Lisa Shearin - Raine Benares 02 (21 page)

One
thought kept popping into my head with annoying frequency.

“Mychael,
has anyone actually tried to steal the Saghred?”

“No
one.”

Mychael’s
stony expression told me that fact confused and concerned him even more than it
did me. He didn’t want anyone to steal the Saghred, but he expected someone to
at least try. Apparently there were no takers—at least not yet.

“Maybe
Piaras putting most of the Guardians to sleep actually
was
a trial run
for a Khrynsani robbery attempt,” I ventured.

“Perhaps.
But Piaras didn’t knock out all of my men. With the wards, spells, and guards I
have down on the containment levels, no one can stroll in, pick up the Saghred,
and walk out.” He paused. “The only treasure anyone has tried to take is you,”
he said softly.

Oh
boy.

I
tried to sit up in bed and winced; my muscles screamed in protest. Mychael
arranged my pillows, and with his hands on my shoulders, gently eased me back.
Those sea blue eyes looked at me a couple seconds longer than was comfortable
for either one of us.

“Would
you like me to help with the pain?” he asked.

“Uh,
I’m not sure that’d be the best idea.”

“Why
not?”

I put
my hand where it felt like Rudra Muralin had punched me—right between my
breasts. “Right here’s where it hurts the most.”

“Oh.”
Mychael’s color rose slightly. With a visible effort, he forced any awkwardness
down. The proper paladin was back. “I am a healer, a medical professional. You
are in pain. It is my sacred duty to ease that pain.”

He
held up his right hand with a questioning glance.

Now
if it’d been any other man, I’d say he just wanted to get his hands on me.
Mychael was most definitely a man, though I would think that having his hand
where he proposed to put it would tempt even the most professional healer to
nonprofessional conduct. It wasn’t a problem for me. I was just a seeker; my
ethical values were safe.

Far
be it from me to prevent a man from doing his sacred duty.

“Okay.”
My voice came out kind of husky. Whoa. My professional values were safe, but
apparently my body was ready to toss my morals out the nearest window. I knew
why. Yesterday, Mychael had used both his hands
and
his lips to heal my
headache. I swallowed. If he did that now, I could not be held responsible for
my actions.

Mychael
took a few moments to steady and still his breathing. I’d already given up on
mine. I didn’t know if Mychael’s little breathing exercise was to prepare him
to heal, or to prepare him to put his hand between my breasts.

“What
about the Saghred?” I asked. I cringed inwardly. Way to ruin the mood, Raine.

Mychael
stopped with his hand halfway between us. “Since I’m not a dark mage, there
should be no reaction from the Saghred at all.”

“Are
you sure?” I wasn’t. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought this
might be a really bad idea. “You wrapped it in containment spells, tried to
bind it with a spellsong, and then carried me out of Sirens before Rudra
Muralin could finish what he started. The rock might be feeling a tad
vindictive.” I exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to hurt you.” My voice shook, and
I couldn’t stop it. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

There.
I’d said it. My chest and throat felt tight and the Saghred didn’t have a thing
to do with it.

Mychael’s
calm blue eyes held mine. I couldn’t look away and I didn’t want to.

“Raine,
you’re not going to hurt anyone. The Saghred is dangerous;
you
are not.
You may be linked to the stone for the time being, but we will find a way to
break that link. And I swear to you on my honor that I will not stop trying
until that link is broken and you’re free.”

Okay,
that did it. I had to clench my jaw to keep the tightness in my throat from
turning into tears in my eyes. I was not going to cry. Mychael’s steadfast and
reassuring gaze wasn’t helping things any.

“You’re
hurting.” His voice was low and soft. “And that pain goes far deeper than
physical injury. Let me help.”

I
took a deep breath, sniffed, and nodded.

Mychael
placed his hand very carefully in the exact center of my chest. I looked down
and held my breath. No Saghred retaliation. No blazing heat. Just warmth. Mychael’s
warmth. It radiated outward from his steady hand, comforting and soothing. I
took one breath and let it out, then another, the tightness and pain in my
chest lessening with each breath until it was completely gone.

I
raised my eyes and met Mychael’s gaze. The pain in my chest was gone, but his
right hand remained on me, resting over my heart as if making a solemn promise,
or taking a sacred oath.

“I
will see the Saghred gone. You have my word.”

Once
I’d had a good meal and an even better night’s sleep, I wasn’t
exactly ready to take on the world, just the bad guys
infesting my little corner of it.

After
breakfast, Mychael arranged to have a bathtub brought up to my room and had it
filled with steaming hot water complete with bubble bath. His healing had taken
care of Rudra Muralin’s handwork, and his assurances that he was going to
somehow get me out of this mess had made the rest of me feel better. A little.
Promises and oaths were all well and good, but I knew he could only do so much.
I had a feeling when it came time to put the cards on the table, it was going
to be up to me.

I
felt like everyone on this island knew more than I did. It was high time to
play catch-up. No way was Rudra Muralin going to catch me with my magical
britches down again. I put his books on the table next to the tub, then dipped
my hand in the water. Perfect.

I
started undressing. Whoever said ignorance is bliss must have died a horrible
death with a really surprised look on his face. I needed to know what the bad
guys knew, and I needed to know it now. Rudra Muralin was the biggest problem
on my plate, but there were plenty of others to keep him company.

I was
no closer to finding those kidnapped students, or why Banan Ryce had taken
them. He didn’t do anything for free or without a reason. Someone had hired
him, and chances were that someone was local.

I
eased myself into the steaming tub with a groan of mixed pain and pleasure.
What muscles weren’t still sore were in tense knots. The hot water made them
feel better, and the bubbles made me feel better. Best of all, thanks to the
small heatglobe bobbing among the bubbles, the water would stay hot for as long
as I wanted to stay in the tub. You gotta love magic.

I
reached for Rudra Muralin’s journal. I just had to smile. I would love to see
Lucan Kalta’s face if he knew I was reading a thousand-year-old manuscript in
the bathtub.

Muralin’s
journal was filled with more smiting, conquering, and an awful lot of
enslaving—and most of the slaves were elves. The majority of them were sent to
Rheskilia to work in the goblins’ mines; choice captives were kept for the
Saghred. I understood the physical act of sacrificing someone to the Saghred.
I’d witnessed it firsthand last week with Sarad Nukpana—and gotten a history
lesson directly from Rudra Muralin in Sirens. Blood and physical contact with
the stone was all that was needed— the rock took it from there. But something I
kept finding throughout the journal didn’t make sense. Muralin referred to
himself as the Saghred’s “bond servant.” Believe me, I got that part. What I
didn’t understand was that on occasion sacrifices were brought to Muralin—not
to the Saghred— and he would “accept the gifts” on behalf of his master. The
word “master” was used interchangeably with “Saghred.” And in two instances,
Muralin was referred to as “the vessel.” Maybe my Old Goblin language skills
weren’t as good as I thought, but from what I read, Muralin’s “gift acceptance”
was always fatal to the poor, elven gift.

The
next pages took something I already knew one big, scary step further. To use
the Saghred, you didn’t have to be anywhere near the stone itself. I’d used the
Saghred only twice before, last week in Mermeia. The stone and I were in the
same city, within only a mile or two of each other. Yet according to Rudra
Muralin, distance was no barrier whatsoever. As long as the Saghred was awake,
Muralin could use it. Whether he was one mile from the stone or a thousand, it
didn’t matter. Sometimes the Saghred traveled with the goblin armies; sometimes
only Muralin did. The level of death and destruction never changed.

Rudra
Muralin wrote that for all intents and purposes, he and the Saghred were one
and the same. His link with the Saghred was that strong. I wasn’t a
spellsinger, and before my contact with the Saghred, I was only a marginal
sorceress, and I’d only been connected to the Saghred for a little under two
weeks. Nowhere near long enough to forge the kind of bond that could level
cities. Or was it? Was my link as strong as Rudra Muralin’s? And if not, just
how strong was it? I didn’t plan on having the link long enough to find out.

When
I finished Muralin’s journal, I put it on the table well out of splashing
range, and opened the Saghred legend book that Muralin had written under his
pen name. I started reading where Phaelan had interrupted me last time. There
was more on the power of spellsinging to command the Saghred. Obviously you
didn’t have to be a spellsinger to command the Saghred. It occurred to me that
I didn’t know if my father was a spellsinger. Mychael probably would. I’d have
to ask. The rest of the book was either things I already knew or had heard
about, such as the Saghred’s preference for shamans or powerful magic users as
sacrifices.

According
to legend, shamans who had fallen from royal favor were fed to the stone. The
shaman doing the sacrificing received enhanced powers, near immortality and
eventual insanity. The shaman getting sacrificed had his soul trapped for
eternity inside the stone. I couldn’t decide who got the worst end of that
deal.

I
finished the book and put it on the table with the journal.

I
sank down lower into the hot, bubbly water. It took a while, but I felt myself
finally start to relax, and caught myself dozing off. I didn’t try to stop it.
I’d wake up before I drowned. Probably. I drifted between sleep and wake. When
I opened my eyes, my room was kind of blurry.

Sarad
Nukpana was in sharp focus. He was smiling.

“Mind
if I join you?” he asked.

The
goblin looked entirely too happy to be sitting in a chair next to my tub, my
bubbles had become noticeably less bubbly, and worst of all, he had my towel.

The
goblin saw my glance, and his smile broadened, a hint of fang peeking into
view. “You can come and get it.”

I
told myself I wasn’t going to be intimidated. Scared, I had no control over and
it was too late for that; I was already scared. Intimidated I could do
something about. My last encounter with Nukpana had proved that anything he
could do to me, I could do worse back to him. Physically speaking, I’d fought
while naked before. Once you got past the embarrassment, it was actually kind
of liberating.

I
took a slow breath and, trying not to expose too much of myself in the process,
strategically arranged what bubbles I had left. Then I crossed my arms over my
chest. It didn’t cover everything, but it’d have to do. Nukpana’s dark eyes
hungrily devoured my every move. I guess naked female elves were a scarce
commodity inside the Saghred.

I
tried to ignore where that thought led and glanced around. “Not enough power
left to repair your own bedroom?”

Sarad
Nukpana trailed his hand in my bathwater, parting my largest cluster of
bubbles. “You’ve seen mine,” he murmured, peering down into the water. “I
wanted to see yours. By the way, this is your dream; I merely invited myself
inside. Your bond with the Saghred allows me to exist in your waking thoughts
or dreams. So I can come and go as I please.”

I
resisted the urge to look where he was looking. He shouldn’t be able to be
here. “The Saghred’s asleep.” I said it, but I suspected the cat was waking up.

“Merely
conserving power.”

“By
desire or necessity?”

“Both.
Power is precious, little seeker. It should not be wasted on trifles.”

“I’m
not a trifle?”

“You
are a necessity.” The hand trailed deeper into the water, his fingers brushing
my skin. “A most precious and desirable necessity.”

I
forced down a shiver. It wasn’t entirely due to Nukpana’s hand in my bathwater.
My heatglobe had gone out. “If you want to talk or gloat, get on with it. My
water’s not getting any warmer.”

He
grinned, exposing alarmingly sharp fangs. “You’re welcome to step out of the
tub.”

“You’re
welcome to go to hell.”

“Such
vehemence, little seeker. And when all I wanted to do was congratulate you.”

“On
what?”

“On
your newfound skills. Even though I enjoyed your primitive dispatching of my
shamans last night—inept though their attempt was—I have been truly impressed
by your evolving contact with the abducted students.” He removed his hand from
the tub, negligently flicking the water from his fingers.