Lisa Shearin - Magic Lost, Trouble Found

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stand in the corner with your fingers in your ears?” I was only half joking.

Piaras’s expression spoke volumes on his feelings about that idea. “Not really.”

“He’s already heard most of it at the Mad Piper,” Garadin said, making it clear he knew my dilemma and just wanted me to get on with it.

“No, he hasn’t.”

Garadin stopped midpuff. “That bad?”

“Let’s just say the fewer people who know about it, the better.”

Piaras was slouching against the door jam, well on his way to a good sulk. To his credit, he didn’t do it often. I couldn’t really blame him. I did ask him to stand in a corner. He knew I didn’t mean it literally, but my meaning was clear enough. I didn’t think he was old enough to hear what had happened tonight. And he wasn’t. Truth be told, I wasn’t old enough. The safest thing for Piaras was complete and blissful ignorance. If protecting Piaras meant he had to suffer the indignity of actually standing in a corner, so be it.

“I’m sorry, Piaras. But it’s not safe for you to hear any more of this.” Or be anywhere near me right now, my maternal instinct chimed in.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” he said.

“I know you wouldn’t. I trust you. But trust isn’t the issue here. Your safety is. You can’t tell what you don’t know.”

A confused look passed over his face. “I don’t understand.”

I hesitated. Tact was called for here, and I didn’t have any. “I’m not worried about you talking to your friends. I’m worried about those involved in this. They would want to know what was said here. If they knew you were here, they would ask you.” I paused. “They wouldn’t ask nicely.”

The young elf’s expression didn’t change, but his dark eyes widened slightly. I think he got the idea.

“How long do you want me to stay in the corner?” he asked.

I smiled slightly. “Not long.”

“You don’t have to stand in the corner,” Garadin told him. “And I can fix it so you don’t have to stick your fingers in your ears.” He took one last puff, then set his pipe aside. “Fingers don’t work, anyway. You don’t even have to face the wall, just don’t try to read our lips.”

“I promise.”

Garadin nodded. “Good enough.”

I pulled a chair over to where Garadin was sitting, and he muttered a brief shielding spell, confining our voices to that small area. It meant neither one of us could get up and move around, but I had done more than enough moving for one night. Piaras found a book and settled himself cross-legged by the fire, his profile to us. Occasionally, he would steal a quick glance. The curiosity of youth is a powerful thing.

I told Garadin the whole story, in as short a form as possible without omitting anything that might be important—which meant I told him everything. Fortunately, it didn’t take as long as I thought. I had lived it once, and that was quite enough. When I’d finished, Garadin sat quietly for a few moments. He was absorbing and sorting, as I liked to think of it. I wasn’t about to disturb him. He’d talk when he was ready.

“From your description, the elven Guardian and spellsinger would be Mychael Eiliesor.”

I knew I’d come to the right place. “You know him?”

“I know of him. He was appointed paladin of the Guardians after I left.”

I sat in stunned silence. I had just kicked the commander of the Conclave Guardians in the balls.

“What is it?” Garadin asked.

I told him.

Garadin laughed until tears were streaming down his face and he couldn’t breathe. Piaras couldn’t hear a thing, but the shield couldn’t keep him from knowing that his teacher found something hysterical—at my expense. He grinned.

I didn’t share their opinion. “It’s not funny!” I said it out loud for Garadin, and towards Piaras so he could read my lips. It just made it worse.

“I’m sorry,” Garadin sputtered.

I crossed my arms and sat ramrod straight against the back of the chair. “You don’t sound sorry.”

“I am.” He snorted one last time, and wiped his eyes. “Really.”

I sat up even straighter, gathering what little shreds of dignity I had left. “Well, what do you know about him?”

“Nothing bad. He was personally appointed by the Archmagus. Justinius Valerian has a knack for hiring good people, plus he’s always wanted to clean house. Putting Mychael Eiliesor in as paladin sounded like a good start. He’s one of the best spellsingers on Mid, and a top-notch healer. Some say the best of both.”

I could have guessed the spellsinger part. “What else?”

“Paladin Eiliesor takes his job very seriously. He’s honest and he doesn’t play favorites.” Garadin chuckled as he relit his pipe. “And don’t even think about offering a bribe. Rumor has it a couple of Caesolian mages tried when he first took office. Eiliesor didn’t take the offer, but he did take the mages on an extended tour of the Conclave dungeons. You thinking about setting up a meeting?”

“That’s the last thing on my mind. For now I just want to find out who the good guys are. If there are any.”

Garadin’s expression darkened. “I can guarantee you one of them isn’t named Sarad Nukpana.”

“I know. I’ll be seeing someone in the morning who might be able to shed some light on how Sarad Nukpana knows me.”

“Nathrach?” Garadin’s distaste was evident.

“Yes, I’m going to see Tam.” My tone was weary in my own ears.

Garadin and I had trampled this ground before. I didn’t blame him. As my godfather, Garadin felt he had certain duties. One of those duties was protecting me from inappropriate men. A couple of fond and fun memories reminded me in no uncertain terms that Tamnais Nathrach certainly qualified. But sometimes a girl likes a little inappropriate in her life. I know I do.

“Mind if I look at the amulet?” Garadin set his pipe aside, along with his animosity towards Tam. For now. Garadin picked his battles carefully with me. This was one he knew he couldn’t win.

“That’s what I’m here for.” I reached down the front of my shirt and pulled out the chain. The silvery disk felt smooth and surprisingly cool after spending the past two hours next to my skin. I lifted the chain and the amulet over my head.

I almost didn’t live to regret it.

I knew there was air in the room, but my lungs didn’t believe me. Gasping didn’t help. Garadin lowered me to the floor before I fell there on my own. My fist convulsed on the amulet, and pain shot up my arm as the metal bit into my palm. Garadin tried to pry my fingers open. I wanted to help him, but my body—and the amulet—had other ideas.

The air was hot, the room too small. Through half-open eyes, I saw Garadin and Piaras above me. There were others that I couldn’t see. They pressed close, taking what little air remained. I couldn’t see them, but I knew who they were. A Khrynsani shaman, Mychael Eiliesor, and from farther away, Sarad Nukpana. They knew who I was—and soon they would know where I was.

I felt Garadin wrench the amulet from my fingers and push the chain back over my head.

The air cleared. The presences vanished. I took a shuddering breath and tried to open my eyes more than a squint. The room was too bright. I was draped across Garadin’s lap. He had one arm around my shoulders, the other clutched to his chest. He had a burn where he had grabbed the amulet. Piaras was at my side. The air was cooler now. My lungs still burned, but at least I could breathe.

Garadin was in pain. Piaras was scared. I was both.

Garadin nodded towards the shelf by his worktable. “Second shelf, fifth jar,” he said between pain-clenched teeth.