Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 01 (42 page)

Mychael
responded before I could. “That has yet to be established.”

Not a
lie. Not the truth, either. Apparently the paladin thought the fewer who knew
my family history, the better. Considering who wanted to know, I agreed with
him.

A’Zahra
Nuru was still looking at me. “You do not seem to have experienced any adverse
effects from its use.”

It
wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer.

“What
is your proposal, Your Highness?” Mychael asked the prince.

I
welcomed the change of topic.

“The
Guardians have failed in their duty,” Chigaru said without hesitation. “The
Thief of Souls is too dangerous to be left in the custody of your order. As
long as it is, there will be a danger of it being found and misused by those
such as my brother or Sarad Nukpana.”

I’d
heard enough. “Or yourself? To use against your brother?”

“The
Thief of Souls cannot be wielded,” Primari Nuru said. “It brings madness and
death to any who try. You are the first known exception. The stone’s very
existence is an abomination.”

I
already knew all that, and really didn’t want to be reminded with the rock
itself probably less than a hundred yards away.

Mychael
spoke. “In the nine hundred years since my order took the Saghred into our
keeping has it ever been taken or used again for evil purposes?”

Prince
Chigaru stood mute.

Mychael
tactfully didn’t directly mention the single recorded use of the Saghred—by the
prince’s own ancestor, whom the Guardians defeated. Subsequently, they took
protective custody of the stone.

“Nine
hundred years isn’t too shabby a record, Your Highness,” I said quietly. “Why
don’t you just let these gentlemen do their job?”

The
prince was as still as the marble statues in the garden, his dark eyes on
Mychael. “You question my motives because I am a Mal’Salin.” It wasn’t a
question. He knew the answer.

“Yes,”
Mychael replied truthfully. “I do. But my main concern is for your present
circumstances. You are still gathering allies with which to overthrow your
brother. I wish you well and hope that you succeed. Your people will suffer
under your brother’s rule. But for now, yours is a young government in exile.
You may have the means to acquire the Saghred, but you lack the experience
and—no insult intended—the strength needed to protect it. There is also the
temptation to use the stone, if not by you, then by your allies. You trust them
to help you defeat the king, but can you trust them near the Saghred?”

The
prince placed his hand on A’Zahra Nuru’s slender shoulder. “When I first
learned my brother’s plans, I will admit the temptation to use the Saghred
against him was strong. But Primari Nuru has convinced me that I must choose
another way.”

Good
for her.

“Using
the Saghred would only turn me into that which I have sworn to destroy,” he
continued. “It may take longer to defeat Sathrik, but my allies grow more
numerous and stronger every day. In the end, I will prevail. If I do not,
Sathrik would use the Saghred against our own people and yours. He must not
possess it.”

“Then
we are in agreement,” Mychael said. “Allow me to carry out the duty of my
office unimpeded.”

When
the paladin stopped talking, the rest of us started holding our breath. To his
credit, the prince seemed to give honest consideration to Mychael’s words.

“Is
there any assistance either I or my people might offer you?” Chigaru asked.

I
started breathing again, and I think I heard A’Zahra Nuru do the same.

“Thank
you, Your Highness,” Mychael said, with a slight smile. “Yes, there is one
thing I may need your help with.”

I had
to consider the possibility that Chigaru Mal’Salin may not have inherited all
the personality defects his family tree had to offer. The primari thought the
world of her prince. Tam trusted A’Zahra. I trusted Tam. Completing the circle
shouldn’t be difficult, but it was.

“Excuse
me, Your Highness, but I have a question,” I asked.

“Yes?”

“The
Saghred isn’t all your brother and Sarad Nukpana want this evening. Does your
agreement to help Paladin Eiliesor extend to me and mine?”

“I
understand that having you and your spellsinger at his mercy would please Sarad
Nukpana and my brother. My brother and I have long enjoyed depriving each of
what makes the other happy. Preventing my brother from capturing the two of you
would greatly annoy him.” He smiled. It was genuine, and it transformed his
face with almost boyish glee. “This would please me.”

It
wasn’t exactly the I’m-your-ally-now-and-you-can-trust-me answer I was looking
for, but who am I to deny a goblin prince the simple joys of life?

Only
the Mal’Salin family would buy a house with a mau
soleum in the gardens—and gardens that backed directly
into The Ruins.

To
tell you the truth, I couldn’t tell that much difference between The Ruins and
what the Mal’Salins referred to as their gardens. In the distance, I could even
see a few pinpoints of light that looked suspiciously like fire pixies. It was
disconcerting to say the least. I glanced at Piaras. A muscle in his jaw was
starting to twitch. Looked like I wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

The
mausoleum was on what passed for a hill on the property, and that was where the
now-tingling beacon wanted to go. I’d rather just go directly for Sarad
Nukpana, but the beacon hadn’t asked my opinion.

Chigaru
Mal’Salin had agreed to help. I was hardly surprised. We were going after the
very thing that he had been willing to torture Piaras for quite recently. So I
think I could be excused a healthy dose of skepticism. On the other hand,
Prince Chigaru had a perfectly good chance to kill us once and he didn’t take
it. That didn’t exactly earn him sainthood status in my book, but sometimes a
girl had to take what she could get.

I
shot Mychael a look that I think fully conveyed the extent of my feelings and
received a bare nod for my trouble. At least he was being cautious. The goblin
prince and Primari Nuru were flanked by Vegard and Riston. The prince’s four
guards would keep their distance while keeping watch. A few people strolling in
the gardens was one thing, but with Chigaru’s guards, we more closely resembled
a herd—and herds attracted attention. The prince had agreed. So far he was
being the perfect gentleman. I hoped it lasted, but I wasn’t going to hold my
breath.

The
beacon was likewise behaving itself, and I held out as much hope for its
continued good behavior as I did for the prince’s. The tingling had resolved
itself into a quiet hum. It had let me know where we were going, and was now
content to wait until we got there.

In a
few minutes we would be surrounded by the dark, the damp, and the dead. I had
never had the pleasure of visiting the Mal’Salin mausoleum, and would feel
better about our destination if I knew more about it. I would also feel better
if I could get my hat off my head. There was no way I was going into a cramped
mausoleum wearing that hat. With a whispered apology to Mychael’s cousin, I
removed the hat pins and ditched the hat under the nearest bush. If I was going
to die tonight, at least I’d die comfortable. I kept the hat pins and tucked
them into the top of my bodice in between it and the corset. The more sharp,
pointy things in my possession, the better. Then I removed the pins holding my
hair up, and my hair came cascading down. I looked up to find that I had
Mychael’s complete and undivided attention. From his expression, you’d think I
was standing there naked.

“So,
how many of your family are interred in the mausoleum, Your Highness?” I asked,
trying to shift attention to anyone but me. I felt Mychael’s eyes following me.
I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or to run.

The
goblin prince looked puzzled. “None. All Mal’Salins are entombed in our family
citadel at Regor.”

I
didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “Then these people are…?”

He
shrugged. “They came with the property. My great, great grandfather saw the
mausoleum and had the house and gardens built around them. I believe the
original owners were an old Mermeian family who have long since died out. My
family would often spend summers here. When we were children, my brother and I
would play among the crypts beneath the mausoleum.”

Ick.
Piaras’s frozen expression told me he was having the same thought.

“Crypts?”
I looked from the prince to Mychael.

“Yes,
there is a small network of catacombs beneath the mausoleum,” Chigaru told us
both.

Mychael
said nothing. I kept my own mouth shut, but I was thinking plenty—and most of
what I was thinking wasn’t suitable for polite company. Ocnus hadn’t mentioned
catacombs. Maybe he hadn’t known. Maybe the little weasel had. Since Mychael
and I thought Ocnus had told us the truth, we had let him go. His ship was
probably halfway to wherever by now. I hope he was seasick. The only things worse
than dead dusty bodies were dead dusty bodies in a dark tunnel. The beacon
continued to hum happily. Apparently it didn’t care about Ocnus or dead bodies
in a dark tunnel, dusty or otherwise.

I
heard a splash and the slap of something against a muddy bank. It wasn’t small,
and it was entirely too close.

“A
small pond in the orchard,” the goblin prince said calmly as if that explained
everything. “I believe that was a serpent dragon, what you might know as a
knucker. They prefer to feed in the night.”

Other
Mermeian nobles kept ornamental fish. Naturally, the Mal’Salins would be
different.

Piaras
was incredulous. “Your family keeps knuckers as pets?”

“They
keep themselves, spellsinger. Like the temple ruins, the pond was already here.
Oddly enough, the serpents did not occupy it until my family acquired the
house.”

Who
said only opposites attract?

We
were alone. No one had made any move to follow us. That was both good and bad.
I didn’t want anyone following us, but at the same time, I expected some kind
of interference. The complete lack of opposition made me more than a little
jumpy. Garadin’s spell preparation on the terrace paled in comparison to the
one he had ready to let fly at the first sign of a Khrynsani temple guard. I
had knives that were likewise itching to go airborne, but I didn’t want to
inadvertently waste any on a waving tree branch. The wind was up, so there were
a lot of those. My guard was also up, along with the tiny hairs on the back of
my neck.

Vegard
moved swiftly out of the shadows toward us. I relaxed my grip on the throwing
knife.

“We’re
in position and ready, sir,” he reported to Mychael. “Feroc and Hugh took out
the wards around the outer garden walls. They weren’t easy, but they weren’t
difficult either—and no sign of an alarm being given. Or Khrynsani guards. That
has them worried.”

“Sarad
Nukpana does other things this night,” Primari Nuru said. “He cannot spare the
strength.”

I
knew the primari was right. “He wants me here,” I said. “If you want someone in
your house, leave the door open.”

“Step
into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,” Garadin said.

I
shot him a look.

“Sorry,
I couldn’t resist.”

“Try
harder next time.”

We
approached the temple and mausoleum from the back through the trees, hopefully
out of sight of any goblin guards roaming the grounds. I still hadn’t seen any.
I liked this less every second.

The
mausoleum was built of a smooth dark stone and was only about thirty feet
across. I walked into the center of the single room. Thankfully all of the
vaults were still sealed. I was sure the crypts below wouldn’t be as tidy.
Various titles and first names all ending with the last name Ramsden were
etched into the stone, and the most recent date I could see was from over a
hundred years ago. I ran my hand over the wall’s dark surface. It was cool and
perfectly smooth. The canal that surrounded The Ruins was less than fifty yards
away and flooding was common. I wondered how the crypts had faired. Hopefully
we wouldn’t be finding out.

“No
one’s here,” I said, though I was still careful to keep my voice down. “Good.”

“You
expected someone?” Garadin said.

“If a
couple of the guests wanted to be alone, this would be the perfect place.”

Garadin
thought about that. “Good point.”

“Here?”
Piaras asked, clearly creeped.

“It’s
not my idea of romantic surroundings either,” I assured him.

The
goblin prince looked around, then gazed outside at the moon and the clouds
racing overhead. His black eyes glimmered in the faint light. “Actually these
surroundings are very romantic.” His voice was low and almost wistful.

I
didn’t know whether to feel reassured that he had romantic thoughts or
disturbed that he was having them in a mausoleum—and while standing next to me.

“I
cannot believe it,” Primari Nuru was saying, her voice echoing faintly against
the walls. “How could something that powerful be concealed so closely without
our knowing?”