From what I’d found out over the past two days, the Saghred would probably like nothing better than to demonstrate how it had gotten its nickname. I had a sneaking suspicion that was exactly what Nukpana had in mind. No doubt he’d like a little demonstration from the object he’d gone to so much trouble to get. And there was nothing like a spilled life to buy the life-long friendship of a soul-stealing rock. Spilled lifeblood to open it, and a soul sacrifice to tap its power, Prince Chigaru had said. I experienced an image of my father and the wraiths caught inside the stone. Nukpana needed me alive. He wanted Piaras alive. That left A’Zahra Nuru and the goblin prince. I didn’t know which one he planned for the instant death or the prolonged one, but it didn’t matter. Neither choice was acceptable to me.

I saw a gathering of stones ahead through the trees. It looked sickeningly similar to another rock altar in another part of The Ruins. Now I knew where we were going, but I still didn’t know what I was going to do when we got there in a few minutes. Sarad Nukpana held all the cards, and I was left with a bad hand and an even less promising chance at a bluff.

I wouldn’t bet on me, but plenty of others were.

Suddenly, I had an idea. And since the beacon was busy being happy, I knew I had come up with it all by my lonesome. As far as plans went, it was simple, and simple was often best. In theory. Problem was, theories that didn’t work had a bad habit of blowing up in your face. My plan also involved a couple of things I’d rather not do, like getting close to Sarad Nukpana—and even closer to the Saghred.

The first part of my plan was painless enough. It was a question. A question I now knew the answer to, thanks to my father. But Nukpana didn’t know I’d met my father.

“Why me?” I asked Nukpana.

If I couldn’t get a distraction, I’d take a delay. I didn’t care about getting Nukpana to reveal the vast scope and sordid details of his evil plan; I just wanted to keep him talking. As long as he was talking, he couldn’t start sacrificing. Tarsilia had always said, get a man talking about his favorite subject, and he’d forget just about everything else. I hoped she was right.

The goblin paused at the question. He didn’t seem baffled by it, merely interested. “You are your father’s daughter,” he said, as if that explained everything.

I swallowed. “And blood links are the best kind for this sort of thing.”

“Precisely.”

“How did you know him?”

“Let us say we shared similar interests.” He smiled. It could have been for any reason. “What interests me now is you.”

Nothing called for a subject change quicker than having a psychopath interested in you. I forced back the lump that had taken up residence in my throat. “You didn’t have the beacon. Nigel did. So how did you know the Saghred was in Mermeia?” If Nukpana wanted to chat like old friends, I could play along.

“Nachtmagus Nigel Nicabar should have chosen his words with more care—and been more selective to whom he spoke them. He acted unwisely. His indiscretion was his undoing.”

Indiscretion and a certain goblin grand shaman. Neighborhood gossips didn’t tie a rock around Nigel’s ankles for a midnight swim, or kick that crate from underneath Simon Stocken’s feet. But I didn’t imagine Nukpana saw either as his problem or fault.

The goblin smiled. “And just before dawn this morning I ran into Ocnus Rancil. Apparently he was about to leave on an extended vacation.” His smile broadened. “I persuaded him to stay.”

I suddenly didn’t feel so good. I’d never liked Ocnus, but I wouldn’t wish Nukpana’s persuasion on anyone.

“He mentioned that he had spoken with you and the paladin earlier,” the goblin continued. “He also mentioned a name that I had not heard in quite some time—Tamnais Nathrach.”

Now I really felt sick.

“Master Rancil told me everything I needed to know. In fact, he talked until he could talk no more. I have told His Majesty all about you. The Conclave Guardian’s daughter who will be helping us. He is most eager to make your acquaintance.”

Nukpana stopped at the edge of the clearing. The moonlight was just enough to see the trees on the far side, and more than enough to see the stone altar at the center. A quartet of Khrynsani temple guards stood at each of the altar’s corners. When they saw their grand shaman, they came to attention.

Nukpana admired his guards’ handiwork. “Good. All is prepared for us.” He released my arm but not my hand, half dragging me into the clearing.

“I will take the Saghred now, Raine.”

I made no move to hand it over. “Not until you let Piaras go.”

“Very well.” Nukpana spoke without turning, and without taking his onyx eyes from mine. “Kafele?”

“Your will, my lord?” asked one of Piaras’s guards.

“Unless the Saghred is in my hands in the next five seconds, cut out the nightingale’s throat.”

Blades were drawn. Nukpana held out his hand. I gave him the Saghred.

His other hand released mine and closed over the top of the casket. “Was that so difficult?”

Not difficult for him, but breathing had suddenly become a challenge for me.

The moment Nukpana’s hands touched the Saghred’s casket I felt a power that had nothing to do with Sarad Nukpana. My father was talking to me. Not in the normal way two people talk to each other. There were no words spoken, no thoughts passed. It was more of a confirmation, an assurance that all of the Saghred’s power was now mine for the taking. The box surrounding it contained those energies only as long as I wished it. I wasn’t the only one who thought the world would be a better place without Sarad Nukpana.

That the goblin held it didn’t matter. The Saghred—and my father inside—reached out to me, offering me the power I needed to destroy Nukpana, his Khrynsani, and anyone else I chose, in The Ruins, the embassy grounds, the gardens, and the house beyond if I felt like it. The stone’s power seethed just below its surface. Waiting. Eager.

The air was charged with it. I was charged with it. Nukpana still held my hand. He felt and he knew.

His grip lightened into a caress. “By all means, Mistress Benares, show me your power,” he whispered. “I have waited all my life to witness the Saghred’s strength.”

I certainly felt like destroying. The power was mine. I trembled with it. I could destroy Nukpana now, before he could hurt anyone else I loved. I knew it. So did he.

The power was also wrong, wrong in every way I had ever been taught. The Saghred would make me into what I wasn’t. I wasn’t like Sarad Nukpana.

“Learn patience,” I hissed.

Nukpana acknowledged my choice with a bare nod. “As you wish. Bring the witch.”

A pair of Khrynsani guards brought Primari A’Zahra Nuru forward. Her patrician features were expressionless, and even dwarfed as she was by the armored guards on either side of her, her bearing remained regal. No doubt she’d die the same way. My free hand closed on the dagger in the hidden pocket of my gown. No one was dying. Not on my watch.

Prince Chigaru shared my opinion, but not for long. The struggle was quick and fatal—quick for Chigaru, fatal for one of the guards. Three more sprang to take his place, and a vicious blow to the back of the prince’s head ended the discussion.

Sarad Nukpana’s eyes narrowed, the Khrynsani guard who struck Chigaru the new object of his disaffection. “If he is dead, you will take his place.”

The guard dropped to his knees, desperately checking the prince for signs of life.

“He lives.”

“Good. See that it remains so.”

I pushed the Saghred’s power down, then took a deep breath and slowly released it. I knew it wouldn’t stay there for long.

Nukpana sensed it. “You are strong, Raine. Like your father.”

The bastard actually sounded happy about that.