Chapter 27

Just because punching the goblin’s fangs out wouldn’t do those kids any good didn’t mean I didn’t want to do it. Really bad.

Tam grabbed the front of Rudra Muralin’s doublet and jerked him to his feet.

“Talk,” Tam growled.

Muralin’s laugh came out as a strangled rasp. “Why? Or you’ll kill me?”

“I’ll make you wish I had.”

“Hollow threats, Tamnais. You’ll never find what’s left of those spellsingers without me.”

“Want to bet?” I asked.

“My shamans have put up shields, distortions, and illusions, seeker,” Muralin sneered. “Even with the Saghred, your abilities are pathetic. Do you truly think what you call skill got you this far? I brought you here, exactly where I wanted you. You weren’t following spellsingers, elf. You were answering my call.”

Piaras was beside me. “Raine, he’s lying. You saw the spellsingers in their cell. You were tracking them, and he knows it. You can pick up their trail again.” His confidence was absolute. So was his desperation. Katelyn Valerian was down here somewhere.

The desperation part I agreed with. I had to find Ronan and those kids now. But what I’d been following all this time—had it been the real thing or a Khrynsani shaman phantom? There was no time for doubt, no second-guessing. Tam could torture information out of Rudra Muralin, but anything he told us would be a lie.

I knew it. So did Tam. He was looking at me. There was no question reflected in those eyes; he just needed an answer. I’d backed away from him and stayed there. The Saghred was coiling and twisting at the stench of black magic in the air—and at Tam’s nearness. I couldn’t trust anything Rudra Muralin said. Could I trust the power boost of a starving, vindictive, and fickle rock?

No.

I was a Benares. I knew one person whose wits I could trust here and now.

Me.

I didn’t need the Saghred. I’d had dark mages, crafty bastards, try to throw me off the scent in the past. It hadn’t worked then, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to work now.

I exhaled and let a slow smile spread across my face. “I can do it.”

I had to. Ronan and those kids had no other choice. Tam’s eyes were still on me. “Raine, when Rudra said harvest, he meant Magh’Sceadu.”

Oh shit.

Piaras’s expression was identical to mine, and I’m sure he’d just thought the same two words.

“Magh’Sceadu are the most convenient way to store souls when living bodies become inconvenient,” Muralin agreed smugly. “And they can flow through solid rock. These tunnels run under the entire island—including the citadel.” Those black eyes were on mine. “As enjoyable as it would be to watch the souls flow through you, my Magh’Sceadu can flow into the Saghred’s containment room and feed the stone directly. I just need you to die. I always have a backup plan, Raine. Or I believe the more modern term is ‘Plan B.’ ” Rudra Muralin grinned until his fangs showed. “What’s your Plan B?”

My stomach twisted. Plan B? Hell, my Plan As were rarely anything to write home about. Sneak in, charge out, hope not to die. That pretty much covered it. I tried to keep my plans simple. I’d discovered through near-fatal experience that the only thing fancy tactics gave you was more things that could go wrong.

I had an idea. It was simple, which was just the way I liked it, and even better, I thought it would work. If Rudra Muralin was going to play hardball, the least I could do was throw him a curve.

I showed him my teeth. “You should already know what my Plan B is; you brought him here yourself. You might say you answered my call.” I spoke without turning. “Talon, I need you.”

“The words I’ve been waiting to hear, doll.”

“I need you to take me back to that cell block.”

Talon blanched.

Muralin barked with laughter. “We brought him in blindfolded, seeker. Or didn’t you notice even that?”

“Oh, I noticed. I don’t need his eyes.”

The laughing stopped.

“Talon, I need your memories.”

“But I was blindfolded.” He scowled at the dead Khrynsani around us. “And they let me fall down a couple of times. I can’t lead you anywhere.”

“I find people through objects that belong to them—or through psychic traces they leave behind wherever they go,” I explained. “They’re called remnants. Since the information that brought me this far may have been contaminated, I can use your remnant to trace your steps back to that cell.” I smiled sweetly at Rudra Muralin. “The same way I tracked Talon and your guards to that courtyard a couple of nights ago.”

“Will it hurt?” Talon asked quietly.

“No.”

He leered a little. “Will it feel good?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “No, it won’t feel good. You won’t feel anything at all. Just come here.”

He stood in front of me and I placed my hands on either side of his head. “Close your eyes,” I told him.

He closed them, but not before he gave me a sly wink. I needed to get a sense of him, a psychic scent. I didn’t need his eyes closed for that, but looking into those gorgeous aqua eyes would be a distraction I didn’t need. I also didn’t need Talon knowing that I’d be distracted. I closed my own eyes and inhaled with all of my senses. In seconds I had what I needed. Clear and strong, with no Khrysnaniconcocted illusions between me and where I was going.

I opened my eyes and released Talon.

“Gentlemen, let’s go.”

My Plan Bs usually involved thinking fast and moving even faster. When you viewed it like that, everything right now was going perfectly to plan. The remnant Talon had left behind when he was brought up from that cell block was still relatively fresh and I followed it without trouble.

Trouble was what waited ahead for us. Tall, black, soul-slurping trouble.

Rudra Muralin claimed that the spellsingers were going to be fed to the Magh’Sceadu if he didn’t return. I knew for a fact that hadn’t happened yet. I remembered the Khrynsani with Sarad Nukpana last week in Mermeia. The moment the Saghred sucked their leader from the world of the living, every last one of them suddenly remembered somewhere else they had to be. A Khrynsani would take a prisoner; they’d take a life, but individual initiative? Forget it. Those shamans were probably shaking in sheer terror that the moment they fed the spellsingers to the Magh’Sceadu, Rudra Muralin would come waltzing back into that cell block. No one wanted to risk making a decision and taking the flack for any resulting screwups. It was the same in any organization, be it business, government, or a military brotherhood of sadistic goblins—everyone wants to take credit; no one lines up for blame.

Those spellsingers were still alive. I knew it.

I also knew there were Magh’Sceadu down there.

Last week, I’d used the Saghred’s power to destroy six of them. But that was when I’d worn the Saghred’s amulet around my neck. It was a beacon my father had had made nearly nine hundred years ago to let him guard the Saghred from a safe distance.

When the Saghred had helped me destroy those Magh’Sceadu, it was still imprisoned in the vault where my father had hidden it. The Saghred had wanted me to find it, and I couldn’t very well do that if the Magh’Sceadu had slurped me up. The Saghred had a vested interest in helping me then. Would it help me now? I snorted silently. No way. To the Saghred, those Magh’Sceadu and the shamans that controlled them were waiters about to serve it the biggest meal it’d had in centuries.

And Piaras and I were walking right into the middle of it.

I’d wanted him to stay near the back of our group, protected along with Talon, but Piaras had refused.

Yesterday, Ronan Cayle had worked with Piaras on his repelling spellsongs, using mirage Magh’Sceadu as subjects. Piaras had been given five chances to stop them. He’d failed all five times. He knew that and he still wanted to be on the front line with me.