Instantly Mychael’s hand locked around my wrist. “Raine.”
The look I gave him was calm and cool—and if he thought he saw an explosives-crazed Benares glint in my eyes, he was mistaken. “For use only if necessary.”
“Define ‘necessary.’”
“If Nukpana and his uncle give us Markus and let us leave, then it won’t be necessary.”
Mychael just looked at me. “When and where have you used these before?”
“If I told you, you might have to arrest me. Besides, since my arms and legs are still attached to the rest of me, it means I know what I’m doing.”
He sighed and released my wrist. “If you jostle that thing around, I’ll be picking what’s left of you out of the rafters.”
“You mean there’ll be rafters left?” I asked innocently. “How disappointing.” I tucked a grenade inside my pouch, followed by a second one. If our situation went down the crapper to the point where I needed to cause one explosion, chances were I’d need two. “Now, what’s your plan?”
He told me. I think my jaw dropped.
And he thought I was nuts.
The first part of Mychael’s plan involved getting upstairs, getting the lay of the land, and not getting caught. I thought that was an excellent start. From there, it sailed into uncharted territory, at least as far as I was concerned. Mychael’s plan was twofold: he would take care of every goblin between us and Markus, and I would stay out of sight. While I was all for Mychael eliminating goblins and I liked how he was going to do it, I wasn’t a big fan of being a wallflower.
According to Mychael, the first floor was the public reception area: sitting rooms, a small ballroom, and offices. The second floor was mainly personal quarters, and the third was servants’ quarters. The goblins were on the first floor. At least that was where Sarad Nukpana was. I was getting the same black, oily sensation crawling along my skin that I did outside with the coach. Nukpana was here and he was close. That oily trail went to where Mychael said were the front reception rooms, probably the sitting room, which was one flight up, down one corridor and take a right, cross the entry hall and we’d be there. It was right next to the front door and freedom.
Except we weren’t going there, at least not until Mychael had done his work.
He had the reputation of being the best spellsinger in the seven kingdoms. If everything went according to plan, no one would hear a single note until it was too late. Mychael would be singing a concert for one set of goblin ears at a time, taking out every guard between us and that sitting room. Once we got there, the plan was to hit Nukpana, Ghalfari, and anyone in that room with the same song. It’d have to be a lightning- quick strike. If they sensed or heard one note beforehand, the plan was shot to hell and probably us along with it. Sarad Nukpana and his uncle were that powerful; they were also within killing distance of the man we needed to rescue. It was a classic hostage situation with a sick twist: Nukpana wanted Markus’s knowledge, memories, and life force for himself, but if push came to shove, he’d slit Markus’s throat out of sheer spite. If he couldn’t have him, he’d kill him.
Mychael would be using a sound shield for his voice that extended about twenty feet in every direction. Anyone outside the shield wouldn’t hear a thing, but any goblin within twenty feet of Mychael’s pipes would be taking an hour-long nap that a cannon blast wouldn’t disturb.
Mychael and I were at the top of the stairs, still veiled, and about to go into the main house.
“I wish you’d reconsider staying here,” Mychael said.
“We don’t know what’s waiting for us up there, and you’re not walking into that alone. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re near the top of Nukpana’s lunch list. I don’t want to use the big gun, but I will if I have to.”
We both knew I meant the Saghred, and Mychael knew: where he was going I was going. This was the time to act, not argue. I didn’t think Sarad Nukpana was going to kill Markus here. According to Vidor Kalta, it took more than an hour to do a cha’nescu ritual. Nukpana would want somewhere safe where he wouldn’t be interrupted. That meant as soon as they had Markus tied up and ready to go, they’d leave. We were running out of time, if we hadn’t already.
“You need to shield your thoughts,” Mychael told me. “And once we’re through this door, no talking, not even mindspeak.”
“Won’t your sound shield cover us?”
“It will cover my sound—my voice, our footsteps—but not strong emotions. Strong emotions or thoughts will cause my shield to ripple, buckle, and possibly fail. We have to keep our minds as clear as possible.”
“You mean the Saghred, too.”
“I mean the Saghred and your temper. There can’t be a flicker of either one. If you feel the Saghred stirring, push it down and do it fast, with no emotion, no fear, no panic.”
I about said he had to be kidding, but I knew he wasn’t.
“I’m in the same house with a goblin who wants to kill me and an elf who may have sold me and mine down the river, and I’m supposed to keep me and the rock on an even keel?”
“Raine, you don’t have a choice. Anger or fear will give us away and so will the Saghred. We’ll be invisible in every sense—”
“Unless I lose control.”
“You lose control; I lose the shield.”
“We lose our lives.”
“Good reason to keep your temper under control, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “I’m motivated.”
“I hoped you would be. Let’s go.”
There weren’t any goblins in the kitchen. However, there were lots of knives. I silently helped myself to a pair of long carving knives, tucked one in my belt, and kept the other in my right hand in case it needed to make itself useful in the next few minutes. I walked two paces behind Mychael on his right side and out of his way.
We encountered the first Khrynsani temple guard leaning against a doorway. His bosses were on the other side of the house, and he was left to stand watch over a lot of empty space that, with the arrival of me and Mychael, suddenly wasn’t so empty anymore. He was confident and complacent right up until the instant Mychael’s whispered voice sent him sliding down that doorway onto the floor. He never knew what hit him.
Mychael’s spellsinging voice was softer and more soothing than a whisper, gently nestling into the place between sleep and wake. It was low, it was velvety, and if he’d been aiming at me, I’d be in a happy little puddle on the floor. Damn, he was good. I’d known that for some time; the Khrynsani guards got to find out the hard way.
Mychael flowed smoothly through the house. We had no time to lose, and Mychael wasn’t wasting a second. Nukpana and Ghalfari hadn’t brought as many Khrynsani guards with them as I would have expected. Normally this would be good news, but normally there would be someone for them to guard or kill.
There weren’t any elves, dead or otherwise.
Markus Sevelien was the newly appointed head of elven intelligence and Mychael said that he’d brought his own security with him from Mermeia. So where were they? All we saw as we worked our way through the house were Khrynsani. I didn’t see or sense a single elf. There were a lot of things wrong with that, and every last one of them smelled like a setup. Mychael took out the next four goblins we encountered in the exact same way and just as easily.
We’d reached the entry hall. There were doors leading to several rooms, but only two interested me: the one that led outside and the one directly across from us. The massive front door was guarded from the outside by a pair of Khrynsani. Mychael’s voice did its thing and I dimly heard a pair of thumps as the goblins hit the ground.
Mychael inclined his head, indicating the door directly across from us. It was stately, beautifully carved, and behind it was evil incarnate. Sarad Nukpana had gone through that door; I knew it as surely as if I’d seen him do it myself. The front door was tantalizingly close. Instant escape. All I’d have to do was not trip over the unconscious Khrynsani when I ran out.
I heard a voice. Cultured and velvety.
Sarad Nukpana.
He was talking to someone. I couldn’t hear his words and I didn’t need to. Markus Sevelien was in there with him, probably restrained, definitely conscious. Oh yes, Nukpana would want his next victim conscious. The better for him to torment and terrify and for his victim to realize his helplessness, his impending and agonizing death. Hell, Sarad Nukpana probably fed on their fear before he even laid hands on them. Perverted son of a bitch.
Mychael lightly touched my arm, and I slowly stilled my thoughts.
Just thinking about Sarad Nukpana set me off.
Shit.
“Are you going to keep us waiting all night, little seeker?” came a chilling voice from the other side of the door.
I froze, swore, and fought the urge to run—all in the same split second. Anyone watching would have probably thought I’d had some sort of spasm. It was exactly what Nukpana wanted. I was terrified, but I forced it down—actually I had to shove it down and hold it there until it stopped squirming. Then I scraped up some rage. Rage and I had always worked well together.
“I’m so sorry.” Me and my temper had just signed our death warrant.
Mychael’s lips were a grim and determined line. “Not your fault. He already knew we were here.”
No use tiptoeing now. They knew we wanted Markus, so they knew we were coming in. Mychael and I glanced at each other. Might as well do it in style.
I dropped my veil and reached down deep for every bit of power I could scrape up without kicking the Saghred into action. Focus, not fear. Nukpana wanted me terrified.
He wanted me. He could have taken Markus and been long gone, but he hadn’t. He had waited.
For us.
For me.
I didn’t kick the Saghred into action, but I did relax the hold I had over it.
Mychael’s power blazed like a burning sun as he calmly placed his outstretched hand against the wood and the door vanished, incinerated in a white-hot flash of power. And his glow didn’t diminish one bit; in fact, he grew even brighter.