Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (35 page)

“Probably.”

No,
definitely. The rest was so simple. I would have pounded my head against the
wall if Nukpana hadn’t already done it for me. I was so stupid.

Piaras
spoke. “Then what I did worked because I aimed at the Gate itself, not anything
on the other side.”

“Precisely.”

I
knew what it meant, and I didn’t like it in the least. “So if I want to do any
damage to Sarad Nukpana of the permanent variety, I need to be in the same room
with him.”

Garadin
took a swig of ale. “Just close by will do.”

No,
close by wouldn’t do. I didn’t want to be close to Sarad Nukpana or a
soul-stealing rock either. But what I wanted didn’t seem to matter much this
week. Though if there was one thing to be grateful for, the goblin had
experienced the same problem I had, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here to
feel stupid.

“So
other than closing the Gate, I didn’t do much good either,” Piaras said.

“You
did the equivalent of slamming a very big, very heavy door in Nukpana’s face,”
I told him.

“Then
why do I feel so…” he struggled to find the right word. “Helpless?”

Garadin
and I both stared at him in disbelief. Mine was the open-mouthed kind. Garadin
kept his closed. He was busy chewing again.

“Helpless
is the last word I would use to describe you tonight,” Garadin told him, after
he swallowed. “I’m sure Sarad Nukpana doesn’t see you as helpless. And just
because Tarsilia isn’t here with us doesn’t make you helpless or ineffective.”

“But
I couldn’t save her. I failed.”

I
spoke up. “You didn’t fail. I couldn’t save her either. If you failed, that
means we both did. But blaming ourselves isn’t going to do us or Tarsilia any
good. We did our best.”

“And
it wasn’t good enough.”

I
sighed. I felt the same way, but I was going to keep that one to myself. Piaras
was just another perfectionist in the making. Nothing he ever did would be good
enough, at least not for him. And while I could warn him off that path that I
had well and thoroughly trampled myself, I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I
hadn’t listened either. I glanced at Garadin. The tiniest smile curled the side
of his mouth facing me.

“Oh, shut
up.”

His
smile widened. “I didn’t say a word.”

“But
you were thinking plenty.”

“And
I would deny every one of them.”

Piaras
was looking from one of us to the other. We’d completely lost him. “What are
you talking about?”

“Garadin
was just thinking how much you remind him of me at your age. And he finds it
funny that I’m getting back some of what I gave him.”

The
young elf was still baffled.

Garadin
chuckled. “Payback is hell.”

“You’ll
never find a worse critic than the one inside your own skin, or a more
difficult one to silence,” I told Piaras, by means of explanation. “The best
you can hope for is to teach it some manners.”

“It
was you against three Khrynsani shamans and a Magh’Sceadu,” Garadin told him,
“and who knows how many more on the other side of that Gate. Sarad Nukpana
doesn’t travel with incompetents. You kept yourself from being taken prisoner—”

“And
me, too,” I chimed in. I believe in giving credit where due. “You saved both of
us. Our situation would be a lot different right now if you hadn’t slammed that
Gate in Nukpana’s face.”

The
shadings of a gratified blush crept up the young spellsinger’s neck. “But
Grandma—”

“Was
beyond your reach,” came Mychael’s voice from the doorway.

“Unless
someone is keyed to a Gate during its construction, once you cross the
threshold, you cannot come back across,” the Guardian told him. “Once Tarsilia
was on the other side, it would have been impossible for her to return. There
was nothing you could have done.”

Piaras
considered what Mychael had said for a moment, then nodded. I guess having your
conscience absolved by a legendary spellsinger carried more weight than your
friends and family, regardless of their qualifications.

“What
exactly did I do?” Piaras’s voice was subdued, as if he needed to know the answer,
but wasn’t all that sure he really wanted to.

“Your
instinct told you the Gate needed to close,” Mychael said. “It had harmed
someone you love. You wanted that Gate, and anything that had come through it,
gone. You channeled that desire—rather intensely—through your voice. The Gate
obeyed and collapsed on itself. In simple terms, you used your voice to make
your wish a reality.”

Piaras
just stared at the paladin. “But I don’t know how to do that.”

“Apparently
you do. On a deep level, you knew exactly what needed to be done, and you did
it.” Mychael paused, his blue eyes calmly searching Piaras’s face. “The sight
of that Gate opening terrified you beyond thought.”

He
hadn’t asked it as a question, but he expected a response.

Piaras
nodded mutely.

“Beyond
thought lies instinct. That which tells us to fight and protect, or flee and
survive. It’s primal and we all have it at our core. Your instincts were
telling you to do both. But you couldn’t run and you couldn’t use your body to
fight, so you struck out in the only other way you knew. It was raw and
primitive, but it accomplished what you wanted.”

Mychael
paused. I could tell he wasn’t comfortable in the least with what he was about
to say.

“A
master spellsinger would have been hard pressed to do what you did tonight,” he
said. “You destroyed in an instant what it took Sarad Nukpana and his best
shamans hours to construct. You have an incredibly powerful instrument, Piaras.
Though I’d imagine Sarad Nukpana thinks of it more as a weapon. In this one
instance, I agree with him. Either way, for your own safety and the safety of
others, you need to learn to harness and control that power, or at the very
least guide it. And you need to learn it now. Who’s your teacher?”

“I
am,” Garadin replied. “Though not for much longer, I suspect. He’s never done
anything close to what he did tonight, though I’ve suspected for some time he
had the potential.” He grinned crookedly. “I just didn’t think the boy would
bloom so soon. Two weeks ago, I sent a letter to Ronan Cayle asking that he
accept Piaras as a student next term. Ronan’s a former colleague of mine, and a
friend, so I think my recommendation will carry sufficient weight to persuade
him.”

The
last remaining bit of color drained from Piaras’s face. He knew only too well
who Ronan Cayle was. Anyone who had any aspirations to spellsinging did.
Everyone also knew that it was virtually impossible to get an audition, let
alone be accepted as a student.

I
smiled. I think Piaras was even more stunned that Garadin thought highly enough
of his abilities to recommend him, even with what I had told him in The Ruins.
From the expression on his face, the combination of the two scared him almost
as much as Sarad Nukpana had.

“I
think that’s a good idea,” Mychael told Garadin. “Have you heard back from
Ronan?”

Garadin
smiled. “I had a letter waiting for me at home this morning. On my
recommendation, Maestro Cayle will grant Piaras an audition.”

“Based
on what I witnessed tonight, I’ll add my recommendation to yours.” Mychael
grinned. “And when I return to Mid, I’ll drop by and talk to Ronan. He was my
teacher, too, Piaras. Between Garadin and myself, I can virtually guarantee
he’ll open his tower to you.”

This
was all too much for Piaras. He started to say something, then stopped,
flushing to the tips of his ears. He was still having a bad night, but at least
now he had some happiness to go along with it.

Mychael
was now looking at me. Unlike Piaras, I knew with an absolute certainty that I
didn’t want to be told what I had done tonight. Mychael could save his breath.
I already knew. First obliterating six Magh’Sceadu, then trashing Nukpana’s
Mermeian laboratory. Thanks to the Saghred, I was alive; but also thanks to the
Saghred, I now possessed a largely unknown, potentially unlimited power—one
that drew sorcerers of questionable character to me like lodestones to north. I
didn’t want either the power or the crazies, but I knew that even if I could
get rid of the power, there was no guarantee the crazies would leave me alone.

Mychael
must have seen that knowledge in my eyes, because he didn’t say a word. I wish
I could deny what had happened to me, and keep my mouth shut, too. But I had to
ask.

“Was
the elf Ocnus described my father?”

“Yes.”

“We’re
going to the embassy after the Saghred tonight, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“I
just made myself
completely
irresistible to Sarad Nukpana, didn’t I?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Not
what I wanted to hear, but what I expected.

“And
Sarad Nukpana will hunt me for the rest of my life unless I hunt him down
first.”

“Yes.”

“Can
you answer me with more than one word?”

A
smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “If necessary.”

Piaras
was not smiling. “We’re not going to rescue my grandmother tonight?”

“The
moment the Saghred is secure, we will go after your grandmother,” Mychael
assured him.

“And
Sarad Nukpana,” I added.

“Have
you ever been inside the goblin embassy?” he asked me.

“Once
or twice.” I didn’t particularly care to dwell on those occasions. I hadn’t
been an invited guest either time.

“Good,
that will be helpful. Are you familiar with the grounds?”

“I
haven’t had the pleasure.” Considering what I’d heard about what the goblins
considered gardens, I didn’t think I had missed out on much.

“The
embassy is the newer building on the property,” Mychael said. “The royal
residence is considerably older. The mausoleum and the ruins of a temple are
between the two. I have Guardians staking out the goblin embassy and the
Mal’Salin family compound. One wall surrounds them both.”

“How
convenient.”

My
sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed. Considering my present and future circumstances, I
thought everyone would understand my lack of enthusiasm.

“Ocnus
says the Saghred is in the mausoleum,” I said. “There’s probably not a sign
pointing to where it’s hidden. I do hope you’re not planning on opening crypts
until we hit the jackpot.”

“The
beacon will let you know when we’re getting close.”

“How?”
I asked warily. The beacon’s previous communications hadn’t exactly been
subtle. I could really go without another near-death experience.

“The
same way that most beacons work. An insistent tugging, becoming stronger as you
get closer to the object to which it’s keyed.”

I
could handle tugging.

“Between
your attack, and Piaras slamming the Gate on him, Sarad Nukpana isn’t going to
be back to full strength in the next day,” Mychael continued. “And I plan to
take full advantage. He will still be dangerous, but perhaps not as deadly.
It’s an advantage we didn’t have before.”

“Getting
in should be easy enough,” I said. “Considering who I am and what I’m wearing,
they’ll welcome me with open arms. Leaving will be the hard part.”

Mychael’s
expression turned sly. “Not if you leave with everyone else.”

I
didn’t like his plan already. “Everyone else?”

“The
goblin king’s masked ball? The social elite of your city are in a frenzy. You
might have noticed.”

“The
masked ball,” I said, without enthusiasm.

“Tonight
at the goblin embassy,” Mychael finished for me. “It couldn’t be more perfect—everyone
will be wearing masks.”

I
didn’t think anything about it was perfect. Not only would I be going into the
equivalent of a dragon’s den, I had a feeling I’d be doing it wearing something
I ordinarily wouldn’t be caught dead in. Though if I was lucky, or if Mychael
was as good as everyone seemed to think, I’d end up neither caught nor dead.

“I,
and a few of my men, will be attending as representatives of the Archmagus.”
Mychael backed off a step, and executed a courtly bow. “I would be honored if
you would accompany me as my guest.”

All I
could manage was, “Is this a date?”

That
must not have been the response he was used to. He thought for a moment. “You
could call it that. If you’re concerned about your reputation, we’ll both be
masked so no one will recognize us.”

“The
only damaged reputation would be yours,” I told him. “I’m a Benares, remember?”

“That
doesn’t concern me.”

Another
surprise. A really nice one. “It doesn’t?”

“Not
in the least. However, you’re also probably an Anguis.”

Of
course. That meant I was only half criminal. My father was a Conclave Guardian.
That made the other side of my family marginally acceptable. I was sure he
didn’t mean it like it sounded. Few people did, but that didn’t stop them from
saying it—or more often, thinking it. Either was just as bad. Snow in the
Nebian desert. The paladin of the Conclave Guardians with a Benares. Both
ranked in probability right up there with the lower hells freezing over. I
looked around for something to kick. Where was Ocnus when you needed him?