Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (27 page)

“So
the shamans were eaten?” Phaelan asked.

I
didn’t like the sound of that last word at all. But from the horror that I had
witnessed, that was the most apt description.

“Absorbed
would be more accurate,” Garadin said. “Once a Magh’Sceadu has had its fill, a
Khrynsani shaman uses what was taken to power their own sorceries. Then they
turn it loose to fill its belly, or whatever, again. As to what a shaman does
with that power boost, it’s generally big, nasty, and something even a group of
the most talented shamans couldn’t, or wouldn’t want to, do alone.”

That
sounded too close to the Saghred’s idea of fun for my taste. I suddenly wanted
more whiskey in my whiskey coffee.

“That
‘big and nasty’ wouldn’t extend to opening Gates by any chance?” I asked.

Garadin
nodded. “That and a whole bevy of other nice, wholesome activities. I haven’t
exactly gone out of my way to get direct knowledge. Like Gate creation, the
rituals said to be used to make a Magh’Sceadu are repugnant to say the least.
Blood, torture, and living sacrifices—it’s unclear whether any of these are
actually required, but it gives the Khrynsani an excuse.”

A
kidnapping could leave a trail. Absorbing didn’t leave anything. It went a long
way toward explaining the sorcerers who had vanished recently without a trace.
Magh’Sceadu didn’t leave leftovers.

I had
a lot to think about, and I had a feeling no one I had run into this evening
was going to wait patiently while I sorted everything out. I looked up. Garadin
was watching me intently.

“What
are you going to do about…?” He nodded in Piaras’s direction, not wanting to
say his name out loud for fear of waking him.

Piaras
was curled under the blanket, his breathing deep and even. I knew exactly what
Garadin meant. Too many people knew what he was capable of. Too many of the
wrong kind of people. I wasn’t the only reason those Magh’Sceadu came after us.
I may not have even been the main reason. After putting the goblin guards to
sleep, and then confronting Nukpana’s pet monsters, Piaras had glowed with
power, and it hadn’t diminished until we had left The Ruins. He had left a
trail for just about anything that wanted to follow us.

“He
did good work tonight,” I said quietly.

“I
know,” Garadin said. “I heard him.”

“So
did a lot of other people.”

“You
weren’t exactly discreet yourself.”

“But
I’ve dealt with crazies before,” I said. “Some almost as bad as Sarad Nukpana.
It’s what I do for a living. It’s my choice. Piaras didn’t have a choice.” I
lowered my voice further. “Piaras used a repelling spell against the
Magh’Sceadu. In goblin. You taught him that, right?”

Garadin’s
gaze met mine unflinchingly. “I thought it was something he might need to know.
How did he do?”

“Very
proficient. Almost too much so.”

“Those
spells are complex. Especially in goblin. The boy kept his head.” Garadin
nodded his own in approval. “Good.”

I
agreed it was good that Piaras kept his head. But I wasn’t happy that he had
been put in a situation where he risked losing it in the first place.

“I’d
just rather he not have to make a habit of defending himself against creatures
like that. Normally I could arrange for him to stay in one of Markus’s
safehouses, but they’re all full. Besides, I’d rather he be with people he
knows. Any suggestions?” I asked Garadin.

“Home
would be the best place for him.”

“But
is it safe?”

“Tarsilia
has some of the strongest house wards in the District,” Garadin said. “And I’ll
move in until all this is settled.”

“Hopefully
that’ll be soon, and with a win for our side.” I finished off my coffee. “Now,
if everyone will excuse me, I need to take a nap and make a date with a
Guardian.” I indicated the cabin’s other bunk, presently buried under maps and
papers. “Can I borrow that for a few hours?” I asked Phaelan.

In
response, Phaelan stood and started cleaning it off. Except his idea of
cleaning involved mostly transferring the pile from the bed to the top of a
nearby trunk.

I
pulled back the blanket and sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Wake me if we’re
about to be slaughtered.” I meant it as a joke, but it didn’t quite come out
that way.

Phaelan
probably meant to smile. It didn’t quite make it either. “Other than Eiliesor,
don’t worry about any interruptions. We’ll make sure it stays quiet for you.”

From
his serious tone, I had no doubts. But as I lay down and pulled the blanket
over myself, my last thought before drifting off hoped those wouldn’t turn out
to be famous last words.

Sleep
didn’t take long finding me, and I didn’t take long finding
Mychael Eiliesor. I had no idea how I found him, but
if the beacon could talk, I was sure it could tell me.

I
found myself in an unfamiliar and lavishly decorated bedroom. Only the best and
most expensive furnishings and linens, and my eye for such things was very
accurate. I’d come to realize that if I liked it, it was expensive. Another
Benares family trait. I heard movement from the canopied bed. The embroidered
bed curtains were pulled back, and the occupant shifted in sleep. I stopped
breathing.

Mychael
Eiliesor lay on his side with a pale sheet draped loosely over his waist. One
arm was curled under the pillow, and the other stretched across the bed. His
coppery hair gleamed in the light of a single bedside lamp and one loose curl
brushed his temple. My eyes were drawn lower, down the leanly muscled torso and
beyond. If he was wearing anything, it wasn’t obvious to me. He moved and the
sheet slipped farther. Nope, he definitely wasn’t wearing anything. I felt my
face flush, which shouldn’t have been possible considering that I wasn’t really
there. I looked away. Then I looked back. I couldn’t help myself.

His
glorious sea blue eyes were open and watching me. I didn’t like water, but I
could drown in those eyes and die happy. I froze in shock.
He could see me.
I looked down at myself.
I
could see me. But I was asleep onboard the
Fortune.
I couldn’t be in both places at once. Or could I? But how?

Eiliesor
was now propped up on one elbow. He was still watching me, but now there was
the beginning of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Heart-stopping.

“This
is unexpected,” he said.

He
was telling me.

“We
need to talk,” I heard myself say. It didn’t sound quite like me, but then I
wasn’t quite here, or there. I had a fluttering moment of panic and
disorientation. Actually, I didn’t know where I was.

His
smile had turned into a grin. “We
are
talking.” Then his eyes widened
slightly. “You’ve never done a sending before, have you?”

I
shook my head. “The past two days have been full of firsts.” I swallowed, and
looked back down at my hands. “I’m not supposed to be this solid, am I?”

“I
know of only two mages on Mid who can manifest that well, and you’re doing it
through three layers of my best shields.”

That
did it. I had just gone from being merely creepy to truly scaring myself. I
wondered if I could faint. I think it must have showed, because the Guardian
started to get up.

I
waved my hands. “No, no. Stay.” Seeing him get out of bed, now or anytime,
would
not
soothe my rattled nerves. Quite the opposite.

He
stayed. But he moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, the sheet
gathered around his waist. He motioned me to a chair. I looked at it and wasn’t
exactly sure if it would work; that is, whether I could actually sit down when
I wasn’t really there. I gingerly sat down—and didn’t fall through. A pleasant
surprise, disturbing, but pleasant. Much like the unobstructed view of the
elf’s smoothly sculpted chest.

Having
never done this before, I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to stay, so I
thought I’d better get to the point.

“I
have questions; you have answers.”

“I
have some questions myself,” he said.

I’ll
bet he did. “I’ll make you a deal,” I told him. “You answer mine, and I’ll
answer yours.”

“I’ll
tell you what I can.”

I
nodded. It was as much as I would be doing myself. There were some things about
myself I’d rather a Conclave Guardian didn’t know.

“I’ll
start,” he said. “Sarad Nukpana hired your partner to steal the beacon. He
called you by name. You can use the beacon. This isn’t a coincidence.”

“You
get right to the point, don’t you?”

“I
don’t have time for anything else. Neither do you.”

Looking
at our mutual situation from his point of view, I guess my involvement did look
rather shady. To a point he was right. I couldn’t exactly walk the moral high
road here. But knowing a thief didn’t make me one; and a psycho knowing my name
didn’t make me one of those either, so I felt entitled to get on my high horse,
however briefly.

“I
didn’t steal anything, Paladin Eiliesor. And I resent being treated as if I
did. I deemed you the most likely to help me solve my problem, and the least
likely to try and kill me afterward. That’s why I’m here. It’s not how I normally
choose sides, but it’ll have to do.”

He
just looked at me. “Then how did you get the beacon?”

I
told him. However, I completely neglected to mention Quentin by name at all, or
Phaelan or Piaras or anyone else I cared about. Amazing how little details can
get glossed over in relaying the bigger picture. I’m certain Eiliesor wanted to
know the details, but I didn’t think they were necessary. If he felt otherwise,
he didn’t show any sign. Apparently only one thing was important to him, and it
was hanging around my neck.

When
I had finished, he just sat there, watching me, no doubt weighing my words
against his own version of the truth. My tone had betrayed no emotion, nor
doubt as to my sincerity. And I knew he didn’t believe me for a minute. His
problem, not mine. Yet.

He
finally spoke. “So you know what you have.”

It
wasn’t a question.

“More
or less. Chigaru Mal’Salin told me last night. Though I think he told me
because he didn’t expect I’d be going anywhere.”

“Probably.
How much do you know about the Saghred, Mistress Benares?”

“More
than I did yesterday, which is a hell of a lot more than I ever wanted to know.
I know what it is, some of what it supposedly does, and that a lot of people
want to get their hands on it, yourself included.”

“Let
me tell you what I know, Mistress Benares. Your partner”—he paused and smiled
slightly—“who apparently has no name, discovered the beacon the night before
last in the home of a prominent Mermeian necromancer. The moment he opened the
containment box was obvious to me, as it was to many in this city. I know the
beacon passed into your possession at Simon Stocken’s warehouse. I sensed it
again, a few hours later on the edge of the Sorcerers District. The signal was
subtle. I sensed it only because I knew what I was listening for.”

He
stood, and holding the sheet loosely around his waist, reached for a long
dressing robe draped across the foot of the bed. “What I heard last night in
The Ruins was not subtle, nor was it the small magics innate to a beacon. I
followed it and found you and a spellsinger far too young to be that powerful.
You had just destroyed six fully formed Magh’Sceadu. A casual observer would
say you had accomplished this feat all by yourself.” He paused. “I’m not a
casual observer.”

He
turned away from me, put on the robe, and let the sheet drop to the floor.

I
swallowed.

He
tied the sash, and turned to face me. “Forgive me, Mistress Benares, but your
natural gifts are marginal at best—at least they used to be. What you
accomplished last night is a level of craft you should not be capable of. You
reached through the beacon and used the Saghred. How, I do not know. I’ve never
agreed with Sarad Nukpana on anything, but in this instance he is correct.
You’re playing a dangerous game.”

I
didn’t know whether to be insulted at his less-than-glowing assessment of my
former abilities, or concerned by his accuracy. But it was his last opinion
that struck the nerve.

“No
one ever asked me if I wanted to play, Paladin Eiliesor. I’m a seeker. A good
one. Aside from that, I can defend myself, and I have a couple of parlor tricks
up my sleeves. That’s all I knew until two days ago. Many in this town wouldn’t
mind having what I have now. I’d like nothing better than to pitch this piece
of metal in the nearest canal, but I can’t.”

The
Guardian looked puzzled. “Can’t?”

“Can’t.
Remember an hour after I left Stocken’s warehouse? You said you sensed the
beacon again?”

“Yes.”

“That’s
when I tried to take it off. It was like having a lightning bolt strapped to my
neck. It almost killed me. I’ve had to wear it ever since.”