Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (11 page)

I’ve
lived in Mermeia for ten of my thirty years, and for most of that time, I’ve
called the Sorcerers District home. Being an elf, you’d think I’d be more
comfortable among my own kind, but to tell you the truth, we don’t have all
that much in common. I think my family might have had something to do with
that. They’re thieves—whether from the deck of a ship or the back of a horse,
it’s the same profession. Highborn elven families have galleries of ancestral
portraits. Phaelan has a collection of framed wanted posters, and he’s just as
proud of them as if they had been rendered in oil by a fussy, overpriced court
artist.

Many
of the old blood made their old money much the same way as my uncle’s family,
but they’ve swept it under the nearest hand-knotted Nebian rug. My relatives
flaunt it. They may be thieves, but at least they’re honest about it. As a
result, my family isn’t exactly accepted by most members of polite elven
society. But considering what I know about most polite elven society, that
arrangement suits me just fine.

My
stomach growled. Loudly. When the sun came up, my stomach had certain
expectations. Like being fed. Those expectations hadn’t been met, and my
stomach was making its displeasure known. Maira’s bakery was on the way home,
and I saw no reason why we shouldn’t stop for sugar knots. I knew Tarsilia wouldn’t
mind in the least if we brought some home, and it would go a long way toward
improving how Garadin and I felt. Nothing like hot, deep-fried knots of
sugar-dusted dough to start the morning right. Maira’s it was.

Maira
Takis had started out her career as a Conclave mage, but had traded it all in
for the more peaceful existence of a baker. Everyone who lived on our street
was grateful for her choice. The smell of Maira’s sugar knots in the early dawn
hours made waking up worthwhile. Maira’s bakery was also popular with the city
watch. Fortunately, there were no watchers in Maira’s at the moment. I’d have a
hard time explaining the goblin blood.

Piaras
went in while Garadin and I waited outside. I smiled and waved at Maira through
the window. She smiled and waved back, then her smile froze. I looked down at
myself and pulled my cloak tighter. I definitely needed to change clothes. I
looked back in the shop. Piaras was laughing at something Maira’s assistant had
said. To see him now, you’d never suspect that a few hours before, he was
conjuring perfectly imaged werehounds with just the power of his voice.

“Have
you or Tarsilia spoken to his parents yet?” I asked Garadin. Piaras’s parents
lived in Rina, but they had sent him to Mermeia to apprentice with his
grandmother and to study spellsinging.

Garadin
shook his head.

“Tarsilia
said he’s starting to get restless,” I said. “I’ve seen it, too. You need a
plan before that happens.”

“I
know.” A tiny smile creased his lips. “I’m recommending that he study with Ronan
Cayle on Mid.”

I was
shocked and impressed and didn’t hide either. It was common knowledge that
Maestro Ronan Cayle considered himself a legend who only taught future legends.
It was also common knowledge that he turned out the finest spellsingers the
Isle of Mid and the Conclave had to offer.

“Piaras
is that good?”

Garadin’s
smile broadened, and there was pride in it. “He’s that good.”

“Maestro
Cayle hasn’t taken a new student in three years.”

“Five,”
Garadin corrected.

“You’ve
asked him?”

“I
sent a messenger two weeks ago. I know Ronan from my Conclave days. My
recommendation should at least get the boy an audition before classes start
next term. Though I’m not worried. Once Ronan hears Piaras, he’ll accept him.
But I wanted to wait until I’d heard back before I wrote to his parents—or got
the boy’s hopes up.”

An
audition was more than most got. Garadin once told me that Ronan Cayle thought
nothing of keeping hopeful students cooling their heels at the base of his
tower for a year or more. Since most of those students had ambitions to match
their egos, they tolerated the wait. I couldn’t see Piaras in that kind of
company. I knew talent like his didn’t belong behind the counter at an
apothecary shop, and I certainly couldn’t see him working for a noble family
singing lullabies to spoiled children, or for a pock-faced lord, singing love
songs beneath some noble lady’s window in his stead. Yeesh. It wasn’t like I’d
never see Piaras again. The Isle of Mid wasn’t far, and my family had plenty of
ships—some of which could still venture into Mid’s harbor without inviting
cannon fire.

Piaras
came out of the shop carrying a bag in one hand and a half-eaten sugar knot in
the other. My stomach growled in response to the sweet, buttery smell. Piaras
heard and grinned crookedly.

“Me,
too.” He popped another knot into his mouth. “Sorry I didn’t wait,” he said
around a mouthful. He opened the bag. “As long as we leave a couple for
Grandma, I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some.”

Garadin
and I fell to without further encouragement.

Mintha
Row, where Tarsilia’s apothecary shop was located, was off the beaten path
enough that for the most part, the only people who see me are those I trusted
to see me. But this morning I wasn’t going to take any chances. Like Garadin, I
valued my privacy. Also like Garadin, I tended to attract undesirable elements
who didn’t care that I’d rather not have anyone lying in wait for me when I got
home.

We
slipped off Casin Street, quickly crossed a footbridge across a sluggish back
canal and ducked into the alley that ran behind Mintha Row. When I’m not
feeling particularly sociable, I’ve found this is the best way to get home. At
least it lessens the opportunity for ambush. The alley was narrow and Tarsilia
kept it completely clear. If you had to fight your way home, the fewer
obstacles in your way, the better. What few windows looked out over the alley
lacked the proper angle to get a crossbow bolt or thrown knife into a target.
Perfect for a girl just wanting to get home after a long night out.

Or
for your mage landlady to wait for you.

Tarsilia
Rivalin stood just inside the open back door to her shop, my black and white
cat Boris cradled comfortably in her arms. Boris liked Tarsilia more than he
did me, but then he saw Tarsilia more, and to my knowledge, she’d never almost
set him on fire. The elven mage and my cat looked at me with similar
expressions in their leaf green eyes. I don’t think anything I do shocks either
one of them. But then it would take a lot to shock them both. Tarsilia was like
a lot of people I knew in the Sorcerers District—people who had a past, and
just preferred it stayed there.

Piaras
gave his grandmother a light kiss on the cheek and darted past her into the
shop before she could stop him. I knew I wouldn’t escape questioning so easily,
but then neither would he. Tarsilia would corner him later.

Tarsilia
was older than Garadin. How much older, I didn’t know, and I’d never seen the
need to ask. I did know that I’d be happy if I aged half as well. Slender, fine
boned, with barely any wrinkles visible in a still-flawless complexion,
Tarsilia must have been drop-dead gorgeous in her younger days. She still
turned heads of all ages. Must be a Rivalin family trait.

She
took note of my blood-stained clothing. “Busy night?”

“You
could say that. Piaras said you had visitors.”

“I
didn’t have visitors,” she said. “You did. No one got in, but it wasn’t for
lack of trying.”

What
my visitors had wanted wasn’t in my rooms, but that didn’t keep me from not
wanting them there. On the rare occasion an intruder has been more persistent
than my wards were powerful, nothing and no one has ever gotten past Tarsilia.
She may be small, she may be old, but I wouldn’t cross her.

“Are
Alix and Parry still here?” Garadin asked.

“They
just left,” Tarsilia told him, turning to go inside. Her silvery hair swung in
a practical braid down the length of her back. “Alix has to open her shop in a
few hours, and since she’s been on shaman watch all night, she wanted to get
some rest.”

Garadin
and I followed her. I closed the door, latched it, and passed a hand over the
lock to reactivate Tarsilia’s wards. Someone who trusts you enough to have you
know their wards trusts you a lot. My movement wasn’t lost on her.

“Feeling
a little skittish?” She took a not so delicate sniff. “I guess goblin blood
does that to a person.”

“And
goblin shamans on your doorstep.”

“Open
your cloak. Let’s see how bad it is.”

I did
as told.

“Any
of that yours?” she asked.

“No.”

Tarsilia
dumped Boris on a nearby chair and pulled a burlap sack from under her
worktable. She tossed it to me. “When you go upstairs to clean up, put any
clothes you can’t salvage in that. My last shipment of newtwort came in it. The
stink from that will cover up anything. Tom’s coming by this afternoon to pick
up some things I need for him to burn. He’ll dispose of it.”

I
just loved her. “Thank you, Tarsilia.”

She
shrugged off my sentiment. “Can’t have you leaving evidence lying around for
the next goblins who pay us a visit to find.”

“Hopefully
there won’t be any more.”

“You
holding your breath on that?”

“Not
really.”

“Good.
I’d hate to see you disappointed.”

She
shut the door leading into the shop. She needn’t have bothered. Piaras already
had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Her
green eyes leveled on me. “Now what are Khrynsani shamans doing visiting you at
nearly two in the morning?”

“I
have something they want.”

“Is
it in your rooms?”

“No.”

“Do
you have it on you?”

“Yes.”

“Do
you want to give it to them?”

“I
can’t.”

“Then
you have a problem.”

I had
to agree with her on that one. “Yes, I do.”

“Want
to tell me about it?”

I
thought for a moment. The last thing I wanted to do was drag everyone I cared
about into the mess I found myself in. The fewer people who were in this with me,
the better. Piaras knew some of it, but not enough to get him into trouble. But
what little Piaras knew, Tarsilia would soon know. A Conclave inquisitor was
nothing compared to Tarsilia when she felt she ought to know something. She was
relentless. On the other hand, she might be able to help. Like most mages in
the District, Tarsilia had a Conclave background and had spent more than her
share of time on the Isle of Mid in her younger days. She didn’t talk about it
much, but I know she didn’t learn to fight dirty behind an apothecary’s
counter.

“Don’t
worry about me getting myself hurt,” Tarsilia told me, as if reading my mind.
She probably had. “I’ve survived a long time stepping in things I should’ve
stayed away from. I’ve just made more enemies tonight. Those Khrynsani know
where I live. If they want me, they know where to find me.”

That
statement would concern me coming from almost anyone else. But Tarsilia wasn’t
anyone else. If the shamans were smart, they wouldn’t come back.

“And
if I’m lucky, they’ll give me another chance,” she said with an evil little
smirk.

Or if
they were suicidal.

“She’s
just not a good tenant to have, Tarsilia,” Garadin said. He grinned and draped
an arm around my shoulders. “You should have evicted her long ago. Better yet,
you should have never let her in to begin with.” He planted a light kiss on the
top of my head. I detected pride in his voice. “She’s bad to know and worse to
be around.”

“Of
course she is,” my landlady retorted. “Why do you think I like the girl? When
you get to be my age, you take your excitement any way you can get it. Having
Raine around keeps me from getting slow.” She turned back to me. “You sure you
don’t want to tell me what’s going on?”

I
sighed and pulled the amulet out of my shirt. The metal was warm and smooth
beneath my fingers, almost as if it were trying to make up for its behavior
last night. I dropped it against my shirt. I wasn’t buying.

Tarsilia
reached for the amulet. I pulled back.

“You
don’t want to do that,” Garadin warned her.

“Why
not?”

Garadin
and I held up our bandaged hands.

Tarsilia
lowered her own hand. “Good reason.”

She
settled for a close study. I turned it so she could see both sides. It behaved
itself perfectly.

“Not
much to look at, is it?” she finally said.

“It’s
not my usual taste in jewelry.”

“How
did you come by it?”

I
gave her the short version of last evening’s events. I was getting better at it
with each retelling.

“If
they’re after this, they’ll definitely be back,” Tarsilia said when I’d
finished.

I felt
a small surge of hope. “You know what it is?”