Imala Kalis stepped forward and extended her hand. It was gloved; so was mine. A handshake between mages was more than a greeting. Skin-on-skin contact combined with a quick questing spell could let a mage assess the true power of another. That was one reason when mages got together there was a lot of head nodding and bowing going on.

I took two steps and accepted her hand, and there were hisses, a couple of growls, and one “shit” when I did it. The last one came from Vegard. I shook Imala Kalis’s hand because I wanted to and it would be rude not to. I also had three reasons why it was perfectly safe. One, I was wearing thick gloves; two, thanks to the Saghred, I was packing more than enough power to protect myself; and three, if Imala Kalis tried a questing spell on me, I’d be using my fist on her.

She looked in my eyes, and I think she knew all three. Her smile turned into a grin, and I swear the woman had dimples. A cute killer goblin with dimples. Damn.

“You are not what I expected, Mistress Benares.” She actually looked happy about that.

“You’re not exactly what I envisioned, either.”

“I get that comment quite often.”

“I’m sure you do.” And looking into those sharp, intelligent eyes, anyone would be making a fatal mistake if they underestimated her for one second. I wondered if those dimples had been the last thing some people had seen before being dispatched to their great reward. I shrugged. “What you see is what I am.”

“I very much doubt that.” Imala Kalis raised her voice to address her men. “Gentlemen, this is the lady who tricked Sarad Nukpana into feeding himself to the Saghred.”

The goblins with her grinned; a few chuckled darkly. I wasn’t sure if either was a good thing since both involved me seeing a lot of fangs. If a goblin wanted to kill you, they would prefer a single, efficient slash or stab; but like I said, in a down-and-dirty fight, they would use their fangs to fatal effect. I’d seen the aftermath before; it wasn’t pretty.

Tam stepped forward to stand at my side, so close I could feel his tense disapproval. He didn’t want me here.

“There is no love lost between the secret service and Sarad Nukpana—and his Khrynsani,” he explained. His voice was preternaturally calm, which meant that Tam wasn’t.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Mistress Benares,” Imala Kalis said without taking her bright black eyes from Tam. “We each curse the ground the other walks on.”

I assumed she was talking about Nukpana and the Khrynsani, not Tam, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

Tam didn’t bat an eye. “It’s one of the few viewpoints we have ever agreed upon.”

Score one point for Imala Kalis’s people, though I wasn’t going to be in a hurry to give them any more. Like I said, she hadn’t brought that many guards with her because she was afraid of being mugged. This tiny woman didn’t get to where she was by being afraid of much, if anything. Tam towered over her by a good foot, and she showed no sign of stepping back; if anything, the lady looked challenged and happy about it.

“It is indeed convenient that you are here, Mistress Benares,” she said. “I’ve been asked to deliver this to you.”

She drew an intricately folded piece of parchment out of her sleekly tailored doublet and extended it to me.

I made no move to touch it. “And this is from . . .”

“Ambassador Rudra Muralin.” Imala Kalis flashed her dainty fangs. “Excuse me, my mistake—Ambassador Rudra Mal’Salin. False identities are so inconvenient to remember.”

Imala Kalis hadn’t forgotten a thing. I knew it and so did she. Rudra Muralin was a thousand-year-old goblin, the blackest of dark mages who had used the Saghred to slaughter thousands and enslave thousands more.

Rudra Muralin wanted the Saghred. He needed me dead.

Any old death would do just as long as he was the first mage to reach the rock after my untimely demise.

I still made no move to touch Rudra’s letter. “It’s been opened.”

Imala Kalis laughed. “Of course it has. First I had to break the spell, then the seal. It was a nasty one, too.”

“Hardly surprising. Then you’ve read it.”

“Yes, it was the most direct way to confirm what else he’s up to. The contents are no surprise to me—as I doubt they will be to you. My advice is to read it, burn it, and ignore it. His assurances are lies and his promises poison.”

I took the parchment and, after muttering a quick shielding spell, I unfolded the paper, holding it so Tam could read along with me.

Imala Kalis was right; Rudra’s letter contained the same demands, though he had made the effort to spin a new, sick twist on them. He still wanted me and the Saghred. And like Sarad Nukpana, Rudra knew about the umi’atsu bond between me, Tam, Mychael, and the Saghred. And the only way to stop him from posting an announcement on the citadel’s front doors would be for me to surrender to him.

Come to the goblin embassy alone and your secret is safe. If you come to me, Tamnais and Mychael will not be exposed. Refuse me and you will all die—and I will still get what I want. It will merely take longer. I offer you the opportunity to save Tamnais and Mychael. They would give their lives for you. Would you give your soul for them?

Several weeks ago, Tam, Mychael, and I had used the power we could generate and share through our umi’atsu bond to close a Hellgate that Rudra Muralin and his black mage allies had opened. Imala Kalis had been there in the shadows, watching. She knew what we’d done—and how we’d done it.

My first impulse was to mutter a fire spell and torch the offending piece of parchment. As usual, Rudra didn’t sign it, so it was worthless as evidence against him, but Mychael would want to see it, so I folded it and put it in the small leather purse on my belt. No way was I tucking anything Rudra had touched inside my doublet. If I were Imala Kalis, when I went home, I’d take a bath.

As to what I was going to do about it—bottom line was that I didn’t like being bullied. When I was a kid, being small meant I’d been a target; being a Benares meant deadly backup was a whistle away. The only thing I hated more than a bully was asking someone to protect me from one. I took on my own bullies, thank you very much—even if they were thousand-year-old, obscenely powerful psychotic megalomaniacs.

“Vintage Rudra,” I noted dryly. “I give him what he wants and he promises to kill me nicely.” I looked directly at Imala Kalis. “And are you here to tell me the same thing?”

She gazed at me a moment, her expression unreadable. “I am not. I have no intentions of revealing the contents of that letter.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s one of those things that I’ll believe when I don’t see it.”

“Considering who and what the two of us are, I expected no less. I’m not asking for your belief or trust; though you will know soon enough that my words are the truth.”

“That would be nice, but I’m not going to hold my breath for it.”

She shrugged. “Were I in your place, I would do the same.” She gave me a small, self-satisfied smile. “And do not concern yourself with Rudra Muralin. The ambassador will be unable to act on any of his threats for at least the next three days.”

“Three days?”

Cute turned to fierce. “Rudra Muralin poisoned two of my people. They nearly died. Naturally, I retaliated. Three days is the length of time it takes to recover from a particular intestinal malady caused by a certain tasteless and odorless plant. Several of the ambassador’s closest advisors have mysteriously contracted it and are spending most of their time in the privy.” She smiled fully. “Whenever the ambassador wants advice, he has to go to where his advisors are. He’s quite unused to carrying out a plan without his lackeys. Your secret is safe for at least that long.”

Tam laughed. “Rudra forced to plot in the privy. If it weren’t for the stench, I’d almost pay to see that.”