Wedding Bells, Magic Spells (17 page)

“Quite all right. As far as I’m concerned, you can keep right on saying that. The Saghred was destroyed. That’s the story we’re going to be sticking with, so let’s get good at telling it.”

“We captured two of Sarad’s inner circle that night,” Imala said, smiling. “I think Grandmother should have a chat with them.”

A’Zahra Nuru was Imala’s grandmother. She had also been Tam’s teacher and black magic rehabilitator, and was presently Chigaru’s moral compass. In my opinion, she was also an all-around nice lady. So her having what Imala as the director of the goblin secret service would call a successful “chat” to obtain information was a startling revelation.

“Your grandmother tortures people?”

“She can question a person and read their thoughts, see their memories. The more specific the questioning, the better chance to bypass any thought defenses they may have.” She glanced at the crystal ball with its image of a Void full of monster spiders. “Even if neither of those two men were directly involved in conjuring the Rak’kari, chances are they would at least know about the plan, which would give us confirmation that the Khrynsani are behind it. Ben, would you contact my grandmother and tell her what we need?”

Ben looked to Justinius. “Sir?”

“Move it to the top of your list. We need that information. As soon as we’re finished here, contact her.”

“Consider it done, sir.”

“I think I’m seeing a bigger picture here,” Tam mused. “The Khrynsani no longer have the goblin king and army backing them up, there’s no Saghred to speak of, and Sarad is gone. There can be only about a hundred Khrynsani left. And they’re setting up the new goblin government to take the blame.” He shrugged. “No one’s ever trusted the goblins anyway. The elves are the only kingdom equipped to go to war over it—and from what I understand, after the fallout from Carnades’s treason, their government is in nearly as much disarray as ours. That would only leave the Conclave and Guardians capable of doing anything about it.”

Justinius snorted.

“I take it that means you’re not going to be declaring war on us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. The Khrynsani don’t waste resources, so what they’ve done in the Void can’t be just a monumental waste of perfectly good monsters—”

Mychael blinked. “Perfectly good?”

“Sorry, but you know what I mean. You have to admit they couldn’t have picked a better way to stop mirror travel—Rak’kari get the job done and they’re terrifying while they’re at it. If all the Khrynsani wanted to achieve was no peace treaty and no trust for goblins…We’ve never had either one. A few Rak’kari in the Void would have sufficed to stop mirror travel, or at least slowed it down.” He tilted his head toward the crystal ball. “That nightmare ensures no one’s going to travel by mirror anytime soon.”

“If ever,” Cuinn added. “They’re indestructible, right?”

“If they can be destroyed, the Khrynsani never found out how.”

Mychael leaned forward thoughtfully. “The governments of the two strongest kingdoms can barely field armies, and the other five don’t trust either one enough to sign a peace treaty. And when the delegates learn about the Void, what little trust there might have been will be gone.” He paused meaningfully. “The Seven Kingdoms have never been more vulnerable to attack than they are right now.”

“But from who?”

“Unknown. If we’re lucky, it’s only a few desperate and spiteful Khrynsani.”

Being a believer that a picture was worth a thousand words,
Justinius hauled the crystal ball and spy gem into the room where the delegates had been asked to gather, set them on a table, activated them, and told the delegates to watch.

When the recording had finished playing, he told the horrified assemblage what they’d seen. Then to ensure they understood the seriousness of the situation, he backed up the recording and zoomed in on the remains of the poor unfortunates who had made the life-ending choice to travel by mirror in the last day or two.

The delegates did exactly what we thought they’d do—panic and adamantly refuse to give up anything they thought might give them an advantage in what they believed was an imminent goblin/Khrynsani attack.

The claim that the present goblin government wasn’t involved was met with derision from the Nebian ambassador and wide-eyed terror from the Caesolian contingency, who had steadfastly refused to accept that all goblins had ever wanted from the Caesolians was their wine. Justinius wisely hadn’t mentioned that Sarad Nukpana always had a backup plan. All we had now were monster spiders and no mirror travel. While it was starting to look like the first step of a colossal and evil master plan, until it was known and confirmed, any discussion was mere speculation.

“Well, at least the delegates are predictable,” I murmured to Mychael.

“I think I can do something to change their minds.”

“Good luck.”

“Hopefully I won’t need it.”

He stepped forward with what looked like another spy gem. “Ladies and gentlemen, Chancellor Nathrach risked his life to obtain what you just watched. As you saw, even armor provided minimal protection against these creatures.” He held up the orb in his hand. “One of these is mounted above the door to the citadel mirror room at all times to record everything that happens whenever a mirror is activated. You need to see it.” Mychael didn’t direct that last part to the Nebian ambassador; he didn’t need to, we all knew.

Mychael looked to Tam. “With your permission?”

Why would he ask? Oh yeah, the naked part.

Next to me, Imala bit her bottom lip against a smile.

Next to her, Tam sighed and waved his hand in acquiescence.

It played and the delegates watched. No one looked away, no one could. And like any good story, it had a surprise ending. No one expected full frontal nudity.

I’d bet the delegates would talk to Tam now—at least the ladies would.

I leaned toward Imala. “If that’s not an icebreaker, I don’t know what is.”

I didn’t know which had made more of an impression: monster spiders or naked Tam.

Not only did Tam not slink down in his chair, he cast an arch glance at the Nebian ambassador, Aeron Corantine. The Nebian pretended not to notice.

Point Tam.

“Well, I guess we know who won
that
competition,” Imala noted dryly.

Dakarai Enric stood, raised his palsied hand for silence, and surprisingly got it.

Dakarai was a goblin, but he looked like a kindly grandfather, which was quite an achievement, considering his fangs. His long hair was white against his dark blue robes, and his eyes a warm dark brown instead of the usual goblin black.

“Honored colleagues, may I speak?” It was a question, but the goblin elder statesman wasn’t asking for permission. He had something to say, and no one was going to stop him from saying it.

“The histories of each of our kingdoms contain individuals
who had a twisted desire for absolute power. They found others who shared their ideology and established organizations whose goal was to force the societies that they contaminated to accept and adopt their distorted vision.” He paused meaningfully. “I need not name the organizations or their infamous leaders.
Each
of our kingdoms has had them, dark and shameful times in our respective histories. Yet
none
of us has ever failed to struggle against them; and eventually, we have all prevailed and gained our freedom. What permitted such groups to grow and even flourish were our own base—and baseless—fears and prejudices. Racial differences bred fear, which twisted into distrust, then turned into hatred. Others gained holds with religious persecution, or a need to subvert, conquer, and enslave. The causes were many. Unfortunately, our defenses against them were far fewer. Once these sects gained sufficient power, to defy them was death—but defy them we did, fighting them secretly, then resisting openly, many paying with their lives. The Khrynsani were nothing less than a cancer on goblin society. The events of the past few months—of which you are all aware—have cut that cancer from us. The wounds are still fresh, but the healing has begun. There is no longer a foothold for the Khrynsani in Rheskilia. Their temple has been destroyed, their leaders have either perished or been arrested. Yes, some have escaped, and what we have just seen is a final, desperate effort to incite terror and prevent what we are here to accomplish—peace through unity, cooperation, and nonaggression. Chigaru Mal’Salin may share Sathrik’s name, but he could not be more different from his late brother. Our new king has no intention or desire to attack or declare war on anyone. I have known Director Kalis and Chancellor Nathrach since they were children. Tamnais—”

“Was taught alongside Sarad Nukpana—the infamous leader of the Khrynsani—by the same teacher,” Aeron Corantine said. “Mages are the product of those who teach them.”

Imala’s hand locked Tam in place. He could have moved, but he didn’t. And I knew it was taking every bit of self-control he had not to go for the Nebian’s throat—or give him a long-overdue death curse demonstration.

“If you are referring to Kesyn Badru,” Dakarai said into the suddenly silent room, “he is an honorable man—as is Tamnais Nathrach.”

“Who openly conspired to bring down the goblin government and replace it with his puppet, Chigaru Mal’Salin. He even conspired and manipulated Chigaru into declaring him his heir until the king and his queen produce one. It is well known who controls the new goblin king and the goblin people—Tamnais Nathrach, a known dark mage and master of black magic.”

“Malicious lies and baseless innuendo have no place in these proceedings,” Mychael said coldly.

Aeron Corantine smiled and spread his hands. “I am not claiming these opinions as my own. I am merely relaying what I have heard said.” He paused. “Often.”

“A wise man only gives voice to words he believes in his heart and knows to be true,” said an amused, deep voice from the back of the room. The Myloran ambassador, Herryk Geirleif. “A foolish man repeats whatever he hears.” He crossed his massive arms over his even larger chest. “I do not know Chancellor Nathrach personally, but there are those I count as friends who do. They tell of a mage of the highest honor, a warrior without peer, and man who would give his life for his friends and his people. I would gladly welcome such a man into my longhouse and share with him the warmth of my fire and bounty of my hunt.” The Myloran gave the Nebian a brittle smile. “Liars and slanderers are left outside with the wolves.”

*

Justinius had dismissed the delegates. Predictably, the Nebian
delegation immediately returned to their embassy. Others remained and spoke to one another in small groups and quiet voices.

Dakarai Enric’s words had accomplished what an elder statesman/kindly grandfather did best—calmed everyone down and restored some semblance of sanity to the proceedings.

The Myloran ambassador’s words had made the Nebian ambassador look like an idiot.

I didn’t know which one I appreciated more.

“At least they haven’t found out why Markus isn’t here,” I murmured to Mago, “and whose gold paid for Eldor’s assassination. Khrynsani monster spiders in the Void are bad enough.”

“Aeron Corantine is lucky that Chancellor Nathrach can control his temper. Were he not, at least we wouldn’t have to endure that man any longer. I feel a need for a bath every time I have to speak with him.”

“That happening often?”

“Just because Pengor and Nebia share a small portion of border south of the Hart Forest, Aeron is determined that we should be as close as brothers.”

“Wouldn’t it be fun for him to actually meet your brothers?”

Mago closed his eyes and inhaled as if I’d just held a snifter of fine cognac under his nose. “That much enjoyment is illegal in five out of the Seven Kingdoms. Even worse, I’m not the only one who has been beset by our Nebian neighbor. Dear Isibel has been a paragon of self-control.”

“The next time he tries to kiss my hand, he’ll be getting my fist.”

Isibel stepped out from behind my cousin. There were definite advantages to being petite; you could eavesdrop from virtually anywhere.

“If anyone could get away with decking that one,” I told her, “it would be you. You’d inflict pain and embarrassment with one punch.”

“I’ve been told that I have a mean right hook,” she said with a tiny smile. “Ask my brother.”

I laughed. “Oh, I will. Before I leave this room I’ll ask. I deserve some fun.”

Mago lowered his voice. “Mychael said you caught one.”

My cousin didn’t say what “one” he was talking about and he didn’t need to. My skin tried to crawl away and hide. “Yeah, I did. I don’t know how, and I’d rather not think about what would have happened if my magic hadn’t flared up when it did.”

“Do you think your magic might be able to help with that?” He inclined his head toward the crystal ball.

“Mago, I wouldn’t begin to know how.”

“Do you think you might receive enlightenment before we start waking up wrapped in black web bedsheets?”

“I don’t think I could be floundering any more than I am right now, but I’m hopeful that I’ll figure out something.” Justinius had just finished speaking with Dakarai Enric and was within earshot. “However, a very wise man of my acquaintance once said: ‘I just had this dumped on me. Brilliance takes time.’”

Justinius beamed. “It’s so encouraging when young people listen to and learn from their elders. The Brenirian ambassador was asking me a similar question. Whether Raine Benares the Saghred slayer could go into the Void with a big fly swatter and take care of business.”

I glanced at the Brenirian ambassador out of the corner of my eye. He was bespectacled and solemn. I was nearly certain his face would break if he smiled. Come to think of it, I’d never seen him assume an expression of any kind. “He said that?”

Justinius shrugged. “My words, not his. But it was what he meant.”

“I’m certain he isn’t the only one,” Mago ventured. “You have quite the martial reputation.”