Armed & Magical

Chapter 12

I’d been inside Sirens in Mermeia, so I knew what to expect. Piaras had never seen the inside of either one of Tam’s nightclubs. His brown eyes were wide as he took it all in.

The Sirens nightclub in Mermeia was mainly a gambling parlor. The Sirens on the Isle of Mid offered spellsinging as the featured specialty. So far there were only two links in what Tam planned to become a chain of Sirens nightclubs.

On the outside, Sirens looked less like what one would expect of a nightclub, and more like an expensive manor house. The diamond-shaped, lead-paned windows belonged to the restaurant part of the establishment. We were in the interior theatre where the shows took place.

On the main floor of the theatre were small tables, each covered in a crisp white cloth and set with a single pale lightglobe in its center. There were either two or four chairs at each table, with enough room between each for servers to discreetly fill drink orders—and to give Sirens’s guests privacy to enjoy the show. The second-floor dining suites were like private boxes in a fine theatre. Columns stretched from the floor to the high, vaulted ceiling, carved with mermaids and mermen—sirens that could sing men or women to their doom—or somewhere much more enjoyable. From what I could see, “frolicsome” didn’t even begin to describe the activities the carvings were engaged in. I steered Piaras around the columns.

The stage wasn’t large; it didn’t need to be. Sirens was about spellsingers, and what they could do to an audience. Spellsingers didn’t need space, just flawless acoustics, so that a whispered word sounded like it was being whispered directly into the ear of a patron at the farthest table from the stage.

Mychael had gone to Tam’s office. I stayed with Piaras.

Close to two dozen people were seated at various tables near the stage. When Ronan had said “choice patrons,” what I saw was pretty much what I’d expected. The mixture of elves, goblins, and humans had the air of privilege that only came with obscene wealth. Not surprisingly, the elves sat on one side of the theatre, the goblins on the other. The humans had arranged themselves more or less in the middle. Some of the patrons were magically talented; most were just rich. Of the talents, I didn’t sense any nefarious purpose, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

Ronan was conferring with one of his students onstage. She’d just finished a love song that quite frankly hadn’t done a thing for me. There were shields at the base of the stage that would prevent spellsongs from having their full effect. They could be strengthened or lowered as needed. They could have turned them off for this girl. Maybe it was just me she left cold, but I didn’t think so. With spellsinging, the sex of the singer and the listener shouldn’t matter. A truly gifted spellsinger could make you forget that you even had a sexual preference. Ronan’s student was a regally beautiful goblin who came complete with her own entourage. Two armed and leather-armored bodyguards stood nearby, their eyes alert to her and everyone else in the room. The goblin girl was dressed in the height of fashion, and wore more jewelry than was tasteful. I thought one piece was particularly tasteless. A mirror pendant hung from a rope of diamonds around the girl’s neck. A mirror mage. Figures. A human hairstylist fussed with elaborately jeweled clips holding back the girl’s waist-length blue-black hair. One of the clips pulled the goblin’s hair and the girl spun and hissed something, the back of her hand stopping just short of the human’s face.

“Countess Sanura Mal’Salin,” Piaras told me as if that explained everything.

It did.

Apparently Ronan invited his best students—or the most politically advantageous. For years the goblin royal family had snubbed the Conclave college, until about ten years ago when goblin aristocrats started filtering into the college classrooms—and their gold started flooding into the college coffers. I wondered if Mal’Salin gold was paying for Ronan’s recital hall renovation.

Six students lounged at a cluster of tables at the base of the stage: three elves, two humans, and another goblin. None of them had entourages. I chuckled. It looked like Piaras had a small platoon in his wake. The platoon was for me, but no one here knew that. Vegard and Riston hung back a few feet to give Piaras and me the semblance of privacy. The others deployed themselves around the theatre. I saw a familiar young goblin leaning casually against one of the siren-covered columns, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the countess with amusement.

“Is the goblin next to the column one of Ronan’s students?” I asked Piaras.

Piaras nodded. “Talon Tandu. He also works here.”

“Do you know if he’s any good?” I asked.

“I heard him briefly in the maestro’s tower yesterday. I thought he was very good.” Piaras was silent for a moment. “Paladin Eiliesor didn’t want you to come here.”

“He didn’t want me to leave the citadel,” I corrected.

Piaras’s lips turned up in a brief smile. “No, I distinctly heard the words ‘Tam’ and ‘Sirens.’ I also heard my name more than once. You don’t go into a corner to argue about giving someone moral support.”

Crap. The kid’s got elf ears, Raine. You’ve got a pair yourself. They’re not just there to look good.

“Sounds like we should have left the room,” I told him. “Eavesdropping is rude.”

“I’m sorry, but when I heard my name, I thought it might be something I needed to know.” He hesitated. “And when Paladin Eiliesor said it wasn’t safe for you to leave the citadel, he looked like he meant it. I needed to hear why. I can’t do a good job of worrying about you unless I know what I’m supposed to be worried about.”

“The only thing you need to be worried about is singing. And you don’t need to worry about that. You’ll be splendid as usual.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“You’re ignoring my avoiding.”

“How else am I supposed to find out what’s going on? Whenever I walk by, everyone stops talking. I walk down the halls at the citadel, and the Guardians stare. I think some of them are afraid of me. They don’t need to be.” He looked down. “I don’t want them to be,” he said quietly.

Crap again.

Piaras wanted to be a Guardian more than anything. It looked like yesterday’s damage wasn’t only to sabotaged shields. Nothing stomped on a teenager’s already fragile self-esteem like being ostracized from day one by the men you most admired.

“Now everyone knows what I did to those Guardians.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “All this is just the maestro displaying the freak.”

I looked directly into those liquid brown eyes. “You are not a freak. Just because you didn’t mean to put those Guardians to sleep doesn’t change what you accomplished. And yes, I said ‘accomplished.’ If you were on a battlefield aiming at the enemy, what you did would get you called a hero, not a freak. You have a rare and powerful gift, and that can intimidate people, because they only see the gift and not the person behind it. You are not a freak—and don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I saw a flicker of what may have been belief in his dark eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but I was just telling the truth. No thanks needed for that.”

“You’re not a freak, either,” Piaras said solemnly.

“The jury’s still out on that one.”

“I know you’re not a freak.”

I exhaled slowly. “Thank you, sweetie. You can’t know how much I needed to hear that today.”

One of the other spellsingers—a pretty, dark-haired human girl—was stealing shy glances at Piaras.

I gave him a lopsided smile. “Who’s that?”

Piaras looked where I was looking, blushed, and quickly looked away.

“Katelyn,” he said so softly I barely heard him.

My smile broadened into a grin. I bit my lip to make myself stop. “Katelyn who?”

“Valerian,” he whispered.

“That Valerian?”

Piaras nodded. “The archmagus’s granddaughter.” He glanced at her, and she caught him looking. She smiled and gave him a shy wave. The tips of Piaras’s ears flushed pink.

“Have you heard her sing?” I asked.

He looked at Katelyn and kept looking. The kid was enraptured. “It was beautiful.”

I nudged him playfully. “Has she heard you sing?” Piaras nodded. “Yesterday in the maestro’s tower. Her lesson was after mine.”

“And…?”

“And what?”

“What did she think?”

Piaras flushed scarlet. “She said I had the most magnificent voice she had ever heard.”

I grinned and nodded approvingly. “Beautiful and she has flawless taste in men and music. I could like this girl.”

Piaras risked another quick look at her. “Me, too.”

“Piaras!” Ronan Cayle yelled. We both jumped. “It’s your turn. Quickly now. Our host needs his theatre back in another hour.”

I punched him on the arm. “Break a leg, sweetie.”

As Piaras made his way to the stage, I pulled out one of the chairs and made myself comfortable. I was far enough back to see anyone who came into the theatre. When I looked up, Talon Tandu was sauntering toward me like a sleek young cat, all cocky bravado, those aquamarine eyes checking me out from head to toe and taking their sweet time doing it.

I bit back a laugh, and heard Vegard’s muffled snort from behind me. Talon couldn’t have been much older than Piaras—at least in age. Though with his looks, he’d probably already had plenty of experience way beyond his years.

Talon’s pale eyes sparkled. “You don’t look the worse for wear from last night.”

Now that was a pickup line I hadn’t heard before.

“Silver-tongued little minx. I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you roll in the gutter with.”

He pulled out a chair, straddled it, and folded his lean arms across the backrest. His grin was full of fang. “I liked watching you wrestle last night. I think I heard a few of that shaman’s bones break. You went to a lot of trouble for one little book.”

“I take my education very seriously.” I folded my arms across my chest. It was the only way to get the kid to quit staring at my breasts.

Talon jerked his head toward Piaras. “Did he really knock out every Guardian in the citadel?”

“Not all,” I said. “Some of them couldn’t hear him.”

Talon laughed, a bright silvery ring. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give to have seen that. So you’ve come to hear the trained songbirds perform?”

“Sounds like you’re feeling less than honored.”

“Ronan opens the cage once a year and has us warble and trill for wealthy alumni and filthy rich parents.” His eyes were hard as they looked at something over my left shoulder. “How am I supposed to feel?”

I turned slightly. Sanura Mal’Salin had gathered up her entourage and was leaving the theatre.

“I’m here to listen to Piaras,” I said. “But I’d like to hear more about what happened last night. The men who tried to snatch you aren’t known for music appreciation.” I slouched down in the chair and crossed my legs at the ankles. “So what happened?”

“I was on my way to work, and somebody’s hired goons tried to kidnap me,” Talon said casually. “When you do what I do, and look how I look, you attract more than your share of pervs and overzealous fans.”

“You say it like it’s not the first time.”

The goblin shrugged. “I’ve been kidnapped twice before.”

I just looked at him for a moment. “Did Tam come after you those times, too?”

He arched one flawless eyebrow. “Tam? You know the boss?” He grinned slowly. “Exactly how well do you know him?”

“Yeah, I know him. How or how well I know him is none of your business. I asked you a question. Did Tam rescue you those other two times?”

Talon shook his head. “They happened at my previous gig, a spellsinging club in Mipor. It paid well enough, but the owner had an arrangement with certain patrons— wealthy and influential patrons, if you get my meaning.”

“Yeah, I get it.” I didn’t even try to keep the disgust out of my voice.

“If a patron liked what they heard and saw onstage, they’d pay the owner to arrange a private performance. I went once. I tried to leave, but the patron’s bodyguards had other ideas.” The kid’s voice was nonchalant; the rapid pulse in his throat wasn’t. “The next morning, I told the owner I wasn’t going again. Next time he didn’t ask me—”

“He just charged the patron more and had you kidnapped and delivered.”

“Pretty much.” Talon’s bravado was back. “That’s when I came here. I heard Nathrach took good care of his people and paid well. And last night he and some of the bouncers from the club came after me. I’ve never worked for anyone who’d do that.” He scowled. “Though what he makes me do is almost as bad.”

I didn’t move. “What does he make you do?”

“He’s making me go to college.” The kid was indignant. “It’s actually in my contract. If I don’t go to classes during the day, I don’t get to work at night.” He slouched down in his chair. “So that’s how I ended up in the maestro’s flock of performing songbirds.”

“Talon!”

We both jumped. It was Ronan again. I growled. Talon heard me and grinned. If the maestro did that one more time, I was going to give him a quick and dirty lesson in volume control.

“You’ll be after Piaras,” Ronan yelled. “Go warm up.”

Talon stood and gave the maestro a little mock salute. “Yes, sir. Be right there, sir.” Then the kid muttered something under his breath in Goblin.

It was highly creative and physically impossible. I think. He winked at me. “Later, gorgeous.”

As he made his way to the stage, I saw a tall figure in black robes enter the theatre through a door near the foot of the stage.

Carnades Silvanus.

Two other elves were with him. One looked like a bureaucrat. He was a full head and a half shorter than Carnades, blinking in the dim light as he fidgeted with a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. The other elf was more familiar. Not him personally. I didn’t know him, just his type. He entered behind Carnades, not from deference, but to let the senior mage attract all the attention. This one didn’t want to be noticed, either personally or magically. He was using Carnades’s arrogant aura of power to cover whatever magic he was packing. Generally, if someone doesn’t want you to see what they’ve got, it means they’ve got a lot. I’d found that out once or twice the hard way. Today wasn’t going to be my third.

I half turned to Vegard. “The elves with Carnades. Who are they?”

“The little one’s Giles Keril, the elven ambassador to Mid. The other is Taltek Balmorlan. He’s with elven intelligence. Don’t know what he does.”

Which was exactly how Taltek Balmorlan and anyone else who worked for the agency liked it.

I’d done consulting work for elven intelligence. I was recruited by Duke Markus Sevelien, the agency’s chief officer in Mermeia, and I’d only worked with him. That’s exactly the way I liked it. Markus was an up-front and moral sort, which was a rare find in the agency. I’d always wanted to think that Markus sought me out because of my superior seeking skills, but I knew differently. Markus thought my being related to criminals helped me know the criminal mind. I didn’t want to come right out and admit it, but he was right. Truth be told, if it can be picked up, pried off, or in any way pilfered, my family’s made off with it at one time or another. Unfortunately those pilfered goods have occasionally included people. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s not something I can deny.

Most of my work for Markus involved finding pilfered elves—diplomats, intelligence agents, assorted nobles. The kind of people the less savory members of my family would love to get their ransom-grubbing hands on. It was gratifying work and I was good at it.

The agency was always looking to acquire fresh talent.

I sat up slowly. Sometimes they acquired without asking the talent.

Carnades spotted me—I’d already seen him—and the tension in the room popped up a couple of notches real quick.

"Ma’am,” Vegard warned.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be good if he will. But if he’s looking for trouble, I will give it to him.”

“I’ve been ordered to sit on you, ma’am,” the Guardian told me. He didn’t sound very enthused about trying.

“I know.” I gave him my best evil grin, then turned back to watching Carnades and his merry minions.

They sat at one of the tables closest to the stage. Piaras had just finished his warm-up.

I tensed, but kept my seat. Me going to Piaras would just get him the wrong kind of attention. He would be performing a sleepsong, but this version wasn’t for a battlefield; it was for a nursery. If Taltek Balmorlan or anyone else in the theatre came to hear a weapon, they were going to be really disappointed. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t let everyone know that messing with Piaras would be a very bad idea.

“Vegard?”

“Ma’am?”

“I know all these Guardians are for me, but could you spare a few to discreetly, but obviously, arrange themselves at the base of the stage when Piaras is singing?”

The big Guardian was instantly beside me. “The boy’s in danger?”

“Not immediately, but someone here might be spellsinger shopping.”

Vegard knew exactly what I meant and growled something that summed up my thoughts perfectly. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, Vegard.”

“Always my pleasure, ma’am.”

He went to Riston and they spoke quickly in lowered voices. Even I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I didn’t need to. Within half a minute, five fully armed and really good-sized Guardians had arranged themselves around the base of the stage, their broad backs to Piaras, their stony expressions toward the audience. Piaras looked out at me; his eyes widened briefly. I smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. Piaras didn’t know what was wrong, if anything, but he knew that me and the boys had it under control.

Piaras walked to the middle of the stage. He looked out and saw who was in the audience. He didn’t know any of them, but he couldn’t have liked that every eye was on him, anticipating his first note. Piaras closed his eyes and took a breath and let it out. It was shaky. Then he raised his head and resolutely fixed his gaze on the back of the theatre where there was no one staring at him.

Piaras sang without accompaniment. No instrument marred his voice’s pure, unadorned perfection. The words and tune were a soothing lullaby, but flowing beneath them was a depth of power most spellsingers could only dream of. The sleepsong was for a baby, not a battalion, but that didn’t matter. Piaras couldn’t hide his strength. And he had the rapt attention of everyone in the theatre. There had been talking during the other spellsingers’ practices. No one spoke now or even moved. Entirely too many people in that audience had just had their suspicions confirmed. Damn. I couldn’t see the faces of anyone at Carnades Silvanus’s table. But I could see some of the goblins, and I didn’t like the looks Piaras was getting. To them the Guardians were just furniture to be pushed aside or ignored, and Piaras a treat to be taken and enjoyed. In that moment, I understood why Carnades hated goblins.

I didn’t hate goblins, but I could have a momentary change of heart for that bunch.

Piaras finished his song to thunderous applause. One of the goblins gave him a standing ovation. He had the high cheekbones and handsome, angled features of a pure, old-blood goblin. His black eyes were bright as he shouted, “Bravo!”

The bastard.

Piaras left the stage and stopped to confer with Ronan. Two of the Guardians moved closer to him, blocking anyone from access. No one tried. I had to hand it to Mychael’s men—they had the bodyguard thing down pat.

I felt a presence brush my skin like fingertips. I sat perfectly still.

It was Tam.

I couldn’t see him, but I didn’t need to. I could feel him just fine.

“Raine, you shouldn’t be here.”

I gasped at the sudden intimate contact. Tam’s voice brushed against my mind like dark silk.

Vegard looked at me, and I quickly coughed.

“Dry throat,” I rasped at his concerned expression.

Tam and I had spoken mind-to-mind before. Many times.

“Mychael didn’t want me here, either,” I said. “You know I never do as told. Especially when I haven’t been given a good reason. Now what the hell is going on?”

I slouched in my chair. Keep it casual, Raine. I wanted answers from Tam; I didn’t want to tip off Vegard. I turned my head toward the stage as if the human kid up there now running through scales was simply fascinating. My eyes flicked up to the right of the stage, then up to the first dining suite.

There he was. The dining suites were dark and Tam blended in perfectly. My elven eyes could just see him, his beautiful, silvery face silhouetted against the shadows. Vegard was human and if he looked at the suite, he would only see the shadows.

I had promised Mychael I wasn’t going anywhere near Tam. I could keep my promise and talk to Tam at the same time. And I could stay safe while doing it.

“Trust your instincts, Raine. You are not safe here. You’re being watched.”

I kept my face neutral. “By who?”

Tam met my question with silence.

“What have the Khrynsani got on you?”

No response.

“You can’t tell me—or won’t?”

I saw Mychael on the opposite side of the theatre conferring with some newly arrived blue-robed mages. He stopped and looked at me. I gave him a little smile and a wave—and held my breath. He shouldn’t be able to sense me mindspeaking to Tam. If he could, he’d have been over here in an instant. Mychael held my gaze a moment longer, then turned back to the mages.

“The men in blue robes are Conclave shield weavers,” Tam told me. “They’re reinforcing the stage’s shields. Since these are Ronan’s best students, I can’t risk anyone being hurt.”

“Some risks are worth taking, Tam. I want to help you.”

“Sometimes you can risk hurting someone just standing close to them.”

“What happened in that alley won’t happen again. I won’t let it.”

Tam’s low laugh brushed against me like the softest fur. I shivered and gripped the chair’s armrests. Tam had never been able to do that before.

“Stop it.”

His laughter stopped. “Just a demonstration, Raine. What happened between us is still there. We’re not entirely separate anymore. Mychael knows this. Some things are beyondmortal control—and some things are impossible to resist.Like you. Please stay away from me.”

Don’t think about Tam. Don’t think about what we did, or what I’d like to be doing again right now. Eternal damnation versus amazing sex. Close, but no contest. Amazing sex didn’t last nearly long enough—damnation lasted an eternity. That tossed a bucket of ice water on my lust.

“What have the Khrynsani got on you?”

Silence. “It’s complicated,” he finally said.

“With you it always is,” I muttered. “I’m a bright girl, Tam. I can handle complicated. You’d be surprised at the knots I can untangle. You made a bargain, but you didn’t keep it. Then you killed the person you made the bargain with. In my family that makes any and all deals null and void. How does it work in your family?”

“You saw last night how it works in my family.” His voice in my head was tight with repressed rage.

“The Khrynsani aren’t your family.” I stopped, thought, and concluded in the span of two seconds.

Oh hell.

The Khrynsani worked for Tam’s family. The Mal’-Salins.

I just sat there. A Khrynsani shaman could have popped out of the floor right next to me and I don’t think I would have batted an eye.

Things fell into place for me and it wasn’t pretty.

The Khrynsani wanted me, which meant the Mal’Salins wanted me. Their lawyers were taking the legal road. Their shamans were going for dark alleys—and Tam. You didn’t get to pick either your enemies or your family, and both were just as likely to stick a dagger in your back.

Tam’s presence in my mind vanished. My glance flicked back to the dining suite. He was gone.

Piaras appeared at my side and I damned near jumped out of my skin.

“You looked like you were concentrating on something. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You didn’t disturb me, kid. You scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s my fault; I wasn’t paying attention.” I was too busy realizing that Tam’s family had somehow roped him back into service, and had come close to lassoing me along with him.

I felt someone watching us. I had a feeling who the voyeur was, but I turned and looked to the front table anyway. Yep, it was Carnades. I was half tempted to stick my tongue out at him.

Piaras grinned sheepishly. “Well, how did I do?”

“Absolutely beautiful.” I didn’t mention the people in the audience who thought the same thing but wanted more. “If it hadn’t been for those stage shields, everybody out here would’ve been—”

I sucked in my breath and froze. Something was lightly brushing the skin between my breasts. I looked down. Nothing there except me and mine.

I stood as calmly as I could considering I was being groped by invisible fingers. I stepped back and the touching didn’t stop. I blew out my breath in short puffs and looked at Carnades’s table. He was turned away from me, talking to someone. It wasn’t him.

And it wasn’t Tam.

Piaras’s hand gripped my arm. “Raine, what is it?”

“Someone’s touching me.”

“I’m touching you.”

“It’s… not you.” My breath came in gasps. I couldn’t get any air.

Vegard was beside me. “Ma’am, what’s wrong?”

The fingers suddenly splayed, the tips pressing into my breasts, the palm pushing hard against the center of my chest. Power radiated inward from that invisible hand. Searching. Summoning.

The Saghred surged against the hand from inside of me. The pressure from both inside and out held my rib cage like a vise. I couldn’t breathe at all. Piaras’s face blurred and faded. I was going to pass out.

“Raine!” It was Vegard. I could see his face, but his voice sounded like he was yelling down a well. I dimly heard him call for Mychael.

With the pressure came a presence. Not just old. Ancient. Its weight crushed me, thickened the air that I couldn’t breathe. Filled my gasping mouth and nose with the sharp, coppery scent of blood. More blood than one body could hold, the blood of hundreds, thousands of screaming victims.

It was magic. Ancient and malignant. And evil. Gleefully evil.

Black flowers bloomed on the edge of my vision. The hand on my chest suddenly blazed into a white-hot brand, searing my flesh, burning through bone. My silent scream became one of the thousands as I fell into darkness.