Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (28 page)

Eiliesor
searched my face for signs of something only he knew. He took his time doing
it, and the intense scrutiny of a gorgeous, silk-robed Conclave Guardian made
me want to squirm. I resisted that impulse, as well as some hands-on urges that
were trying to get my attention. I really hoped Eiliesor wasn’t a mind reader,
too. I’d had enough embarrassment tonight.

“That’s
impossible,” he said after what seemed an eternity. “Eamaliel keyed it to
himself. No one else should be able to use it.”

“I’m
not trying to use it. And I don’t know this Eamaliel person or care about his
taste in jewelry. I just want to know how to get this thing off without it
killing me.”

“And
you can’t?”

For
some reason, that single, simple fact just wasn’t getting through to him.

“I
think we’ve established that,” I said, rapidly losing what little patience I
came with. “Why shouldn’t I be able to take it off?”

“From
what I’ve learned, your partner, whose name is Quentin Rand, since you seem to
have forgotten, is a gifted thief, but not the best. Sarad Nukpana could have
done better. A goblin loyal to the Khrynsani cause would have been a more
logical choice. I don’t think Nukpana chose your partner, Mistress Benares. And
neither do you. He called you by name in that warehouse for a reason.” He took
a step toward me. “I want to know what that reason is.”

I
didn’t move, but I was more than ready to. “So do I. I have no idea how Sarad
Nukpana knows me. I don’t want to know him. That’s the truth.”

“Your
involvement in this goes much further than you believe.” Eiliesor’s voice had
lost some of its edge. Maybe he had some sympathy that my world had been kicked
upside down and that a couple of those kicks had been his. “Sarad Nukpana knows
the full extent of that involvement. I don’t. I don’t believe you do either,
but I will find out.”

I had
no doubt that he would.

His
eyes were on mine. “Tell me about your father.”

Sarad
Nukpana’s words from just hours before came back to me. I didn’t want them to.

“I
never knew him, and my mother died when I was less than a year old. What does
that have to do with anything?”

“It
has much to do with everything. If you’re linked by blood to Eamaliel Anguis,
it’s possible that the beacon would respond to you. It would also be possible
for you to have direct contact with the Saghred without any of the usual side
effects.”

“Side
effects?”

“Contact
with the Saghred causes delusions, insanity, then death. But during that time,
the wielder is capable of channeling the stone’s full power. You’ve used the
Saghred, yet you’re completely unaffected. That tells me only one thing.”

“Only
one?” I heard myself ask. Then again, maybe I didn’t hear it. Maybe I was being
delusional.

“That
you are somehow related to Eamaliel Anguis. It would have to be a close link,
within at least two generations, closer would be more effective. Did Prince
Chigaru tell you anything about him?”

“Only
that he’s been dead for about nine hundred years. That’s a little old to be
related to me by less than two generations.”

“Eamaliel’s
missing, not dead,” Eiliesor corrected. “In addition to being a link to the
Saghred, the beacon is a lifemarker. Eamaliel had the beacon keyed only to him.
If he died, the link to the beacon would be severed, as would the beacon’s link
to the Saghred. Events of the past two days have shown that link remains. If
the link remains, so does Eamaliel.”

That
remark had implications I wasn’t prepared to deal with anytime soon. I knew who
my mother was; and according to Garadin, she wasn’t a nine-hundred-year-old
elven mage turned Conclave Guardian. She was a talented sorceress, but she
hadn’t been that good. If she’d been better, she would still be alive. That
left the possibility that Eamaliel Angius was my father. That possibility was
disturbing, but the other was too horrible to contemplate. Unfortunately, I
contemplated it before I could stop myself.

“Nine
hundred years old?” I whispered.

“It’s
not unheard of for links with objects of power to lengthen life. The Saghred is
known for it.”

Not
unheard of in his world maybe. It was a good thing I was sitting down. Thoughts
and questions darted in panicked circles in my head, running into each other.
One question managed to stay on its feet. I wondered how my blood could run
cold if I hadn’t brought my blood with me.

I
heard Mychael Eiliesor’s voice as if from another room. “Mistress Benares?”

“Raine,”
I finally heard myself say. “Call me Raine. You might as well.”

Eiliesor
knelt in front of my chair. “Are you all right?”

“Sure.”
I spoke from a daze. I was everything but all right, and I didn’t think I’d
ever be all right again. I forced myself to take a deep breath. I didn’t ask
for any of this, I certainly didn’t want any of this, but I had it, and there
was nothing to be done but to deal with it. My screaming fit would have to wait
a little longer.

“Tell
me,” I said, forcing my voice to be steady. I wished I felt the same.

“Excuse
me?”

“Tell
me everything you know about the Saghred and Eamaliel Anguis.” My fear was
giving way to anger. I welcomed it with open arms. I knew what to do with
anger. “You know, Nukpana knows, the Mal’Salins know. I even think one of my
goblin friends knows. I don’t like the dark and I’m tired of being kept there.
So tell me.”

Eiliesor
considered me for a moment. I patiently waited, and looked back at him. His sea
blue eyes were just as beautiful, but no longer as intimidating. I wasn’t
surprised by my sudden calm. It’s easy to be patient when you’re about to get
what you want.

He
stood and went to sit on the corner of the bed closest to me, his back against
the bedpost. “You know the events that led up to the Guardians taking the
Saghred from King Omari Mal’Salin.” It was a confirmation, not a question.

I
nodded.

“Eamaliel
Anguis led the team who recovered it. When he returned to Mid, the survivors of
that team and a few select Guardians tried to destroy the Saghred. They failed.
Lucius Cavan, the Conclave Archmagus at that time, ordered Eamaliel to hide the
Saghred to keep it out of the wrong hands. Eamaliel didn’t want to spend the
rest of his life sealed in a vault, so he had a beacon made so he could guard
the stone from a distance. But rather than an open beacon, which would allow
anyone who wore it to find the Saghred, he had it keyed to himself.”

“Not
very trusting.”

“He
had reason,” Eiliesor said.

“Lucius
Cavan tried to take it?”

“He
wasn’t even the first in line.”

Garadin
always said a man didn’t have to have power to be corrupted, but it sure
happened faster when he did.

“Eamaliel
expected it,” Eiliesor said. “But when he hid the Saghred, he did the same with
himself. Lucius charged Eamaliel with desertion, but Eamaliel didn’t see it
that way. The Saghred was his charge, his duty. There were others on Mid to
take his place there, only he had the connection to the Saghred. So, he devoted
his life to guarding it. That was nine hundred years ago. Neither have been
heard from again, until rumors surfaced a few months ago. As a protector of
Eamaliel’s legacy, I take those rumors—and my duty—very seriously.”

His
expression was just as serious. Cancel that, it was downright grim.

“And
that duty is?” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.

“Find
the beacon, find the Saghred, and return both to Mid.”

A
question occurred to me. “If only Eamaliel can use the beacon, how were you
planning to find the Saghred—that is, until I came along?”

“Eamaliel
keyed the beacon to himself,” Eiliesor said. “So we’ve had to do it the hard
way. As a seeker, I’m sure you’re aware that when something is moved, it leaves
a trail, both magical and mundane. We followed both. They led us here.”

“And
your mundane trail included…?”

“People
see and hear things. People talk.”

“In
other words, old-fashioned footwork. I do a lot of that myself.”

The
Guardian shrugged. “Time consuming, but it gets the job done. Unfortunately the
Khrynsani know as much as we do. And as far as your connection to Eamaliel
goes, it appears Sarad Nukpana knows more. We’ve traced the Saghred to Mermeia,
but no farther.”

“Mermeia’s
not small.”

“We’ve
noticed.” He paused. “There’s only so much more we can do on our own. Will you
help us find the Saghred?”

I
leaned back in the chair. “Chigaru Mal’Salin asked me to do the same thing last
night.”

“I’m
not Chigaru Mal’Salin.”

“I
noticed.”

“The
only way to remove the beacon is to find the Saghred.”

I
kind of thought it’d be something like that.

“Just
out of curiosity, what do you want with the Saghred?” I asked the Guardian. “Everyone
else has plans once they get their hands on it. What are yours?”

“To
keep it out of anyone’s hands,” he said. “If you agree to help us find it,
we’ll decide if it’s secure in its present resting place. I would rather not
disturb it unless it’s absolutely necessary. To move it means drawing attention
to it.”

“And
that would be bad.”

“Very
much so. Lucius may be long dead, but there are others eager to take his place.
If the Saghred is secure, we will leave it where it lies, along with your
beacon, of course. If the beacon behaves normally, once it is touching the
object to which it was keyed, you will be able to remove it.”

“Let
me see if I understand this. I have to touch something called Soul Thief before
I can take this thing off?”

“That
is the way a beacon typically works.”

“That’s
not the way I work, typically or otherwise.”

“The
other option is to go though the rest of your life, greatly abbreviated though
it would be, with the beacon hanging around your neck. I wouldn’t advise that
option.”

“And
if it isn’t in a secure location?” I asked, though I was almost certain I
didn’t want to know the answer.

“Then
we have the means to take it with us,” Eiliesor said. “There is a chest which
held the Saghred during its time on the Isle of Mid. We brought it with us.”

“The
Saghred and the beacon both in the chest.”

“That
is correct.”

“But
not me.” I wanted confirmation on that point.

Eiliesor’s
lips creased in a smile. “Your presence would not be required.”

“And
I would be free to go.”

“Yes.”

Best
news I’d had in days.

He
stood in a whisper of silk. “May I see the beacon?”

Unlike
the goblin prince, Mychael Eiliesor asked nicely enough. I stood and pulled the
beacon from its hiding place under my shirt, and held it by its chain. It was
completely solid and it shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t here, so it shouldn’t be
either. That should have bothered me, but it didn’t. I was already way beyond
bothered.

Eiliesor
closed the distance between us in two strides. I would have backed up, but
there was the small matter of a chair behind me and only his silk robe between
us. It was a very nice robe. Matched his eyes.

He
reached out to touch the slowly spinning disk, but stopped just short of making
physical contact. Like Janek, Mychael Eiliesor didn’t get to where he was by
being stupid.

“Not
very impressive, is it?” I managed. Suddenly there wasn’t nearly enough air in
the room. “Looks can be deceiving.”

His
blue eyes were on mine. “I’m not easily deceived, and I am impressed.”

I was
talking about the beacon. I don’t think he was.

He
looked down at the disk. “Eamaliel chose a perfect disguise,” he murmured in
admiration.

I
closed my fingers around the disk and dropped it into the front of my shirt.
For a moment, I thought Eiliesor was going to go in after it. My look stopped
him.

“A
disguise isn’t worth much if everyone knows what it is,” I told him. “Too many
people want to get their hands on this thing. Since I can’t take it off, they
want to get their hands on me. I can’t let that happen.”

“And
it won’t,” the Guardian assured me.

I
didn’t like his tone. Or the narrowing of his eyes. It painted pictures of me
being tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried off to Mid.
I chose to ignore that thought for now, and tried even harder to ignore that I
think I liked that thought. For now I had the very real and immediate problems
of getting Eamaliel’s handiwork from around my neck and keeping myself from
becoming anyone else’s permanent guest.

Too
much to do in one night. And too much to do by myself. I was good, but I did
have limits. I looked up at the Guardian. I didn’t need the beacon’s help to
tell me exactly what he was thinking.