“Raine, my instincts agree with you; unfortunately, the proof and witnesses say otherwise.”

“Proof,” I spat. “Some elves saying they saw a goblin shove the general into a coach? One of them even said, ‘All goblins look alike.’ The moron. Sarad Nukpana is a goblin, and he killed the general.”

“Raine, I need proof.”

“I saw him driving that coach last night, and I heard his voice through General Aratus’s corpse.” My voice turned bitter. “But my word is worthless, isn’t it? You can’t take the word of a Benares and Saghred bond servant, can you?”

“I believe you, Raine.”

“Then let Tam go!” I managed between clenched teeth.

“I can’t do that, and you know why.”

I knew why all right. A handful of elven witnesses under compulsion by a certain high-ranking elven mage. Carnades Silvanus was the golden boy of the Seat of Twelve, the mages governing the Conclave, and he was one step away from being the next archmagus. He’d had the job for a few days recently, acquired a taste for self- righteous retribution, and had been well on his way to becoming a one-man inquisition.

And he had an expert at inquisition and intimidation standing right next to him. Taltek Balmorlan hadn’t taken his eyes off of me since he and Carnades had slithered through the front doors.

You could see Taltek Balmorlan in a room and look right past him—which was exactly what the elven inquisitor wanted. The word that described him best was average. His hair and eyes were an unremarkable shade of dull brown. He was of average height with average looks. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about his appearance.

It was perfect camouflage for the predator he was.

One of Carnades’s “witnesses” was an elven shopkeeper who said he had seen Tam force the general into a coach. When questioned as to why he hadn’t come forward until now, the elf had claimed goblin intimidation. If Tam’s life hadn’t been at stake, that statement would have been laughable. Unless the elven ambassador had personally delivered an announcement to the goblin embassy—which would happen as soon as flavored ices were being served in the lower hells—there weren’t any goblins other than Sarad Nukpana and his accomplice who had even known that the general was dead.

I resisted the urge to hit something. “Pay someone enough and they’ll say they saw their mother do it.” Another “witness” was a clearly frightened elderly elven mage in shabby robes who stood as far away from Carnades and Balmorlan and as close to the front doors, and escape, as he could. “Or threaten them.”

And I had no doubt that the black-silk-and-velvet-robed mage essentially holding court in the center of the squad room would have done that and more to get Tam behind bars and wards. Carnades Silvanus looked like his birthday had come early this year.

No doubt Carnades believed himself to be the pinnacle of elven fine breeding. The elf’s shoulder- length hair was the color of winter frost, and his eyes the pale blue of arctic ice. His face was like flawless alabaster, a cold, sharp beauty. He was a pure-blooded high elf and he wasn’t about to let anyone forget it.

Carnades had served as Conclave emissary to the goblin court at the same time that Tam had been the queen’s magical right-hand man. Something that happened during that time—and knowing Tam, probably more than one something—had made Carnades despise Tam even more than he hated every other goblin who breathed his air. Tam didn’t exactly harbor warm feelings toward Carnades, so the animosity was more than mutual.

And from the sound of the charges, Carnades was getting his revenge for any slight or insult, either real or imagined, in one fell swoop.

The elven mage wasn’t satisfied by seeing Tam charged with the kidnapping and grisly murder of the fourth-highest-ranking general in the elf queen’s army. He was accusing Tam of having fed General Aratus’s soul to the Saghred. When asked to explain, Carnades just smiled wider and Balmorlan coolly said that an expert would arrive soon to substantiate the claim. No one other than the rock itself could tell whether it had been fed or not. Carnades and Balmorlan were lying, and soon someone was going to walk through those doors and lie some more. The elf bastards couldn’t prove a damned thing; but their smug smiles told me that they’d found a way around that impediment to vigilante justice called the truth, and what I had been dreading was about to happen. Carnades knew that Tam could have only fed the Saghred through me.

Through our umi’atsu bond.

Carnades knew all about it.

He hadn’t ratted us out. Yet. The self-righteous elf was saving it for just the right moment—much like Sarad Nukpana’s gift of a dried corpse.

From the smug expression on his face, that moment had come.

I knew that General Aratus’s soul was inside Sarad Nukpana, not the Saghred. But just as Carnades couldn’t prove that the Saghred had been fed, I couldn’t prove that it hadn’t. And Mychael and I had been the only ones to hear Sarad Nukpana’s threats spoken through the general’s dried corpse. I couldn’t tell Sedge Rinker that. The only way Mychael had heard those threats was through the part of the umi’atsu bond that I shared with him.

After Tam had been arrested, Vegard had ordered one of the Guardians on sentry dragon patrol to return immediately to the citadel and tell Mychael what had happened.

I pinched the bridge of my nose against the headache that was well on its way. Mychael would probably be here any minute, and when he got here, that would put him in the same room with me and Tam. Our proximity to one another would leave no doubt about the bond the three of us shared. Any and every mage in the room would know.

Which was precisely what Carnades wanted.

I wasn’t about to leave Tam alone in the same room with Carnades.

The elf mage knew that, too. He also wanted everyone to know what he already did—the paladin of the Conclave Guardians was in an umi’atsu bond with a goblin dark mage and accused murderer, and the bond servant of the Saghred. If it were proven, Mychael would be arrested, tried, and executed; and Tam and I wouldn’t be far behind him.

Carnades had seen the proof of our joint powers two weeks ago when Mychael, Tam, and I had worked together to close a Hellgate that had been opened on the island. Phaelan had clubbed him over the head with a rock to keep him from exposing the three of us right then and there. Markus Sevelien had visited Carnades the moment his ship had docked. Mychael had sources in Carnades’s household, and those sources reported that Markus told Carnades to stay home and see no one. Either Markus had rescinded that order, or Carnades was feeling rebellious this evening.

And for the icing on the cake, Taltek Balmorlan reported to Markus and now seemed to be Carnades’s new best friend. Best friends didn’t keep secrets. Balmorlan knew about our umi’atsu bond; I was certain of it. What he was going to do about it remained to be seen, but from his self-satisfied smirk, he couldn’t be happier with how things were playing out.

There was a cell waiting next to Tam’s that had Mychael’s name written all over it.

Or mine.

Dammit. Mychael knew I was here with Tam, yet he was coming down here anyway. He knew it was a trap and he was walking right into it. Mychael was coolheaded and a tactician; I told myself that he would never walk into a trap without a plan to spring it on its maker. I was sure he had a plan, a good one. I’d just feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what that plan was.

If it came down to it, I would do anything I had to do to keep Tam and Mychael from the executioner’s block. The Benares in me had a few ideas; the Saghred in me had a few more.

I would do whatever it took, and whatever it did to me didn’t matter.

Mychael had told me once that if anyone wanted his head on an executioner’s block, they’d have to fight him for the privilege. Sounded good to me.