpana’s, if I told him, I’d be locked in his bachelor hide-away until the Khrynsani left town. I looked around. It was really very nice. The throw on the bed looked suspiciously like Rheskilian sable. I grinned. Only one way to find out for sure, but I’d have to dry off first. Not a bad way to spend a couple of days, but it wouldn’t do a thing to explain what I was wearing around my neck, what it did, what it was doing to me, and why I couldn’t take it off. And most importantly, how the hell Sarad Nukpana knew me.

I sank lower into the tub. Drowning would solve all my problems.

“Turned into a mermaid yet?”

I jumped, water sloshed. Tam was closer than he should have been. No big surprise there. Though at least he was dressed. I relaxed a little, but was still careful to keep the amulet, as well as some other things Tam would find intriguing, well below the waterline. Just because Tam was dressed didn’t mean he couldn’t take off what he had just put on, and from his expression, he looked like he was giving that some serious thought.

He was dressed for going out, and armed for staying there awhile. A goblin with a mission. I had a feeling that mission involved me. What a sweetheart, though I knew better than to tell him that to his face.

“Going to see anyone I know?” Or had just met.

Tam’s expression gave nothing away. “I doubt it.”

I didn’t.

“Does it have anything to do with me?”

Silence.

Wonderful. Tam is going to get himself killed and it’s going to be my fault.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked, nimbly changing the subject.

“Let’s see…dinner last night at the Crown & Anchor. Didn’t happen. Ale and dried bread at Garadin’s in the middle of the night. Unfortunately that did happen. Then there were sugar knots from Maira’s this morning. Delicious.”

Tam just shook his head. “I figured as much.”

There was a discreet knock at the door. It was Kell with a tray of something that smelled like heaven. The big goblin was trying to avert his eyes from the sight of me in the tub, but he wasn’t having much luck. I slipped deeper into the water to help him out.

He left the tray and the room, both quickly. I giggled.

Tam smiled and met my eyes. “What is it?”

“I wouldn’t have pegged Kell the easily embarrassed type.”

“It’s not every day he finds a beautiful woman in my tub.”

“It’s not?”

Tam’s eyes were unreadable. “No, it’s not.”

He turned away and removed the plates from the tray and set them up on the table and opened a bottle of wine I was sure cost more than I made in two weeks. It looked like a feast. If Tam hadn’t been standing there, I’d have been out of the tub and at the table, naked or not.

Tam tossed the robe he’d been wearing earlier across the chair next to the tub. “If you do not wish to get dressed immediately, you may wear this while you eat.”

“You’re leaving now?”

“I’ve already dined, and I have business to attend to.”

Oh yeah. Killing or getting himself killed on account of me.

“If you need anything, Kell will get it for you,” Tam added.

He bent and placed an almost chaste kiss on top of my head. Though the bending gave him ample view of everything under the water. “Sleep well. I’ll be back by eight bells tonight.”

And he left. Very sudden, very un-Tam like. I didn’t trust it.

I got out of the tub, dried off, and slipped into Tam’s silk robe. It was still warm and smelled like Tam. Nice. I sat down at the table and devoured everything Kell had brought. By the time I’d finished, I could barely keep my eyes open. I put my clothes—and my blades—next to the bed where I could reach them, then slipped out of the robe and into bed.

Oh, and the throw on the bed? Definitely Rheskilian sable.