The lighting in the embassy was dim enough for goblin comfort, but bright enough so that the elven or human guests wouldn’t bump into each other. As in Tam’s place, the lighting was purely for theatrical effect. Playing tricks on the eyes with light and shadow.

I didn’t like it one bit.

I wasn’t just being paranoid. I was being watched. The black-garbed Mal’Salin guards and courtiers blended in all too well with the decorative shadows. They were watching me; but to be fair, they were also watching everyone else. And just because the official color for Mal’Salin guards was black didn’t mean there weren’t watchful loyalists lurking around wearing silver gossamer or pink butterfly wings. I was certain the embassy was positively seething with those alert for troublemakers, and especially watching for me. While Sarad Nukpana hadn’t requested that we attend the ball, I know he had to have been expecting it.

Garadin hovered by my side. Vegard was an oddly comforting presence just behind my right shoulder. The blond berserker was as armed as he could be and not clank. If all hell broke loose at some point in the evening, as a Guardian, Vegard was more than qualified to acquire any weapons he needed from one of the many Mal’Salin guards taking up useful space. I welcomed his company.

I leaned over to Garadin. “You’d think if Sathrik was that paranoid about someone trying to stick a knife in his ribs tonight, he would have just stayed home.”

“Murder and intrigue are as natural to the Mal’Salins as breathing,” he told me.

“Then Sathrik’s in for the time of his life tonight.”

I tried to locate A’Zahra Nuru without being obvious. Considering the vision restriction of wearing a mask, and the plumed velvet enormity that was the hat on my head, doing anything subtle was next to impossible. But I tried, and I looked, and I didn’t see the goblin primari. That was good and bad. I didn’t want to run into her, but I also wanted to keep anyone who I knew was after me in my line of sight. The beacon was no help. It just continued to hum happily. I would have liked to have shared its positive outlook, but my other senses that I had had for far longer, and trusted far more, told me otherwise.

I just wanted to find the Saghred before Sarad Nukpana found me.

“Are you ready?” came a deep voice close enough to touch.

It was all I could do to keep both feet on the floor.

It was Mychael.

“Don’t do that!” I managed, once I got past my heart in my throat.

“Shall we?” he said, offering me his arm.

I hesitated, then placed my hand on top of his. “Let the fun begin.”

As we made our way up the black marble staircase, I hoped that we didn’t draw too much attention clumped together as we were. We were supposed to be the Count of Eilde and his new bride just home from their wedding and honeymoon in Rina. Accompanying them were her younger brother, Tamas, his tutor, and a pair of bodyguards. Fortunately there were others who were similarly grouped. I guess when most of your guests are from the aristocracy of various kingdoms, there will be more than your fair share of burly types looking uncomfortable in unaccustomed finery. That being the case, Vegard and Riston didn’t look in the least bit out of place fidgeting with their embroidered collars.

Once on the landing, I saw that the portion of the window not taken up with the serpent crest was clear glass and gave me a good view of the gardens behind the embassy. The moon was on the wane, but still provided ample light. On the edge of the trees was a stone wall approximately head height.

Mychael paused next to me. “That’s the outer wall of the temple ruins. The mausoleum is at the center.”

The beacon thrummed against my chest, as if sensing an impending reunion, a little thrill of excitement to add to its happiness. As a result, my stomach experienced a similar sensation, though it was neither thrilling nor happy. My hand went to my stomach again. The wave of nausea wasn’t a remnant from the gondola ride.

“Ocnus was right. That’s the place.”

Mychael was right, too. There were plenty of elaborately be-gowned and bejeweled ladies to keep me company. Next to some of them, my gown was downright plain. And those were just the guests waiting in the corridor to be announced.

That brought up another problem I had.

Protocol demanded that we be announced to the other guests before we entered the ballroom. For the duration of that announcement, every eye in the room would be fixed on us—and most of those eyes didn’t belong to friendlies. Some of them belonged to goblins who had seen me and Piaras two nights ago. Not nearly enough time for us to have faded from their memory.

I was masked, hatted, and garbed in yards of velvet and silk.

I felt as naked as the day I was born.

“Is this necessary?” I hissed to Mychael.

“It is if you want to get into the garden.”

I thought he’d say something like that.

“I thought you didn’t want to attract attention,” I reminded him.

“The wrong kind,” he clarified. “Entering without being announced would be extremely rude to our host. That would attract attention that we do not want.”

“Far be it from me to be rude.”

Mychael wisely chose not to comment.

We stepped up to the threshold.

When we were announced, everyone turned and looked—and kept looking.

I felt like a mouse in a room full of hungry cats.

The ballroom took up the entire back of the embassy with floor-to-ceiling windows opening out onto a panoramic view of the gardens and the brightly lit harbor beyond. It was full of ships and was an impressive sight in the moonlight. I guess that was one of the advantages of being rich, you could enjoy a harbor view without any of the sounds or smells of the real thing.

Piaras stood next to me looking out at the view, and at the swirling riot of color as the guests danced. His mouth dropped open. I hooked a finger under his chin and closed it for him.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s a nice view,” I told him. “Enjoy it while you can; we won’t be staying long.”

“Good.”

While Piaras was enjoying the view, I noticed that more than a few noble ladies, both goblin and elven, were enjoying the view of Piaras. I glared a few of them down; a few more appeared to be more determined—or patient. I knew as soon as I left Piaras’s side he’d have plenty of company. Company I was determined he was not going to have, and certainly not at an embassy ball crawling with Mal’Salins.

The glass that covered the south wall wasn’t all windows. There were also glass doors opening onto the terrace. From there, stairs led down into the ornamental gardens, and beyond that to the mausoleum. Tonight the doors were open to admit the cool, night breezes, but no one was on the terrace to enjoy it. Protocol had once again reared its ugly head. Until the goblin king had made his entrance, everyone was encouraged to remain in the ballroom. And being familiar now with the goblin sense of the dramatic, I was sure Sathrik Mal’Salin would want to wait until all of his guests had arrived, so that his entrance would have the maximum impact. That being the case, we were due for an extended wait. However, I couldn’t see Sathrik cooling his heels in an anteroom somewhere until midnight. I know if I were throwing myself a party, I’d want to be there to enjoy it.

Once the goblin king had made his entrance, the count’s bride would suddenly be in dire and desperate need of fresh air. Being from the provinces, it would be her first trip to her new home, and she would be understandably overwhelmed by all the pageantry and excitement. And as an elven lady of gentle birth, she could hardly be allowed to wander alone in the gardens at an embassy ball. After all, there were trees and tall shrubs. Apparently the upper classes considered close proximity to foliage a threat to a lady’s virtue, even a married one.