“Level twelve should be reassuring,” I said.

Mychael’s expression was grim. “It usually is.”

I prided myself on being in good shape. Most times being a seeker just demanded that you be in better shape than what was chasing you. I had always aspired to go beyond that. Yet here I was, going down flights of stairs, and I was out of breath. That was just plain wrong.

I took a ragged gasp of air. “Is this normal?”

To my satisfaction, Mychael did look a tad flushed himself, and so did Ronan Cayle. Being paladin meant he had to be in better shape than everyone, and Ronan Cayle’s lung capacity was as well-known as his voice.

“To a degree.” Mychael took a deep breath. “We layer our shields. When they’ve just been replenished, it can thicken the air somewhat.”

“Somewhat like this?”

“Nothing like this.”

Not only was the air thick, it was cloying in my mouth, my throat, my lungs, threatening to choke me, and it didn’t smell too great, either. Though the smell was the least of my problems. Sliding up from below along the chilled stone walls came a sibilant whisper. I knew that voice. I didn’t know if I heard it with my ears or in my head, but I knew who it was and where it was coming from. The language was Goblin, as was the speaker.

“Good morning, my little seeker,” Sarad Nukpana murmured.

Those five silky little words were all it took to start my skin crawling on the soles of my feet and keep going until it reached my scalp. The voice sounded husky from sleep, carried the warmth of the bed, and was way too intimate under any circumstances, especially since Sarad Nukpana was the last person I wanted to open my eyes and find sharing my pillow.

I took a slow and careful breath, not daring to move. “Do you hear that?” I asked Mychael.

From my expression he knew I had heard something bad. “Hear what?”

“He cannot hear my words or thoughts, little seeker. Only you.”

Mychael scowled. “Nukpana?”

I nodded in the smallest motion possible.

“Give your paladin my regards.”

The goblin’s voice felt like a cat rubbing up against my face—not a sensation I used to mind. Until now.

I swallowed. “He says hello.”

We picked up the pace. Nukpana’s warm laughter bubbled up around us.

“Our power grows.” I could almost feel the goblin’s languid stretch. “Tell your paladin and his maestro that they cannot stop us.”

“Mychael, unless Sarad Nukpana’s taken to referring to himself in the royal ‘we,’ he’s found some like-minded friends in there.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I am. He never struck me as the friend-making type.”

“Allies, little seeker. Allies. All of a like mind; all with the same goal.”

If Sarad Nukpana could talk to me in my head, the least I could do was return the favor. I knew how.

“So, what kind of club are you and your new friends starting?” I asked.

“We merely wish to ensure our survival—and our prosperity. You will help us accomplish both.”

“Fat chance.”

“You cannot refuse us any more than you can refuse to breathe. You are a bond servant to the Saghred, like your fatherbefore you.” There was a knowing smile in his voice. “Even now you do its will.”

That was unwelcome news. I tried to find breathable air and go down the stairs, while my mind raced to find what I could have done to make the Saghred happy. I’d lifted the stage this morning with the power the Saghred had already given me. I didn’t tap the stone. And when it tempted me in that courtyard, I didn’t give in. I couldn’t see how either was doing the Saghred’s will.

“Soon its desires will become your own, and you will have an eternity to fulfill them. You are strong enough to serve, but too weak to resist.”

The sense of Sarad Nukpana abruptly vanished. “So much for him ignoring me,” I said out loud.

Concern flashed in Mychael’s blue eyes. “What did he say?”

“Oh, nothing much, just promised me eternal servitude.” I made a little dismissive waving motion with my hand. I saw that it was shaking. “He’s just trying to scare me.”

“Scared is the smartest thing you could be right now.”

“That must make me the smartest person on the island.”

“Are you all right?”

“If I said yes, I’d be lying. Having an evil madman popping into my head isn’t something I want as a permanent arrangement.”

“And it won’t be,” Mychael promised, his intense expression telling me he’d never broken a promise and wasn’t about to start with me.

“It’s my new life’s goal, too. By the way, he’s found some new friends to play with, and they have plans.”

That earned me a couple of words I didn’t expect to hear from a paladin.

Sarad Nukpana’s low laughter bubbled up again in my head. I told myself it was only the memory, not the real thing. It didn’t lessen the creepies. And I didn’t share with Mychael that Nukpana considered me his new helpmate. One catastrophic problem at a time.

We arrived at the citadel’s lowest level. The Saghred’s containment room’s door was just a door. It didn’t look like a portal to the bowels of hell or the entrance to the unspeakable. It was just a thick wooden door, banded with iron, and flanked by a pair of burly Guardians who didn’t look happy to be there. I didn’t blame them.

Sarad Nukpana wasn’t going to go to sleep without a fight. I thought the comparison to an obnoxious child was oddly appropriate. I’d threaten to spank him, but unlike a child, Sarad Nukpana would probably enjoy it. In fact, I was sure of it.

“Once we’re inside, let us know if the subject begins to misbehave,” Cayle reminded me.

It looked like I wasn’t the only one using a naughty schoolboy analogy.

“Trust me—when the Saghred misbehaves, you’ll know about it whether I tell you or not. But I’ll be glad to mention the obvious when it happens.”

“You mean if it happens.”

“Well, we can all hope for that.”

Mychael had been speaking in low tones with the Guardians on duty at the door. He crossed the corridor to where we waited. “Are we ready?”

“To get it over with,” I said.

Mychael nodded, and the Guardians posted on either side of the door unlocked, unlatched, and opened it.

The stairs and the room below were brightly lit, but only for the benefit of the Guardians on duty. Being its own self-contained little world, the Saghred made its own interior light. The outside world was not visible from inside. Unfortunately, I had this knowledge firsthand.

The room contained only the essentials—four Guardians and the object they guarded. One look at the Saghred sitting on its pedestal told me that the stone had its figurative eyes closed, but it was far from asleep. Unlike with a child pretending to be asleep, Mychael, Ronan, and I weren’t just going to turn off the bedroom lights and close the door on our way out.

Sarad Nukpana was nowhere to be heard. Maybe he’d rolled over and gone back to sleep. Maybe he and his new friends were up late last night plotting world domination.

I didn’t like any of it, no maybe about it.

The Saghred sat on a small table in the center of the room, still in the translucent, white stone casket Mychael had used to transport it to Mid. It was still translucent, but it sure wasn’t white.

I couldn’t ever think of a time when a red glow was a good thing.

The Saghred’s glow reminded me of an angry, red eye. I half expected to hear a warning growl to go along with it. The rock was clearly not amused, which told me the shields might be holding. Barely.

I had heard about the kind of power Conclave-trained Guardians could put into their containment spells. It was an accepted fact that if a Guardian clamped something or someone down, it stayed put. I didn’t think the Saghred had heard the same stories—and if Sarad Nukpana had, he was delighting in ignoring them.