“He probably was,” I muttered.
“The lady said she’d drop the charges if Nathrach was released and Balmorlan apologized to him in front of her and her staff. And from the lady’s own lips: ‘If I deem your words to be contrite and sincere, I won’t sue the hell out of you and Carnades Silvanus.’ Unquote.”
Mychael smiled. “And what did Balmorlan say to that?”
“He told her that the only person on Mid who could make and enforce such a claim was the goblin ambassador, and since she was his underling, her charges carried no weight.”
I winced and grinned at the same time. “Underling. I’m betting he shouldn’t have said that.”
“He didn’t get very far,” Sedge Rinker said. “Director Kalis said that the goblin ambassador had mysteriously gone missing, she was in charge, and Balmorlan would be dealing with her.” He chuckled. “The top of her head barely came to the middle of Balmorlan’s chest, and Hell was going to freeze over before that little lady backed down.”
If Rudra Muralin was missing, it sounded like Imala Kalis had won their game of tit for tat. I wondered if Rudra was “missing” in the embassy latrine with his lackeys and staff, Imala Kalis having bolted and warded the door shut. That image was a keeper.
Vidor Kalta leisurely strolled out of Sedge’s office, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.
“That’s far from the best part,” the nachtmagus told us. “Then Imala Kalis informed him with that adorable dimple of hers that goblin law stated when an ambassador was dead, missing, or incapacitated, the senior official present had the duty and right to assume all diplomatic duties and authority. But unless elven law had changed in the past five minutes, one of Balmorlan’s superiors being dead and the other presumed dead just made him a man without a job.”
Mychael wasn’t laughing, but his eyes sure were. “I hate I missed that.”
Sedge added a nod to his grin. “A thing of beauty, it was.”
Kalta took a satisfied sip. “Imala Kalis appeared to be having the time of her life.” His black eyes glittered with malicious glee. “Taltek was apoplectic.”
Mychael’s humor vanished. “One of Balmorlan’s superiors is presumed dead?”
“There was an explosion at a house on Ambassador Row,” Sedge explained. “By the time my men got there, the place was surrounded by elven embassy guards. Since the house is a part of the embassy, it’s elven soil. My men couldn’t go in without permission, and the commander in charge wasn’t inclined to give it, though it sounded more like they didn’t want anyone interfering. Since there wasn’t anything left but a pile of smoking debris, I had my men back off to a suitable distance.” He paused uncomfortably. “Supposedly Duke Markus Sevelien was staying there. That was one bit of information the elf commander was willing to part with.”
“I’ll bet he couldn’t wait to ‘leak’ that one,” I said to Mychael in mindspeak.
Mychael’s lips narrowed in an angry line. “When did you get this information?”
“Just before Director Kalis got here. I sent a runner to the citadel with a report for you.”
“We must have just missed each other.” Mychael said it with the perfect mix of concern, frustration, and professional poise. The man was a veritable master of misinformation, though in my family we called it being a good liar. Though sometimes lying wasn’t just the best thing you could do; it was the only thing you could do.
“If he couldn’t find you, his orders were to deliver it to the archmagus.”
“Good enough,” Mychael told him. “Sedge, I need to hear what Tam and Imala Kalis are saying.”
“Not a problem. I’ve got just the spot in my office. It shares a wall with the conference room, and in one place a piece of wood is missing. There’s a cabinet in the conference room that covers up the hole. If you’re quiet about it, you should be able to hear anything you need to.” He did his best to look contrite. “I’ve been meaning to get that hole fixed, but just never got around to it.”
Mychael gave the recording gem to Sedge Rinker. We were keeping mine. When you have incriminating evidence, it’s always good business to have a copy.
“Karl Cradock,” Mychael said. “One of the men who needs to be in that cell. He’s staying above the Bare Bones tavern.”
“He killed General Aratus?”
Mychael shook his head. “Sarad Nukpana killed General Aratus. Karl Cradock did the kidnapping and stayed around to throw the general’s corpse out of the coach.”
Sedge tossed the gem in his hand. “And it’s all here.”
“And a couple of other interesting things,” Mychael told him. “I have the kidnappers in custody that he was hiring to take the next victim. Interestingly enough, Markus Sevelien was to be that victim. You’ll want to get some men to the Bare Bones quickly. No doubt Cradock will be trying to leave the island on the morning tide. I don’t believe he feels safe here anymore. If you don’t find him at the Bare Bones, try the west docks, a Caesolian freighter named Reliant.”
Sedge shook his head and laughed. “You make me look good, Mychael.”
Mychael flashed a crooked smile. “You help me, and I help you.”
We made ourselves at home in Sedge’s office. A sergeant quietly brought us some much- needed coffee, and we settled back to be both informed and entertained.
Interestingly enough, Tam wasn’t happy with the lady who’d sprung him from jail.
Mychael and I had used Sedge Rinker’s conference room before when we’d needed to have some privacy for a conversation that turned into an argument. Tam and Imala Kalis were putting it to similar use. With typical goblin gentility, they were managing to sound civilized and verbally slice each other to shreds at the same time. It was an impressive display.
“No one has paid me anything,” Imala Kalis all but spat. “I work for the goblin people.” She paused meaningfully. “For the good of the goblin people.”
Tam’s laugh was more like a short bark. “Meaning you work for Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin.”
“I never spoke his name.”
“So your new career goal is to be the featured entertainment in Execution Square for treason? And you’ve come all this way to get me into more trouble than I already am just so I can keep you company while you walk to the block.”
“I won’t be going anywhere near Execution Square, and if you would hear me out, neither will you.”
“I have been listening and you have yet to say anything that isn’t suicidal for you and fatal to me.”
“Just because King Sathrik wants it doesn’t mean he’s going to get it. Sathrik does what’s best for Sathrik. I’m trying to do what’s best for the goblin people.” She was silent for a moment. “You could at least thank me.”
“For what? For getting me released by telling everyone that I’m a royal retainer who still works for the Mal’Salins?”
“The queen,” Imala corrected him.
“Who. Is. Dead.” Tam sounded like he’d said that more than once in the past hour or so.
“Ah, but who never accepted your resignation.”
“Who cannot because she is now dead.”
“Never accepted, never terminated. Diplomatic immunity is such a beautiful thing, is it not? It gets one out of all sorts of unfortunate situations.”
“What an appropriate word choice.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Terminated. Get me out, then get me killed, which is precisely what Sathrik sent you here to do.”
“I don’t work for Sathrik.” Imala hissed the name like something she found sticking to the bottom of her boot.
“You’re not working both sides of the family? Come, now, Imala. That would be a first for the secret service. Though wait—let me guess. You’ve gone into business for yourself. So how much are you thinking you can collect for my head? Anything less than three thousand in imperial gold and you’ve been robbed, and we wouldn’t want that. Wasn’t that the price on my head? Or has it increased?”
“No one has paid or will pay me anything for any part of you, least of all your apparently empty head. The person who I represent is interested in all of you. Intact. Alive and breathing—and thinking.”
“And on behalf of all of me, I refuse.”
“Without hearing his offer? For the last time, I am trying to keep you alive, you pigheaded ass!”
“The farther away I am from anyone with the last name Mal’Salin, or from anyone who works for a Mal’Salin, the longer my life expectancy will be—without your assistance.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
“Is that a threat?”
“That’s me telling you that the lines are being drawn in Regor, and when sides have been chosen, you and your son should be certain that you’re on the right one.”
Tam’s voice was lined with steel. “Leave Talon out of this.”
“You’re the one who hasn’t left him out of this,” Imala retorted. “Instead of hiding him for his own safety, you’ve publicly acknowledged him, given him your name, made him your heir, and put him in more danger than even you can protect him from. I heard and saw what he did last night, and so did a few of those Nightshades.”
“And a few of your men.”
“My men are trustworthy.”
“So you’re certain that every last one of them is unwaveringly loyal to you? Would never betray your vaunted trust? Never slit that pretty little throat of yours if given half the chance?”
“Pretty little throat?” That caught her off guard.
“I have working eyes, Imala. But more important, I have working ears. Never mention my son’s name again.”
“After last night’s little display, I won’t need to because everyone else will. And you have an umi’atsu bond with Raine Benares and are linked in some way to Mychael Eiliesor. You have become a very desirable commodity among our elite—people you don’t want desiring any part of you or your son.”
