Bewitched & Betrayed (14 page)

Tam stepped forward to stand at my side, so close I could feel his tense disapproval. He didn’t want me here.

“There is no love lost between the secret service and Sarad Nukpana—and his Khrynsani,” he explained. His voice was preternaturally calm, which meant that Tam wasn’t.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Mistress Benares,” Imala Kalis said without taking her bright black eyes from Tam. “We each curse the ground the other walks on.”

I assumed she was talking about Nukpana and the Khrynsani, not Tam, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

Tam didn’t bat an eye. “It’s one of the few viewpoints we have ever agreed upon.”

Score one point for Imala Kalis’s people, though I wasn’t going to be in a hurry to give them any more. Like I said, she hadn’t brought that many guards with her because she was afraid of being mugged. This tiny woman didn’t get to where she was by being afraid of much, if anything. Tam towered over her by a good foot, and she showed no sign of stepping back; if anything, the lady looked challenged and happy about it.

“It is indeed convenient that you are here, Mistress Benares,” she said. “I’ve been asked to deliver this to you.”

She drew an intricately folded piece of parchment out of her sleekly tailored doublet and extended it to me.

I made no move to touch it. “And this is from . . .”

“Ambassador Rudra Muralin.” Imala Kalis flashed her dainty fangs. “Excuse me, my mistake—Ambassador Rudra
Mal’Salin.
False identities are so inconvenient to remember.”

Imala Kalis hadn’t forgotten a thing. I knew it and so did she. Rudra Muralin was a thousand-year-old goblin, the blackest of dark mages who had used the Saghred to slaughter thousands and enslave thousands more.

Rudra Muralin wanted the Saghred. He needed me dead.

Any old death would do just as long as he was the first mage to reach the rock after my untimely demise.

I still made no move to touch Rudra’s letter. “It’s been opened.”

Imala Kalis laughed. “Of course it has. First I had to break the spell, then the seal. It was a nasty one, too.”

“Hardly surprising. Then you’ve read it.”

“Yes, it was the most direct way to confirm what else he’s up to. The contents are no surprise to me—as I doubt they will be to you. My advice is to read it, burn it, and ignore it. His assurances are lies and his promises poison.”

I took the parchment and, after muttering a quick shielding spell, I unfolded the paper, holding it so Tam could read along with me.

Imala Kalis was right; Rudra’s letter contained the same demands, though he had made the effort to spin a new, sick twist on them. He still wanted me and the Saghred. And like Sarad Nukpana, Rudra knew about the umi’atsu bond between me, Tam, Mychael, and the Saghred. And the only way to stop him from posting an announcement on the citadel’s front doors would be for me to surrender to him.

Several weeks ago, Tam, Mychael, and I had used the power we could generate and share through our umi’atsu bond to close a Hellgate that Rudra Muralin and his black mage allies had opened. Imala Kalis had been there in the shadows, watching. She knew what we’d done—and how we’d done it.

My first impulse was to mutter a fire spell and torch the offending piece of parchment. As usual, Rudra didn’t sign it, so it was worthless as evidence against him, but Mychael would want to see it, so I folded it and put it in the small leather purse on my belt. No way was I tucking anything Rudra had touched inside my doublet. If I were Imala Kalis, when I went home, I’d take a bath.

As to what I was going to do about it—bottom line was that I didn’t like being bullied. When I was a kid, being small meant I’d been a target; being a Benares meant deadly backup was a whistle away. The only thing I hated more than a bully was asking someone to protect me from one. I took on my own bullies, thank you very much—even if they were thousand-year-old, obscenely powerful psychotic megalomaniacs.

“Vintage Rudra,” I noted dryly. “I give him what he wants and he promises to kill me nicely.” I looked directly at Imala Kalis. “And are you here to tell me the same thing?”

She gazed at me a moment, her expression unreadable. “I am not. I have no intentions of revealing the contents of that letter.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s one of those things that I’ll believe when I don’t see it.”

“Considering who and what the two of us are, I expected no less. I’m not asking for your belief or trust; though you will know soon enough that my words are the truth.”

“That would be nice, but I’m not going to hold my breath for it.”

She shrugged. “Were I in your place, I would do the same.” She gave me a small, self-satisfied smile. “And do not concern yourself with Rudra Muralin. The ambassador will be unable to act on any of his threats for at least the next three days.”

“Three days?”

Cute turned to fierce. “Rudra Muralin poisoned two of my people. They nearly died. Naturally, I retaliated. Three days is the length of time it takes to recover from a particular intestinal malady caused by a certain tasteless and odorless plant. Several of the ambassador’s closest advisors have mysteriously contracted it and are spending most of their time in the privy.” She smiled fully. “Whenever the ambassador wants advice, he has to go to where his advisors are. He’s quite unused to carrying out a plan without his lackeys. Your secret is safe for at least that long.”

Tam laughed. “Rudra forced to plot in the privy. If it weren’t for the stench, I’d almost pay to see that.”

“Unfortunately, Rudra didn’t eat the fish that night,” Imala Kalis told him. “I knew I should have put it in the beef.” She shrugged. “He has to eat again sometime. If he wishes to avoid an embassy-wide case of the runs, he will come to terms with me.”

“Terms?”

“I will accept nothing short of his resignation, then I will personally see him on a ship back to Regor—or to Hell for all I care.”

“Didn’t King Sathrik appoint him personally?” I asked.

“As head of the secret service, Imala outranks a mere ambassador,” Tam informed me.

Nice.

“And Sathrik knows of your botanical activities?” I asked Imala.

The cute smile was back. “It is not my intention to tell him.”

“You know who and what and how old Rudra Muralin is, right?” I asked her.

“I make it my business to know my enemies, Mistress Benares—to know what strengths can be turned against them and which weaknesses may be exploited. I think I would refer to that creature as a ‘what,’ not a ‘who.’ ”

I grinned at her. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know why Imala Kalis was here or what she wanted, but I had to admit that the lady had style. “Rudra with the runs; that would be priceless.”

“Since he has a food taster whom I do not wish to harm, I’ve now tainted his soap. He’s especially fond of bathing.”

“Are the contents of that letter why you’re here?” Tam asked Imala Kalis.

I knew he meant her knowing about our umi’atsu bond.

“No.” She lowered her voice. “It is not in my best interests, or yours, for the contents of that letter to become public.”

“When will it be in your best interests?” Frost rolled off of Tam’s words.

“Never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t expect you to. I’m here to help you. And if we can stop standing in the middle of the street, I can tell you why.”

Tam lowered his voice. “You can tell me right here.”

“And if I refuse?” Her words were playful but her eyes weren’t.

“Then Raine and I will go inside—and you and your men will leave.”

All signs of cute instantly vanished. “This is not a topic you want discussed openly.”

“I’ll decide that,” Tam countered smoothly. “Tell me what—”

There was a whistle and a thump and a goblin guard’s eyes went wide in pain and shock. He slid from horse to the street, a crossbow bolt embedded in his back. Two of the goblins posted at the end of the street were next. Then the air was thick with shouts and bolts.

I caught a flash of one of the shooters on a roof across the street. Dark clothes, with a tight, dark hood over his head.

The goblins nearest Imala Kalis instantly surrounded her, forming a goblin and equine shield around their boss. Tam and Vegard moved to protect me. They needn’t have bothered. I was in the shadows of Sirens before they could pull me there. I didn’t want to be turned into a pincushion, and I did want to know who was trying to make me one.

Vegard’s hands glowed incandescent white. The glow turned to white flame, spinning faster than the eye could follow into a whirling ball of fire. One shot skyward, a flare blazing straight up into the night sky. Vegard held the second fireball in his hand and scanned the rooftops. His lips curled back from his teeth in a feral snarl as he hurled it at the roofline of a nightclub across the street. A sniper erupted in burning white light and fell screaming three stories down to the street. There wasn’t much left when he landed. A blast of flame from a sentry dragon circling in the skies above the city signaled that Vegard’s flare had been seen. A second and a third dragon responded to the call. Backup was on the way, but would there be anything left of us when they got here?

A voice shouted three words from above us, each with its own discordant pitch and vibrating with a power that charged the air like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It was magic—raw, potent, and dangerous.

Talon.

Oh hell, kid. Not now.

I looked up to see Talon leaning out of a window two stories above us, his eyes fixed on a figure in the shadows not a dozen feet from where we were standing.

Shit.

I drew blades and the man didn’t move; I mean, he didn’t move at all. He had a crossbow, it was loaded, but it was only half-raised. The man was frozen. Not with a paralysis spell; I knew the residuals of a paralysis spell. This wasn’t it. It was as if Talon had stopped time for him.

That was impossible.

Tam saw what his son had done, and from the nearly sick expression on his face, I knew it was something Talon had no business doing, especially not with a street full of goblin secret service agents.

Talon nimbly swung out of the window and onto a fire escape ladder attached to the stone wall. The kid wasn’t coming down to us; he was running up that ladder to the roof.

Now it was my turn to feel sick. There were snipers up there and Talon was going after them. Alone. Recently Talon had taken on a major demon with his voice, and at that moment I’d known that the kid’s spellsongs weren’t limited to making Sirens’ clientele horny.

This was a deadly skill—and an inexperienced, impulsive teenager who had no clue of his own mortality had it.

We had to get up to that roof.

Two more goblins lay motionless in the street, their riderless horses adding to the chaos. As I watched, a Guardian went down. They had all shielded themselves with war magic so strong it was like a wall between them and whatever tried to get through. Solid work. The bolts passed through like there was nothing there. That meant there was magic of the blackest kind involved.

A hood did more than hide a face; it hid skin color and ears.

“Khrynsani!” shouted one of the goblins.

Tam shot an infuriated glance at Sirens’ roof, flung open the doors, and ran inside.

I was on his heels with Vegard right behind me. I sheathed my blades and checked my throwing daggers. I was going to bag myself a sniper. Alive would be good; I had some questions for the bastard, but dead would be perfectly acceptable.

I ran across the theatre floor toward the stage; that is, until Tam’s arm went around my waist and snatched me off my feet.

“Just where do you think—”

I twisted in his arms, putting us face-to-face. I pointed straight up. “Same place you’re going.”

“I’m going to the roof; you’re staying here.” Tam released me and ran to the bar, reaching behind it to pull out the wickedest crossbow I’d ever seen and a quarrel of bolts big enough to take down a sentry dragon.

I whistled. “Got another one of—”

“No!” Tam stalked past me and leapt to the stage in one smooth move. The stage was nearly shoulder-high on me so I had to run around to the stairs.

“Vegard, keep Raine down here,” Tam shouted back without turning. He was headed backstage and to the ladder that went to the catwalk above the stage and to the roof.

Not without me, he wasn’t. I think Tam realized that he couldn’t keep me from following him and get to the roof at the same time, and Vegard wasn’t about to sit this one out. By going up on that roof, he could protect me and get his hands on a Khrynsani at the same time. Tam slung the straps of the bow and quarrel over his shoulders and climbed that ladder quicker than a man could run up a flight of stairs.

“Those sentry dragons are going to torch anything on that roof,” Vegard said from behind me. “And if they’re Khrynsani, they’re goblins, and our men won’t be able to tell the difference between them and Talon.”

Tam swore and climbed faster.

I couldn’t catch Tam, but I could almost keep up. “We need one alive.” Though Nachtmagus Kalta could probably have a conversation with a dead one just as easily, and we’d be spared the annoyance of leaving a Khrynsani among the living. But in my family, killing someone you needed information from was just sloppy work. I was going to get a sniper, neat and tidy. He might have a neat hole or two in him, but he’d still be able to talk.

The ladder ended in the kind of door I didn’t want to see. It wasn’t a door; it was a hatch. It looked metal, and being on a roof meant it was probably heavy. Something or someone could be on top of it or next to it. That meant anyone trying to get through would have their head sticking up for about a split second too long if there was an alert sniper on the other side.