Lisa Shearin - Magic Lost, Trouble Found

“Precisely.”

“How did you know him?”

“Let us say we shared similar interests.” He smiled. It could have been for any reason. “What interests me now is you.”

Nothing called for a subject change quicker than having a psychopath interested in you. I forced back the lump that had taken up residence in my throat. “You didn’t have the beacon. Nigel did. So how did you know the Saghred was in Mermeia?” If Nukpana wanted to chat like old friends, I could play along.

“Nachtmagus Nigel Nicabar should have chosen his words with more care—and been more selective to whom he spoke them. He acted unwisely. His indiscretion was his undoing.”

Indiscretion and a certain goblin grand shaman. Neighborhood gossips didn’t tie a rock around Nigel’s ankles for a midnight swim, or kick that crate from underneath Simon Stocken’s feet. But I didn’t imagine Nukpana saw either as his problem or fault.

The goblin smiled. “And just before dawn this morning I ran into Ocnus Rancil. Apparently he was about to leave on an extended vacation.” His smile broadened. “I persuaded him to stay.”

I suddenly didn’t feel so good. I’d never liked Ocnus, but I wouldn’t wish Nukpana’s persuasion on anyone.

“He mentioned that he had spoken with you and the paladin earlier,” the goblin continued. “He also mentioned a name that I had not heard in quite some time—Tamnais Nathrach.”

Now I really felt sick.

“Master Rancil told me everything I needed to know. In fact, he talked until he could talk no more. I have told His Majesty all about you. The Conclave Guardian’s daughter who will be helping us. He is most eager to make your acquaintance.”

Nukpana stopped at the edge of the clearing. The moonlight was just enough to see the trees on the far side, and more than enough to see the stone altar at the center. A quartet of Khrynsani temple guards stood at each of the altar’s corners. When they saw their grand shaman, they came to attention.

Nukpana admired his guards’ handiwork. “Good. All is prepared for us.” He released my arm but not my hand, half dragging me into the clearing.

“I will take the Saghred now, Raine.”

I made no move to hand it over. “Not until you let Piaras go.”

“Very well.” Nukpana spoke without turning, and without taking his onyx eyes from mine. “Kafele?”

“Your will, my lord?” asked one of Piaras’s guards.

“Unless the Saghred is in my hands in the next five seconds, cut out the nightingale’s throat.”

Blades were drawn. Nukpana held out his hand. I gave him the Saghred.

His other hand released mine and closed over the top of the casket. “Was that so difficult?”

Not difficult for him, but breathing had suddenly become a challenge for me.

The moment Nukpana’s hands touched the Saghred’s casket I felt a power that had nothing to do with Sarad Nukpana. My father was talking to me. Not in the normal way two people talk to each other. There were no words spoken, no thoughts passed. It was more of a confirmation, an assurance that all of the Saghred’s power was now mine for the taking. The box surrounding it contained those energies only as long as I wished it. I wasn’t the only one who thought the world would be a better place without Sarad Nukpana.

That the goblin held it didn’t matter. The Saghred—and my father inside—reached out to me, offering me the power I needed to destroy Nukpana, his Khrynsani, and anyone else I chose, in The Ruins, the embassy grounds, the gardens, and the house beyond if I felt like it. The stone’s power seethed just below its surface. Waiting. Eager.

The air was charged with it. I was charged with it. Nukpana still held my hand. He felt and he knew.

His grip lightened into a caress. “By all means, Mistress Benares, show me your power,” he whispered. “I have waited all my life to witness the Saghred’s strength.”

I certainly felt like destroying. The power was mine. I trembled with it. I could destroy Nukpana now, before he could hurt anyone else I loved. I knew it. So did he.

The power was also wrong, wrong in every way I had ever been taught. The Saghred would make me into what I wasn’t. I wasn’t like Sarad Nukpana.

“Learn patience,” I hissed.

Nukpana acknowledged my choice with a bare nod. “As you wish. Bring the witch.”

A pair of Khrynsani guards brought Primari A’Zahra Nuru forward. Her patrician features were expressionless, and even dwarfed as she was by the armored guards on either side of her, her bearing remained regal. No doubt she’d die the same way. My free hand closed on the dagger in the hidden pocket of my gown. No one was dying. Not on my watch.

Prince Chigaru shared my opinion, but not for long. The struggle was quick and fatal—quick for Chigaru, fatal for one of the guards. Three more sprang to take his place, and a vicious blow to the back of the prince’s head ended the discussion.

Sarad Nukpana’s eyes narrowed, the Khrynsani guard who struck Chigaru the new object of his disaffection. “If he is dead, you will take his place.”

The guard dropped to his knees, desperately checking the prince for signs of life.

“He lives.”

“Good. See that it remains so.”

I pushed the Saghred’s power down, then took a deep breath and slowly released it. I knew it wouldn’t stay there for long.

Nukpana sensed it. “You are strong, Raine. Like your father.”

The bastard actually sounded happy about that.

“I won’t be your puppet,” I told him.

“I don’t want a puppet; I want a partner.”

“Life’s full of disappointments.”

Nukpana held up his hand and the guards stopped. “Apparently you require a more personal incentive. Release the witch,” he told the guards. His smile was slow and horrible. “Bring the nightingale.”

I screamed and lunged for Nukpana. I was fast, but the guards behind me were faster.

Four big goblins grabbed Piaras. He tried to fight them, but there were too many. As they lifted him onto the altar, Piaras’s voice dropped desperately to a dark, low register.

“Gag him,” Nukpana snapped. “Quickly.”

One guard gagged Piaras, while the other three held him down and shackled him to the altar.

My heart pounded, blood ran cold, mouth went dry. Anything and everything you’d expect to feel when you saw someone you loved about to be slaughtered. None of those things were going to get Piaras off of that slab, so I made myself stop doing them, every last one. If I panicked, I couldn’t think, and if I couldn’t think, a lot of people were going to die or worse—starting with Piaras.

“Don’t.” It took everything I had not to make that one word sound like begging. I would not beg. Nukpana would like it and I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“What I do—or do not do—is for you to decide.” Any pretense of civility was gone from his voice. He wasn’t playing anymore. “You know what I require.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“But you do. In these very woods you destroyed six Magh’Sceadu, merely because they threatened your precious nightingale. I’m asking for a similar demonstration.”

“Do I get to pick the target?” The words came out through clenched teeth.

The goblin laughed. “I could hardly enjoy the performance if I were vaporized.”

“Scared?”

“Merely prudent.” I felt his personal shields go up. He might as well have erected a fortress around himself.

“We all make sacrifices, Raine. I don’t wish the nightingale’s death either. Merely show me the Saghred. Show me the power, and we both get what we want.” He looked over at where Prince Chigaru lay unmoving on the ground. “I think the prince and the witch will work nicely for your first demonstration.”