Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

Piaras and I were shielded, and Piaras had a deadly ditty ready. The ditty itself wouldn’t kill; it’d just paralyze anyone he intended it for. The blades in my hands would take care of the rest. Another Benares family rule was: leave no living enemy behind you, receive no dagger in the back.

Khrynsani and Nightshades and daggers that went whoosh in the dark were bad enough, but they weren’t what had scared the crap out of me and put a twitch in my left eyelid. I didn’t like where we were, and I liked even less where we were going.

The Saghred was thrilled.

The more bodies we found, the heavier the pressure grew beneath my breastbone. Coiled and hot, quivering in anticipation. Maybe the Saghred knew I was prepared to use it. It might also know that Rudra Muralin was down here. Like a really big, very hungry dog that recognized who had kept it well fed in the past, it was eager for its next meal, and was pulling on its leash. Rudra Muralin had used the Saghred to lay waste to civilizations. If he got the rock back under his control, he’d use Piaras and me to pick his teeth.

Maybe the Saghred would refuse to bite the hand that had fed it—and would turn on the one holding its leash. That would be me.

I hadn’t considered that.

My intuition had never lied to me. Right now it was in my face, in a panic, telling me that I was in way over my head, I was going to die, and it was really going to hurt. But I knew if I screwed this up, I wouldn’t be the only one dying. Rudra Muralin was nearly a thousand years old. He’d been patiently searching for the Saghred all this time. His search was over, his work almost done. The Saghred was awake, its containment wards probably now a joke, and an arrogant and deluded elf mirror mage was in charge of the entire freaking island. Rudra Muralin was probably damned near giddy.

He’d probably make the Isle of Mid his first playground.

The air shifted.

That was all the warning I got.

“No songs, spells, or movement,” Rudra Muralin said quietly from behind us. “And the half-breed gets to keep breathing.”

A pair of Khrynsani stepped out of the darkness ahead of us with a tied, gagged, and blindfolded Talon Tandu between them. One of the guards yanked off the blindfold. Talon’s aqua eyes blinked in the sudden light.

A sound started low in Piaras’s throat.

“Khali!” Muralin snapped.

Instantly, one of Talon’s guards put a curved blade to his throat.

“Your voice is splendid, Piaras,” Muralin said smoothly.

“I’ve heard it once this evening.” The goblin’s voice was quiet, but the menace was clear. “I do not want to hear it again. If you make one sound, or so much as clear your throat, he dies—and it will be as much your doing as if you had slit his throat yourself. Do you understand?”

Piaras hesitated and nodded mutely. There was no fear in his dark eyes, just rage. I was going to do everything possible to give him a chance to use it.

“Gentlemen, would you relieve our guests of their weapons?”

His Khrynsani did as told, and unfortunately, they did a thorough job. I didn’t have any steel left on me, and I doubted Piaras did, either.

“Turn around,” Muralin ordered. “Slowly.”

The goblins had lightglobes of their own, and they increased their glow slightly. The goblins didn’t need light to see us, but they knew we needed light to see them. After all, what’s the fun of having a pair of elves at your mercy when the elves couldn’t see well enough to appreciate how helpless they were?

Rudra Muralin wasn’t alone. Mere psychopaths traveled alone; evil maniacs came complete with an entourage of minions.

And I hadn’t heard, seen, sensed, or smelled them coming until they were on top of us.

We weren’t in a tunnel. We were in a room, and it wasn’t empty. Darkened openings in the walls indicated more tunnels. The decor included a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling, each with a sturdy iron hook at the end. Iron rings were bolted to the walls, and there were a couple of other implements I couldn’t identify and didn’t want to. This wasn’t anybody’s happy place, except perhaps for sadistic maniacs like the one standing in front of me.

Rudra Muralin’s onyx eyes were on mine. “Both of you put your hands behind your heads and keep them there.”

When a crazy person tells you to put your hands up, you should at least think about it. When a crazy person with a dozen or so heavily armed friends says the same thing, you don’t think; you just do it.

I hesitated and then slowly put my hands behind my head. Piaras did likewise. I hesitated because I didn’t want Muralin to get the impression that I was a pushover.

“Bind them,” Muralin said.

Like hell.

Strong hands grabbed me from behind. I slammed the heel of my boot down on the goblin’s instep. He swore and hissed, but never loosened his grip.

I called up my power. All of it. If Muralin wanted the Saghred, I’d shove it down his throat.

A manacle clicked on my right wrist and icy numbness raced up my arm and kept going, paralyzing my body with burning cold. Stopping my breath. Freezing my magic. Another manacle clicked on my left wrist as a pair of hands swept my feet out from under me and pinned my legs.

“Hang her,” Muralin said.

My mind screamed fight. My body couldn’t respond— neither could my magic.

Two goblins lifted me and hooked the chain linking the manacles over one of the iron hooks. They released me, but not before the goblin pinning my legs ran his free hand up my body from hip to breast.

When he stepped aside, I saw Piaras sprawled unmoving on the ground.

“Best way to silence a songbird,” Rudra Muralin said mildly.

“If you killed—” I snarled.

“Killing Piaras would be wasteful. I never carelessly discard a potential power source.”

The balls of my feet touched the floor. Barely. It might be enough for leverage or it might not. The cold was gone, but the numbness stayed, though not in my body. I could feel every last bruise I had, and I’d collected plenty lately.

I couldn’t feel my magic. I still had it—it was there, my magic and the Saghred’s power—but I couldn’t reach either one if my life depended on it. And it was going to.

I never thought using the rock was a good idea, but now it was the last thing I could do. My soul appreciated the reprieve; my brain didn’t appreciate the pressure.

You don’t need the Saghred; you can get out of this. Think, Raine. Use your head. Yeah, a hacksaw would be great. Even better if the goblins closed their eyes and counted to a hundred. Neither one’s gonna happen. So think.

Rudra Muralin’s smile was full of fang. He was still just as perfect, just as beautiful. He also didn’t look old enough to buy himself a drink in a bar. Since I was chained, surrounded, and didn’t have enough magic to strike a match, I thought I’d keep that observation to myself.

“You’ve got me,” I said. “Congratulations. Now what do you want?”

The goblin’s black eyes glittered. “I thought that would be obvious, even to an elf. You’re the Saghred’s bond servant.”

“Let me guess—you need me to use the Saghred for you. That’s going to be some trick with these manacles.”

Muralin’s smile broadened as if he’d been waiting centuries for this moment. “No, Raine, I need you to feed the Saghred for me.”