The old man could have meant any number of things by that, and Piaras was smart enough to keep his mouth shut until his brain had a chance to work through it. One, it wasn’t a question. Two, it wasn’t specific. Sleeping wasn’t studying, but the kid knew that wasn’t what the archmagus was getting at. And three, Piaras had been around me long enough to know the first rule of the Benares family: don’t confess to something you ain’t been accused of doing yet.
“Yes, sir. I have.”
Honest, yet admitting to nothing. Maybe my influence wasn’t all that bad.
Justinius’s bright eyes narrowed. “I understand you have used a containment spellsong against a class ten demon; a Volghul to be precise. And that you held it immobile, unable to summon reinforcements, or cast your song back in your face. And I understand that you did so until Miss Benares here could cram the purple bastard in a bottle.” He regarded Piaras in silence. “Do I understand correctly?” The old man’s voice sliced through the silence as smoothly as razor-sharp steel.
Piaras was almost too stunned to respond. “Yes, sir. You do.”
Justinius’s next questions came rapid fire. “And do I understand that you did all this to defend your fellow classmates-and my granddaughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“After giving little or no thought to your qualifications to act as you did, the consequences of your actions, your chances of success, or the danger to yourself or others?”
Piaras blew out a little breath and shifted from one foot to the other, finding a simply fascinating spot on the floor by his right boot.
“That was a direct question, Master Rivalin.” Justinius’s voice cracked like a whip. “I require a response.”
“Yes, sir. I know.” Piaras raised his head and met the archmagus’s intense gaze. “And no, sir, I didn’t.”
The old man’s eyes glittered like sapphires. “Didn’t what, Master Rivalin?”
“Think about any of those things, sir. I just acted.”
“And why did you ‘just act’?”
Piaras stood a little straighter. “No one else was doing anything, and if I hadn’t acted, more people could have been hurt or killed.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I did what I thought was right, sir… And I would do it again.”
The archmagus sat in silence, unmoving. “And you would do it alone,” he said quietly. “Just like you did this morning.” His next words were slow and precise. “There was no Sarad Nukpana in the Quad with you this morning-just your talent and foolhardy bravery.” The tiniest smile curled the corner of the archmagus’s thin lips. “You’re noble to the point of suicide, boy.” He glanced at Mychael. “Just like a certain paladin of my acquaintance.”
Piaras’s eyes flicked to Mychael, and he bit the corner of his bottom lip to stop a smile.
Justinius spoke. “Master Rivalin?”
“Sir?”
“Look at me.”
Piaras did.
I could feel Justinius doing the same kind of gaze with Piaras that he’d done with me.
After a few moments, the old man broke his gaze and chuckled. “Bukas. Brutal savages. A fine choice, Master Rivalin.” He looked at Mychael. “And you said they were solid, complete with roars?”
Mychael nodded. “Roars that took out all the first-floor windows on the Judicial Building.”
Justinius laughed, a bright bark. “Nicol and his office lackeys will have a hell of a cleanup in the morning. I’d like to see that.”
“I only meant to conjure one, sir,” Piaras hurried to explain.
Justinius waved his hand dismissively. “You got carried away with all the excitement; happens to the best of us.”
“But I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Have you ever been attacked by elven embassy guards disguised as Guardians?”
“No, sir, but I-”
“Just because you’ve never done something before doesn’t mean you can’t do it, and do it well. There’s a first time for everything. It appears that the more you’re challenged, the more you’re capable of. Maestro Cayle told me the same thing about you.”
“He did?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“Yes, sir, but I didn’t know he thought I could-”
“When Maestro Cayle wants you to know what he thinks, and what he thinks you can do, he’ll tell you.” The old man grinned impishly. “Unless I tell you first.”
Piaras flushed slightly with well-earned pleasure. “Yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, I’m inclined to trust his assessment.”
Piaras didn’t respond. I could virtually see the wheels turning in his mind. “So Sarad Nukpana didn’t have anything to do with the bukas?”
“Not. One. Thing. Once again, it was just you and yours. Nice work, young man.”
Piaras looked like the weight of the world had just dropped off of his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”
“Though apparently Nukpana was involved when you took on those elven embassy guards.” His expression darkened. “Disguised as Guardians. How many survived?” he asked Mychael.
“Two, sir. Jari Devent and an embassy guard by the name of Kasen Aratus.”
“Isn’t Devent’s brother the defense attachй at the elven embassy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And his uncle is with elven intelligence.”
Mychael’s distaste was obvious. “Correct.”
“And Aratus… Isn’t that General Daman Aratus’s son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shit,” the old man spat.
“My thoughts exactly.”
I looked from one of them to the other. “What?”
Mychael answered me. “Taltek Balmorlan receives much of his funding from General Aratus.”
“One hand washes the other,” Justinius said. “And rumor has it that General Aratus can’t take a crap without permission from his new boss.”
That wasn’t exactly enlightening. “And this is bad how?”
Mychael sighed. “Raine, General Aratus reports to Markus Sevelien.”
Chapter 18
My mouth fell open and stayed there.
Normally news like that would have me blistering the air blue, or looking for something to throw or hit. Right now I was too shocked to do any of it.
And I felt too betrayed.
Duke Markus Sevelien was the elven intelligence agency’s chief officer in Mermeia. I’d done some work for him over the years that mostly consisted of finding abducted elves-diplomats, intelligence agents, aristocrats who’d gotten involved in something over their highborn heads. It was gratifying work and I was good at it. Markus had recruited me, and I’d only worked with him. And he’d made no excuses about why he wanted to me to work for him. Markus thought my being related to criminals helped me know the criminal mind. I wasn’t proud of it, but he was right. If it could be picked up, pried off, or in any way pilfered, my family would make off with it.
I liked Markus; he’d always been up-front and honest with me. And if I’d been standing face-to-face with him right now, he’d probably still be honest-his loyalties were to elven intelligence, not to me. He’d put any friendship we had to the side as an impediment to him doing his job. And I knew from past experience that Markus would do his job at any and all costs. Whatever was going on wasn’t personal; it was business.
It was the Saghred.
And since the Saghred had attached itself to me, that made me his business. I could almost understand that; the Saghred was a weapon that elven intelligence wasn’t about to let fall into goblin hands. That meant he couldn’t allow me to fall into goblin hands. Hell, I didn’t want to be in anyone’s hands.