Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (17 page)

I
knocked, even though I was sure Tam’s wards had already announced me. After a
few moments, a small section of the door slid open, just large enough for the
pair of amber eyes that looked out. I recognized the eyes and the elf they
belonged to. Lorcan Karst, Tam’s floor manager. I heard the sound of locks
being unfastened and wards being shifted. The door opened.

Lorcan
was tall and lithe, and like most elves, deceptively slim and much stronger
than he looked. Lorcan in particular was more dangerous in other ways than most
realized. Rarely did anything happen that he couldn’t control—one way or
another.

“Mistress
Benares, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

He
didn’t look surprised to see me—pleasantly or otherwise.

“Is
your boss in?” I asked.

“He
is.”

“If
he’s not too busy, I need to speak with him.” I paused. “And if he’s busy, I’m
willing to wait.”

Lorcan
stepped aside and ushered me into the dimly lit interior. “I will ask. May I
have Kell get you anything from the bar while you wait?”

The
barkeep looked up from his work and waved in greeting. I smiled back.

“Nothing,
thanks,” I told Lorcan. “Morning, Kell,” I called across the empty dance floor.

The
big goblin continued to put away glasses. “It’s been too long. Where have you
been keeping yourself?”

“Here
and there. The usual.”

I
paused to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Many of Tam’s employees were
also goblins, and Tam wanted his people to be comfortable. I had been here
often enough to know where everything was, but I wasn’t in the mood to trip
over a wayward chair. To my left, next to the long, sleek bar, was an area with
only a pair of elaborately carved doors behind a small desk. Tom had
commissioned the doors from a local artist. I had looked closely at the panels.
Once. I don’t blush easily, but suffice it to say what the carvings look like
from across the room are entirely different from what they really are. Behind
those doors, and up a flight of stairs was the most exclusive gambling parlor
in Mermeia.

Gambling
wasn’t illegal in Mermeia, but exploiting certain magical advantages was.
Combining gambling and sorcerers was either a very good or a very bad
idea—depending on which side of the table you were on. For sheer profitability,
a fancy Conclave education had nothing on what a moderately talented sorcerer
could learn and earn in an upscale Mermeian gambling parlor. Nudging a pair of
rolling dice, manipulating a deck, compelling your fellow players to study the
insides of their eyelids while you did a little reconstructive work on the game
board. The possibilities were nearly endless. Tam ran a legitimate
establishment, or at least that’s what the city watch believed. I didn’t buy it
for a minute.

Lorcan
escorted me to my favorite booth against the back wall. I knew the way, but the
elf was a gentleman and a good manager, so I let him do his job.

“I
will let Primaru Nathrach know you are here,” he said.

I
nodded. Tam already knew I was here, but I was willing to let protocol take its
course.

Lorcan
vanished behind a discreet set of velvet drapes concealing the narrow hallway
leading to Tam’s private office, and Kell had disappeared into the back room,
so I made myself at home. Other booths in Tam’s place were better for being
seen, but this booth was better for seeing—and leaving. Even in Sirens’
relatively safe surroundings, having access to the back door, and to the alley
and canal beyond was occasionally useful. Tam liked keeping behavior in his
place as civilized as possible. An occasional discreet vanishing act on my part
did wonders for sustaining our friendship.

My
gaze drifted to the stage. The evening’s entertainment was setting up. One of
them, a young goblin, had stopped and stood openly watching me. I watched him
right back, and considering how easy he was on the eyes, it wasn’t hard work.
He had the body of a dancer, all sleek muscle, and he was dressed to accentuate
every angle. Knowing a thing or two about muscle tone and what it takes to
acquire and maintain it, I knew that his hadn’t come entirely from dancing,
though no doubt he did that well enough or Tam wouldn’t have hired him.

He
looked toward Tam’s office and bowed slightly. “My primaru.”

I
turned to find Tamnais Nathrach watching us both with amusement.

Seeing
Tam always made me breathe funny.

Like
many goblins, Tam wore his black hair long. Normally it was pulled away from
his face with a silver clasp. This morning it was loose, slightly disheveled
and fell in a shimmering wave to the middle of his back. Looked like someone
had spent the night here. Tam crossed the floor to me like a big, beautiful,
and dangerous cat that had just awakened from a very satisfying nap. If I
listened closely enough, I could probably hear him purr. He wore trousers and
matching boots of dark, soft leather. Over that was a long silk dressing robe
woven with an intricate pattern of silver and blue. He let the robe fall open,
treating me to a view of smooth, silvery chest. Tam noted my appreciative
glance with a sly smile and a bit of fang peeking into view.

He
nodded toward the stage. “I see the two of you have met.”

“Not
really,” I said.

“We
are ready, my primaru, if you would like to listen,” the young goblin said.

“Very
much so.” In a whisper of silk, Tam slid into the booth next to me.

While
the musicians prepared, Tam took my hand and barely brushed my palm with his
lips.

Seeing
Tam made me breathe funny; touching Tam made me forget how.

“It’s
been too long,” he whispered, his dark eyes shining in the half light.

Kell
had said the same thing. Somehow it was different coming from Tam. I didn’t
have to be told why.

After
the night I’d had, on top of virtually no sleep, I thought I’d probably spook
horses and scare small children. From the look I was on the receiving end of,
Tam didn’t agree. Though knowing Tam, he probably hadn’t noticed anything going
on above my neck.

Tam
and his voice were like fine, dark silk—he was provocative, his voice was
seduction itself, and both made you feel completely decadent. I wasn’t entirely
immune to his charms, and I didn’t entirely mind. I had always told myself that
Tam didn’t mean anything personal by it. It was a harmless little game that we
both enjoyed. Perhaps if I told myself that long enough I’d begin to believe
it.

The
music began. Drums and two other percussion instruments established a languid
beat, and then the low, vibrant tones of a goblin flute joined with the melody.
The tempo increased slightly to the pulsing rhythm popular for the current mode
of dancing. The young goblin began to sing, his body moving in perfect time to
the drums. It was a love song that only a goblin could love, full of seduction,
deception, and betrayal with just a touch of death thrown in for good measure.
But it wasn’t the words that held my attention; it was the singer, or more to
the point, his voice. His rich tenor gave meaning to the song far beyond the
words. As the music increased in energy and intensity, so did his voice and his
dancing. If I hadn’t been acutely aware of what he was doing, I could have
easily found myself enchanted.

Although
he was not in the same class as Mychael Eiliesor, the young goblin was a
spellsinger of impressive power and control. It wasn’t unusual for
establishments like Tam’s to employ spellsingers—a little subliminal singing to
compel patrons to order more drinks, or to convince them they’re having the
time of their lives was fairly common. This goblin’s skill was a little much
just to raise bar tabs. If he had wanted to, he could have done much more. But
then, Tam had never been one for doing things halfway.

The
song concluded, and we both applauded, Tam with more enthusiasm than I.

“He’s
good,” I murmured.

“Yes,
he is,” Tam agreed.

“Too
good.”

Tam
looked over at me, a slow grin playing with the corners of his mouth. “I offer
only the best. My clientele expects it from me. If they want shoddy
spellsinging, they can go down to the Troubadour.”

“I
wasn’t talking about his singing. I meant what’s going on under it.”

“He
wasn’t aiming at you, darling, so where’s the harm? Spellsingers have to make a
living, too.”

He
wasn’t aiming at me, but he easily could have been. And after last night, I was
a little more sensitive about that sort of thing. Not to mention, a spellsinger
that gifted could easily find work more suited to his level of talent and
probably better paying, though I knew Tam wasn’t cheap. He paid his people
well, and then some. The result was an intensely loyal staff.

“That
was well worth the wait, Rahimat,” Tam told the spellsinger.

The
young goblin looked pleased. “Thank you, my primaru. With your permission, we
will perform it tonight.”

“You
have my permission and my blessing.”

With
a bow to Tam and another glance at me, the spellsinger turned and began
speaking in low tones with his musicians.

Tam
was standing by the booth. I hadn’t seen him move. “You wish to speak with me
privately?”

I
looked away from the spellsinger and stood. “I do.”

Tam
slipped his long-fingered hand to the small of my back. “Kell has brought
refreshments to my office.”

The
narrow hallway leading to Tam’s private domain was lit by illuminator globes
set into recesses in the wall. The resulting light was pale golden, and very
flattering, the same as the lighting in the main room. Everything and everyone
looked better in low, soft lighting. Throw in a couple of strong drinks, and even
Tam’s hobgoblin bouncers would look irresistible. I’d always found the glow to
be a little too perfect. I’m sure Tam had added a few magical touches to
enhance the effect.

Tam
opened the door and stood aside for me to enter. A warm caress passed over my
skin as I stepped across the threshold and through his shields. Being on
friendly terms with the proprietor helped. Tam made sure his shields knew I was
always welcome. Trust was a wonderful thing.

A
door was open behind the mahogany desk. Through it I saw the corner of a bed,
with pale sheets spilling into a pool on the floor.

“You
would welcome a few extra hours of sleep.” He didn’t ask it as a question.

“I
would welcome a few hours of sleep, period.”

“That
could be arranged.”

From
the sound of his voice, that wasn’t all that could be arranged. “Tam, I’m
serious.”

“So
am I.”

The
goblin went to a small sideboard in the corner and poured Nebian jasmine tea
into a pair of gold-painted porcelain cups so fragile they looked like they
would shatter if you looked at them wrong. I could smell the delicate floral
brew. Nebian jasmine was rare, and importing it was prohibitively expensive
unless you had the money or the contacts. Tam had both.

He
handed me a cup, deliberately brushing my hand as he did so. “What is so
important that you cannot spare a few hours for me?”

I
slid into one of the two overstuffed velvet armchairs facing the desk. “I don’t
have a few hours. I have a problem.”

“Don’t
you always? You need to make time. Play is important.”

“Play
is your business, Tam, not mine.” I took a sip of tea, closed my eyes and
inhaled. Night-blooming jasmine. A moment of pure and complete bliss. It’d be
nice if I could make it last.

“It’s
also my business to make people happy.” His voice dropped to a low, suggestive
purr. “What would make you happy this morning?”

“Other
than a few hours of sleep, the same thing that always makes me happy. Knowing
things that the bad guys want to keep secret.”

“Those
aren’t the fun kind of secrets.”

“They
are to me. Now more than ever.”

“I’m
probably going to regret this, but is there anything I can do to help?”

“Without
endangering yourself or your business,” I finished for him.

“That
would be nice, but with you, it’s usually not possible.”

I
paused before continuing, taking both my time and another sip, and sniff, of
tea. “You heard about Simon Stocken?”

“I
heard.”

I
didn’t say how I knew, and Tam didn’t say how he heard. Tam would never betray
me, and I extended the same courtesy to him. But at the same time, we didn’t
share anything we didn’t have to. Our relationship operated strictly on a
need-to-know basis. I think there are things about Tam that I’d rather not
know; and I’m positive there are things about me that I’d rather Tam not know.
It’s not a lack of trust, just good sense. I’ve always been a practical girl.

“I
received a shipment of Caesolian red and some vintage liqueurs from him just
last week,” Tam said. “I have two other sources, but they lack Master Stocken’s
particular acquisition skills and attention to detail. I suspect my cellars
will suffer before I find a suitable replacement.” His expression darkened. “
If
I can find one. Do you know who was responsible?”