I looked around at the onlookers swarming around Nigel’s townhouse. Give it another hour and it’d be a full-fledged circus. “Good luck.”

“We’ll need it.”

“Any chance you’ll be able to trace the Gate back to its source?”

“Possibly. It wasn’t that messy of a job. But anyone talented enough to open a Gate would have enough talent to clean up after himself better than that—or so you’d think.”

Unless he were annoyed or injured—or just didn’t care.

“The goblins who ripped the Gate must have taken their casualties back with them,” Janek said. “There’s too much blood for the number of bodies we’ve found. Apparently they tore a Gate right into the house to get in and left the same way.”

“That took a lot of effort,” I said.

“Blew every house ward Nigel had right to hell.”

So much for why Quentin hadn’t set off any alarms.

“Once all hell broke loose, I’d imagine neatness didn’t count for much,” I said.

“True.” Janek agreed. “Where were you last night? You’ve never struck me as the curious onlooker type.”

It was a casual question, but Janek never did or said anything casually. I let an easy smile spread across my face. It’s a talent I’ve developed over the years. “You suspect me of being in Nigel’s garden with a small army of goblins?”

He shrugged. “You know a lot of goblins. If there was trouble, and if you weren’t in it, you’d at least know about it.” His green eyes narrowed slightly. “But, if you knew something you could tell me, you would.”

Over the years we’d known each other, we had on more than one occasion known something about what the other was investigating. And on more than one occasion, we couldn’t immediately share that information. Once circumstances untangled themselves, we shared what we knew. My circumstances were about as tangled as they could get. Janek’s weren’t much better with the watch commissioner breathing down his neck.

“If I find out something myself, I’ll share it if I can,” I promised.

It wasn’t a lie, because I didn’t know anything that would help Janek with his investigation of Nigel’s disappearance.

“Any chance I could see the bedroom and hall where the Gate was opened?”

Janek shrugged. “I don’t see any reason why not. You might find something we missed.”

That’s what I was hoping for. Something along the lines of a small, white box.

Janek wasn’t joking when he said the bedroom was destroyed. Raised on the streets of Mermeia, Quentin knew how to fight and fight dirty. When cornered, the dirtiness escalated tenfold. That he was surprised by several Khrynsani shamans only made matters worse. After Quentin left the room through the nearest window, the Khrynsani and their underlings had conducted their own search. Judging from the destruction, they had to be quick about it, and they weren’t happy with what they didn’t find. Janek was lucky he had a room left to investigate. But he didn’t know what he was looking for. I did.

The floor was covered with broken bits and pieces of what were once Nigel’s personal possessions. I gave a low, impressed whistle for Janek’s benefit, then scanned the floor between the bed and shattered windows for the white stone box.

Nothing. I tried not to make my disappointment too obvious. Fortunately, Janek was talking to a young watcher posted by the door and didn’t notice. The compartment concealed in the headboard was open, the contents strewn across the bed.

No white stone box.

The bed had been moved at an angle and searched. It was massive, so I knew Quentin hadn’t moved it, and that left only the Khrynsani and their temple guards. They knew that Quentin had taken the amulet, so the object of their search could only be one other thing. The same thing I was looking for. And from the absence of that thing anywhere in the room, I’d say they found it. Damn.

A gleam of blue metal caught my eye next to the bed. I walked over and knelt next to it, but was careful not to touch it. Things were looking up. Maybe I could tell Janek who his culprits were without incriminating myself.

“What did you find?” Janek asked.

“Your house wreckers left a calling card,” I told him.

Janek knelt next to me. “It’s a medallion. Nigel has a lot of those.”

“Not one like this.”

“Like what?”

“This is goblin.”

He started to reach for it.

“Khrynsani,” I said.

Janek’s hand stopped midreach. My friend didn’t get to where he was by being stupid.

“You’re sure?”

I could feel the malice oozing from it—and so could the amulet around my neck. I was also treated to some sibilant goblin chanting. I could hear it. Janek couldn’t. I knew goblin. I knew what they were saying, and it wasn’t anything I wanted to hear. That particular piece of jewelry had been worn by a very bad goblin while he did some very bad things. And recently. My guess was Sarad Nukpana’s Gatekeeper. Or Nukpana himself. The chain was broken—maybe Quentin had helped him remove it.

“Unfortunately positive,” I said.

“Someone was careless.”

Janek turned to the watcher who remained steadfastly by the door. For the most part, Janek’s people were either sorcerers themselves or sensitives, those who were acutely aware of the presence of sorcery, but without talent themselves. From his clear desire to be elsewhere, I’d guess the young human was the latter. I didn’t blame him in the least. Khrynsani magical leftovers gave me the creeps, too.

“Willem, go downstairs and have Riggs bring up a containment box.” As the young man left, Janek lowered his voice so only I could hear. “So, you think I should pay a visit to the goblin embassy this afternoon?”

His words said one thing. His tone said something else entirely. Janek wasn’t asking my professional opinion. He was asking my opinion based on what I had seen when I was here last night, or my close association to whoever had. I glanced at him. He was wearing his best fess-up look.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an opinion on why the Khrynsani would bother to rip a Gate into this house, would you?” he asked.

I indicated the wreck of a bedroom. “They seemed to be looking for something.”

“Know what it was?”

“I have no idea what the thing was, or why they want it.” That definitely wasn’t a lie. Other than an amulet, I didn’t know what it was, what it did, or why they wanted it. But finding out had become my new life’s goal.

Janek took a small sealed envelope out of his cloak’s inner pocket. “Considering who sent this, I thought you might.”

I took the envelope from him. There was no return address and the seal had the outline of a dove in the center. That told me who it was from. Markus Sevelien. No one who knew Markus would ever equate him with a dove. Maybe that’s why he used it; maybe it was just his twisted sense of humor. My vote was for the latter.

“That red-headed messenger of Markus’s brought it,” Janek said. “Wonder how he knew to bring it here?”

I cringed inwardly and broke the seal and opened the envelope. “You know Markus is good.”

“Yeah, he’s good. So good he knew where you were going even before you got here.”

From what I’d told him in the note I’d sent from the safehouse, Markus had to have known I’d come back to Nigel’s. I’d be willing to bet an identical note had been delivered to the senior-ranking watcher working the crime scene at Stocken’s warehouse. Markus liked to be thorough.

I tried to ignore the scowl that had taken up residence on Janek’s face and scanned the note. After a quick read, my face must have been a perfect match for his.

Those few words scratched on parchment made me officially homeless. There were no safehouses available as of this morning. They were all being used by elven diplomats and their retinues arriving in town for the goblin king’s masked ball. No doubt Phaelan and Quentin had been asked to leave if they hadn’t already cleared out. For his sake, I hoped Bertran had asked Phaelan nicely. I sighed. The pack that hung over my shoulder was small, but it had suddenly gotten a whole lot heavier.