Bewitched & Betrayed rb-4 Read online

  “She’s most definitely trouble, but no one has ever successfully made her leave.”

  Vegard grinned in a flash of teeth. “She’s never been persuaded by a Guardian.”

  Tam’s laugh was a short bark. “And you’ve never met the head of the goblin secret service.”

  Chapter 7

  When we’d arrived, the street outside Sirens had been fairly busy. Now not a soul was in sight—except for my Guardians and an equal number of equally well- armed goblins. Goblins were normally tall; these guys were taller than that, and would probably have looked just as big without all that black body armor. It was way too quiet; we were in the middle of a city and the only sound was the uneasy shifting of horses’ hooves on the cobbles and the occasional equine snort. That was just wrong.

  Everyone was on horseback except for Tam and me and the Guardians who had been inside Sirens. Rathdowne Street was more of a broad boulevard than a street, but it was still entirely too full of armed goblins for my taste.

  The sun was down, leaving only the faintest glow, and the streetlamps had been lit. Damn, I hadn’t meant to stay this long. Grim-faced Guardians were alert to any move the goblins made or were even thinking about making. I could have cut the tension with a spoon. Somehow I didn’t think that the first move was going to be friendly handshakes.

  I counted ten goblins in the street in front of Sirens, with a pair guarding—or blocking—both ends of Rathdowne Street. The same number of Guardians had moved to cover them. Mid was under a dusk-to-dawn curfew, so what would have normally been a crowded street in the middle of the entertainment district was conveniently empty of witnesses for whatever was about to happen.

  Guardians and city watch patrolled the city to enforce the curfew. Overhead, periodic plumes of fire marked where Guardian sentry dragons prowled the sky over the city, nimble and quick enough that their riders could land pretty much anywhere they wanted. If anything happened down here, any one of the Guardians with me could instantly conjure and launch a flare. Backup was just a fireball away. One of the goblins occasionally glanced skyward. They knew what was up there. It might be a deterrent; it might not.

  One horse and its goblin rider were slightly out in front of the others. Since she was the only woman in the group, I assumed that she was Imala Kalis. Unlike some of her men, she didn’t look in the least bit tense; in fact, the goblin was smiling. Her face was half in shadow, but since that smile gave everyone a good look at a pair of tiny, white, and obviously sharp fangs, her intention could have been anything. But it had been my experience that social calls generally weren’t made with an armed escort. Imala Kalis could have brought two dozen mounted and heavily armed men with her for protection, or it could have been for persuasion. My bet was on the latter.

  “You’re not going to invite me inside, Tam?” Imala Kalis’s voice was like a silk-covered stiletto.

  “You, possibly,” Tam said coolly. “Your muscle, highly unlikely.”

  “You’ve refused my invitations, so if I wished to speak with you, you left me no choice but to come to your place of business. And considering the present political climate, I could hardly make a social call by myself.”

  I stepped out of the shadows to stand next to Tam. I was certain he’d prefer if I stayed out of sight, but I wanted a closer look at Imala Kalis—and I wanted her to get a closer look at me. My family doesn’t like being intimidated, and while I knew Tam didn’t intimidate, I wasn’t going to stand in the shadows while the lady played her little games. I’d ditched the fake blades; my own razor-sharp ones were now strapped in clear view across my back. Imala Kalis’s guards shifted uneasily at the sign of an armed elf. I didn’t hide my magical power; I didn’t flaunt it, either. It never hurts to let them know you’re packing.

  Imala Kalis didn’t look uneasy or even a wee bit nervous. Her smile just got wider. “Mistress Benares, I presume.”

  I bared my teeth to match hers. “Presumption correct.”

  “I expected you to be taller.” She swung a graceful leg over her horse’s neck and dismounted, landing lightly on the cobbles.

  Damned if she wasn’t shorter than I was. The streetlamps gave me a good look at her face. I have to admit I was surprised there, too. The head of the goblin secret service, the agent at the top of the ladder, the lady in the big office was . . . well, cute.

  Her face was oval, delicate, and pretty. It’d been my experience that goblin women were tall and coldly beautiful. Imala Kalis was petite and perky. She looked like someone’s cute little sister, someone’s cute and deadly little sister. And I wasn’t the only one packing magic. Imala Kalis had nowhere near the level of talent that the Saghred had cursed me with, but it was obvious that she knew her way around a spell or two. She might be petite, but magically speaking she was no lightweight. Large, dark eyes shone with a keen intelligence and secrets, lots of secrets. One look at this lady told me that she probably had schemes and plots piled on top of motives, and she didn’t bother with alibis, or care who she had to kill. In other words, a perfect goblin.

  Imala Kalis stepped forward and extended her hand. It was gloved; so was mine. A handshake between mages was more than a greeting. Skin-on-skin contact combined with a quick questing spell could let a mage assess the true power of another. That was one reason when mages got together there was a lot of head nodding and bowing going on.

  I took two steps and accepted her hand, and there were hisses, a couple of growls, and one “shit” when I did it. The last one came from Vegard. I shook Imala Kalis’s hand because I wanted to and it would be rude not to. I also had three reasons why it was perfectly safe. One, I was wearing thick gloves; two, thanks to the Saghred, I was packing more than enough power to protect myself; and three, if Imala Kalis tried a questing spell on me, I’d be using my fist on her.

  She looked in my eyes, and I think she knew all three. Her smile turned into a grin, and I swear the woman had dimples. A cute killer goblin with dimples. Damn.

  “You are not what I expected, Mistress Benares.” She actually looked happy about that.

  “You’re not exactly what I envisioned, either.”

  “I get that comment quite often.”

  “I’m sure you do.” And looking into those sharp, intelligent eyes, anyone would be making a fatal mistake if they underestimated her for one second. I wondered if those dimples had been the last thing some people had seen before being dispatched to their great reward. I shrugged. “What you see is what I am.”

  “I very much doubt that.” Imala Kalis raised her voice to address her men. “Gentlemen, this is the lady who tricked Sarad Nukpana into feeding himself to the Saghred.”

  The goblins with her grinned; a few chuckled darkly. I wasn’t sure if either was a good thing since both involved me seeing a lot of fangs. If a goblin wanted to kill you, they would prefer a single, efficient slash or stab; but like I said, in a down-and-dirty fight, they would use their fangs to fatal effect. I’d seen the aftermath before; it wasn’t pretty.

  Tam stepped forward to stand at my side, so close I could feel his tense disapproval. He didn’t want me here.

  “There is no love lost between the secret service and Sarad Nukpana—and his Khrynsani,” he explained. His voice was preternaturally calm, which meant that Tam wasn’t.

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, Mistress Benares,” Imala Kalis said without taking her bright black eyes from Tam. “We each curse the ground the other walks on.”

  I assumed she was talking about Nukpana and the Khrynsani, not Tam, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

  Tam didn’t bat an eye. “It’s one of the few viewpoints we have ever agreed upon.”

  Score one point for Imala Kalis’s people, though I wasn’t going to be in a hurry to give them any more. Like I said, she hadn’t brought that many guards with her because she was afraid of being mugged. This tiny woman didn’t get to where she was by being afraid of much, if anything. Tam towered over her by a good foot, and she showed no sign
of stepping back; if anything, the lady looked challenged and happy about it.

  “It is indeed convenient that you are here, Mistress Benares,” she said. “I’ve been asked to deliver this to you.”

  She drew an intricately folded piece of parchment out of her sleekly tailored doublet and extended it to me.

  I made no move to touch it. “And this is from . . .”

  “Ambassador Rudra Muralin.” Imala Kalis flashed her dainty fangs. “Excuse me, my mistake—Ambassador Rudra Mal’Salin. False identities are so inconvenient to remember.”

  Imala Kalis hadn’t forgotten a thing. I knew it and so did she. Rudra Muralin was a thousand-year-old goblin, the blackest of dark mages who had used the Saghred to slaughter thousands and enslave thousands more.

  Rudra Muralin wanted the Saghred. He needed me dead.

  Any old death would do just as long as he was the first mage to reach the rock after my untimely demise.

  I still made no move to touch Rudra’s letter. “It’s been opened.”

  Imala Kalis laughed. “Of course it has. First I had to break the spell, then the seal. It was a nasty one, too.”

  “Hardly surprising. Then you’ve read it.”

  “Yes, it was the most direct way to confirm what else he’s up to. The contents are no surprise to me—as I doubt they will be to you. My advice is to read it, burn it, and ignore it. His assurances are lies and his promises poison.”

  I took the parchment and, after muttering a quick shielding spell, I unfolded the paper, holding it so Tam could read along with me.

  Imala Kalis was right; Rudra’s letter contained the same demands, though he had made the effort to spin a new, sick twist on them. He still wanted me and the Saghred. And like Sarad Nukpana, Rudra knew about the umi’atsu bond between me, Tam, Mychael, and the Saghred. And the only way to stop him from posting an announcement on the citadel’s front doors would be for me to surrender to him.

  Come to the goblin embassy alone and your secret is safe. If you come to me, Tamnais and Mychael will not be exposed. Refuse me and you will all die—and I will still get what I want. It will merely take longer. I offer you the opportunity to save Tamnais and Mychael. They would give their lives for you. Would you give your soul for them?

  Several weeks ago, Tam, Mychael, and I had used the power we could generate and share through our umi’atsu bond to close a Hellgate that Rudra Muralin and his black mage allies had opened. Imala Kalis had been there in the shadows, watching. She knew what we’d done—and how we’d done it.

  My first impulse was to mutter a fire spell and torch the offending piece of parchment. As usual, Rudra didn’t sign it, so it was worthless as evidence against him, but Mychael would want to see it, so I folded it and put it in the small leather purse on my belt. No way was I tucking anything Rudra had touched inside my doublet. If I were Imala Kalis, when I went home, I’d take a bath.

  As to what I was going to do about it—bottom line was that I didn’t like being bullied. When I was a kid, being small meant I’d been a target; being a Benares meant deadly backup was a whistle away. The only thing I hated more than a bully was asking someone to protect me from one. I took on my own bullies, thank you very much—even if they were thousand-year-old, obscenely powerful psychotic megalomaniacs.

  “Vintage Rudra,” I noted dryly. “I give him what he wants and he promises to kill me nicely.” I looked directly at Imala Kalis. “And are you here to tell me the same thing?”

  She gazed at me a moment, her expression unreadable. “I am not. I have no intentions of revealing the contents of that letter.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s one of those things that I’ll believe when I don’t see it.”

  “Considering who and what the two of us are, I expected no less. I’m not asking for your belief or trust; though you will know soon enough that my words are the truth.”

  “That would be nice, but I’m not going to hold my breath for it.”

  She shrugged. “Were I in your place, I would do the same.” She gave me a small, self-satisfied smile. “And do not concern yourself with Rudra Muralin. The ambassador will be unable to act on any of his threats for at least the next three days.”

  “Three days?”

  Cute turned to fierce. “Rudra Muralin poisoned two of my people. They nearly died. Naturally, I retaliated. Three days is the length of time it takes to recover from a particular intestinal malady caused by a certain tasteless and odorless plant. Several of the ambassador’s closest advisors have mysteriously contracted it and are spending most of their time in the privy.” She smiled fully. “Whenever the ambassador wants advice, he has to go to where his advisors are. He’s quite unused to carrying out a plan without his lackeys. Your secret is safe for at least that long.”

  Tam laughed. “Rudra forced to plot in the privy. If it weren’t for the stench, I’d almost pay to see that.”

  “Unfortunately, Rudra didn’t eat the fish that night,” Imala Kalis told him. “I knew I should have put it in the beef.” She shrugged. “He has to eat again sometime. If he wishes to avoid an embassy-wide case of the runs, he will come to terms with me.”

  “Terms?”

  “I will accept nothing short of his resignation, then I will personally see him on a ship back to Regor—or to Hell for all I care.”

  “Didn’t King Sathrik appoint him personally?” I asked.

  “As head of the secret service, Imala outranks a mere ambassador,” Tam informed me.

  Nice.

  “And Sathrik knows of your botanical activities?” I asked Imala.

  The cute smile was back. “It is not my intention to tell him.”

  “You know who and what and how old Rudra Muralin is, right?” I asked her.

  “I make it my business to know my enemies, Mistress Benares—to know what strengths can be turned against them and which weaknesses may be exploited. I think I would refer to that creature as a ‘what,’ not a ‘who.’ ”

  I grinned at her. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know why Imala Kalis was here or what she wanted, but I had to admit that the lady had style. “Rudra with the runs; that would be priceless.”

  “Since he has a food taster whom I do not wish to harm, I’ve now tainted his soap. He’s especially fond of bathing.”

  “Are the contents of that letter why you’re here?” Tam asked Imala Kalis.

  I knew he meant her knowing about our umi’atsu bond.

  “No.” She lowered her voice. “It is not in my best interests, or yours, for the contents of that letter to become public.”

  “When will it be in your best interests?” Frost rolled off of Tam’s words.

  “Never.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I didn’t expect you to. I’m here to help you. And if we can stop standing in the middle of the street, I can tell you why.”

  Tam lowered his voice. “You can tell me right here.”

  “And if I refuse?” Her words were playful but her eyes weren’t.

  “Then Raine and I will go inside—and you and your men will leave.”

  All signs of cute instantly vanished. “This is not a topic you want discussed openly.”

  “I’ll decide that,” Tam countered smoothly. “Tell me what—”

  There was a whistle and a thump and a goblin guard’s eyes went wide in pain and shock. He slid from horse to the street, a crossbow bolt embedded in his back. Two of the goblins posted at the end of the street were next. Then the air was thick with shouts and bolts.

  I caught a flash of one of the shooters on a roof across the street. Dark clothes, with a tight, dark hood over his head.

  The goblins nearest Imala Kalis instantly surrounded her, forming a goblin and equine shield around their boss. Tam and Vegard moved to protect me. They needn’t have bothered. I was in the shadows of Sirens before they could pull me there. I didn’t want to be turned into a pincushion, and I did want to know who was trying to make m
e one.

  Vegard’s hands glowed incandescent white. The glow turned to white flame, spinning faster than the eye could follow into a whirling ball of fire. One shot skyward, a flare blazing straight up into the night sky. Vegard held the second fireball in his hand and scanned the rooftops. His lips curled back from his teeth in a feral snarl as he hurled it at the roofline of a nightclub across the street. A sniper erupted in burning white light and fell screaming three stories down to the street. There wasn’t much left when he landed. A blast of flame from a sentry dragon circling in the skies above the city signaled that Vegard’s flare had been seen. A second and a third dragon responded to the call. Backup was on the way, but would there be anything left of us when they got here?

  A voice shouted three words from above us, each with its own discordant pitch and vibrating with a power that charged the air like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It was magic—raw, potent, and dangerous.

  Talon.

  Oh hell, kid. Not now.

  I looked up to see Talon leaning out of a window two stories above us, his eyes fixed on a figure in the shadows not a dozen feet from where we were standing.

  Shit.

  I drew blades and the man didn’t move; I mean, he didn’t move at all. He had a crossbow, it was loaded, but it was only half-raised. The man was frozen. Not with a paralysis spell; I knew the residuals of a paralysis spell. This wasn’t it. It was as if Talon had stopped time for him.

  That was impossible.

  Tam saw what his son had done, and from the nearly sick expression on his face, I knew it was something Talon had no business doing, especially not with a street full of goblin secret service agents.

  Talon nimbly swung out of the window and onto a fire escape ladder attached to the stone wall. The kid wasn’t coming down to us; he was running up that ladder to the roof.

  Now it was my turn to feel sick. There were snipers up there and Talon was going after them. Alone. Recently Talon had taken on a major demon with his voice, and at that moment I’d known that the kid’s spellsongs weren’t limited to making Sirens’ clientele horny.