Lisa Shearin - Armed & Magical

“The chief librarian doesn’t approve of me, either.” Mychael chuckled. “So I saw.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Lucan Kalta’s a fine librarian, but he can be a pompous ass. What books did I go to all that trouble to check out?”

“Highly restricted books. I’ll tell you more when we’re out of here.”

Mychael sighed. “Lucan doesn’t let go of those lightly.”

“Especially to people like me. That’s why I was glad a person like you came along to check them out for me. It kept Lucan Kalta from trying to tack me to the ceiling. It would have gotten ugly. No one tacks me anywhere.”

“If you had crossed through that counter with restricted books, Lucan would be well within his legal rights to tack you to the ceiling—or since you’re not a student or faculty, he could have had you arrested.”

I grinned. “Would you be the one doing the arresting?”

“Not under normal circumstances. But since I was there, my duty would call on me to be the arresting officer.” There was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

My grin broadened. “Would there be cuffs involved?”

“Only if you resisted arrest.”

“Oh, I can guarantee you I’d resist arrest. You’d have your hands full.”

“I already do,” he muttered.

It was dark when we left the Scriptorium. I guess time flies when you’re not having fun. Yesterday I’d been inside the Saghred and pissed off Sarad Nukpana. Today I’d been inside the Conclave Scriptorium and pissed off its chief librarian and one of the Seat of Twelve. Not exactly the ending I had in mind for my second day on the island.

I heard a snort and smelled sulfur. There was a Guardian holding a pair of reins. The reins weren’t attached to Mychael’s white charger—or maybe they had been and the dragon had eaten him. The insides of the dragon’s nostrils glowed orange with restrained flame. If he sneezed, the Guardian holding his reins was toast.

Mychael saw my look. “His name is Kalinpar.”

“That’s not a white charger.”

Mychael smiled. “No, he’s not, but he is the quickest way to get around the city.”

“You came here on that?”

“Like I said, the quickest way.”

I didn’t doubt that. Kalinpar was about twice the size of the biggest horse I’d ever seen. I’d never seen a sentry dragon this close, but I’d heard they were nimble and quick enough to fly and land pretty much anywhere they wanted to. They were popular with law enforcement in the bigger cities. Looking at this big brute, I understood why.

Kalinpar looked pissed, too. Though he hadn’t met me yet, so it couldn’t have been my fault. Or maybe it was. He’d had to wait out here on account of me. Or maybe that was just his normal expression. Either way, I was in no hurry to share the saddle that was strapped to his scaled back. I’d had enough close calls for one day.

“Can’t we just walk back to the citadel?” I asked Mychael. In addition to Vegard and Riston, there were at least a dozen armed Guardians with us. “I don’t think anyone’s going to try anything. I’m safe.”

Mychael raised one brow and didn’t say a word.

I stared back at him. “I’m not going to try anything, either.” I sighed and raised the hand that wasn’t holding the books. “I promise not to attack anyone, steal anything, or break any more of your laws.” I stopped and thought for a moment. “Tonight. The way things have been going I can’t make any guarantees about tomorrow.”

Mychael regarded me for a moment, then turned to the Guardian holding the dragon’s reins. “Allyn, would you take Kalinpar back to the stables? We’ll be escorting Miss Benares back to the citadel on foot.”

“Yes, sir.” The Guardian hesitated. “When I land, would you like me to send reinforcements?”

“Only if we’re not back within the hour.”

I looked from one to the other. I think they were joking. Vegard chuckled from behind me. I resisted the urge to punch him and Mychael. Too bad I’d just promised not to attack anyone.

The Guardian swung into the saddle, strapped down his leg restraints, and with two strong wingbeats the dragon had cleared the tops of the surrounding buildings. With a parting plume of flame, he and his rider were gone.

Mychael took my hand and linked my arm through his. It could have been a gallant gesture of a gentleman walking a lady home, or it could have been Mychael making sure I stayed out of trouble. He had one of my hands; my other hand clutched the books. Regardless of his reasons, it was nice and cozy—even if we were surrounded by heavily armed Guardians. The night was cool; Mychael was warm. My night was starting to look much better than my day.

Mychael glanced down at me. “Tell me about Carnades.”

So much for nice and cozy.

I hit the high points. Mychael’s frown became more pronounced with each point. I didn’t know if that look of stern disapproval was for Carnades Silvanus or me.

“I just had his hand in a vise,” I protested indignantly. “It wasn’t like I had a dagger in his ribs. ‘Hand in a vise’ is simple assault or, in my case, self-defense. ‘Dagger in the ribs’ is attempted murder. My family did teach me the difference.”

“Do you want to press charges?” Mychael asked.

I blinked in surprise. Apparently the disapproving look was for Carnades Silvanus.

“Me press charges?” That’d be a first for a Benares.

“Yes, you press charges. A questing spell is considered assault. Do you want to press charges?”

“I think he knows not to do it anymore.”

“Did it ever occur to you to let Vegard and Riston handle it?”

“She asked us not to, sir,” Vegard said from behind us.

Mychael just looked at me. “You asked them not to? They’re bodyguards, Raine, not armed accessories.”

If my hands had been free, they would have been planted indignantly on my hips. “Carnades raked through my memories. I take that personally. If I take something personally, I settle it the same way.”

Mychael glanced at the retreating fire bloom in the sky that was Kalinpar. If the dragon had been closer, Mychael probably would have called them back, and I’d end up tossed over the saddle.

I could only see his face in profile, but there was no missing the clenched jaw. “What about the books?”

I told him what they were and who they were both written by.

Mychael stopped. So did our escort. “Are you certain?” he asked.

“Positive. Though I didn’t have time to do more than flip through the one in modern Goblin.” I lowered my voice. “Rudra Muralin used spellsinging to wake the Saghred, use it, and then put it back to sleep. And he was probably not much older than Piaras when he and the Saghred did their worst damage. It might explain why the stone responded to Piaras and not to you and Ronan Cayle.”

“Perhaps.” Mychael’s face didn’t betray a thing, but I could tell I’d just lit a spark in those blue eyes. I swore silently. As paladin, Mychael needed to know everything I found out, but I hoped I hadn’t just earned Piaras the same watch-first-lockup-later vibe I’d felt since I got here.

I suddenly didn’t want the books out in the open. I tucked them both into my jerkin. It was a tight fit, but I felt safer with them out of sight. I also felt safer by freeing up one of my hands.

Then I saw them. Six goblins, all armed and armored in sleek black. Khrynsani temple guards. Sarad Nukpana’s enforcers.

The Khrynsani were transparent. They were remnants, a psychic impression left behind after a person had left a place. Some sorcerers saw them constantly; I never could. Until now. The Khrynsani—and the young goblin they hunted—had been here just minutes before. I could see the filmy trail of the direction they’d gone in.