Wedding Bells, Magic Spells (18 page)

“Let’s hope there’s a more reliable solution, because my magic isn’t.”

“I have the chairman of our cryptozoology department working on the problem,” Justinius told us. “He and his faculty are creative thinkers.”

“I hope they’re also fast thinkers. The Nebian ambassador may have been the only one who said it, but the rest of them believe it, or at least suspect it. And, bottom line, it’s true, at least in part. They don’t trust Tam because they don’t know him, and they don’t know him because they’re scared to be in the same room with him. To them, there’s not much, if any, difference between Tam and Sarad Nukpana. The Nebian did his homework; he knows Tam and Sarad Nukpana had the same teacher and that both went to the dark side, though it was after both had left Kesyn’s classroom. Nukpana stayed on the dark side. Tam didn’t. But there is no proof of that, at least no proof that they’d believe. If Tam walking into a Rak’kari nest doesn’t change their minds, I don’t know what will.”

*

Once the delegates began returning to their embassies,
Justinius asked to speak with the goblin ambassador. While Dakarai waited for the Majafan delegation to finish peppering the archmagus with questions, we talked. Ever the grand courtier, Dakarai linked my arm through his and we strolled down the corridor outside of the meeting chamber, talking about Aeron Corantine’s accusations taking hold with the other delegates.

“I have served the Mal’Salins all my life.” Dakarai’s dark eyes twinkled. “Though I openly admit some times were with more enthusiasm than others.”

“So what do you think about Chigaru?”

“He’s still young and relatively inexperienced, but he is receptive to advice from those he trusts. His exile has made his trust a difficult thing to earn. Such caution will serve him well.” He glanced fondly over at Tam and Imala. “As will those he surrounds himself with.”

“How did it ever come to this?” I asked him.

“The same way it always has and—to our great misfortune—probably always will. With fierce hate harbored by a few and complacency displayed by the rest. All it takes for evil to take hold and flourish is for men and women of conscience to do nothing.”

“We’re doing something—at least we’re trying.”

“Yes, we are.”

“But will it be enough?”

Dakarai Enric smiled very slightly. “What are we, my dear?”

“Pardon?”

“What are we, you and I?”

It took me a moment, but I got it. My small smile was a match for his. “We’re an elf and a goblin.”

“Taking a lovely stroll together, arm in arm. And where are we?”

What Dakarai was getting at really sank in, and my tension faded ever so slightly. “In the citadel of the Conclave Guardians—an organization neither of our people has ever really trusted, whose mission it is to protect a group nobody really likes.”

The old goblin stopped and turned to me, taking one of my hands in both of his. “Regardless of what happens or does not happen with these peace talks, we’ve already won. The rest will come.”

If the next Khrynsani surprise didn’t come first.

The sun was beginning to set when Mychael and I took another
trip to the harbor, this time by coach, to do something that was even scarier than flying there on Kalinpar—or looking a Rak’kari right in its multi-eyed face.

Mychael’s parents had arrived.

It was time to meet my future in-laws.

The Eiliesors were an old and respected elven family. They were minor nobility and had no ambitions past that, which was unusual for elven aristocrats. They had overseen the same lands and vassals for centuries and were content to keep doing it. They married into appropriate families and had appropriate children.

Change was unwelcome.

I was the walking and talking embodiment of change, and my family couldn’t be more inappropriate if they tried.

Mychael’s family was landed gentry from aristocratic stock. My family were pirates; though if you wanted to look at it that way, they were pirate royalty. When you were the most notorious criminal family in the Seven Kingdoms, people weren’t lining up to tell you what you couldn’t call yourselves.

Elven nobility meeting people you’d invite to dinner only if you had to, and when they left, you’d count the silver.

I sighed.

I was doomed.

A Benares wouldn’t care what anyone else thought. We did what we wanted where we wanted, and would never try to be anything we weren’t for anyone.

Mychael agreed with my family’s credo. He told me to just be myself and his parents would love me.

I sighed again.

I was still doomed.

I glanced up. Mychael was looking at me.

“My parents will love you,” he told me. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Until I believe it.”

“When will that be?”

“When I see it.” I shifted uncomfortably on the coach seat. “Last time I was this nervous, I was being pushed down an aisle toward a sacrificial altar.”

“My last time was watching you being pushed down that aisle.”

“So you
are
nervous about them meeting me.”

“No, I’m nervous about them coming here, especially now. Two days ago, the closest danger to them was the possibility of more Khrynsani-paid assassins in our waters. I thought they’d be safer here.”

“Well, we didn’t know, and your parents aren’t going to be anywhere near a travel mirror. Though we’re going to be occupied trying to exterminate some spiders. What did your parents do for entertainment the last time they were here?”

“They’ve never been here before.”

That earned some silence.

“Unlike your sister,” I ventured, “you have told them what you do for a living, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but not until I had to.”

“What is it with your family and secrets?”

“We don’t tell what’s likely to be disapproved of.”

“You told them about me.” I let out a short laugh. “Though it wasn’t like you had much of a choice.”

“I told them about you because I’m proud of you. I’m prouder still that in a few days, I’ll be able to introduce you as my wife.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just let the goofy, love-besotted grin happen again.

“Why would they disapprove of your job?” I asked. “You’re the Paladin of the Conclave Guardians, for crying out loud.”

“It’s not overseeing the family estates.”

“No, it’s saving the world as we know it on a daily basis, so other people can stay home and mind
their
family estates. You doing your job means those families will survive and those estates will stay theirs.”

“Tell my mother that.”

“If she brings it up, I will. That’s a ridiculous opinion. Though I won’t say it quite that way.”

“It’d probably be best.” Mychael grinned. “Though the look on Mother’s face would be worth it.”

“I’ll consider it an opportunity to practice diplomacy. As the paladin’s wife, I’m trying to learn.”

“That’ll be fun to watch, too.”

“Speaking of fun to watch, I could see you running the family estate.”

“You could?”

“Sure, you’d be good at it. I just couldn’t see you being happy.”

“Nice that it’s obvious to you.”

“Considering that I’m marrying you, that’s a good thing.”

“My parents have accepted it; they just don’t understand it.”

“What about your sister? Any chance Isibel will eventually want to go home and tend farms?” I snorted as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I waved a hand, “Never mind; stupid question. So when you and Isibel inherit, what are you going to do with all of it?”

“What should have been done long ago: give the farms to the families who have worked that land for generations. They’ve more than paid for those farms. They should legally own them.”

I whistled.

Mychael gave me a strange look.

“I don’t disagree. The whistle was for what your parents will think. Do they know?”

“They do.”

“And?”

“Well, at least they’ve given up trying to talk me out of it.”

“They have?”

Mychael shrugged. “Either that or it’s merely a temporary retreat to reevaluate their tactics.”

“My money’s on that one. Your head for strategy had to come from somewhere.”

“Mom.”

“Really?”

“Um-hum. She never gives up.”

Wonderful.

*

Mychael favored both of his parents, at least in appearance,
and Isibel was most definitely her mother’s daughter. Whether they—like their son—could ignore what my family did for a living had yet to be determined. Well, what my extended family did for a living. My mother hadn’t been a pirate; she’d been a sorceress of marginal ability, like myself. My father was one of the original Conclave Guardians—original as in over nine hundred years ago. With his soul now residing in the body of a young Guardian who had been murdered by the Demon Queen, my dad was going to be walking me down the aisle in a few days, along with my godfather, Garadin Wyne.

One side of my family were pirates; the other side was merely complicated.

A wagon was standing by to take Brant and Edythe Eiliesor’s luggage to a citadel guest apartment. My soon-to-be-in-laws would be riding back in the coach with us.

Awkward wouldn’t even begin to describe it.

As I said before, I didn’t do small talk. I either had something to say or I didn’t. Though chances were good there’d be more along the lines of awkward silences. Neither parent would be saying: “So, tell me about yourself.” Mychael had already told them. Everything. Well, at least everything he thought they should know and could handle. If that was the case, it meant he hadn’t told them much of anything. My last name was more than enough.

I’d changed into a gown for the occasion. I was going to be enough of a shock; I didn’t want to push them completely over the edge. Though I had to admit, there were advantages to wearing a gown. With the situation on the island being what it was, I had a small arsenal of bladed weapons within easy reach.

When Mychael met them at the base of the gangplank, I was right there with him, hoping my smile didn’t look like a terrified rictus.

The Eiliesors’ smiles were neither terrified nor a rictus. They were beyond thrilled to see their son. There were enthusiastic hugs all around. We were surrounded by a Guardian security detachment, and once again, Mychael couldn’t have cared less who was watching.

I was standing a little off to the side. The Eiliesors hadn’t noticed me yet, and I was completely good with that.

Then suddenly I was the center of attention. I took a deep breath, and smiled as best I could.

Mychael turned and held out his hand to me. I concentrated on not letting any of my weapons clank as I walked over to them.

“Mom, Dad, this is my fiancée, Raine Benares. Raine, these are my parents, Brant and Edythe Eiliesor.”

I paused in a fluttering moment of panic. I had no idea what was the proper way to greet elven aristocrat in-laws. A curtsey was out of the question. One, I think they were reserved for kings and queens and the like. Two, I’d never done one in my life and didn’t know how. Three, there was the distinct possibility my blades would throw me off balance and I’d end up in a clanking pile at their feet. So I simply went with what I knew. A handshake. Fortunately Mychael’s dad was closest, and a handshake with a man wasn’t a social faux pas—at least I didn’t think so.

He took my hand and didn’t give it back. “We’ll have none of that.” He pulled me in for a hug. “Welcome to the family, Raine.”

It was a genuine hug, warm and accepting—and it couldn’t have been further from what I’d been expecting. As a result, when he released me and I turned to face Mychael’s mother, I was too dazed to know what to do next.

Edythe Eiliesor stepped forward, put her hands around my upper arms, regarded me for a few intensely uncomfortable moments, and then did the double-cheek-kissing thing.

I didn’t know if I’d just passed a test, or she was reserving judgment for later. Then again, there was a section of southern Majaf where a double-cheek kiss was a challenge to a duel to the death. While I hoped it was the former, my instincts said she was reserving judgment. There was nothing wrong with that. I did it all the time.

I had a feeling it was going to be a long ride back to the citadel.

*

“Mychael said the two of you have had quite the eventful three
months,” his dad said when we were bounced into silence after the Guardian coachman succeeded in hitting yet another hole in Mid’s cobblestone streets.

“Yes, yes we have.”

Another bump, another few moments of silence.

“They know everything,” Mychael told me.

“Saghred?”

“Saghred. And Sarad Nukpana, Rudra Muralin, Carnades Silvanus, Taltek Balmorlan, and the Demon Queen.”

“Wow, you
did
tell them everything.”

“While we have sorcerers on both sides of our family,” Brant continued, “neither Edythe nor myself have any magic, nor does Isibel.”

“Trust me, it’s way overrated,” I told him.

“Has Isibel arrived?” Edythe asked.

“Yes, she has,” Mychael told her. “Yesterday morning.”

He’d told his parents all about me, but wasn’t volunteering any information about his little sister. My trouble had come and gone. Isibel was still up to her neck in it. Mychael was treading carefully and running interference for his sister. I wholeheartedly approved of both.

The hooves of multiple horses clattered on the cobbles directly behind us. Our coachman pulled to a stop. My hand instinctively went for the pocket in my gown, a pocket with a big slit in it that let me reach the daggers in my thigh sheath.

Guardians.

I relaxed my grip.

Edythe Eiliesor noticed.

“I believe in being prepared, ma’am.”

“An admirable trait.”

Again, the words said one thing but could imply another. My future mother-in-law would have made a fine goblin, though even I had enough sense not to tell her that.