Lisa Shearin - Con & Conjure

Time to find Mago.

Setting up Phaelan and paying Rache to kill Chigaru and Mychael took money. A lot of money. I knew for a fact that Rache wouldn’t kill a fly without being paid, and Carnades’s lackeys wouldn’t go after Phaelan without having their pockets well lined. The best way to stop them would be to stop their money, then see what I could do about taking every coin they already had.

Prince Chigaru hadn’t reserved the entire hotel, but he’d come close. There were goblins at every opening that could even remotely be considered a way in or out. I’d been taught since childhood how to get around virtually any obstacle an opponent could throw at me.

It wasn’t easy, but I got into the hotel without anyone seeing me. No goblin in this hotel knew that Prince Chigaru’s personal banker was a Benares, and there was no reason why I would know Mago Perrone.

So, I snuck in.

Almost as difficult as getting into the hotel undetected was convincing Vegard to wait for me at a bar across the street. In no way could a big, blond Guardian blend in with a hotel full of goblins. I was small and fit through openings Vegard couldn’t get his head into, let alone those shoulders of his. I thought about telling Tam and Imala about my little trick, but decided against it for now. I might need to sneak back in before all this was over.

I couldn’t exactly walk up to the front desk and ask where Mago Perrone’s suite was. I mean I could, but it would be ill-advised. Hotel staff generally wanted to know personal details that are best not shared in my kind of situation, like your name and what business did you have with the hotel guest in question. Then they would oh so politely offer to send a bellboy up with a message. Pretty much everyone knew who I was, and having me connected in any way, shape, or form with Mago would have scuttled our plan before we got a chance to break even one law.

Over the years, we’d worked out a sign in our family for letting another family member know where we were. For an inn or hotel, the tip of a handkerchief discreetly visible in the upper right corner of the door said that a Benares was in residence. To keep me from wandering suspiciously from floor to floor looking for his door merely took a little deductive reasoning. Mago never stayed on the ground floor, to prevent anyone from breaking in. Someone stealing from Mago would be the ultimate irony. My cousin also never stayed on floors too high up to prevent him from easily getting out. Escape was a good option for a Benares. He always carried a ladder woven out of Caesolian silk; it was light, fit neatly in his luggage, and could be pulled down quickly after him. That ladder had seen a lot of use over the years. It would reach three stories, no more. Chigaru was on the fifth floor—naturally the top floor—that would put Mago on the third. He’d want to be close to the prince, but close enough to the ground so that his getaway ladder would reach.

Unlike Prince Chigaru’s floor, there were no guards on Mago’s hall; in fact, there was no one in the hall except for me. The golden glow from recessed lightglobes set into the walls at regular intervals revealed a faint gleam at each end of the hall. Sentry beacons. Sometimes magic was a major inconvenience. Hotel security could see everything going on in every hall. Though one of the first spells I learned as a seeker was for disabling any magical device that let anyone see me when I didn’t want to be seen.

Focus, a touch of will, and a muttered spell later, all the security guard downstairs would see was a lot of empty hall. There would be no record that I’d been here.

I found the tip of a pale blue handkerchief peeking out of the door of the suite closest to the stairs—another prudent Mago precaution. I used the knock that would tell him it was me, and my cousin answered the door a few moments later, drink in hand, color back in his face.

I slipped quickly into the room so Mago could step up to the threshold, look both ways in confusion, shrug, and close the door.

Mago’s hair was still damp from a bath, and he was wearing a dark blue silk lounging robe. Most of a meal was still on a small dining table by the window. I stayed by the door and Mago crossed the room and closed the drapes. Standing on a floor that didn’t pitch and roll definitely agreed with my cousin.

“You’re looking almost lifelike,” I noted.

Mago raised his glass in salute. “You’re a silver-tongued flatterer, as always.”

I nodded toward the table. “Still can’t keep anything down?”

“I ordered more than I wanted.” Mago smiled. “I knew either you or Phaelan would put in an appearance and would be ravenous from one nefarious activity or another.” He raised a flawless eyebrow. “And what sort of trouble have you escaped this afternoon?”

I glanced down at myself. No blood that I could see. “What makes you think I’m in trouble?”

“I don’t think anything. I know you.”

I grinned. “Touché.”

“Quite so. Would you care for dinner? The poached salmon is excellent.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I sat down and fell to.

I was sure that Phaelan would put in an appearance later in the evening, but he would be more interested in refreshment of a liquid variety while he and Mago regaled each other with stories of monetary acquisition that, if heard by an officer of the city watch, would land them both in jail. Naturally, the stories would embellish reality to an obscene degree, but it was the telling of the stories and the drinking until neither of them could find the door that was more important, not that trifling thing known as the truth.

I regaled Mago with a story of my own, first about Carnades’s threats against Phaelan unless I surrendered myself to the elves, and then about the pending goblin invasion unless I gave myself up to the goblins.

By the time I’d finished, Mago had drained his glass and was at the suite’s bar pouring himself another.

“Don’t worry about Carnades,” Mago assured me. “This isn’t the first time someone came up with the bright idea to sell my little brother to the highest bidder.” He laughed. “One time, I was the winning bidder.”

I was incredulous. “You actually paid someone for Phaelan? You’re slipping, cousin.”

Mago raised a finger. “Ah, there’s a big difference between ‘bought’ and ‘paid for.’ I made the purchase, acquired the merchandise, and double-crossed the seller, leaving her with no Phaelan and no gold. I think the entire operation went exceedingly well.”

“Her?”

Mago nodded. “Phaelan protested that I purchased him far too soon. He was about to make headway of an intimate nature with the lady in question.”

I blinked. “He was going to boff his own kidnapper?”

“Phaelan considered the bidding process a novel kind of foreplay.”

“I don’t think I need to hear any more.”

“It’s a very entertaining story. You should really let me tell it to you when you have a few hours.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Raine, don’t worry about Phaelan. He’ll be coming here later tonight and I’ll tell him.”

“Can you also keep him from doing anything stupid?”

He laughed. “I’m incredibly good, but I have yet to work an actual miracle.”

“Then do what you can.”

“That much I can promise.”

“Okay, back to the goblin part of my problem. You can siphon all the money out of Taltek Balmorlan’s account into one to fund Prince Chigaru, but it’ll be too late to help anyone if Nukpana gets that Gate built.”

“Due to the prince’s injury, my meeting with him has been postponed until breakfast tomorrow. King Sathrik keeps an absurdly large amount of imperial goblin gold on deposit at our bank, but he rarely makes withdrawals from it, only deposits.”