We were in the citadel, in rooms that were well warded and even better guarded. Justinius wasn’t taking any chances. Though he didn’t have to worry about Sarad Nukpana, Janos Ghalfari, or what or whoever the hell he was now.
The bastard had actually managed to get away from that Reaper. I had no clue how he’d done it. Maybe having consumed the souls of some of the blackest black mages in history taught Sarad Nukpana a nifty trick or two for dodging Death. Regardless, he’d left the island before an hour had passed, and just before Justinius Valerian could seal the harbor. We knew this because Phaelan and Uncle Ryn could find out things that the harbormaster, city watch, and Guardians would never get wind of. A goblin matching Janos Ghalfari’s description had bought his way onto a Brenirian frigate headed for Mipor. He’d had a thick scarf tied tightly around his neck. The weather didn’t warrant it, but a broken neck would have. It must have helped hold his head up. Though he would heal. With that much magic surging through his body, he’d heal and he’d do it fast. Normally Brenirians would be reluctant to take on a goblin passenger, but this one had paid in gold—pure goblin imperial. Mipor was in Rheskilia. Goblin territory. A safe haven for an undead goblin son of a bitch who had a ton of payback coming to him.
Though on the upside, maybe since the Reaper didn’t fulfill its end of the bargain, it didn’t expect me to keep mine.
Yeah, I wasn’t holding my breath on that one, either. I kept expecting to have a chill that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with Death’s super-sized minion doing some heavy breathing down the back of my neck.
I wanted nothing more than to get rid of the Saghred and send the souls inside on their merry way, but there had to be a way to do that other than a Reaper using me for a soul straw.
Mychael was asleep on a couch against the far wall. He’d refused to leave Tam’s room, even to sleep. But sleep would only be denied for so long.
Mychael’s coppery hair gleamed in the faint light of the two table lamps burning on either side of Tam’s bed. He was on his back; his hands lay relaxed and open on his flat stomach. Hands that had healed me from the brink of death, and brought Tam back from what lay beyond. I continued to watch him, careful not to move or make a sound. Mychael needed all of the sleep he could get. And like most healers—and warriors—the slightest noise would jolt them from a sound sleep, ready to take care of a patient, or take down an enemy.
A few strands of hair had fallen across Mychael’s eyes and I had a nearly overwhelming urge to brush his hair back. Being Mychael, but also being a warrior, one of two things would happen: a kiss or an armlock. One would be welcome; the other wouldn’t—though both would probably end up with me flat on my back on the floor with him on top of me. I smiled. That wouldn’t be bad; in fact, that would be very good.
I looked at Tam, his long hair spilling over his pillows and down his bandaged chest. His loose-fitting shirt was open down the front for access to the bandages.
When I’d first met Tam, all I’d known was that he was a goblin with secrets piled on top of plots, and that he liked elven women—a lot.
None of that had changed, but everything else had.
He was still a dark mage and he always would be. And as long as I was linked to the Saghred, I was still a dark mage magnet, a temptation he could not surrender to. I knew that—and so did he. Though now he was one big step closer to being out of the Saghred’s reach forever. When I’d shot him, at the moment of his death, our umi’atsu bond had been broken.
The Saghred couldn’t get its hooks into him now.
I leaned back in the chair at his bedside, sighed, and ran my hand over my face.
“Nice shot,” Tam murmured. His eyes were open, watching me. He actually looked rested and relaxed. My eyes felt bloodshot and I probably looked like hell.
I leaned forward and took one of his hands in mine.
It was warm, just like it should be. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I didn’t try to stop them. “Hey, you stood still for me,” I managed. “How could I possibly miss?” I paused, my throat tight. “I didn’t want to kill you.”
“You’ve been mad enough at me before to do it.” A crooked grin played across his lips. “I thought I’d finally give you a chance. Imala stabbed me once. Why shouldn’t you get to shoot me?”
I sniffed and tried a smile.
“Though that was one hell of a way to get a divorce,” he said.
“A divorce?”
“The umi’atsu.”
Mychael shifted on the couch, but surprisingly didn’t wake up.
“He’s been here almost the entire time,” I told him.
“He’s worried that I’ll try to get out of bed and ruin his work.”
“Good reason to stand guard, then.”
Tam looked at Mychael for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “He’s a good man.”
I gazed at my sleeping paladin. “Yes, he is,” I said softly. “And an even better friend,” Tam murmured. He pulled himself up on his pillows and hissed in pain.
That woke Mychael up.
His hair was tousled with sleep and his face was darkened with his morning beard. He took one look at me, grinned, and just shook his head. “Tam was a perfect patient until you showed up.”
My smile was almost demure. “You know I never claimed to be a good influence.”
Tam winced as he gingerly settled himself on the pillows. “Has Carnades gathered his lynch mob yet?” he asked Mychael.
I froze. “Lynch mob?”
Tam started to explain and Mychael held up his hand. “Save your strength. Carnades is claiming that Tam invited Sarad Nukpana’s soul in.”
Some things were just too freaking unbelievable for words, but I managed. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“The middle of the street at high noon isn’t exactly circumspect,” Tam said. “There were a lot of people watching and I did put on quite the evil show.”
“But you were possessed!”
“Carnades has always believed me to be as bad as Sarad Nukpana, if not worse. My actions in that street just confirmed what he’s been trying to prove to everyone since I got here.”
I turned to Mychael. “And let me guess, Carnades is claiming that you and Vidor Kalta are Tam’s evil minions because you saved his life.”
“Essentially.”
“So how did he manage to twist the fact that I killed Tam?”
“You took the law into your own hands and deprived the Seat of Twelve their due process.”
“Let me get this straight: he’s pissed at me because he didn’t get to kill Tam.”
“Exactly.”
“Mychael, tell me those guards outside are to protect Tam, and not because he’s been arrested again.”
“He hasn’t been arrested,” Mychael assured me. “Nor will he be.”
“And just who is going to pull off that feat?”
“I am,” Tam said. “By pulling the legal rug right out from underneath Carnades or anyone else who cares to challenge me.” He paused uncomfortably. “Sarad Nukpana possessed my body for nearly three hours. That included every soul Sarad absorbed trying to regenerate himself.”
“General Daman Aratus, two ancient goblin black mages, and Rudra Muralin.”
Tam nodded. “There were others as well, poor bastards who Sarad managed to snatch off the streets to sustain himself until he was strong enough to go after bigger game. He absorbed all of their memories, knowledge, and skills. Sarad used my mind to function, my body to act.”
I didn’t need a reminder. I also didn’t need to think about how close he came to getting away with everything, most of all what he’d done to Tam.
“He was in my mind—and I was in his,” Tam said quietly. “Raine, I know Sarad Nukpana’s plans and precisely how he intends to carry them out. Every step of the way.”
“And now he’s running home to share his plans and all of his newfound knowledge and power with his evil cohort, Sathrik Mal’Salin.”
“Sarad will use the king only as long as it is convenient. Sathrik’s crown and throne will be irrelevant once Nukpana puts his plans in motion. Sathrik will be a figurehead king, or he’ll be dead. Once he realizes that his former partner in crime has turned against him, Sathrik will go along, waiting for an opportunity to have Nukpana killed.”
I snorted. “Like that’s going to happen.”
“You’re right. It won’t. Sathrik will be a puppet or he’ll be dead, and the choice won’t be his to make. When Sarad no longer needs him, he’ll kill him. He can’t afford to let him live.”
“King Sarad Nukpana does have a certain ring to it,” I said, “and not a good one. But he doesn’t have the Saghred. And he sure as hell isn’t getting his hands on me. I’m not going anywhere near Rheskilia.”
“You won’t need to,” Mychael said quietly.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You shouldn’t. Nukpana was only in direct contact with the Saghred through Tam and your umi’atsu bond for a short period of time.”
“An hour, maybe a little more,” Tam said. “But it was enough.”
I knew I didn’t want to hear this. “Enough for what?”
“You have only had direct contact with the Saghred on a few occasions,” Mychael said, “and only for a few seconds each time. And each one of those times you fought that contact.”
“Sarad didn’t fight,” Tam said. “He was absorbing power like a sponge. And with Rudra’s knowledge, and the power of those two ancient mages, you can bet Sarad is going to make the most of everything he got.”
“You retained the power that the Saghred gave you,” Mychael said. “So will Sarad Nukpana.”
The implication of what Nukpana was now capable of was staggering. “Even though he doesn’t have the rock itself, he picked up plenty of new evil tricks, tricks he can’t wait to take home and use.”
