“Once we’re inside, let us know if the subject begins to misbehave,” Cayle reminded me.
It looked like I wasn’t the only one using a naughty schoolboy analogy.
“Trust me—when the Saghred misbehaves, you’ll know about it whether I tell you or not. But I’ll be glad to mention the obvious when it happens.”
“You mean if it happens.”
“Well, we can all hope for that.”
Mychael had been speaking in low tones with the Guardians on duty at the door. He crossed the corridor to where we waited. “Are we ready?”
“To get it over with,” I said.
Mychael nodded, and the Guardians posted on either side of the door unlocked, unlatched, and opened it.
The stairs and the room below were brightly lit, but only for the benefit of the Guardians on duty. Being its own self-contained little world, the Saghred made its own interior light. The outside world was not visible from inside. Unfortunately, I had this knowledge firsthand.
The room contained only the essentials—four Guardians and the object they guarded. One look at the Saghred sitting on its pedestal told me that the stone had its figurative eyes closed, but it was far from asleep. Unlike with a child pretending to be asleep, Mychael, Ronan, and I weren’t just going to turn off the bedroom lights and close the door on our way out.
Sarad Nukpana was nowhere to be heard. Maybe he’d rolled over and gone back to sleep. Maybe he and his new friends were up late last night plotting world domination.
I didn’t like any of it, no maybe about it.
The Saghred sat on a small table in the center of the room, still in the translucent, white stone casket Mychael had used to transport it to Mid. It was still translucent, but it sure wasn’t white.
I couldn’t ever think of a time when a red glow was a good thing.
The Saghred’s glow reminded me of an angry, red eye. I half expected to hear a warning growl to go along with it. The rock was clearly not amused, which told me the shields might be holding. Barely.
I had heard about the kind of power Conclave-trained Guardians could put into their containment spells. It was an accepted fact that if a Guardian clamped something or someone down, it stayed put. I didn’t think the Saghred had heard the same stories—and if Sarad Nukpana had, he was delighting in ignoring them.
The Saghred’s glow faded to a softly pulsing pink, and I felt the faintest tug, like a child’s hand wrapping around my little finger, a soft insistence, a come-watch-what-I-can-do kind of invitation. Sweet and innocent and perfectly harmless.
“You can bat your eyelashes at me all day,” I told the Saghred. “I’m not buying.”
I could only describe what happened next as a tantrum.
The containment box lid sprang open and a beam of blood-red light shot out and engulfed one of the Guardians. He screamed, and I lunged for the box. I knew it was a bad idea. I also knew it was exactly what Sarad Nukpana wanted. But I knew the Guardian was dead or worse if I did nothing.
As soon as my hand touched the open lid, I realized just how bad an idea it was. The last voice I heard from outside the Saghred was Mychael’s shout.
Chapter 4
My world turned gray and silent.
More of a twilight fog actually, the kind you see on a waterfront pier—just before you step off the edge. Last time I had been inside the Saghred, it had been a gray void filled with filmy figures. This almost looked the same, but with the notable and welcome absence of the figures. I wasn’t going to complain; some of the figures had wanted me dead. Besides, there was no one to complain to. Then I saw movement through the shimmering silver light, movement that resolved itself into a tall figure. I looked around. There was no cover, no place to hide; I was half tempted to close my eyes. If I couldn’t see it, maybe it couldn’t see me.
“It doesn’t work that way,” the figure murmured.
I knew that voice. The speaker emerged from the shifting mist. Sarad Nukpana. I wasn’t surprised, but I sure was disappointed. Of all the Saghred’s residents, he was the one I least wanted to run into.
With a negligent wave of Sarad Nukpana’s elegant fingers, the fog retreated.
No mere featureless wasteland would do for Sarad Nukpana.
We stood in a space filled with sensual comforts. A low bed covered with pillows. A plush chaise upholstered with fabric that looked too soft to be real, a low table with two chairs, the table set with glasses and a heavy, cut-crystal decanter of dark, ruby liquid. My feet sank into a fur rug so soft and decadent, I had to resist the urge to drop and roll. Not the sort of surroundings you’d expect of someone plotting world domination.
Sarad Nukpana himself didn’t look any worse for wear, and he also looked amazingly solid. Going from corporeal to disembodied soul hadn’t diminished his dark beauty one bit. His long black hair was shot through with silver and fell loosely around his strongly sculpted face; the tips of his upswept ears were barely visible through the midnight mass of his hair. Nukpana’s pearl gray skin set off what was any goblin’s most distinguishing feature—a pair of fangs that weren’t for decorative use only. The danger didn’t detract from the race’s appeal; some would say it fueled it. I guess all that sinuous grace and exotic beauty can make you overlook a lot, and Sarad Nukpana was certainly devastating. He was also insane—that I couldn’t overlook.
“You redecorated,” I remarked, my mouth dry. “Not my taste.”
His eyes were bottomless black pools. “It suits my taste—and my needs—perfectly.”
I didn’t move. “So the newest inmate gets to choose the color scheme?”
He laughed, a dark, rich sound. “In a way of speaking. I am the newest here—and the strongest.”
I couldn’t help but notice that the plushness extended only so far. I wondered if the same was true of his influence. Where the room’s walls should be, the void with its shimmering waves of mist resumed.
“Did someone else not agree with your taste?”
The goblin’s flawless face remained expressionless. “The most intimate surroundings are small. I have all that I need here.”
“Or are you using all the strength you can spare?”
The goblin’s dark eyes narrowed. “Still playing dangerous games, little seeker?”
“They seem to be the only kind available.” I helped myself to the plush chaise. “You wanted me here, and you went to a lot of trouble to make it happen.” I leaned back and crossed my legs. It really was very comfortable. “What do you want?”
“To make you an offer.”
“No.”
He smiled. “ ’No,’ I can’t make you an offer, or ‘no,’ you refuse?”
“Oh, you can make me an offer; I just won’t have any part of it.”
“Just like that.” His smile broadened, his fangs peeking into view. “No hearing me out and then casting my offer back in my face?”
“That’s right. Regardless of what you say, I already know I’m going to turn you down. And since you’ve turned my mind into your personal bedroom, I’m sure you know what I know. So it seems counterproductive to prolong this conversation any more than it has to be.”
“I do know your thoughts. See what you see.” He paused suggestively. “And feel what you feel. Shall I hazard a guess as to why you fear what I can offer you—what the Saghred can give us both?”
“Insanity and prolonged death? Just because you’re merrily skipping down that path doesn’t mean I want to join you.”
“I merely want to give you what you truly desire.”
“You and the rock are going to go away?”
“That is not what you really want.”
This promised to be good. I crossed my arms. “And just what is my heart’s desire?”
“Power.”
“No, power is what you want. I want you to vanish.”
Sarad Nukpana made himself at home on the bed, and took his time doing it. “There are many kinds of power— with many uses. So we can both desire power, but have different uses for it. That does not change the fact that we essentially want the same thing.”
I’d heard enough and sat up. “I’ve seen what your idea of power does. There isn’t anything I could want less.”
“Even if you had the power to protect?” His smile was slow and confident. “The power to defend those in danger, the ones you love? The power you scorned this morning. If you had accepted what the Saghred offered, that girl wouldn’t be in Banan Ryce’s hands.” The smile reached his black eyes. “That means whatever is happening to her this very moment is entirely your fault. You could have prevented it with one word.”
I didn’t move. “The Saghred doesn’t offer that kind of power.” I said it, but I wasn’t sure of it.
“Oh, but it does.” His voice rubbed over me like the soft fabric beneath my fingertips. “The power is the same; the only difference is how it is used. You could choose how you use your gift. That is what the archmagus fears; it is the fear your paladin won’t admit. The strength the Saghred gives you also gives you the strength to choose.”
“Whether to become a disembodied soul now or later? I don’t consider that much of a choice.”
“Your choices are the Saghred’s choices. Do you think you and your paladin chose to bring the Saghred to Mid? Hardly, little seeker. The Saghred chose where it would go, and who would take it there. We are all instruments of its will; I have merely found a way to make that will work to my advantage.”
“So you want to live like an evil genie in a bottle?”
“It will not be forever.”
“I’m sure your buddies in here felt the same way—for the first hundred years or so.” I looked out into surrounding grayness. There were slender forms all around us. They weren’t the screaming wraiths I’d encountered last time I was inside the Saghred; these were standing perfectly still, patiently waiting for something. Creepy. I could feel the power coming off of them, though the force from Sarad Nukpana was stronger. He was definitely the big dog in the pack. For now. I wondered which one out there was second in the pack order. Disturbingly, my father was nowhere to be seen.
