The Trouble with Demons (11 page)

“Tamnais Nathrach tries to be a good man,” Eamaliel said quietly. “But his past begins to catch up with him. His training and the instincts that feed his power may prove too much for him to resist in the end.”

“I want to help him.”

Nukpana chuckled. “You’re both going to need help.” “Shut up!” my father and I barked simultaneously.

The goblin lay back on my pillows with a smug and knowing smile.

I swallowed. “Carnades wants us both in prison and—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Eamaliel said. “How long have you known Tamnais Nathrach?”

“That’s important?”

“Very.”

“A little over two years.”

“Have you heard the term ‘umi’atsu’?”

“No. Should I?”

“Umi’atsu is a goblin word meaning ‘life twins,’ ” Nukpana interrupted. He raised his hands in mock defense when my father shot him a scathing look. “Eamaliel, who better to tell her about goblin magic than me?”

My father hesitated then nodded tightly.

The goblin graciously inclined his head and continued. “An umi’atsu is a bond conceived between two powerful mages—usually goblin mages—binding them first through their magic, then hearing, sight, and finally their minds and souls. After that, an umi’atsu bond can only be broken by death.” Nukpana looked entirely too happy about that last part. “Some consider it a magical marriage of sorts—body and soul become one, until death do you part, all that sentimental nonsense.”

Marriage?
My mind seized onto that one word and locked up in panic.

“What does that have to do with Tam and me?” I dimly heard myself ask.

“Just everything.” Nukpana looked closely at me and smiled.

“Why, Raine, are you getting cold feet? It’s a trifle late for that, the ceremony’s over.”

“You’re saying that we’re . . .”

“Umi’atsu,” Nukpana finished helpfully. “Magically mated, if you will. Though in my opinion Tamnais could have selected a more romantic location than under the elven embassy.” Nukpana’s black eyes glittered. “And I didn’t even get you a gift.”

I desperately looked at my father.

“What he says is true,” Eamaliel told me. “Such a bond can only be formed if the two mages were emotionally close prior to the incident that caused the bonding. Obviously the two of you must have been very close.”

Tam and I were definitely close—he wanted to be even closer.

My father’s face didn’t have much of an expression. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed, but he sure as hell wasn’t the proud father of the bride.

Bride. Oh
shit.

I thought, considered, and concluded in the span of a few seconds. What I thought wasn’t pretty, and my conclusion didn’t make me happy. “When Tam said that we weren’t separate anymore, he
knew
what had happened.” He’d probably wanted it to happen. And if I found out that he’d done it on purpose, once I got my hands around his throat, I was going from bride to widow.

Then I froze, unblinking. My heart tried to do flips in my chest, and questions tripped over each other in my mind. I’d just experienced something entirely too similar with Mychael. Could I be magically joined to both of them? Was it possible? Merely probable? And if so, was it illegal? Or just immoral? Maybe it was both, or neither.

I felt really woozy all of a sudden. Either there wasn’t any air in the room, or I’d completely forgotten how to breathe.

Nukpana was laughing. “Of course Tamnais knew. He was Queen Glicara Mal’Salin’s magical enforcer for five years. I’ve seen Tamnais Nathrach in action, little seeker. He knows only too well what goblin magic can do, especially the dark variety. He’s done enough of it himself.” The goblin leered. “And if something was enough fun, he would do it again.”

“Tam’s not like that anymore.” I said it but I wasn’t entirely sure. I stifled a growl. For his sake, he’d better not be.

Nukpana’s grin was slow and wicked. “Would you care to place a wager on that? A
private
wager?”

My father spoke. “The two of you did what you had to—and unfortunately forged an umi’atsu bond. Tamnais is powerful enough to be one half of an umi’atsu. You are not. But you and the Saghred . . .”

“Let me guess: it was enough.”

“The level of magical power you and Nathrach generated to save those spellsingers was more than enough. Have you seen him since that night? In person?” he added.

“No, we didn’t think it would be a good idea just now, what with Carnades thinking we’re forming our own league of darkness. Does he know about—”

Sarad Nukpana snorted. “Of course Carnades Silvanus knows about magical bonds, especially anything that could involve a goblin. His life’s goal is to wipe every one of us from the face of the earth. So what if we conquered, tortured, and enslaved thousands of elves—that was hundreds of years ago. Ancient history. Some people don’t know when to let go of a grudge.”

When I’d first met Carnades last week, he’d told me that he was an avid student of goblin history, and that only through knowledge can your enemy be defeated. To Carnades, every goblin was his enemy. Unfortunately a lot of powerful elves, mostly pure-blooded high elves and military types, felt exactly the same way. Part of me didn’t blame them; part of me actually sided with Sarad Nukpana. That was a scary thought.

“But elves have become more adept at protecting themselves over the centuries,” Nukpana noted. “They may even be more intelligent than their rather dim ancestors.” He sighed nostalgically. “It’s not as easy to defeat and enslave elves as it used to be.”

Cancel that. I agreed with Carnades, at least as far as eradicating this particular goblin was concerned.

Eamaliel’s eyes met mine. “Raine, you have an umi’atsu bond with the chief shaman for the House of Mal’Salin—”

“
Former
chief shaman,” I hurriedly corrected him.

“To those such as Carnades Silvanus, that technicality makes no difference.”

“And if I’m in this bond, the Saghred is in it.” I didn’t ask it as a question; I knew the answer.

“Unfortunately correct,” he said softly.

I plopped down in the chair. “Carnades is gonna love this. He’ll get me and Tam on the executioner’s block in one fell swoop.”

And possibly Mychael along with us.

A prickle of cold panic ran up my back. The walls of my room were fading and the gray void was seeping in.

My father swore. “You’re waking up. Have a care, daughter.” His voice was fading, as was he. “And trust your instincts.”

Sarad Nukpana’s mocking laughter came as if from far away. “You can’t trust anyone else.”

I woke up, came to, whatever, as my eyes blinked their way open—and told me nothing. It was dark. I think I was under a blanket or cloak; however, I didn’t feel any manacles on my wrists. Good to know. I was also upside down, over someone’s shoulder, and that someone was moving fast. It felt like all the blood in my body had converged between my ears. My carrier adjusted my weight with a grunt. I knew that grunt. Vegard. If he was moving that fast and had to hide me under a cloak, yelling for him to put me down probably wouldn’t be a good idea. I opted for pounding my hand once on his armored back to at least let him know I was conscious.

He responded by tightening his hold on my legs and running faster. That didn’t fill me with the warm and fuzzies about our situation.

“Stop!”

The sharp command came from in front of us. I heard steel being drawn from all around us. My blanket fell off, but I still couldn’t see jack squat.

Footsteps echoed on stone, leisurely walking toward us. Then they stopped. A voice spoke, his words calm, his expectation nothing less than Vegard’s complete cooperation.

“Give her to us, or die.”

 

 

Vegard had one arm around my legs. If there was going to be a fight, he’d need all the arms he could get, including mine. I was still disoriented, but if Carnades had sent his personal guard goons after me, I was going to take some slices out of them before they got their hands on me. I still had the blades strapped to my forearms, and I wanted a chance to use them.

“Rolf, that’s Vegard! Are you blind, man?”

The
Fortune
wasn’t the only pirate ship anchored in Mid’s harbor. Phaelan’s dad, Commodore Ryn Benares, was visiting with three of his best ships. Uncle Ryn’s definition of “best” was his ships and crews that were best qualified for the most ruthless work. He was here to motivate Mid’s mages to find a way to free me of my link to the Saghred. As soon as that blessed event happened, he and his boys would be on their way. If the Conclave didn’t want pirates in their harbor and town, they’d better get to work on my problem. Mychael had given permission for Uncle Ryn to have his ships drop anchor in Mid’s harbor with the strict understanding that he was there as my concerned uncle, not as Commodore Benares.

I felt the Guardian’s shoulders relax, but only slightly. “Commodore?”

“Aye, Vegard,” came my uncle’s amused rumble from somewhere in front of us. “You’ve wandered into my new home away from home.”

“Put me down!” I didn’t bother with quiet.

“Let’s take it slow, ma’am,” the Guardian cautioned. “You’re going to be a bit unsteady on your feet.”

“I can stand.” Truth was I had no idea what I could do. Upside down wasn’t the best position to make that assessment.

Vegard carefully set me on my feet. As soon as he did, somebody spun the room in a big circle and I promptly landed on the floor. I put my hand over my eyes and just lay there. I couldn’t even see the room, and it still felt like the damned thing was spinning.

“Ooooo, not feeling so good.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” I dimly heard Vegard say. “The paladin had me get you out of there quick.”

Everything flooded back, making me even sicker. The blue demons, Carnades, the giant yellow demon I’d squashed, my dream, my possible marriage—and all of them were the Saghred’s fault.

I’d used the Saghred, but mostly the Saghred had used me. No wonder I wanted to toss my cookies. I also felt raw and exhausted and I had the worst headache of my life. The stone floor of wherever we were felt wonderful beyond belief against my flushed face.

A pair of massive black boots appeared in my line of vision.

“Hi, Uncle Ryn.” My voice was muffled from half of my face being smushed against the oh-so-delightfully-cool floor that I never wanted to leave.

“Afternoon, Spitfire.”

Spitfire. Uncle Ryn’s pet name for me. Also the name of a particularly ill-tempered breed of small dragon. Uncle Ryn had always meant it as a compliment, so I’d taken it the same way. I didn’t feel much like my namesake right now, and I’d have chuckled at the irony except I was trying really hard not to move. If I moved, the contents of my stomach were going to do likewise. That’s what my stomach was telling me, and I knew it wasn’t bluffing.

“Sorry for the less-than-hospitable greeting, Vegard,” Uncle Ryn was saying. “But the only chances I’m taking right now are at a card table. Rolf doesn’t know you, and you had my niece over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”

Swearing and sounds of a scuffle came from behind us. The scuffle concluded with three sharp punches followed by a quick succession of oofs and pained grunts.

“Sorry, Captain Benares, sir.” The man sounded like he was talking through a bloody lip and possibly some loose teeth. “We didn’t recognize you in the dark, and we’ve been ordered to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stop everyone by any means.”

“Our apologies, sir.”

“The boys are a little on edge, son,” Uncle Ryn explained.

“Most of them never saw demons before.”

I slowly sat up, gingerly holding my head as motionless as I could. “They saw demons? What did they look like?”

“Like something that shouldn’t be here.”

“Blue or purple?” I hesitated, not really wanting to ask. “Or were they yellow?”

“None of the above. Red with horns and tails.”

I swore. Just what we didn’t need—variety.

Phaelan’s boots joined his dad’s in my line of vision. I hadn’t tried looking any higher than footwear. I thought it’d help my stomach to keep my eyes on the floor. Generally, floors didn’t move. That went well, so I tried looking up at my cousin and uncle, then ever so slowly over at Vegard.

“Okay, boys. Hit me with it. What happened?”

Phaelan grinned. “You did.”

I would have kicked him, but that meant I’d have to move. Phaelan knew that, the bastard. “I mean after that.”

“A couple of watchers got sick when they saw the pile of yellow . . . mush that used to be that demon, and Carnades started making completely unreasonable demands.” Phaelan’s grin grew wider. “Then that blue demon the paladin was questioning somehow managed to escape that metal circle thing that was keeping him—”

“
Somehow
managed?”

“The paladin glanced at the professor, the professor winked at the paladin, and next thing we all knew, that blue demon was free and hot on Carnades’s heels. The blue ones like him for some reason.”

“Can’t imagine what that would be,” I muttered. If I could ever show my face again without getting arrested, I owed Mychael and Sora Niabi a big thank-you.

“While Magus Silvanus was occupied, the paladin told me to get you out of there,” Vegard said. “The quickest way was you over my shoulder.” The Guardian winced in apology. “Sorry all that jostling around made you sick, ma’am.”

“It wasn’t you, Vegard. It was the rock.”

He went a little pale. “The Saghred?”

“That’s the one.”

Uncle Ryn squatted down next to me, and I still had to look up at him. Elves were usually tall and leanly muscled. Uncle Ryn was just big. He wore his dark hair short, his beard trimmed, and had a booming voice that’d carry clear up to a crow’s nest. He had a booming laugh to go with it and a sense of humor to match. He was somewhere around fifty, but he didn’t look it, and he sure as hell didn’t act like it. I was a firm believer in being happy doing your chosen work. If you had to make a living at something, you should enjoy doing it. Ryn Benares was still in his prime and basking in the benefits of his chosen calling—the most feared pirate in the seven kingdoms.