Con & Conjure

Chapter 5

You’d think being told an evil king and his even-more-evil quasi-demigod minion want you at their mercy or thousands of people would die would be as bad as anyone’s day could get.

You’d be wrong.

The Seat of Twelve had to be told.

The Seat of Twelve was the ruling council for the Conclave, which was the governing body for every magic user of consequence in the seven kingdoms. These were twelve of the most powerful mages, period. Thanks to the Saghred, I now had more power than any of them. This bothered them.

A lot.

In their collective opinion, anyone with that much power needed to be watched very closely. Which meant if I so much as blinked wrong, I’d find myself in a citadel containment room. And if I completely cut loose with the power the Saghred had given me, my head and shoulders would soon be parting ways.

Before the meeting, Mychael needed to meet briefly with Justinius Valerian, the archmage, the supreme head of the Conclave of Sorcerers, the commander in chief of the Brotherhood of Conclave Guardians, and a crafty, foultempered old man.

I loved the guy.

Even better, he was right fond of me, too.

Vegard and I were in the citadel on our way to Mychael’s office to wait. His office had wards and a well-stocked bar. I needed the former and wanted the latter.

Naturally, we didn’t make it there.

From the end of the hallway came a cool and crisp voice. “I hoped I would find you here, Mistress Benares.”

Crap in a bucket.

The voice belonged to an elven mage who thought he was about to get me right where he’d wanted me since the day I set foot on Mid.

A tall figure stepped into view.

Magus Carnades Silvanus was a pure-blooded high elf who wasn’t about to let anyone forget it. White-blond hair, glacier blue eyes, pristine porcelain complexion. His black and silver robes were elegant and expensive, and emphasized his cold beauty. Gleaming against the silk of his robes was a mirrored disk dangling at the end of a silver chain. I’d never liked mirror mages, and I’d never like Carnades Silvanus.

As the senior mage on the Seat of Twelve, Carnades Silvanus saw himself as the champion of the elven people. I saw him as a self-righteous, narrow-minded jerk. Unfortunately, he also had the influence to convince a lot of powerful and dangerous people to see things his way.

Two others stepped up behind him. Elves. Mages. Two mages on the Seat of Twelve. I’d seen them before with Carnades. Always standing a step or two behind, their deference to Carnades made it clear to anyone who cared to notice that they were nothing but lackeys. Lackeys who were probably two of the top mages in the kingdoms, but were still Carnades’s flunkies and hangers-on. As Carnades grew in power and influence, they moved up the ladder with him without doing a thing except what he told them to.

Vegard came to reluctant attention. The Guardians’ main duty was the protection of the archmagus and the mages of the Seat of Twelve. Carnades was second in command only to the archmagus, and he was convinced that my involvement with certain goblins not only made me a goblin sympathizer, but a traitor to the elven people.

He smiled, a dazzling white flash of insincerity. “I understand that your visit to greet your precious prince didn’t turn out as you planned.”

I flashed him a smile of my own. “I don’t think anyone got what they paid for this morning. Too bad assassins don’t give refunds, isn’t it?”

That wiped the smirk off his face.

Carnades and Taltek Balmorlan had become the best of friends, and friends didn’t keep secrets from each other—especially not secrets that involved hiring the deadliest assassin in the kingdoms, who conveniently happened to be an elf.

“You used your Saghred-spawned power to defend a Mal’Salin—a creature who would go to any length to kill an elf, any elf.” Carnades’s voice was a self-satisfied purr. “Except you, of course. Merely a continuation of the relationship that began in—”

“Relationship?” Maybe I’d hit my head when I fell against that guard shack wall.

“Your clandestine meeting with the prince at an estate in Mermeia was—”

“A kidnapping. Mine. Prince Chigaru wanted me to find the Saghred for him. I refused.”

“A second encounter was more public. An embrace at the goblin king’s masked ball two nights later.”

“If your snitches had looked closely enough they would have seen that the prince had a dagger to my ribs. Stepping away from him wasn’t just ill-advised, it was impossible.” I took two steps closer to Carnades, close enough to make him flinch. “But I could hardly expect you to be concerned with facts.” I lowered my voice to the same purr. “You just want an excuse.”

“Guardian, I want to speak to Mistress Benares alone.” Carnades said it without even looking at Vegard. He knew Vegard’s name; he just refused to use it. Just one more way to belittle Mychael’s knights.

“It’s all right, Vegard,” I said. “I want to have a private chat with Magus Silvanus.”

Vegard and Carnades’s two yes-mages moved down the hall and out of earshot. However, I did notice that Vegard stayed within his ax-throwing range. I gave him a knowing wink.

“Let’s stop playing games, Mistress Benares,” Carnades said.

“Works for me. I’m tired of this one anyway. For starters, stop with the ‘Mistress Benares’ act. You hate my guts; I hate yours, so why waste perfectly good dislike on acting polite when neither of us wants to. I know there’s another five-letter word you’d love to call me, but for now let’s just go with ‘Raine,’ shall we?”

Carnades’s mouth twisted with distaste. “That would imply familiarity.”

“Yeah, it’s offensive to me, too. But let’s try just this once.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, you’ve got your privacy. Talk.”

“I want to see you dead.”

“That’s nothing new, but you are dispensing with the small talk. I like that.”

“The ideal end for you would be on an executioner’s block before sundown. That won’t be for another two hours. In my opinion, that’s two hours too late. Unfortunately, for the good of many, the desires of the few must be pushed aside.”

“Meaning you don’t get to see my head lopped off before you go to dinner.”

“That would be a much better start to my evening.” Carnades’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Though from what the Saghred’s history has shown us, I won’t have much longer to wait.”

“So now you’re entertaining yourself by rewriting history?”

“There’s no need to alter the truth,” Carnades said. “You’ve read Rudra Muralin’s journal. He was the Saghred’s bond servant, exactly like yourself. No doubt you’ve realized that you’re following in his footsteps.”

“I am not now, nor will I ever be like Rudra Muralin,” I said, my voice tight with fury. The goblin was a thousandyear-old, seriously psychotic mage who’d used the Saghred to slaughter thousands and enslave thousands more. He was dead now. Permanently, thanks to Sarad Nukpana. In several pieces then reduced to ashes, thanks to Imala Kalis.

“You have used the Saghred more than a few times now,” Carnades continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “It becomes more a part of you each time. You don’t see this, but others can. I can. Soon its desires will become your own. When that happens, you’ll have become too dangerous to live. It’s only a matter of time.” His long fingers toyed negligently with the jeweled chain lying against his dark robes. “It will happen quite soon, I think.” His eyes gleamed in triumph. “If it hasn’t already.”

My breath froze. Carnades hadn’t been at the harbor this morning; and even if he had, he’d have had no way of knowing about the goblin mages—and how the Saghred had made me want to kill the lot of them.

“If that little dream makes you happy, keep having it.” My voice was steady, but the rest of me wasn’t.

“Isn’t it odd that you claim to want to be rid of the Saghred and the power it has given you, but you have yet to expend any real effort toward achieving that end? The stone’s influence over you goes deeper than you will admit.”

I forced a smile. “I’ve been a little busy. It’s hard to work on my own problems when more pressing issues keep coming up. Many of them were your fault; the others you kept sticking your nose into and making them worse. And on at least three occasions, if it weren’t for me, your own arrogant stupidity would have gotten you killed. I saved your life, and what thanks do I get?”

The smile grew. “A chance to save your pirate cousin from probable torture and certain execution.”

I went perfectly still.

“You don’t believe me,” Carnades murmured.

“Why wouldn’t I? Threatening innocent people with violence to get what you want. It’s the ultimate villain cliché, but from you, I believe it.”

“Good. That will save me the effort to prove my sincerity. I assure you my associates and I would be doing nothing illegal.”

“So torture and execution aren’t illegal in your little world?”

“Neither I nor any of my associates would harm one hair on Captain Benares’s head. We would merely be apprehending a known criminal.”

“Mychael and the archmage have granted Phaelan immunity while he is on Mid.”

“That immunity ceases to exist once he is out of Mid’s waters,” Carnades noted.

“Phaelan’s not leaving Mid anytime soon.”

“I never said it would be his choice.”

“That’s kidnapping.”

“Not at all. Like yourself, I am merely warning you of the impending actions of others. Not that they would be committing a crime. They would merely be apprehending a known and wanted criminal. There are countless warrants for the infamous Captain Phaelan Benares’s arrest. Some of the rewards being offered are quite exorbitant. Your cousin must be exceedingly proficient at his chosen calling. They can’t all have him, of course. I understand there are plans to award him to the highest bidder. It would be the only fair way to settle any conflicting claims. And with such a wanted man as Captain Benares, there are certain to be conflicts.”

“What do you want?”

Carnades stepped closer. “I want nothing, Raine. In fact, I am offering you an opportunity to save the life of your cousin and help your own people.”

“An opportunity. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it called that before. And let me guess, all I have to do is walk through the gates of the elven embassy of my own free will.”

“Would that be so difficult?”

“Then a certain elven intelligence inquisitor will escort me to a warded cell made just for me, and clap me into a set of custom-made manacles. Have I missed anything?”

“In exchange for your cooperation, your family will not be harmed.”

The Saghred twisted in my chest, my rage awakening it.

Carnades knew. He laughed softly and his voice dropped to a bare whisper. “You want to obliterate me, don’t you, Raine? The urge is almost more than you can bear. How many nights have you lain awake wondering how much longer until you lose what little control you have left? Knowing that the instant you do there will be no going back.”

“And all I have to do is let Balmorlan’s sicko mages get their hands on the Saghred by getting their hands on me, so you and yours can destroy every goblin breathing your air.”

“Before they do the same to us,” Carnades hissed. “Before you further betray your people to help our enemies. Enemies who at this moment are planning our race’s destruction.”

“Destroy them before they can destroy us. Brilliant. It never occurred to you to work with the goblins who have no interest in killing a single elf. Who want to bring down the goblins who do want the elves’ collective neck in a noose.”

“There are no such creatures. Goblins kill. It’s what they are. Consumed by evil from the moment they are spawned.”

“You want to see what evil really looks like?” I snarled. “Take a look in the mirror hanging around your own neck.”

Carnades stiffened. You’d think I had slapped him. Believe me, I wanted to do a lot more than that, and the Saghred was eager to help.

“You refuse my offer?” Frost rolled off his words.

“And toss it back in your face.”

“Very well. I offered you the chance to surrender voluntarily. Enjoy your last few hours of freedom—and if you see your cousin, tell him to do the same.”

Surrender or thousands die.

Don’t surrender, the goblins and/or elves will come and get you, and thousands will still die. I really didn’t want to think about what was going to happen to me in either one of those scenarios.

I hate no-win choices. In my book, if you don’t have a chance of winning, then it’s not a choice. But either way, I was screwed and innocent people died. I didn’t believe for one second that King Sathrik would stay home and play nice—or Carnades and Balmorlan would crawl back under their collective rock—if I served myself up on a silver platter. But that’s exactly what the Seat of Twelve wanted to do with me as soon as they could vote on it.

I’d been in this room before. Nothing good had happened in it then, and I didn’t see that changing now.

In my opinion, it wasn’t a room for the Seat of Twelve to meet—it was a star chamber for passing judgment. I’d been in the hot seat last time, too. The dais was still there, but the throne-like chairs were around a massive table instead. Marginally less imposing, though it still said loud and clear that this group took themselves and their power way too seriously. No low self-esteem here.

“What are the terms for the surrender?” Carnades asked.

To Carnades, saving his own lily-white patrician ass and those of his yes-mages was his first priority, the rest of the island’s inhabitants and students be damned, or in this case destroyed.

“There are no terms, because there will be no surrender.” Justinius Valerian gave Carnades a look that said loud and clear that he would not say that again. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to debate.

Unfortunately the old man was in the minority.

The Seat of Twelve was shaking in their designer robes. Scared mages meant trouble of the fatal kind for me.

Fighting never occurred to men and women who depended on fancy magic and political maneuvering more than they did standing their ground and defending what was theirs. To them that was what they hired guards for. Actual fighting was barbaric and beneath them.

Which was exactly what Sathrik Mal’Salin and Sarad Nukpana were counting on.

Justinius was the top dog in this well-dressed pack. The old man had teeth and he knew how to use them. The same couldn’t be said for most of the others. Just because you were a mage-level talent didn’t mean you could use that power for fighting.

That’s why they had established the Guardians.

Five hundred knights against tens of thousands of goblin warriors, and at least a couple hundred of those warriors were mage-level talents—in black magic. And with Sarad Nukpana coordinating the invasion, I’d be willing to bet that there would be major-class demons among those numbers. I didn’t care how much magical ass Mychael’s boys could kick, outnumbered was outnumbered.

If I surrendered, all I would do is buy Mychael and his Guardians some time, but when the goblins did attack, it would be ten times worse.

King Sathrik Mal’Salin and Sarad Nukpana would have the power of the Saghred at their beck and call.

They would have me.

If they had me, they didn’t need the rock. They could use the Saghred through my link with it, and sacrifice victims the same way. Nukpana had the power to open the Gate. He was planning to use me to keep it open.

I was a weapon, a conduit to cataclysmic power, and the goblin king was going to invade the Isle of Mid to come and get me.

A human mage sat a little apart from the fray, calm and aloof—mainly from the borderline panic among her colleagues. I remembered her. She’d been the only one not in favor of throwing me in a containment room and throwing away the key the last time I was in this room. That didn’t make her a friend, but right now I’d take what I could get.

“Not that I am questioning Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin’s word, but what proof do we have of this?” Her voice was strong and cut right through the din. “He desires his brother’s throne. No doubt he would have an equal desire in getting Mid’s help to destroy his brother.”

A voice of reason. Always a good thing to have.

“I have people getting that confirmation now, Magus Cagilian,” Mychael told her with a slight bow. “I hope we find no such evidence; but if an impending invasion is confirmed, we must be ready to begin evacuating the students.”

Another mage spoke up; actually, it was more of a whine. “But the goblin king said that if we gave him Raine Benares they would not invade.”

“And you believe him?” Justinius barked, a short laugh minus the humor. “He and Nukpana want the Saghred. They’ll use Miss Benares to get enough power to come and take it. If they get that far, we’re all toast.”

Carnades strode across the room in a swirl of robes and sat on one of the ornate chairs. Naturally it was at the front of the room with the dais behind him and facing me. A nice dramatic backdrop.

“No one has voiced the obvious solution,” he said. “When the goblins attack, we use the Saghred to strike.”

My eyes locked on his. “You mean use me.”

“For all intents and purposes, you and the Saghred are now one and the same, so there is no difference.”

“Even if I knew how to destroy an army—which I don’t—the rock hasn’t had a decent meal in hundreds of years. That’s hardly enough juice to take on an army.”

Carnades didn’t even blink. “Then feed it.”

There it was. So much for confirmation whether Carnades was in on Balmorlan’s plan for me.

No one in the room said a word; no one even breathed.

You could have heard a fly fart.

Some of the mages were appalled. Others started nodding in agreement. Too many.

Mychael broke the silence. “You’re advocating murder,” he said, his voice tight.

“I’m advocating saving the lives of our citizens,” Carnades countered.

“And yourself,” I snapped.

Mychael walked slowly toward Carnades. “By sacrificing our citizens, damning their souls to eternity trapped inside the Saghred, their souls used to fuel a black magic that shouldn’t exist, let alone be used. You want that.”

“I want survival.”

“The price is too high.”

“In your opinion,” Carnades said smoothly. “The Conclave accords say that you only have one vote in this or any other matter brought before the Seat of Twelve.” He smiled in a flash of perfect teeth. “I don’t make the rules, Paladin Eiliesor.”

Justinius’s smile looked more like a shark that’d just spotted lunch. “If any proposal you put before this council for a vote is deemed of questionable sanity or criminal intent, you will find yourself on the other side of those doors, stripped of your vote—and your position on this council.” The old man’s bright blue eyes glittered in anticipation of that moment. “So says the accords. I don’t make the rules, Carnades, but I’ll enjoy the hell out of enforcing them. Now, do you want to make that proposal of yours official?”

Carnades looked around the room. He didn’t have the votes and he knew it. Yet. The elf wouldn’t act until he was sure he had the backing to toss me outside the city walls with a bow around my neck for the goblins and slam the gate behind me—or onto the elven embassy’s front steps. We weren’t under siege yet, but the men and women in this room would get a siege mentality real quick. Survival of the strongest; or in this case, the politically strongest.

Scary thing was, in another day or two, Carnades Silvanus would have his votes. He knew that, too.

“Not at this time, Archmagus Valerian.” The elf mage was the very picture of civility. No one who just walked in would ever think that he’d just calmly suggested killing hundreds of people to save his sorry hide. “I merely ask that this council be open to all solutions to the dire situation we find ourselves in.” He inclined his head to Mychael. “Though like Paladin Eiliesor, I sincerely hope that the report is false and there is no need for alarm.” Carnades looked at me. “However, we all must be prepared to make sacrifices.”

“Son of a bitch!”

We were in Justinius’s office. I was pacing and cussing, Mychael was standing in the center of the room, and the old man was pouring liquor for all of us.

The only thing I wanted more than a stiff drink was Carnades’s face in front of my punching fist.

Repeatedly.

I was more than furious at Carnades. I was furious at myself, my situation, and that whatever I did, I was going to die and die horribly. Die knowing that an untold number of people would be following me in the war that would result, and nothing I could do would stop the killing.

I didn’t say a word between the Seat’s council room and Justinius’s office, but I was thinking plenty. There was a solution, the only solution that might not involve my immediate death.

Call a Reaper. Let it draw out all of the Saghred’s souls through me. It’d probably take mine with it, but at least the stone could be shattered once it was empty.

In theory.

I didn’t know any of this for certain. What I did know for certain was that Sarad Nukpana wouldn’t turn around and go home when he was told that “The Saghred’s been pounded to dust. No power to be had here. Nothing to see. Move along.” Nukpana would move along, all right. Getting his hands on that rock had been his lifelong obsession. Then I’d tricked Sarad Nukpana into touching the Saghred with his bloody hand and the rock slurped him up as a sacrifice, destroying his body and imprisoning his soul. The goblin fought his way free, and when he couldn’t regenerate his body by consuming the life forces of mages, he claimed the freshly killed body of his uncle for his own.

Sarad Nukpana wanted me dead. He wanted me worse than dead. And he’d destroy every elf he could hunt down, because an elf had deprived him of his ultimate prize. Out of spite, the goblin would destroy everyone I loved, but I’d already be dead. I snorted. Yeah, lucky me.

“Son of a bitch!” The phrase was getting a bit old, but nothing expressed frustration like repetitive swearing.

“We won’t use the Saghred and we won’t use you.”

Mychael said it like a solemn promise, and I knew he would do everything in his power to prevent either from happening, but this was something he wouldn’t be able to stop alone.

“And we sure as hell aren’t slaughtering our people to feed the damned rock,” Justinius said. He flashed an evil grin. “Though if Carnades is so keen on pushing that proposal of his, the smarmy bastard can be first in line. The Saghred finds magic users especially tasty.”

Normally, my sick sense of humor would like the idea of Carnades paying the price for his own evil plot. But “the front of the line” meant the first to have his soul sucked into the Saghred through me, after I’d been coated in his blood. Nothing to laugh at there. Screaming for the rest of my soon-to-be-terminated life would be more like it.

Justinius handed a drink to me, then gave one to Mychael. “My predecessor exiled . . . excuse me, assigned Carnades to be the Conclave emissary to the goblin court. I think he hoped Carnades would have what goblin courtiers call an accident, but the bastard came back to Mid just like a rash on my bony ass.”

“I saw Carnades before the meeting,” I told them.

Mychael’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I expected the usual threats, but he’s getting creative.” I told them what Carnades had threatened to have done to Phaelan unless I took a stroll over to the elven embassy, knocked on the door, and asked to move in. I didn’t mention the five goblin mages at the harbor this morning—and my sudden urge to stop their interference by permanently stopping them. I hadn’t killed anyone, therefore it wasn’t a problem. Yet.

Justinius set his glass on his desk. It was empty. “You need to let your cousin know that he’s a target.”

“So he can do something stupid like come on shore after Carnades?” I countered.

Mychael’s lips turned up in a slow grin. “Just tell your Uncle Ryn. He’s told me some stories, and several of them ended up with him literally sitting on Phaelan. He knows how to keep his son in line.”

I nodded. “And Uncle Ryn can keep his temper. He won’t go after Carnades—at least not directly.” I chuckled, and it sounded a little evil, even to me.

Think, Raine. Yes, you’re tired. Yes, you’re scared out of your mind. Yes, you’ve got so many people who want you dead or worse that they’re going to have to start taking numbers. And to top it off, you nearly married one of them. You want to live to see next week? Then get a grip on yourself. If you’re going down, take some of those people down with you.

“How long until you have confirmation of what Nukpana and his pet king are really up to?” I asked Mychael.

“Sky dragon flight time between here and Regor is two days. I’ve told my men not to get too close. Any closer than three miles and Nukpana will be able to sense them even with the veils they’re using. All they’re looking for are signs that a lot of magic is building up. In my opinion, that would more than prove Chigaru’s claim.”

The three of us didn’t need proof. We knew Chigaru wasn’t lying. Though the human mage was right; it’d be a great way to get an island full of mages to help take on his big brother. And one way or another Sathrik Mal’Salin and his army were coming. At least the goblin army was coming. I really couldn’t see Sathrik stepping through that Gate until he was sure that no one was left standing who could so much as ruffle his hair. And if we were in that condition, Sarad Nukpana could just stroll into the citadel and scoop up the Saghred. If I were dead, the stone would bond to him like a starving newborn.

Unless the rock was dust.

“Solutions, gentlemen?” I really wanted another one other than my soul in the stomach—or whatever—of a Reaper.

Justinius didn’t hesitate. “We fight.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Against an army.”

The old man grinned. “I never said how we would fight.”

I looked at Mychael. He was already looking at me. He also knew what I was thinking.

“Absolutely not,” he told me.

“We can’t let Nukpana get his hands on the Saghred.” I said. “You know how obscenely strong he is now. If he gets the Saghred, no one or nothing will be able to stop him.” I hesitated. “Which means we have to stop this now.”

“Reapers?” Justinius asked.

I looked at him in surprise.

“I know what’s going on in my own citadel, girl,” he said with a trace of a smile. “You’ve been working with Vidor Kalta. Find out anything?”

Kalta was a nachtmagus. He was human, and a great guy for someone who worked with dead people for a living. A nachtmagus could control the dead—in all of their forms. Communicating with the dead was the least of what they could do. I’d heard that given enough time, money, and motivation they could raise the dead. Reapers weren’t dead, but like Vidor Kalta, they worked closely with them.

“Through my link to the Saghred, I’m also connected to the souls trapped inside,” I told him. “And since I’m also a conduit for the rock’s power, I can serve the same function for its inmates. Reapers calm panic. If I were dying on a battlefield, I could see where a cool, soothing calm would be a good thing. The souls they’ve already drawn out of me wanted to leave the rock. Too bad for me it felt like someone was dragging my insides out through my chest. Multiply that a couple thousand times . . . if it didn’t kill me, I’d be wishing that someone would.”

“Is that all he could tell you?” Justinius asked.

“No, but none of the rest of it does anything to help me.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “He’s sent out some carefully worded queries to a few colleagues that he trusts. Some of them specialize in Reapers and their behavior—a few of them are actually still alive and didn’t get eaten by their own homework.” I looked at Mychael. “How much time do we have until that Gate’s ready?”

“Judging from what Chigaru’s spies said, we have about five days. It’ll be enough time to get the students off the island—and anyone else who wants to leave.” He paused. “I want you to be one of them.”

“We’ve had this discussion; I’ve given you my answer and it’s still the same one. If anyone needs to leave, it’s you. I’m not the one who got shot at this morning.”

Justinius raised one bushy, white eyebrow. “Now that I didn’t know. Care to fill me in, son?”

Mychael did, but left out any mention of my relation to said killer.

“That tells me who, what, and when,” Justinius said when Mychael finished. “But why did he pick you for a target?”

I spoke right up. “I can answer that one, sir.” No use trying to hide it. I laid it out for him, simply and directly.

The old man whistled. “Damn, girl. And here I was thinking that your knack for finding trouble started with the Saghred.”

I sighed. “No, sir. Unfortunately, trouble is what I find best. Always has been.”

“You do a fine job of it.”

“Thank you, sir.” I tossed back the rest of my drink. “Though I’m working on something that could take care of Rache’s itchy trigger finger and suck the wind out of Carnades’s sails at the same time.”

“We believe that Rache Kai was paid by Taltek Balmorlan to assassinate the prince,” Mychael said.

Justinius glowered. “Balmorlan also wants to get his hands on our girl here.” If Balmorlan had been in the room right now, I had no doubt that the old man would have turned him into the cockroach that he really was and then stomped on him. I had to really resist the urge to kiss the old guy.

“And Carnades is Balmorlan’s newest best friend—and investor,” I told him.

“You have proof?” Justinius asked.

“Let’s just say that I know someone at Balmorlan’s bank.”

Justinius smiled slowly. “Is this someone willing to help?”

I grinned. “Willing and eager.”

“You know that Carnades isn’t going to wait until he gets the votes he needs.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “Neither am I.”