No freedom. No lives of our own.

No way in hell.

Piaras stepped closer to me. “So where are we going?” he asked softly.

“To see which way the wind is blowing.”

Phaelan had said he was going to wait for us across the street from the elven embassy. I had no desire whatsoever to get within miles of that place, but I soon found we didn’t have a choice. When I got a glimpse of the harbor, it was obvious that Tanik Ozal’s slip was empty. Taltek Balmorlan’s yacht was still there, as were the Khrynsani and Mal’Salin vessels, but no Tanik.

Either Tanik had to suddenly get out of port, which, knowing Tanik, was hardly surprising, or something more nefarious had happened while I was gone.

Walking gave my brain time to ponder even more disturbing possibilities. If Rudra Muralin had killed me, he would have regained control of the stone. That scenario was bad enough, but it raised some even uglier questions. Would that work only for Muralin, or could any mage powerful enough kill me and be able to command the Saghred? And would the rock take anyone, or was it picky, like taking only the mage most likely to feed it? My father had starved the Saghred and lived nearly nine hundred years.

I just wanted to live.

Worse still was a realization that rolled my stomach, and made me want to get as far away from these kids as possible. If a spellsinger or magic user was killed and a drop of their blood landed on me, would the Saghred slurp their soul, using me as the straw? Just as long as no one died in my immediate vicinity, I wouldn’t have to find out.

So many questions, way too few answers.

Answers that, unfortunately, I could only find here.

I felt a touch and jumped. It was Tam; his arm had brushed my shoulder. He’d come up next to me and I’d never heard him. I was still thinking about slurping and straws.

I stopped, and Ronan and the kids waited a little distance ahead, giving us some privacy.

“It’s best that I leave now.” Tam lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “Whether Mychael or Carnades is in charge, it’s dangerous for you to be seen with me.” He glanced back at where Talon stood with Tam’s mages. “And I can’t risk my son, or the men who risked their lives to help me.”

“A high-powered group of guys,” I noted.

“Yes, they are.”

“Old colleagues?”

“And good friends.”

Tam was right about not being seen now. The Conclave and possibly now the Guardians saw things in black and white. Tam was gray, but now he was sometimes black. They didn’t know what to make of him.

To tell you the truth, neither did I.

“Do you know what you do to me?” Tam whispered.

I remembered the cell block and the alley. “I think I’ve got a good idea. You do the same to me.” I forced my voice to be steady. “Tam, I’m going to get rid of my link to the Saghred; once that’s done, it won’t be an issue anymore. We can go back to the way things were.”

His dark eyes glittered in the streetlamps. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

“No, I don’t. But I do believe in denial. My family’s developed it to an art form. Much like goblins and deception.”

“Deception for your own good,” Tam corrected.

“I’d like to be the judge of that from now on.”

Tam looked straight ahead, his profile stern. “When I tell you to stay away from me, I expect you to listen.”

“Expect?”

He glanced down at me, a faint smile visible in the lamplight. “How about hope?”

“You can hope all you want, just don’t hold your breath.”

Tam was silent for a moment. “Just because I am no longer married into the Mal’Salin family doesn’t mean they don’t ask favors from time to time,” he said softly, and in Goblin. “They have, and they will continue to do so. Some favors I can comply with—others may prove more of a challenge.”

“Like me.”

His lips curled into a quick grin. “I’ve always considered you a challenge.” The grin vanished. “Rudra Muralin has nothing to do with the Mal’Salin family, and he’s merely using the Khrynsani to get what he wants. And the family’s connection to the Khrynsani is—shall we say—fluid.”

“Good old goblin ‘shifting alliances.’ ”

Tam nodded. “King Sathrik Mal’Salin wants the Saghred—and you. He has made no secret of that. The same can be said of his brother Prince Chigaru.”

I remembered the prince’s hospitality from last week; so did Piaras. For Chigaru Mal’Salin, the end justified any means. And Sarad Nukpana was, or used to be, Sathrik’s chief counselor. Both Sathrik and Chigaru wanted to get their hands on the Saghred and do some smiting of their own, starting with each other. Sathrik was a new king who wanted to prove himself; Chigaru was an exiled prince looking for a throne.

“Have they asked for a favor?” Namely me.

Tam’s answer was silence.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Favors imply a sense of obligation or loyalty, and asking is not the same as receiving.”

And for Tam, or any goblin, a response was not the same as an answer.

I shook my head. “I’m beginning to believe Phaelan has the right idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Trust no one.”

“Do you trust me?” Tam said it almost too softly to be heard.

I hesitated, sighed, then reached down and took his hand. Tam’s fingers wrapped warm and strong around mine. The magic sparked between us, though this time it was warm and tingling, not violent and lustful.

“Though you’re the last thing I need,” I muttered.

I heard the smile in his voice. “But I’m the first thing you want.”

Chapter 30

When we got within sight of the elven embassy, it was swarming with Guardians. When we got closer, it was obvious that someone had been doing a little exterior remodeling.

The embassy had a hole in it. A big, gaping, smoking hole. An entire section of the wall was gone and smoke was pouring out of the building.

It was beautiful.

I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Phaelan and some of Tanik’s crew stood admiring it from across the street like it was a work of art you had to view from several angles to truly appreciate.

“Ronan,” I said. “Piaras and I are going to leave you for a while.” I paused. “We might rejoin you—we might not.”

The maestro nodded. “I understand.” He held out his hand to Piaras and Piaras took it. “Master Rivalin, I hope you are able to resume our lessons. You have a truly rare gift and it would be a shame—and a danger—if it were not properly developed.”

“Thank you, sir. I hope I can continue my studies, too.”

Ronan extended his hand for mine and I was once again treated to a most proficient hand kiss. “Mistress Benares, it has been both a pleasure and an adventure—an adventure I hope to never repeat.”

I grinned at him. “I’ll bet you don’t get to say that to many girls.”

“I can honestly say that you’re the first.”

We watched for a minute until Ronan and the spellsingers were spotted by the Guardians at the elven embassy. They were safe; I wished I could say the same for us.

“Did you get a chance to say good-bye to Katelyn?” I asked Piaras.

He bit his lip and his eyes were sad. “No. But maybe it won’t be for long.”

“Maybe not.”

Phaelan spotted Piaras and me and was grinning like the explosives-happy maniac he was. We quickly darted into the shadows and my cousin greeted us both with bone-crushing hugs.

I stepped back and draped an arm over my cousin’s shoulder, admiring the view along with him.

“You do magnificent work. Truly awe inspiring.”

Phaelan shook his head, still beaming. “Not mine.”

“No?”

“Nope. Tanik’s junior gunner. That boy has a true gift.” He lowered his voice. “The official story is Tanik was taking the Zephyr to a new slip, the boy was messing around with the forward cannon, and when the Zephyr passed the embassy, it accidentally went off. Apparently the kid didn’t know it was loaded.”

Piaras and I looked at the hole and turned and noted the path the cannonball had taken. Piaras whistled. It was a straight shot down a narrow street to the harbor. An extremely narrow street, more like an alley. That was a flawlessly timed accident. The kid was gifted. Tanik might want to keep watch over his junior gunner; Phaelan was always on the lookout for new talent.

My cousin’s grin turned sly. “Unofficially, I thought you two might need a distraction—and the paladin looked like he needed another way into the embassy.”

I blinked in disbelief. “You’re helping Mychael?”

Phaelan shrugged. “We chatted briefly from a comfortable distance. I told him who had Piaras, where he’d been taken, and that you’d gone in after him. Then Tanik’s gunner had his accident. After that, the paladin and a couple dozen of his boys made use of the new door in the embassy wall. Eiliesor hasn’t come out and thanked us, but he hasn’t tried to have us arrested, either.”

I looked around. There were curious onlookers and plenty of Guardians in full battlefield armor. Most of those Guardians were elves. I smiled. Leave it to Mychael to try to get into the elven embassy using the most legal means possible.

“It was a regrettable and embarrassing accident,” Phaelan was saying. “Tanik and the boy want to personally apologize to the ambassador, but he seems to have gone missing.”

I laughed. “Check under his desk.”

“Where’s Inquisitor Balmorlan?” Piaras asked.

“No one’s seen him, either,” Phaelan said.

“His yacht’s still in the same slip,” I told him. “The Khrynsani ship is still here, too.”

The Guardians near the embassy’s front gates came to attention. When I’d gone in as Captain Baran Ratharil, they’d parted the wards just enough for me to squeeze through.