I spotted a reason. A reason to dive under the coach.
Taltek Balmorlan and Carnades Silvanus were getting out of a coach at the front door of a restaurant directly across the street. Mago and I were in the company of goblin embassy guards, being treated with exaggerated courtesy, and being helped into a goblin embassy coach.
They saw us.
Oh no.
Mago and I had run out of the Swan Song, never shown up at the tavern for Balmorlan’s Saghred demonstration, and now we appeared to be the goblin embassy guards’ new best friends. An embassy that the alive-and-well Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin controlled.
Our cover wasn’t just blown, it was royally screwed.
Chapter 13
The goblin captain sat on the coach seat opposite me and Mago. Now that we were inside a goblin coach going to the goblin embassy, apparently the captain no longer felt the need to be polite or even attempt to make small talk.
That was fine with me. I couldn’t spare the energy. I wasn’t even in the embassy yet, and I was trying to think of ways to escape. Though my most pressing concern was how to hold on to my Symon Wiggs glamour. Up until an hour ago, I hadn’t felt the weight; I sure did now. Just because I wasn’t physically carrying anything didn’t lessen the sensation that I was hauling Mago around on my back rather than sitting next to him.
I had to carry it myself; and if I dropped it, I’d drop my glamour.
That would be ill-advised to say the least. As long as I was glamoured, I couldn’t use my magic, but the Saghred couldn’t use me. That was the best reason I’d ever heard of to keep a death grip on Symon’s glamour.
I could trust Tam and Imala, but any and all other goblins were suspect. So until I got the lay of the land in the embassy, I’d hold Symon’s pasty skin around myself like the ultimate security blanket.
The outside of the goblin embassy looked much like the two embassies on either side of it, and was built with the same white stone as most of the government buildings on Mid. However, the black iron fence and gate were pure goblin. Taller than the coach we were in, the fence surrounding the embassy and grounds was made of intricately twisted wrought iron with the tip of every other post ending in a sharpened point.
A really sharp point.
The ones that weren’t an impalement waiting to happen were topped with a blazing red ball of flame that was far from natural. I could tell just from looking at it that anything that touched them would fry. At least that was my theory, but I wasn’t about to put it to the test. Apparently no one here was taking any chances that another attempt would be made on the prince’s life. We were going in through the front gates, gates that quite frankly, made me doubt that this was anything other than my painful death waiting to happen.
Woven in steel into the massive embassy gates and glowing with the same blazing red wards was the Mal’Salin family crest of two serpents battling for dominance, both surmounted by a crown.
To top it off, the banner of the House of Mal’Salin was flying over the embassy and every goblin guard was armed to the fangs and on high alert.
And we were going inside.
The gates closed behind the coach with a heavy—and rather unnerving—metal clang. An armed goblin guard opened the coach’s door and folded down the steps.
“After you, gentlemen,” Captain Sokanon said.
My feet were smarter than the rest of me; they’d decided that they weren’t going anywhere. Mago realized this and got out first. Then I had no choice. I stepped out of the coach, tripped on something, and damned near landed on my face. Strong, gauntleted hands gripped both of my arms, catching me, keeping me from falling, but taking their sweet time letting me go afterward.
I looked at those glowing gates and swallowed. I didn’t care that the goblins wouldn’t kill the prince’s banker and hopefully not his puny friend; I still didn’t like any of it.
“So we go in, hide out for the night, you meet with the prince, then we leave,” I muttered without moving my lips.
“That’s the plan,” Mago said.
I didn’t want to remind him that most plans I’d been associated with lately had gone to crap. He knew.
Mago and I waited as the embassy’s massive doors opened on eerily quiet hinges. The guards in the courtyard were completely silent. All I could hear was the crackle of wards on the gate. I think I knew how mice must feel in a room full of cats. Big cats. Hungry cats. We were elves and we had an armed escort into the goblin embassy two days after what appeared to be elves tried to blow up the prince’s yacht and an elven assassin tried to turn Chigaru into a pin cushion. And only mere hours after elven firemages torched the hotel the prince was staying at.
It didn’t matter that we hadn’t been involved in any of this. Well, not directly anyway. To these guards, two elves represented all elves. They wanted us dead and they wanted it to hurt. For the cherry on top of our situation, I had nothing but a boot knife to my name. What I wouldn’t have given for a pair of Nebian grenades. Not that those would have saved my bacon, but it’d give goblin guards a whole new respect for elven bankers.
The interior of the goblin embassy was pretty much what I expected. The drapes were heavy velvet, floor to ceiling, and they were drawn against any glimmer of light getting in. Goblins were nocturnal by preference bordering on necessity. In cities where there were large goblin populations, the shops and businesses owned by goblins or those catering to them were open during the day, but kept extended hours in the evening for the convenience and comfort of their patrons. During the day, the windows were kept shuttered against bright sunlight.
Soft blue lighting glowed from recessed pockets in the walls. Supposedly the color was soothing to sensitive goblin eyes. What furniture I could see was dark wood covered in dark fabrics. A line of chairs against one wall—presumably for people waiting to see an embassy official—was covered in a shade of red that was disturbingly close to that of fresh blood. The floor was black marble. Oh yeah, that was cheerful and welcoming.
And we were only in the entry hall.
“Kijika, turn up the lights for our guests.”
The goblin bowed. “Yes, Captain.”
“Is His Highness still awake?” Mago asked.
“The prince has given strict orders that he is not to be disturbed—for any reason.” The words were polite and so was the tone, but with goblins you had to listen to what was going on beneath and between those words. Mago and I received the message loud and clear: the prince may or may not have given that order, but Captain Sokanon had no intention of telling the prince we were here—for any reason. I had news for him: if anyone tried to force Symon Wiggs into a subterranean cell, they wouldn’t be dealing with a puny banker anymore; they’d have a very pissed Raine Benares and her Amazing Destructive Rock on their hands.
Mago knew and cleared his throat before I let my fantasy become reality right here in the embassy foyer.
“Are either Director Kalis or Chancellor Nathrach available?” I asked.
The guard raised an eyebrow at that, clearly surprised. “You are acquainted with the director and chancellor how?”
“Through our previous meeting with the prince,” Mago said smoothly.
“Are they in the embassy?” I persisted.
“The last report I received had them at the hotel continuing the investigation of the fire.” The goblin was only too glad to deliver that piece of information, which meant that it was more than likely true. Just our luck.
“But I know they would want our guests to be made comfortable.” He gestured to the imposing staircase, also made of black marble. “I will show you to your rooms. You may rest and refresh yourselves for a while. We will question you presently.”
They showed us to two rooms, on the second floor, right next to the guard station, and conveniently across the hall from each other. In other words, we were going to be watched like hawks, not allowed to talk to each other, and probably taken for interrogation one at a time.