It was like a slap in the face, a knife to the heart of my worst fear—Markus had only been using me. I kept my breathing smooth and steady, my face expressionless. Even if what Balmorlan said was true, I wasn’t about to give him any satisfaction.

“And tonight you brazenly meet in the street with Imala Kalis, shaking hands like old friends,” Balmorlan continued. “Working for the goblin secret service, Mistress Benares? Or will you simply work for any government with a treasury to pay you?”

“I find your theory . . . interesting.” I found the thought of knocking out his teeth even more interesting. “Guardians and goblins were attacked by Nightshades soon after what was merely a civil—and first—handshake between myself and Imala Kalis. Chief Rinker and his men didn’t arrive until after the Nightshades had fled.” I turned to Sedge. “Is that an accurate statement, Chief?”

“It is,” Sedge replied. “We took no living Nightshades into custody; the only ones left were dead.”

I locked eyes with Balmorlan. “It sounds like you were there watching. Did you take a walk down to the entertainment district this evening for a little spying? Or did a Nightshade tell you when he came to collect his pay? Anyone you know been dipping into the elven treasury to pay assassins to attack Conclave Guardians?”

“You dare accuse me—”

“I said ‘anyone.’ If you take offense, maybe it’s because you’re carrying around a load of guilt to go with it.”

“Chief Rinker, I demand that this woman be arrested.”

“On what charges?”

“Vicious public slander against an elven government official.”

“Inquisitor Balmorlan,” Sedge drawled, “I know every law on the books and that’s not one of them.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I believe in government circles, an attempt to sully an opponent’s reputation is called politics.”

“We’re not here for petty arguments,” Carnades snapped at Balmorlan. He turned those arctic eyes on me. “You and Nathrach are working together to get more souls to feed the Saghred, building its power until it and you are strong enough to destroy us all. Your lover drives the coach, and conveniently drops the general at your feet. You think this gives you an alibi, but I will prove that the two of you killed General Aratus together, feeding his soul to the Saghred and attempting to blame a ghost for your crimes.”

Carnades must have been one of the idiot mages Mychael told me didn’t believe in ghosts or specters. I wasn’t surprised. “So you don’t believe in ghosts?”

“They are but feeble vapors that are of no harm to anyone, except the uneducated and superstitious.”

“When you’re face-to-face with Sarad Nukpana, you be sure to call him a ‘feeble vapor.’ I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of it, right before he sucks your life out through your face.”

“Are you threatening me?”

I actually laughed. It felt surprisingly good. “No, Carnades. Once again, I’m warning you. Perhaps if you didn’t have all that education clogging your head, you’d realize that Sarad Nukpana is regenerating himself, and to do a good job of it, he needs powerful victims, the more magical mojo, the better.”

“That which no longer exists cannot be regenerated. Such stories are merely fairy tales to frighten children.”

“They’d be smart to be frightened. I guess there’s a difference between smart and educated,” I noted. “I understand you met Sarad Nukpana while you were at the goblin court, so I’m sure you know how he feels about elves. He thinks the only good elf is either enslaved or dead. I think he plans to do both to you, one right after the other. He hates you, doesn’t he?”

The elven mage’s lips narrowed to a thin, angry line. “I’m sure he hated me when he was alive, but since that’s no longer the case, his feelings are irrelevant.”

“Did you see General Aratus’s body, Carnades?” Mychael had released the body to the elven embassy this morning.

I saw a flicker of revulsion in the elf’s eyes—and fear.

“Then you saw that there was nothing left but a dried husk. Nukpana took everything.” I jerked my head toward Tam’s cell. “You think you’re safe. You think you’ve got your killer. You’re wrong. Your killer is still out there, and he’s starting an elf collection. If your name’s not next on his list, it’s near the top.”

“You describe a monster,” Carnades said. “And that monster is in the cell behind you. The two of you murdered our finest general in the most heinous way possible. I don’t know how you did it, but I will see you both in elven custody.” His voice went deathly quiet. “And soon I will have your secret accomplice there beside you. He mistakenly thinks his high station will save him. Inquisitor Balmorlan is having cells prepared in the elven embassy for you all; this arrangement is merely temporary.”

“That is the only way anyone on this island will be truly safe,” Balmorlan said. “And a very gifted young man will be free from your poisonous influence.”

Piaras. I stifled a growl.

“Yes, Mistress Benares,” Balmorlan all but purred. “I refer to Piaras Rivalin. The poor unfortunate whom you have deceived for so long. I attempted to rescue the boy only to have you steal him from the only people able to truly protect him.”

“Guardian Cadet Rivalin is perfectly safe where he is,” came Mychael’s clear and sharp voice from the door. “Under Guardian protection. And Tamnais Nathrach is merely accused. Until proven guilty, he is innocent, and is due every consideration and due process of the law.”

A litany of curses ran through my mind; I’m sure Mychael heard every last one of them. He was wearing a long, dark gray cloak that covered him from his neck to the heels of his boots.

Mychael slowly walked toward Balmorlan and Carnades. “Though it seems you have forgotten the law—or have chosen to ignore it. Raine, get next to Tam’s cell. Neither the law nor I will allow you to take Tamnais Nathrach from this building. Do it, now!”

Mychael was talking to Carnades, but thinking at me. I slowly backed away in the direction of Tam’s cell. Conveniently a few of the watchers had taken a step back, too. No one wanted to be in Mychael and Carnades’s immediate vicinity, because even the best spellslingers could miss a shot if things suddenly got nasty.

Carnades was like a snake poised to strike. “Chief Watcher, lower the wards on the goblin’s cell.” I could hear the undertone of anticipation in his voice. His mage cronies with him shifted uneasily.

“I can’t do that, sir,” Sedge told him. “Not without the direct order of the archmage. Tamnais Nathrach is considered too dangerous a prisoner to risk it.”

“That wasn’t a request, Rinker. That was an order.”

“My hands are tied by the law, Magus Silvanus. Surely you wouldn’t want me to break the law and risk the safety of our people?”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. Like I’d said, Sedge Rinker was good people.

“You yourself declared Tamnais Nathrach a most dangerous prisoner,” Mychael noted. “The chief watcher cannot legally do what you ask, nor can I—or you.”

Carnades had brought his own rope, and Mychael was letting him hang himself with it. I also realized what else Mychael had done.

Tam was behind the wards; I was next to the wards; Mychael was completely out of the wards’ range. Carnades expected our combined magic to ring like a clarion; instead the wards kept Tam’s magic inside the cell, distorted mine, and left Mychael standing alone and seemingly not linked to either one of us.

The simplest plans were the most brilliant.

Nachtmagus Vidor Kalta strode into headquarters, took one look at Tam, and laughed, a short bark. Tall, thin, and black-robed—Kalta looked like Death with a newfound sense of humor. Creepy.

“That is your cha’nescu culprit?” he asked Carnades.

“What?”

“A cha’nescu, my dear, deluded Carnades. The ritual that turned General Aratus into the dearly departed and dried General Aratus.”

The elf was livid. “You will show respect—”

Kalta dismissed him with a wave of one pale hand. “No disrespect intended or implied; I merely call him what he is. The general is departed; he was probably dear to someone; and he is most definitely dried.”

A watcher behind me muffled a snicker.

Carnades sneered. “And being a nachtmagus, your expertise in such matters told you that General Aratus was murdered by some sort of vampiric—”

Kalta actually made tsking sounds. “Carnades, even a child knows that there is no such thing as a vampire.” He paused, a tiny smile flicking at one corner of his mouth. “It is, as you said, a fairy tale.” The smile vanished. “But specters are real, or as we refer to them, disenfranchised souls. And a cha’nescu ritual is not only real, but a very real danger. Only a fool would dismiss it.”

“I didn’t dismiss the danger; I locked it up. Tamnais Nathrach fed General Aratus’s soul to the Saghred through the body of this traitor to her people. Now she dares to further her desecration by claiming that Sarad Nukpana threatened the mages of this island by speaking through the general’s dead body.”

“It’s not a claim; it’s the truth,” I told him, though I knew I was wasting my breath.

“And I suppose you are the only one to have heard the words? Now, if there was someone else who had heard him . . .” The question was for me, but Carnades was staring in challenge at Mychael.

With our bond, if I had heard something, so did Mychael. If Carnades couldn’t get the wards lowered on Tam’s cell, an admission from Mychael would work just as well.

“Mychael, don’t.”

Mychael’s smile was slow and actually amused. “I heard every word.”

“If Sarad Nukpana indeed communicated with this traitor through the general, then how did you hear the words?” Carnades murmured. “The only way Nukpana would have been able to speak to her is through her bond with the Saghred.” He paused as if the thought was just now occurring to him. “Unless you share a similar bond with her.” The air around him almost vibrated with anticipatory triumph.