“Raine, you might have thought wrong,” my cousin said quietly.
He knew I didn’t like being wrong, but I despised being used, taken advantage of, or duped. All of the above made me feel stupid, and right now being stupid would get me and the people I loved a couple of steps closer to being dead. And one of those people was standing next to me. Any mess I’d found myself in, Phaelan had been right there with me in the muck. He claimed he didn’t want me having all the fun; truth was he was determined to protect me every step of the way even though one of those steps might be his last.
Markus had never told anyone in the agency that I worked for him. I was always paid under the table. But he could have been ordered to reveal his connection—or he could have volunteered it himself. Hell, Taltek Balmorlan knew; who else was running around with that information?
“A better question is how much do you trust him?” Phaelan asked in that same subdued tone.
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know the answer.
“The number of people you can trust, believe in, and stake your life on, you can count on these.” Phaelan held up his hand with five spread fingers. “And if Lady Luck is really smiling down on you, maybe one or two more. But beyond that, everyone has a price for selling you out. And it doesn’t have to be money. It’s not always what you’re paid, but what you’re not willing to pay. You have to consider the possibility that the bastards in the agency’s big offices found Markus Sevelien’s price.”
That was what I was afraid of.
Chapter 15
I smelled the food before Phaelan and I got to Uncle Ryn’s cabin, and my stomach rumbled in appreciative anticipation. Uncle Ryn knew me well. I was pissed and he knew I needed to be levelheaded and reasonable. Get me fed and I could be reasoned with. I guess Uncle Ryn didn’t want to risk having to clean Markus Sevelien’s blood out of his carpets.
I knocked.
“Come,” Uncle Ryn boomed.
I opened the door and the scent of a heavenly dinner was nearly overwhelming.
The captain’s quarters on the Red Hawk were spacious, but contained only the things Uncle Ryn needed: bed, table with six chairs, fold-down sideboard, desk, and a cabinet where he kept his liquor. He didn’t want anything fancy or needless cluttering up his cabin. He liked his space. And Uncle Ryn didn’t take kindly to invasions of his personal space. He had a favorite response to someone stepping in on him. He’d reach out, grab you by the throat, lift you off your feet, and replace those feet at a respectful distance. This response was a warning; if you tried it again, it would be your last time stepping in on anybody. Uncle Ryn didn’t tolerate rudeness.
Most elves were 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 or act it. I was a firm believer in being happy doing your chosen work. If you were going 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 any body of water larger than a bathtub.
Judging from the three used dishes on the sideboard, Uncle Ryn, Mychael, and Markus had already eaten.
“I hear you’ve had yourself a rough evening, Spitfire,” Uncle Ryn rumbled softly. “Come get yourself something to eat.”
Mychael arched a brow in amusement. “Spitfire?”
“His pet name for me,” I told him.
“Also an ill-tempered breed of small dragon.”
“She knows I’ve always meant it as a compliment,” Uncle Ryn said. “But like Raine, those little buggers get even more ill-tempered when they’re hungry.” He nodded toward the sideboard. “Fix yourself a plate before it gets cold.”
For once I did as told, no objections.
Uncle Ryn got out of his chair with his empty glass and went over to the liquor cabinet. “You want a drink?” he asked me.
I snorted past a mouthful of food. “You have to ask?”
Uncle Ryn poured me a glass of something the color of fine rubies. A Caesolian red, a good one. Aside from the one look I’d given Markus when I came through the door, I was ignoring him until I’d gotten some food in my stomach. I occasionally felt his eyes on me as he, Mychael, and Uncle Ryn made polite small talk waiting for me to finish. I didn’t rush my meal, but I didn’t take my time, either. I’d waited long enough.
When I’d finished, I pushed my plate back and gave Markus my full and undivided attention.
“No doubt you want to know why I’m here,” he said.
“What I want is your honesty.” I put down my wineglass. I didn’t trust myself with anything that could be thrown or broken over someone’s head. Besides, it was an expensive glass.
“Raine, you don’t know what you’re asking for—or how much danger you’re in.”
I laughed. I had to. That had to be one of the most ridiculously obvious statements I’d ever heard. “Markus, I know exactly how much danger I’m in. I’m up to my eyeballs in it, and if it gets deeper, I’ll have to start swimming.” I leaned forward; it was more civilized than diving across the cabin for the elf duke’s throat. “What I want to know is how much of it is your doing. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve looked forward to getting you in the same room with me. I know exactly what I’m asking for. Entertain me.”
Markus Sevelien told me.
I wasn’t entertained in the least.
Officially, Taltek Balmorlan was an inquisitor working for elven intelligence. In reality, Taltek Balmorlan was an arms dealer working for Taltek Balmorlan. And in a world of magic where mages qualified as weapons, he was dealing in living, breathing people, collecting supernaturally powerful elven mages. I knew that much. Piaras hadn’t been the first. I’d suspected that. The bastard preferred them young and vulnerable, easily influenced or intimidated. And being an agent of the elven government, Balmorlan could concoct a legal claim to them, like drafting them into the army. And that was precisely how he planned to use them—as weapons in a war against the goblins.
Markus steepled his fingers in front of his face. “When you came here, Taltek followed you—and put his plan into motion. You being able to wield the Saghred without any adverse effect was his dream come true. His greatest fear was that you would go over to the goblins first.”
“Is that your greatest fear, Markus? That I’ll go to the goblins? Or that I’ll sell my services to the highest bidder because I’m a Benares?” I was getting mad and I let myself. This boilover had been a long time coming. “Because any elf worth their pureblood knows that we’re filthy criminals. We can’t be trusted and only care about filling our pockets with as much gold as we can carry. Is that your fear?”
“You know that’s not what I think.”
“No, Markus, I don’t know that. It’s your job to root out traitors. Balmorlan’s here, and now so are you. You’re Balmorlan’s boss. I think you’re here on business, and that business is me.”
“Yes, it is part of my job to find traitors.” His voice was carefully modulated. “You are not a traitor, Raine. You never have been—and you never will be.”
“Because you’re not going to allow it? I won’t work for the elves, the goblins, or anyone else,” I snapped. “I want to be rid of the damned rock and I want my life back. If you call that a traitor, then that’s what I am. No amount of gold can hire me, and I won’t allow myself or anyone I love to be used or threatened. And thanks to the rock, I can enforce my wishes.” My voice dropped to one step above a growl. “Don’t think for one moment that I won’t use it.”
I expected anger; what I got was calm acceptance, maybe even a trace of amusement.
“I know that, Raine. And I told the queen that’s what you would say.” He smiled. “She asked that I give you a message.”
That took me by surprise. I didn’t know the queen and I wasn’t sure I wanted her to know of me.
“She’s never met you but she already likes you, and she would like very much to tell you that in person one day.”
“Huh?” Way to use the rapier wit, Raine.
Markus leaned forward. “I no longer work for elven intelligence.”
“But you just got promoted to the head of the whole agency.”
“In a manner of speaking. I work for the queen. I report to her and only to her. There are some good people in elven intelligence. Unfortunately, their influence isn’t what it once was. People like Taltek Balmorlan have bribed or blackmailed their way into positions of power. When the Saghred surfaced, Her Majesty and I knew we had to act quickly. Yes, she appointed me head of the agency, and that appointment upset more than a few people, Taltek among them.” He took a sip of his wine. “The queen wants him and his allies exposed and stopped. When Taltek kidnapped Piaras Rivalin and attempted to remove him from this island, that act exposed Taltek’s network of mage procurers. The queen finds the practice abhorrent and she wants it stopped, as do I. Lisara Ambrosiel is a good and honorable woman. As are you, Raine.” He smiled. “And as to you being a Benares and my being a duke, you may be gratified to know that I am the chief of elven intelligence in name only; what I’m actually doing is more along the lines of a janitorial service. Her Majesty wants to clean house, and I’ve volunteered to be the broom.”
I looked over at Mychael, an eyebrow raised in question.
“It’s the truth,” he told me.
I was incredulous. “You knew?”
“I had some idea of what was going on, but not to this extent. Markus filled me in while you were up on deck getting that temper of yours under control.”
Markus laughed once. “This is under control?”