I didn’t know whether to be insulted at his less-than-glowing assessment of my former abilities, or concerned by his accuracy. But it was his last opinion that struck the nerve.
“No one ever asked me if I wanted to play, Paladin Eiliesor. I’m a seeker. A good one. Aside from that, I can defend myself, and I have a couple of parlor tricks up my sleeves. That’s all I knew until two days ago. Many in this town wouldn’t mind having what I have now. I’d like nothing better than to pitch this piece of metal in the nearest canal, but I can’t.”
The Guardian looked puzzled. “Can’t?”
“Can’t. Remember an hour after I left Stocken’s warehouse? You said you sensed the beacon again?”
“Yes.”
“That’s when I tried to take it off. It was like having a lightning bolt strapped to my neck. It almost killed me. I’ve had to wear it ever since.”
Eiliesor searched my face for signs of something only he knew. He took his time doing it, and the intense scrutiny of a gorgeous, silk-robed Conclave Guardian made me want to squirm. I resisted that impulse, as well as some hands-on urges that were trying to get my attention. I really hoped Eiliesor wasn’t a mind reader, too. I’d had enough embarrassment tonight.
“That’s impossible,” he said after what seemed an eternity. “Eamaliel keyed it to himself. No one else should be able to use it.”
“I’m not trying to use it. And I don’t know this Eamaliel person or care about his taste in jewelry. I just want to know how to get this thing off without it killing me.”
“And you can’t?”
For some reason, that single, simple fact just wasn’t getting through to him.
“I think we’ve established that,” I said, rapidly losing what little patience I came with. “Why shouldn’t I be able to take it off?”
“From what I’ve learned, your partner, whose name is Quentin Rand, since you seem to have forgotten, is a gifted thief, but not the best. Sarad Nukpana could have done better. A goblin loyal to the Khrynsani cause would have been a more logical choice. I don’t think Nukpana chose your partner, Mistress Benares. And neither do you. He called you by name in that warehouse for a reason.” He took a step toward me. “I want to know what that reason is.”
I didn’t move, but I was more than ready to. “So do I. I have no idea how Sarad Nukpana knows me. I don’t want to know him. That’s the truth.”
“Your involvement in this goes much further than you believe.” Eiliesor’s voice had lost some of its edge. Maybe he had some sympathy that my world had been kicked upside down and that a couple of those kicks had been his. “Sarad Nukpana knows the full extent of that involvement. I don’t. I don’t believe you do either, but I will find out.”
I had no doubt that he would.
His eyes were on mine. “Tell me about your father.”
Sarad Nukpana’s words from just hours before came back to me. I didn’t want them to.
“I never knew him, and my mother died when I was less than a year old. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has much to do with everything. If you’re linked by blood to Eamaliel Anguis, it’s possible that the beacon would respond to you. It would also be possible for you to have direct contact with the Saghred without any of the usual side effects.”
“Side effects?”
“Contact with the Saghred causes delusions, insanity, then death. But during that time, the wielder is capable of channeling the stone’s full power. You’ve used the Saghred, yet you’re completely unaffected. That tells me only one thing.”
“Only one?” I heard myself ask. Then again, maybe I didn’t hear it. Maybe I was being delusional.
“That you are somehow related to Eamaliel Anguis. It would have to be a close link, within at least two generations, closer would be more effective. Did Prince Chigaru tell you anything about him?”
“Only that he’s been dead for about nine hundred years. That’s a little old to be related to me by less than two generations.”
“Eamaliel’s missing, not dead,” Eiliesor corrected. “In addition to being a link to the Saghred, the beacon is a lifemarker. Eamaliel had the beacon keyed only to him. If he died, the link to the beacon would be severed, as would the beacon’s link to the Saghred. Events of the past two days have shown that link remains. If the link remains, so does Eamaliel.”
That remark had implications I wasn’t prepared to deal with anytime soon. I knew who my mother was; and according to Garadin, she wasn’t a nine-hundred-year-old elven mage turned Conclave Guardian. She was a talented sorceress, but she hadn’t been that good. If she’d been better, she would still be alive. That left the possibility that Eamaliel Angius was my father. That possibility was disturbing, but the other was too horrible to contemplate. Unfortunately, I contemplated it before I could stop myself.
“Nine hundred years old?” I whispered.
“It’s not unheard of for links with objects of power to lengthen life. The Saghred is known for it.”
Not unheard of in his world maybe. It was a good thing I was sitting down. Thoughts and questions darted in panicked circles in my head, running into each other. One question managed to stay on its feet. I wondered how my blood could run cold if I hadn’t brought my blood with me.
I heard Mychael Eiliesor’s voice as if from another room. “Mistress Benares?”
“Raine,” I finally heard myself say. “Call me Raine. You might as well.”
Eiliesor knelt in front of my chair. “Are you all right?”
“Sure.” I spoke from a daze. I was everything but all right, and I didn’t think I’d ever be all right again. I forced myself to take a deep breath. I didn’t ask for any of this, I certainly didn’t want any of this, but I had it, and there was nothing to be done but to deal with it. My screaming fit would have to wait a little longer.
“Tell me,” I said, forcing my voice to be steady. I wished I felt the same.
“Excuse me?”
“Tell me everything you know about the Saghred and Eamaliel Anguis.” My fear was giving way to anger. I welcomed it with open arms. I knew what to do with anger. “You know, Nukpana knows, the Mal’Salins know. I even think one of my goblin friends knows. I don’t like the dark and I’m tired of being kept there. So tell me.”
Eiliesor considered me for a moment. I patiently waited, and looked back at him. His sea blue eyes were just as beautiful, but no longer as intimidating. I wasn’t surprised by my sudden calm. It’s easy to be patient when you’re about to get what you want.
He stood and went to sit on the corner of the bed closest to me, his back against the bedpost. “You know the events that led up to the Guardians taking the Saghred from King Omari Mal’Salin.” It was a confirmation, not a question.
I nodded.
“Eamaliel Anguis led the team who recovered it. When he returned to Mid, the survivors of that team and a few select Guardians tried to destroy the Saghred. They failed. Lucius Cavan, the Conclave Archmagus at that time, ordered Eamaliel to hide the Saghred to keep it out of the wrong hands. Eamaliel didn’t want to spend the rest of his life sealed in a vault, so he had a beacon made so he could guard the stone from a distance. But rather than an open beacon, which would allow anyone who wore it to find the Saghred, he had it keyed to himself.”
“Not very trusting.”
“He had reason,” Eiliesor said.
“Lucius Cavan tried to take it?”
“He wasn’t even the first in line.”
Garadin always said a man didn’t have to have power to be corrupted, but it sure happened faster when he did.
“Eamaliel expected it,” Eiliesor said. “But when he hid the Saghred, he did the same with himself. Lucius charged Eamaliel with desertion, but Eamaliel didn’t see it that way. The Saghred was his charge, his duty. There were others on Mid to take his place there, only he had the connection to the Saghred. So, he devoted his life to guarding it. That was nine hundred years ago. Neither have been heard from again, until rumors surfaced a few months ago. As a protector of Eamaliel’s legacy, I take those rumors—and my duty—very seriously.”