Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (14 page)

“Any
mages or sorcerers missing lately?” I asked. “Besides Nigel?”

Janek
knew where I was going with that. The person killed to fuel a Gate’s creation
didn’t have to be magically talented, but it made for a stronger and more
stable Gate if they were. If Sarad Nukpana had gotten his hands on a magic
user, punching a hole into Nigel’s townhouse would have been a lot easier. The
pickings were plentiful in Mermeia. Retired Conclave mages, sorcerers, seekers,
healers, mediums, exorcists, conjurors—the list went on and on, from truly
gifted individuals making an honest living, to the mediocre only looking to
part the gullible from their coin. In Mermeia, there were ample customers for
both—and both offered ample victims if a goblin grand shaman was out gathering
Gate fuel.

Janek’s
expression darkened. “Nigel’s the sixth to vanish this week.”

I
blinked. “The sixth?”

“A
medium vanished two days ago and a healer was reported missing just this
morning. The other three were street magicians, simple folk the watch know.”
Janek’s jaw clenched. “Regardless of who they are and what they do, they’re my
people, my responsibility, and all the paper pushers downtown care about is
making a good impression on the dignitaries in town for the week. I get
pressured to solve the cases, and do it quick, but stay quiet while I do it.”

Anything
could have happened to any of them, but this week Sarad Nukpana had come to
town.

In addition
to being one of Mermeia’s best watchers, Janek Tawl was a respectable, and
respected, sorcerer. It was one of the reasons he worked in the District.
Crimes involving sorcerers were best investigated by someone with more than a
passing knowledge of magic, and compassion for its practitioners. Janek had
both.

I
looked around at the onlookers swarming around Nigel’s townhouse. Give it
another hour and it’d be a full-fledged circus. “Good luck.”

“We’ll
need it.”

“Any
chance you’ll be able to trace the Gate back to its source?”

“Possibly.
It wasn’t that messy of a job. But anyone talented enough to open a Gate would
have enough talent to clean up after himself better than that—or so you’d
think.”

Unless
he were annoyed or injured—or just didn’t care.

“The
goblins who ripped the Gate must have taken their casualties back with them,”
Janek said. “There’s too much blood for the number of bodies we’ve found.
Apparently they tore a Gate right into the house to get in and left the same
way.”

“That
took a lot of effort,” I said.

“Blew
every house ward Nigel had right to hell.”

So
much for why Quentin hadn’t set off any alarms.

“Once
all hell broke loose, I’d imagine neatness didn’t count for much,” I said.

“True.”
Janek agreed. “Where were you last night? You’ve never struck me as the curious
onlooker type.”

It
was a casual question, but Janek never did or said anything casually. I let an
easy smile spread across my face. It’s a talent I’ve developed over the years.
“You suspect me of being in Nigel’s garden with a small army of goblins?”

He
shrugged. “You know a lot of goblins. If there was trouble, and if you weren’t
in it, you’d at least know about it.” His green eyes narrowed slightly. “But,
if you knew something you could tell me, you would.”

Over
the years we’d known each other, we had on more than one occasion known
something about what the other was investigating. And on more than one
occasion, we couldn’t immediately share that information. Once circumstances
untangled themselves, we shared what we knew. My circumstances were about as
tangled as they could get. Janek’s weren’t much better with the watch
commissioner breathing down his neck.

“If I
find out something myself, I’ll share it if I can,” I promised.

It
wasn’t a lie, because I didn’t know anything that would help Janek with his
investigation of Nigel’s disappearance.

“Any
chance I could see the bedroom and hall where the Gate was opened?”

Janek
shrugged. “I don’t see any reason why not. You might find something we missed.”

That’s
what I was hoping for. Something along the lines of a small, white box.

Janek
wasn’t joking when he said the bedroom was destroyed. Raised on the streets of
Mermeia, Quentin knew how to fight and fight dirty. When cornered, the
dirtiness escalated tenfold. That he was surprised by several Khrynsani shamans
only made matters worse. After Quentin left the room through the nearest
window, the Khrynsani and their underlings had conducted their own search.
Judging from the destruction, they had to be quick about it, and they weren’t
happy with what they didn’t find. Janek was lucky he had a room left to
investigate. But he didn’t know what he was looking for. I did.

The
floor was covered with broken bits and pieces of what were once Nigel’s
personal possessions. I gave a low, impressed whistle for Janek’s benefit, then
scanned the floor between the bed and shattered windows for the white stone
box.

Nothing.
I tried not to make my disappointment too obvious. Fortunately, Janek was
talking to a young watcher posted by the door and didn’t notice. The
compartment concealed in the headboard was open, the contents strewn across the
bed.

No
white stone box.

The
bed had been moved at an angle and searched. It was massive, so I knew Quentin
hadn’t moved it, and that left only the Khrynsani and their temple guards. They
knew that Quentin had taken the amulet, so the object of their search could
only be one other thing. The same thing I was looking for. And from the absence
of that thing anywhere in the room, I’d say they found it. Damn.

A
gleam of blue metal caught my eye next to the bed. I walked over and knelt next
to it, but was careful not to touch it. Things were looking up. Maybe I could
tell Janek who his culprits were without incriminating myself.

“What
did you find?” Janek asked.

“Your
house wreckers left a calling card,” I told him.

Janek
knelt next to me. “It’s a medallion. Nigel has a lot of those.”

“Not
one like this.”

“Like
what?”

“This
is goblin.”

He
started to reach for it.

“Khrynsani,”
I said.

Janek’s
hand stopped midreach. My friend didn’t get to where he was by being stupid.

“You’re
sure?”

I
could feel the malice oozing from it—and so could the amulet around my neck. I
was also treated to some sibilant goblin chanting. I could hear it. Janek
couldn’t. I knew goblin. I knew what they were saying, and it wasn’t anything I
wanted to hear. That particular piece of jewelry had been worn by a very bad
goblin while he did some very bad things. And recently. My guess was Sarad
Nukpana’s Gatekeeper. Or Nukpana himself. The chain was broken—maybe Quentin
had helped him remove it.

“Unfortunately
positive,” I said.

“Someone
was careless.”

Janek
turned to the watcher who remained steadfastly by the door. For the most part,
Janek’s people were either sorcerers themselves or sensitives, those who were
acutely aware of the presence of sorcery, but without talent themselves. From
his clear desire to be elsewhere, I’d guess the young human was the latter. I
didn’t blame him in the least. Khrynsani magical leftovers gave me the creeps,
too.

“Willem,
go downstairs and have Riggs bring up a containment box.” As the young man
left, Janek lowered his voice so only I could hear. “So, you think I should pay
a visit to the goblin embassy this afternoon?”

His
words said one thing. His tone said something else entirely. Janek wasn’t
asking my professional opinion. He was asking my opinion based on what I had
seen when I was here last night, or my close association to whoever had. I
glanced at him. He was wearing his best fess-up look.

“You
wouldn’t happen to have an opinion on why the Khrynsani would bother to rip a
Gate into this house, would you?” he asked.

I
indicated the wreck of a bedroom. “They seemed to be looking for something.”

“Know
what it was?”

“I
have no idea what the thing was, or why they want it.” That definitely wasn’t a
lie. Other than an amulet, I didn’t know what it was, what it did, or why they
wanted it. But finding out had become my new life’s goal.

Janek
took a small sealed envelope out of his cloak’s inner pocket. “Considering who
sent this, I thought you might.”

I
took the envelope from him. There was no return address and the seal had the
outline of a dove in the center. That told me who it was from. Markus Sevelien.
No one who knew Markus would ever equate him with a dove. Maybe that’s why he
used it; maybe it was just his twisted sense of humor. My vote was for the
latter.

“That
red-headed messenger of Markus’s brought it,” Janek said. “Wonder how he knew
to bring it here?”

I
cringed inwardly and broke the seal and opened the envelope. “You know Markus
is good.”

“Yeah,
he’s good. So good he knew where you were going even before you got here.”

From
what I’d told him in the note I’d sent from the safehouse, Markus had to have
known I’d come back to Nigel’s. I’d be willing to bet an identical note had
been delivered to the senior-ranking watcher working the crime scene at
Stocken’s warehouse. Markus liked to be thorough.

I
tried to ignore the scowl that had taken up residence on Janek’s face and
scanned the note. After a quick read, my face must have been a perfect match
for his.

Those
few words scratched on parchment made me officially homeless. There were no
safehouses available as of this morning. They were all being used by elven
diplomats and their retinues arriving in town for the goblin king’s masked
ball. No doubt Phaelan and Quentin had been asked to leave if they hadn’t
already cleared out. For his sake, I hoped Bertran had asked Phaelan nicely. I
sighed. The pack that hung over my shoulder was small, but it had suddenly
gotten a whole lot heavier.

Janek
drew breath for the question I knew was coming. Just then we heard someone
running up the stairs. It was Riggs.

“Sir,
come quick. They’ve found a body in the canal.”

I
blew out my breath. Saved by the corpse.

The
corpse in question was Nigel Nicabar.

The
watchers had collected the bodies found in Nigel’s house, garden, and canal,
and put them in the greenhouse located at the back of the garden. The
necromancer’s talents weren’t with living things, so the greenhouse’s tables
were pretty much empty—at least of plants. Dead goblins lay under sheets and
tarps. I couldn’t help but feel that Nigel would have approved. What he
wouldn’t have approved of was being included among them. Nigel wouldn’t have
been caught dead surrounded by goblins, yet that’s exactly how and where he
was. I don’t think he would have appreciated the irony.

Apparently
the watch had run out of things to cover bodies with. From what I saw in that
greenhouse, our fight with the temple guards was a lovers’ spat compared to
what the goblins had done to each other after we left. Part of me wanted to run
out of there screaming, but the other part couldn’t help but notice that while
elves turn light gray after death, like living goblins; dead goblins turn pale,
like living elves. Interesting. Also interesting was that all of the bodies
wore Mal’Salin house badges on their armor, a detail I couldn’t see last night.
That confirmed that I’d stepped in the middle of a bad case of sibling rivalry.

“They’re
all Mal’Salin.” I tried to sound surprised. Act ignorant, get information. It’d
worked for me before.

“Yep,”
Janek said.

“I
know the Mal’Salins aren’t exactly one big, happy family, but isn’t this a bit
excessive?”

He
ran his hand over his eyes. “Yep.”

The
weariness evident in that one little word told me that something else had just
been dumped on Janek’s already overflowing plate.

“Care
to elaborate on that ‘yep’?” I asked.

“Rumor
has it the king’s little brother is in town.”

Crap.
Sometimes I hated it when I was right. So much for it being just the prince’s
allies acting on his behalf. Looked like Prince Chigaru had decided to make a
personal appearance. The goblins have a saying about their royal family: blood
is thicker than water, and Mal’Salins aren’t shy about drowning each other in
either.

“You
think half of the dearly departed belong to the prince?” I asked.

“That’s
my theory. Like I need an assassination attempt this week. Though if Prince
Chigaru is in town to take down his big brother, at least he’ll probably do it
in the Goblin District.” Janek flashed a grim smile. “Not my jurisdiction.
Unfortunately their guards brought their feud across the canal into Nigel’s
garden, which is my jurisdiction.”