I chuckled. “And those blue demons were on him like-” I stopped, thought, and realized in the span of about two seconds. Then I felt a sudden and entirely justified urge to bang my head against Laurian Berel’s bookcases.
Vegard stepped forward. “Ma’am? What’s wrong?”
“Carnades had it.” Saying it out loud just made it worse.
“Carnades has it.”
“What does-”
“Carnades actually had the Scythe of Nen on him yesterday at watcher headquarters,” I said. “He had a small, curved silver dagger tucked in his sash. I saw it-and those demons knew what it was; that’s why they attacked him.” I suddenly felt like the biggest idiot on the island; then my Benares instincts put in an appearance. “When Carnades was out cold; I could have swiped the thing.”
“Ma’am, you didn’t know.”
“I do now, a lot of good it does me.”
I imagined myself tackling Carnades and wrestling that dagger away from him. Fun, but hardly practical. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and bit it while I thought some very Benares thoughts that would have made Phaelan proud.
“Ma’am, no.” Vegard was adamant, firm, and he knew he wasn’t going to change my already-made-up mind.
“Vegard, we have to have that dagger. We don’t have a choice.”
“We could go to the boss. He could talk to Magus Silvanus.”
I just looked at him. “Do you honestly believe that Carnades will hand over the Scythe to Mychael for safekeeping?”
“Hell would freeze over first,” he admitted.
“Exactly.”
“You can’t break into and rob Magus Silvanus’s town house.”
“I never said I was.”
“You didn’t have to say it; I know what you’re thinking.”
I half smiled. “And because I’m a Benares, you assumed that I’d opt for the larcenous approach.”
“No, ma’am.” He grinned. “Because you’re you.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “How long have you known me, Vegard?”
“A little over two weeks.”
I chuckled. “Damn, but you’re a quick study.” I turned to Sora. “You didn’t hear any of this.”
“Any of what?” she asked innocently.
“Thank you.” And I meant it. There were too few people I could trust on Mid, and I really wanted Sora Niabi to be one of them.
There was actually paper and pens on Laurian Berel’s desk. I scribbled a quick message and folded it tight. Then I pressed my thumb to the fold and muttered a sealing spell. No one could open that note except for its intended recipient. The thing would go up in flames if anyone else tried to take a peek.
“Do you have a student you can trust and spare to deliver a message?” I asked Sora.
“I do.”
“Do you have a student who can go to the gangplank of the Fortune, ask for Captain Benares, give this to him, and not crap their pants?”
Sora chuckled. “I train demonologists, Raine. They’re up to it.”
“Good.” I pointed at the Scythe’s box, still on the floor. “May we borrow that?”
“You can have it.”
Vegard looked baffled.
“It still has the Scythe’s residuals on it,” I said to his unspoken question. “If I knew for a fact that the thing was in Carnades’s town house in a display case, I could find it myself. I know what it looks like, so I wouldn’t need to drag Piaras into this with me. However…”
“The Scythe probably won’t be out in the open,” Vegard said.
I nodded. “That’s the thing. We don’t know. So Piaras can probably use that box the same way I use an object for seeking. I can’t touch that box again, and I know the Saghred’s not going to help me find that dagger.”
“So we still need a virgin.”
“Unfortunately.”
“What if Carnades is wearing it again today?” Vegard asked quietly.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” I told him.
Or tackle that mage.
Piaras’s class would be over in another ten minutes, so Vegard and I waited around the corner from his classroom. Waiting for Piaras also gave me more time to think. I couldn’t exactly walk up to Carnades’s front door, knock, and ask nicely. But at the same time, Vegard was right. I didn’t need the real crime of breaking and entering added to the list of imagined crimes on Carnades’s arrest warrant. The little Benares voice in my head whispered that breaking and entering could only be added to the list if I got caught. I told the little voice to hold that thought while I tried to come up with something less risky. Problem was I was having absolutely no luck. Perhaps my family urges were too strong for my law-abiding efforts.
“And this is Starke Hall, home to the college’s demonology department,” said a familiar voice.
Vegard and I looked at each other in utter shock. His eyes went wide; my mouth dropped open.
Carnades Silvanus.
What the hell was the acting archmagus doing playing tour guide?
“I promise not to linger for long, Magus Silvanus,” said a melodious voice, smooth and seductively beautiful. “It would be unspeakably rude to be late for my own reception luncheon.”
I sucked in my breath and held it. I didn’t mean to hold it, but at the sound of that voice, my mind forgot to tell my lungs to breathe. It had other things to do. Like panic.
I didn’t have to look to see who it was. I knew who it was.
Rudra Muralin.
Chapter 23
My mind raced, logic and reasoning struggling to keep up and failing miserably. What I was hearing was impossible. Rudra Muralin was under the island somewhere opening a Hellgate, or in hiding. And if he wasn’t in hiding, he sure as hell wouldn’t be touring the campus with Carnades. I peeked quickly around the corner, Vegard’s head doing the same thing above mine.
It was Rudra Muralin, all right-young and perfect like fine sculpture, and just as ageless. His beauty was no glamour, no spell to trick the eye; it was all him. The goblin’s waist-length hair was so black it shone almost blue, and his black eyes were bright with entirely too much intelligence.
And he was evil incarnate, responsible for the enslavement of thousands of elves and the sacrifice to the Saghred of thousands more. He’d done it before and he couldn’t wait to do it all again. He was standing not twenty feet away from me with at least six black-robed Khrynsani shamans and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.
Vegard pulled me back into the side hallway.
“Professor Niabi,” Carnades was saying. “Ambassador Mal’Salin would like to meet you.”
I sucked in air between my teeth in a stunned hiss.
Ambassador Mal’Salin? What the hell?
“I have looked forward to it.” I could hear the smile in Rudra Muralin’s words.
Sora saw us as she walked past, but gave no outward sign that we were there. The goblin bastard could probably smell fear, so I made myself stop feeling it. Easier said than done, but I did it.
“My condolences on the loss of Chairman Berel,” Rudra Muralin murmured smoothly.
“On behalf of our department, I thank you,” Sora said, her voice formal and frosty.
I smiled. Sora was a demonologist; she knew evil when she met it.
“I have come to offer my assistance,” Muralin said. “I have mages who have come with me from Regor who are highly experienced in demon containment.”
I bit back a snort. Yeah, Khrynsani shamans would know all about demons, especially conjuring. Either some did survive the cave in, or Muralin imported more. Probably both.
“I assure you, Ambassador Mal’Salin, that we have the situation in hand,” Sora said. “But your gracious and generous offer is much appreciated, and I will keep it in mind.”