Lisa Shearin - Con & Conjure

My breath froze. Carnades hadn’t been at the harbor this morning; and even if he had, he’d have had no way of knowing about the goblin mages—and how the Saghred had made me want to kill the lot of them.

“If that little dream makes you happy, keep having it.” My voice was steady, but the rest of me wasn’t.

“Isn’t it odd that you claim to want to be rid of the Saghred and the power it has given you, but you have yet to expend any real effort toward achieving that end? The stone’s influence over you goes deeper than you will admit.”

I forced a smile. “I’ve been a little busy. It’s hard to work on my own problems when more pressing issues keep coming up. Many of them were your fault; the others you kept sticking your nose into and making them worse. And on at least three occasions, if it weren’t for me, your own arrogant stupidity would have gotten you killed. I saved your life, and what thanks do I get?”

The smile grew. “A chance to save your pirate cousin from probable torture and certain execution.”

I went perfectly still.

“You don’t believe me,” Carnades murmured.

“Why wouldn’t I? Threatening innocent people with violence to get what you want. It’s the ultimate villain cliché, but from you, I believe it.”

“Good. That will save me the effort to prove my sincerity. I assure you my associates and I would be doing nothing illegal.”

“So torture and execution aren’t illegal in your little world?”

“Neither I nor any of my associates would harm one hair on Captain Benares’s head. We would merely be apprehending a known criminal.”

“Mychael and the archmage have granted Phaelan immunity while he is on Mid.”

“That immunity ceases to exist once he is out of Mid’s waters,” Carnades noted.

“Phaelan’s not leaving Mid anytime soon.”

“I never said it would be his choice.”

“That’s kidnapping.”

“Not at all. Like yourself, I am merely warning you of the impending actions of others. Not that they would be committing a crime. They would merely be apprehending a known and wanted criminal. There are countless warrants for the infamous Captain Phaelan Benares’s arrest. Some of the rewards being offered are quite exorbitant. Your cousin must be exceedingly proficient at his chosen calling. They can’t all have him, of course. I understand there are plans to award him to the highest bidder. It would be the only fair way to settle any conflicting claims. And with such a wanted man as Captain Benares, there are certain to be conflicts.”

“What do you want?”

Carnades stepped closer. “I want nothing, Raine. In fact, I am offering you an opportunity to save the life of your cousin and help your own people.”

“An opportunity. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it called that before. And let me guess, all I have to do is walk through the gates of the elven embassy of my own free will.”

“Would that be so difficult?”

“Then a certain elven intelligence inquisitor will escort me to a warded cell made just for me, and clap me into a set of custom-made manacles. Have I missed anything?”

“In exchange for your cooperation, your family will not be harmed.”

The Saghred twisted in my chest, my rage awakening it.

Carnades knew. He laughed softly and his voice dropped to a bare whisper. “You want to obliterate me, don’t you, Raine? The urge is almost more than you can bear. How many nights have you lain awake wondering how much longer until you lose what little control you have left? Knowing that the instant you do there will be no going back.”

“And all I have to do is let Balmorlan’s sicko mages get their hands on the Saghred by getting their hands on me, so you and yours can destroy every goblin breathing your air.”

“Before they do the same to us,” Carnades hissed. “Before you further betray your people to help our enemies. Enemies who at this moment are planning our race’s destruction.”

“Destroy them before they can destroy us. Brilliant. It never occurred to you to work with the goblins who have no interest in killing a single elf. Who want to bring down the goblins who do want the elves’ collective neck in a noose.”

“There are no such creatures. Goblins kill. It’s what they are. Consumed by evil from the moment they are spawned.”

“You want to see what evil really looks like?” I snarled. “Take a look in the mirror hanging around your own neck.”

Carnades stiffened. You’d think I had slapped him. Believe me, I wanted to do a lot more than that, and the Saghred was eager to help.

“You refuse my offer?” Frost rolled off his words.

“And toss it back in your face.”

“Very well. I offered you the chance to surrender voluntarily. Enjoy your last few hours of freedom—and if you see your cousin, tell him to do the same.”

Surrender or thousands die.

Don’t surrender, the goblins and/or elves will come and get you, and thousands will still die. I really didn’t want to think about what was going to happen to me in either one of those scenarios.

I hate no-win choices. In my book, if you don’t have a chance of winning, then it’s not a choice. But either way, I was screwed and innocent people died. I didn’t believe for one second that King Sathrik would stay home and play nice—or Carnades and Balmorlan would crawl back under their collective rock—if I served myself up on a silver platter. But that’s exactly what the Seat of Twelve wanted to do with me as soon as they could vote on it.

I’d been in this room before. Nothing good had happened in it then, and I didn’t see that changing now.

In my opinion, it wasn’t a room for the Seat of Twelve to meet—it was a star chamber for passing judgment. I’d been in the hot seat last time, too. The dais was still there, but the throne-like chairs were around a massive table instead. Marginally less imposing, though it still said loud and clear that this group took themselves and their power way too seriously. No low self-esteem here.

“What are the terms for the surrender?” Carnades asked.

To Carnades, saving his own lily-white patrician ass and those of his yes-mages was his first priority, the rest of the island’s inhabitants and students be damned, or in this case destroyed.

“There are no terms, because there will be no surrender.” Justinius Valerian gave Carnades a look that said loud and clear that he would not say that again. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to debate.

Unfortunately the old man was in the minority.

The Seat of Twelve was shaking in their designer robes. Scared mages meant trouble of the fatal kind for me.

Fighting never occurred to men and women who depended on fancy magic and political maneuvering more than they did standing their ground and defending what was theirs. To them that was what they hired guards for. Actual fighting was barbaric and beneath them.

Which was exactly what Sathrik Mal’Salin and Sarad Nukpana were counting on.

Justinius was the top dog in this well-dressed pack. The old man had teeth and he knew how to use them. The same couldn’t be said for most of the others. Just because you were a mage-level talent didn’t mean you could use that power for fighting.

That’s why they had established the Guardians.

Five hundred knights against tens of thousands of goblin warriors, and at least a couple hundred of those warriors were mage-level talents—in black magic. And with Sarad Nukpana coordinating the invasion, I’d be willing to bet that there would be major-class demons among those numbers. I didn’t care how much magical ass Mychael’s boys could kick, outnumbered was outnumbered.

If I surrendered, all I would do is buy Mychael and his Guardians some time, but when the goblins did attack, it would be ten times worse.