“The only thing I can do. Contact Mychael Eiliesor and find some way to give him this thing. If he wants it, he can have it. Guarding the Saghred is his job, so I’m going to help him get on with it.”
“Do you think you can trust him?”
“I can’t trust any of the others who think they should have it. They all want me dead, or worse. He doesn’t seem to. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
Piaras sniffed. I sniffed.
I heard Garadin’s low whistle. I peered around the crabpots. The Fortune’s dinghy was pulling up to the dock.
Saved by the boat.
Two of Phaelan’s crew rowed us out to the Fortune. The dinghy had a section covered by a tarp. Piaras and I slipped under the tarp unnoticed by the fishermen and unseen by any goblin.
The short trip out to where Phaelan’s ship was moored gave me a few minutes to think. Those thoughts kept coming back to the Guardian. Mychael Eiliesor could have forceably taken the amulet from me as soon as he’d found us in The Ruins, and in my condition, there wouldn’t have been much I could have done to stop him. He didn’t. What he did do was put himself between me and Piaras and the danger of Sarad Nukpana and told us to go. He wanted the amulet, but he wasn’t going to endanger our lives to get it. In short, he was being the perfect paladin and gentleman. I felt a little smile coming on. It wasn’t what I’d expected, but it was something I could definitely get used to.
We got out to the ship without incident.
For the first time tonight, I felt safe. As with most of his possessions, Phaelan didn’t bother with flash—with the Fortune, fast and nimble was all he wanted. She delivered both. She also delivered forty guns, and men and elves who knew how to use them.
Aeryk Galir, Phaelan’s first mate, met us as we boarded on the port side. It faced the barrier islands, well away from any curious eyes.
“The Captain doesn’t get many visitors at this hour,” Aeryk said, grinning as he helped me over the side. “He was surprised to hear you were coming aboard.”
“This wasn’t exactly planned. I won’t be staying long. It wouldn’t be safe for me or anyone else here.”
“Whatever trouble’s after you, ma’am, we can handle it.”
“Right now I can’t handle the trouble I have after me, and I’m not going to make my problems anyone else’s. I plan to be gone before anyone knows I’m here.”
Aeryk shrugged, then nodded. He’d had firsthand experience of the trouble I occasionally managed to attract, and he wasn’t going to give me any arguments.
“The Captain asked me to have you all join him in his cabin.”
We went below. Phaelan was at the table in the center of the cabin, the remains of some kind of meal in front of him. With Phaelan’s night owl tendencies, who knew which meal it was supposed to be. I crossed the cabin in three strides and greeted my cousin with a big hug. Phaelan wasn’t the touchy-feely type, and normally I respected his personal space, but things hadn’t been normal for days so I felt entitled.
Piaras had to duck his head to get through the door, and my cousin’s smile vanished when he saw the young elf’s bruised face. The color hadn’t faded, but at least the swelling had gone down.
“What happened?” Phaelan’s voice promised many bad things for whoever had caused that bruise.
“Nothing good,” I told him. My voice suddenly sounded as exhausted as I felt. I think it was the sight of somewhere to sit, and no one standing between me and there, waiting to kill me. I pulled up a chair and sat down, my muscles tight and protesting from a night of running and other less healthy activities. “I should probably start from when I left home yesterday morning.”
Phaelan ordered food and clean clothes brought for both of us. Mine were still more or less in one piece, but the smell left something to be desired after the dunking in The Ruins’ pond, so I took my cousin up on his offer. When I’d changed, I told them all about my day—starting with my talk with Janek at Nigel’s townhouse, then to my spotting of A’Zahra Nuru and subsequent meeting with Tam. I finished with Ocnus’s setup and how Piaras and I had spent our night.
By the time I stopped talking, Piaras had excused himself from the table and stretched out on Phaelan’s bunk. He was now sound asleep. I was hard pressed to keep my own eyes open.
Garadin had his elbows on the table, his forehead resting against the palms of his upraised hands. It was a thinking position he used when there was more of a problem than information to solve it. Glad he agreed with me.
“In a twisted way, it being a beacon makes sense,” he said. He lifted his head and leaned back in his chair. “It would certainly explain its popularity—and yours.”
“Nothing makes sense to me, least of all why it picked me to attach itself to,” I told him. “Guardians guard the Saghred. I’m not a Guardian. I’m only a passable sorceress.”
Apparently I was also my father’s daughter, and while I wanted to talk to Garadin about it, I thought I’d wait until we were alone.
“The beacon doesn’t seem to mind,” Phaelan noted.
“Well, I do.”
“It doesn’t seem to care what you think, either.”
I let that one pass. He was right.
“I have an idea of what you did.” Garadin’s blue eyes were solemn as he looked back at me. “But I have no idea how you were able to do it.”
It was only as much as I knew, and didn’t know, myself.
“How much do you know about the Saghred?” I asked him.
“Enough to know that you don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Too late for that.” Now for the question of the night. “What can contact with it do to me?”
Garadin didn’t want to answer that one. That much was obvious.
“Legend has it the Saghred can level armies or kingdoms,” he said. “Though there’s no historical record of the Saghred linked with any destroyed army or no-longer-existing kingdom. So it’s probably safe to say those are false claims.”
“Probably safe?”
“More than likely.”
“But not definitely.”
“No.”
I sighed and took a sip of coffee. Phaelan served it laced with whiskey, and it burned its way down my throat.
“Though the Great Rift in Rheskilia was said to have been caused by the Saghred in a Khrynsani experiment gone wrong,” Garadin added.
The Great Rift was a mile-wide, nearly fifty-mile-long tear in the mountains of the Northern Reach. That was some experiment.
“But what would it do to me?” My voice sounded rather small.
“I’ve only read about Khrynsani shamans using the Saghred,” Garadin said. “And they weren’t too sane to begin with, so I don’t think they’re your best point of reference.”
“For what?”
“The Saghred affecting mental stability.”
My coffee stuck in my throat. I managed to swallow. “I’ve heard that one, too.”
“Just another claim, probably false,” Garadin hurried to assure me. “I’m sure what you experienced tonight was the beacon, or the shielding spells protecting the Saghred.”
That was easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one possibly on the verge of going off the deep end.
“Mychael Eiliesor would be the one to ask,” Garadin added. “The Guardians play anything to do with the Saghred close to the vest. You’ve decided to meet with him?”
I nodded. “As soon as I’ve had some sleep. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
“Do you know where to find him?”
I smiled, though it probably looked more like a grimace. “That’s the only easy part of this whole mess. I don’t have to do a thing. He’ll find me. He’s been popping into my head on a regular basis lately, so the next time he does it, I’ll just make a date. I was going to find him first, but I’d rather have a few hours of sleep.”
“Do you want some company when you meet with him?” Phaelan asked.
I took another swig of whiskey coffee. It didn’t burn now, but then I couldn’t feel my tongue anymore, either.
“All I can get,” I told him. “I don’t want any misunderstandings. When I tell him he can have the beacon, he needs to know that I’m not part of the deal.”
Phaelan drained his own mug. “I think we can help him understand that.”
“Tell me more about the creatures that attacked you and Piaras,” Garadin said.
“What Sarad Nukpana cooked up?”
“Those are the ones.”
“More like shadows than anything,” I told him. “That is, if shadows were solid, and if ink could eat people.” I fought a shiver and failed. “Nukpana called them Magh’Sceadu. I know goblin, but I’ve never heard that term before. Do you know what they are?”
Garadin nodded. “They’re a Khrynsani creation, supposedly made out of goblin elemental magics. They function much like a sponge. They absorb magic in those who have it, and the life force of those who don’t. The shaman who created them can then use the harvested power for other purposes.”
If Sarad Nukpana was their creator, I wasn’t anxious to hear about those other purposes, or think about how close Piaras and I came to finding out firsthand. The first order of business when I met with Mychael Eiliesor should probably be a thank you.
“They can take any form their creator chooses,” Garadin continued. “But as with most conjurings, you can make them as elaborate or simple as needed. Elaborate takes time and effort. From your description, what you encountered were Magh’Sceadu at their most basic. A quick and dirty version. Apparently the Khrynsani are more concerned with getting a specific job done rather than making them look pretty.”
I didn’t need to ask what that job was. Or more to the point, who that job was.
I looked over at Piaras. He was still asleep. Good. I didn’t want him to hear what I was going to ask. I didn’t want to know the answer, but I needed to. I had seen what they had done to Siseal Peli and the goblin shamans who had tried to rein them in, but I didn’t know what had actually happened to them. If I ran into Nukpana’s beasties again, I wanted to be better prepared, though I really didn’t think it would help. The shamans thought they were prepared, and look what it got them. But I’d take a little knowledge over a lot of ignorance any day. At the very least, I’d die knowing what killed me.