“And he doesn’t know.”

“I don’t want him to. Considering who and what I used to be, it’s not safe for him to know.” Tam’s expression darkened. “Until a few days ago, no one knew. Muralin said that unless I turned you over to him, he was going have Talon kidnapped—and sold in the Nebian slave markets. The Khrynsani have a long reach, so I knew I couldn’t send Talon away to keep him safe. The closer he stayed to me, the better.”

Tam didn’t have to spell it out for me. I knew full well what kind of slavery awaited a half-breed as beautiful as Talon.

“If I tried to warn you, Rudra Muralin said he would kill Talon outright. I tried to keep Talon safe.” Tam’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “You were supposed to stay in the citadel.”

The citadel. Piaras.

Crap.

“I’ve got to find Piaras.”

“Then you’ll be going to the elven embassy,” came Phaelan’s voice from the dark. Lantern light flared, illuminating my cousin leaning against a closed door.

“You were supposed to wait outside,” Tam told him.

“You weren’t supposed to be late.”

I was incredulous. “You knew about all this?”

“Hey, I just found out,” Phaelan said. His dark eyes flashed in anger. “You might say Tam and I ran into each other backstage. He was kind enough to hit the high spots for me. It all sounded just crazy enough to be true.”

“But Guardians would take Piaras to the citadel, not—”

Phaelan snorted. “If they had made it that far. Six Guardians took Piaras out the backstage door. I couldn’t get to him without getting nabbed myself, so I hung back. Glad I did. Those Guardians were ambushed. Within a couple seconds there were six dead Guardians and one unconscious Piaras being loaded into a coach—by elves who knew which end of a crossbow was up.”

“Were they wearing fancy livery?” If Carnades was responsible, there wasn’t a hole deep enough for him to hide in.

“Nope, uniforms. Definitely embassy guards, and that’s the direction they were headed.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Just yours truly. And I don’t think I should go anywhere near a Guardian just now.”

I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know. “Is Justinius dead?”

Tam spoke. “The last I saw, Mychael was working on the archmagus. Mychael is a fine healer, but it didn’t look like it was going well. Though Mychael didn’t look like he was giving up.”

Oh shit.

“Gentlemen, the Isle of Mid just got itself a new archmagus,” I said. “If Justinius dies or until he’s in a condition to take command again, Carnades Silvanus is in charge—and Mychael has to take his orders from him.”

Chapter 20

Carnades was probably living his dream, and Mychael had to be in a living nightmare.

I told Tam what I knew about where the Nightshades were holding the spellsingers—and their eventual fate unless they were found.

“The Saghred is still in the citadel’s containment rooms,” I said. “They can’t sacrifice anyone if they don’t have anything to sacrifice them to.” This was supposed to make Tam feel marginally better. It didn’t.

“Can Carnades order Mychael to turn over the Saghred?” Phaelan asked.

“He can. But Mychael won’t do it.”

“Sounds like mutiny.”

It would be mutiny, though Carnades would probably prefer to call it treason. He could have Mychael locked up in one of his own containment rooms and pick a paladin who’d give him the Saghred, and anything else he wanted.

I couldn’t let myself think about Mychael right now. I had to get Piaras out of that embassy. One catastrophe at a time.

“Tam, I wish we could—”

Tam held up a hand. “I know. You’d help if you could. You have to get Piaras. I understand. I have to get my son back.” His dark eyes were hard and resolute. “Once Talon’s safe, I’m going after Rudra Muralin.” He grinned in a cold flash of fangs. “I have a busy night planned.”

Tam sounded like he was looking forward to it. I would have, too. I guess I’d have to settle for having left my teeth marks in Muralin’s ear.

Tam went to one of the racks against the wall and pulled off the sheet that was covering it. There were costumes zbeneath. We were in a prop room two levels below the stage. Tam selected two cloaks, one black and the other dark green. He tossed the black one to Phaelan and held the green cloak open for me. I stepped up to him and he swept the green velvet around me and I fastened the clasp.

“I won’t be going in alone,” he assured me. “I have men I can trust. They’re good in a fight.” He almost smiled. “And they’ll love the chance to get their hands on Nightshades and Khrynsani in one night.”

Phaelan opened a low door in the far wall. Beyond was a pitch-dark tunnel that Tam said emptied five blocks from Sirens, well away from the chaos that was probably still going on upstairs.

I held out my hand and stared at my palm. I’d seen lightglobes created, but I’d never done one myself. Since the Saghred had come into my life, I’d found all kinds of new things that I could do. Lightglobe making was small magic. It should be no problem.

After a few moments, a pinpoint of white light flickered to life from the center of my hand, beneath the skin. It was no larger than a firefly. It spun, weaving a trail of light until a globe, the size of my fist, hung suspended above my open hand, glowing steadily. It floated a few feet down the tunnel, then stopped, hovering, waiting for us. I felt a little thrill of accomplishment.

I looked up. Tam was gone.

Phaelan stepped into the tunnel. “We men aren’t good at good-byes.”

“I’ve strolled past the embassy a couple of times,” Phaelan said. Even at a whisper, his voice echoed off the tunnel walls.

I didn’t like tunnels. I liked it even less that I had never seen the elven embassy. Phaelan had scoped out the city soon after we’d docked. Pirate instincts, I guess. He’d been all around the outside of the embassy. I’d rather have a detailed floor plan of the inside, but I’d take what I could get.

Water dripped and ran in thin rivulets down the cracked walls. Cracks weren’t good. Last year, I’d taken a contract job for the Mermeia city watch. They needed my help in finding a smuggling ring’s hideout. In my search of one of Mermeia’s many tunnels, I opened an innocent-looking metal door and a canal’s worth of water just fell on me. Though the same water that fell on me made it easy to find William Lark’s smuggling ring. My opening that door caused a tunnel wall to collapse. The canal flooded the place and shot Bill and his gang out the Dock Street sewer tunnels like rats out of a hole. I don’t know how I managed to avoid the same fate. It was a sight my night-mares wouldn’t let me soon forget.

The only thing I wanted to know when I went into a tunnel was how soon I could get out.

“For a place that’s supposed to be a safe haven for elves, it didn’t look like it’d be safe for me,” Phaelan was saying. “Too many guards, and too many of those magical…” He wiggled his fingers in the air.

“Wards.” I sounded as drained as I felt. “They’re called wards, Phaelan.”

“Whatever. They were red, they were sizzling, and they were at every gate entrance. Like I said, not a friendly place, for elves or anyone else. I know I wouldn’t be welcome.”

“So you’re saying you’re not going to help me.”

“On the contrary. You know I love to go where I’m not welcome.” His grin was slow. “Our friend has been inside the embassy, but never through the front door. Better yet, he wants to help us.”

“Tanik Ozal.” My lack of enthusiasm was evident.

“The very friend.”

“Ozal is not our friend.”

Phaelan’s grin vanished, and I saw a glimpse of the Captain Benares who struck terror into the hearts of every merchant in the seven kingdoms. “Tanik would try to screw me over on a business deal, and I’d cheerfully do the same to him. It’s business; it’s expected. What happened to Piaras is personal; it’s family. Tanik will do everything he can to help. And he would never turn a brother pirate over to the law—and especially not to any stinking mage.”