Chapter 16

So Taltek Balmorlan wanted to be a hero. As a general rule, people were more likely to follow a hero than a sadistic nutcase. I didn’t think Balmorlan harbored any illusions that kidnapping and murder made him heroic, but he didn’t see himself as a nutcase, either. Like Carnades Silvanus, he had a single goal and he thought it was a good one—destroy the goblin race. And he wasn’t going to lose any sleep over anything he had to do or anyone he had to kidnap or kill to achieve that goal.

“Those embassy guards arrived entirely too fast after the explosion,” Markus was saying. “Taltek has always had a sense of the dramatic. No doubt he waited an appropriate amount of time to ensure that I was either dead or taken, then he courageously leads his men to the rescue and kills any remaining Khrynsani. In the eyes of the elven people, Taltek would be a hero, and his actions could help justify going to war with the goblins, even though it’s a war the vast majority of the elven people don’t want.”

Mychael spoke. “If Balmorlan comes up with a way to prove that goblins are killing off high-ranking elven officials, elven public opinion could shift in favor of a military response.”

“I can’t allow that to happen,” Markus said. He looked at me. “I know you have no intention of working for anyone, but the elven people know what the Saghred is capable of from our history. If you or the Saghred were to fall into goblin hands, Taltek would claim that the goblins wouldn’t stop this time until they destroyed every last elf—and he could very well be right. Queen Lisara would be forced to mobilize the elven military, and the generals would pressure her for a preemptive strike.”

I glowered. “And the goblins would strike back.”

“Either way it would be war.”

“Or if the elves got their hands on me, they’d destroy every last goblin,” I reminded him pointedly. “Neither one’s going to happen as long as I’m still breathing. I will not be used.”

Lamplight gleamed off of the gem attached to Mychael’s cloak. I reached down and pulled my own from beneath my shirt by its chain. I’d completely forgotten about them.

“Do you think they worked?”

“Only one way to find out.” Mychael pulled the chain over his neck. “Ryn, you wouldn’t happen to have a crystal ball, would you?”

My uncle snorted. “I make my own future, Mychael. No ball gazing needed.” He thought for a moment. “Though I’ve got a deck prism, clear as fine glass. Would that do?”

“Perfectly.”

Phaelan swung his legs over the chair arm and onto the floor. “I’ll get it.”

Markus looked intently at the marble-sized gem dangling from my hand as Phaelan shut the cabin door behind him. “A recording gem?”

“You know what they are?” Though I shouldn’t be surprised. If it was a spy gadget, chances were Markus had one of his own.

His thin lips quirked upward in a brief grin. “It’s a night for firsts. Mychael’s out of uniform and you’re out of the citadel, and it’s doubtful the two of you were taking a stroll past my house in the middle of the night.”

“We weren’t,” I told him with a secretive smile. Two could play at that game.

Mychael’s blue eyes twinkled. “Would you like to tell Markus what we were paid to come to his house to do?”

I beamed back at him. “Love to. Some secrets are too fun not to share. Markus, we were paid an obscene amount of goblin gold to kidnap and deliver you to Sarad Nukpana.”

I got the unprecedented treat of seeing Markus Sevelien stunned. If I’d have blinked, I’d have missed it. Fortunately I didn’t blink, because it was an expression I knew I’d never see on him again. The next instant, Markus was once again in perfect control.

Mychael reached around behind him where the satchel lay on the floor, and put it on the table with a thump.

Uncle Ryn whistled. “Pure goblin imperial, six hundred kugarats.”

Mychael was clearly impressed. “Has he always—”

“It’s a family gift,” I said.

Mychael sat back in his chair and looked at Markus. “We were coming to tell you that a pair of human operatives by the names of Kester Morrell and Maire Orla had been hired to kidnap you.”

Markus traded stunned for merely confused. “But Raine said that—”

“A glamour,” I told him. “Thanks to a boost from the Saghred, I’m discovering a couple of talents I didn’t know I had. Apparently an incredibly thorough glamour is one of them. Mychael and I went in as Morrell and Orla, got a scumbag to admit that he’d kidnapped General Aratus.” I held up my gem by its chain. “Plus we got his confession on these little beauties. Then we accepted the job to snatch you, took the gold, and came over to warn you that we’d done both.”

“And ended up saving my life.”

I shrugged. “An added bonus.”

Markus’s expression gave absolutely no indication what was going on beneath that calm and polished surface. “Do you truly think it was a bonus, Raine?”

I didn’t respond immediately. I knew my answer to that question, but I wanted Markus to wait for it, like I had to think about it first. I know; it was petty. But after tiptoeing through a house full of Khrynsani and being in the same room with a half-regenerated Sarad Nukpana and his uber-evil uncle, petty was the least of what I was feeling right now.

“Yes, it was a bonus,” I finally told him. “You being Balmorlan’s boss . . . Damn, Markus, what the hell was I supposed to think?”

“Exactly what you needed to think. If one of Balmorlan’s snitches witnessed one of your outbursts . . .” He stopped and smiled. “And I’m certain that you had at least one—it helped me maintain my masquerade for a little longer. You were most helpful. And now that you’ve blown up my house, with any luck Taltek thinks I was blown up with it.”

“You’re not the only government official on this island to squeak past Death tonight,” I said. “And the goblins don’t have the market cornered on trying to start a war, either. Imala Kalis and her men were ambushed by Nightshades outside of Sirens. They took a couple of shots at me and some Guardians, but Banan Ryce was there and had been hired to assassinate Imala Kalis.”

Markus sat up straighter. “Imala is unharmed?”

First-name basis. Interesting. “Not a scratch. From what I saw, she and her boys have dealt with this sort of thing before. All it did was make her mad. The lady’s got one heck of a vocabulary and the lungs to use it.”

Markus’s face bore signs of concern. “Mychael, have you offered Imala Guardian protection? I seriously doubt that she will accept it, but have you asked?”

“I was going to do so in the morning. You’re right. She’ll turn me down. But I think she’ll permit Guardians on the embassy’s outer perimeter. That way she wouldn’t lose face.”

Markus paused. “Imala Kalis is the woman Queen Lisara wants in charge of the goblin secret service. The elves who want war with the goblins want her dead. Imala’s concern is what’s best for the goblin people and she knows that a war isn’t it. Two of her own agents have attempted to kill her in the past month alone. One of the assassins belonged to King Sathrik’s inner circle. The king has never hidden his desire to finish the extermination of our people that his ancestor started. Imala is one of the obstacles in his way.”

“You say the assassin belonged to Sathrik. Past tense.”

“Imala killed him herself.”

A killer with dimples.

“We have proof that Banan Ryce and his men were contracted to come to Mid by a high- ranking elf,” Mychael said. “Before tonight we didn’t have a name. Balmorlan’s now at the top of a very short list.”

“Carnades Silvanus is number two,” I said.

“The trick is bridging the proof gap between Ryce and either one of them.”

“That would let you arrest Balmorlan?” I asked.

Mychael smiled with a baring of teeth. “For hiring Nightshades to assassinate Imala Kalis, I could put him under the citadel.”

“Sounds like a good, wholesome family project,” Phaelan said from the open doorway. “Set him up and take him down, then we’ll let Mychael take him out. What do you think, Dad?”

Uncle Ryn’s teeth flashed white against his black beard. “I think I can carve out time in my schedule for such a noble cause.”

Phaelan came in the cabin, shut the door, and handed the deck prism to Mychael. Then he rubbed his hands together, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “So, where does Balmorlan get his funding?” he asked Markus.

“Some from the elven treasury; most he raises privately.”

“Just what I wanted to hear. Treasury money has to be accounted for. With private fund-raising there doesn’t have to be a paper trail.” My cousin’s grin turned gleefully malicious. “Unless someone creates one.”

I knew where he was going and I liked the destination.

Phaelan froze, stood ramrod straight, and sniffed the air twice. “Gold. Goblin imperial.” His hands were virtually twitching with unfulfilled avarice.

“In the bag, Phaelan.”

My cousin’s eyes locked on that leather satchel like it was his own little slice of heaven. “A couple hundred, at least.”

“Six, to be exact,” Uncle Ryn said.

One of Phaelan’s hands reached out to touch. I smacked that hand.

“Ow.”

“Not yours.”

Phaelan’s grin was seven times wicked. “Could it be?”

I told him where it’d come from.

My cousin nodded in approval. “You got to keep the gold and the mark. You do the family proud, cousin. But you didn’t answer my question. Can we keep it?”

“I have an idea or two that will earn us the best return on our investment,” Mychael said, his smile sly.