The Trouble with Demons

“Yes, it could,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t see the humor in it. And believe it or not, I have been in far worse circumstances.”



“There’s worse than this?”



Mychael smiled like a man with a secret. “There was. And I’m still here.”



“Well, I can guarantee you this isn’t going to tickle Carnades’s funny bone.” And it wasn’t doing much for mine, either. “It also doesn’t get rid of the price he has on my head by now.”



“There is no price on your head,” Mychael assured me.



“But he said ‘lock—’ ”



“What Carnades said and what he is willing to do are two different things. At least for now.”



“Meaning?”



“Watcher headquarters was full of the wrong kind of witnesses—upstanding officers of the law. Dozens of watchers and civilians are alive right now because of what you did.”



“And what I did made some of them throw up.”



“You’re a hero down at headquarters right now.” Mychael looked amused. “Besides, Sedge doesn’t think he has a cell that could hold you.”



“I’m sure Carnades does.”



“That’s no longer an issue—at least not for the time being.



Carnades wouldn’t dare touch you—at least not directly. There have been more demon sightings in the past hour. As much as he may want to, Carnades can hardly arrest the one person on this island who is now able to kill them. Carnades Silvanus is a political animal to his core. Arresting you now would be political suicide. He’s desperate to portray himself as the leader Mid needs; such a leader could hardly stand by and let demons take over his island.”



I scowled. “You’re talking about him in the present tense. I guess that means the demon didn’t get him.”



“What demon?”



“The one you and Sora set loose on him. By the way, thank you.”



Mychael pursed his lips against the smile that was trying to get out. “Carnades is being attended to by his healer.”



Hope springs eternal. “The demon got him good?”



“Minor injuries, though it essentially ripped his robes to shreds. Professor Niabi caught it in one of her traps.”



I nodded in approval. “So you and Sora let the thing go, but then catch it before it can take out Carnades. He gets some of what’s coming to him; you keep your nose clean and get credit for saving him. Nice work.”



“How did—”



“Phaelan saw what happened, right before he ran like hell.” I had a thought and started to chuckle. Mychael was right; when you’re in something deep enough, you could find humor in just about anything.



“What is it?” Tam asked.



“If Rudra Muralin wants the Saghred at his beck and call, in another couple of days, or hours, he’ll have to kill all three of us.”



Tam almost grinned. “I believe that is a possibility.”



I chuckled some more. “And one hell of an inconvenience for him.”



“Rudra Muralin?” Mychael asked.



“Is the one opening the Hellgate,” I told him.



“With help from some of your local dark mages.” Tam handed him the letter.



Mychael read it.



I felt his opinion of Rudra Muralin loud and clear. The goblin calling me a “whore” had only pissed me off; Mychael was enraged. I felt warmed all the way down to my toes. I wanted my hands around Muralin’s throat, but maybe I’d let Mychael have a go at him first.



“May I keep this?” Mychael asked Tam.



“Of course.” Tam hesitated. “You have a warrant out on Rudra Muralin, right?”



Mychael nodded. “I took the description you and Raine gave me and passed it on to Sedge Rinker.”



“He can easily blend in with the students,” Tam cautioned.



“I’ve made Sedge aware of that.”



I hadn’t thought of that. That’d be guaranteed to make an already tense situation worse. Most goblins and elves didn’t get along in the best of circumstances. For years the goblin royal family had snubbed the Conclave college, until about ten years ago when goblin aristocrats started filtering into the college classrooms—and their gold started flooding into the college coffers, funding scholarships and teaching fellowships—all for goblins.



“Does Carnades or any of the Seat of Twelve know that Muralin could pass for a student?”



“Not yet,” Mychael said.



“Are you planning to tell them?”



“I’d rather resolve the situation before it becomes necessary.”



I knew what Mychael meant. If Carnades or any of his like-minded colleagues found out that a goblin grand shaman was responsible for opening a Hellgate, and that he also looked like a student, Carnades would order every male goblin student brought before the Seat of Twelve. He’d call it questioning, but it’d be an inquisition. And he’d lock up any likely candidate, which meant any goblin student with above-average magical skill would find himself in a warded cell. That would be a lot of students. Carnades would claim it was to ensure island security and safety—he’d do it because he wanted every last goblin out of the college and off of the island. Once the aristocratic parents of those students got word, ugly wouldn’t begin to describe what would happen. Carnades would be better off with a demon infestation.



I had a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach. “Right now Tam and I aren’t the most trustworthy witnesses to a lot of people. Ronan gave you his statement, too. Right?”



Mychael was quiet for just a little too long. “I asked Ronan for a description of Rudra Muralin, but he was unable to provide one. Apparently Ronan never saw him.”



The sinking feeling in my stomach turned into a knot. “What?”



“Ronan was unconscious, and the spellsingers in the cell never saw Muralin, only the Khrynsani shamans he left to stand guard.”



Tam swore. “Some of my men know him on sight, but they can’t testify.”



I knew why. A dark mage hit squad didn’t exactly make for star witnesses. “So it’s the two of us, and Piaras and Talon. That’s it. If I didn’t hate Rudra Muralin so much, I’d be impressed. We can’t legally touch him, can we?”



“Let’s get him in a warded cell first,” Mychael said.



Tam frowned. “Mychael, he’s got the Mal’Salin family behind him.”



We all knew what that meant. The Mal’Salins wanted me any way they could get me, and the testimony of Piaras and Talon, because of their connections to Tam and me, wouldn’t stand up to a light breeze in a courtroom.



Low, warm laughter bubbled up around me. Sarad Nukpana.



“An accused murderer, a Benares, a corrupted nightingale, and a wastrel half-breed,” the goblin murmured in my head. “Even if you found Rudra Muralin, you have no credibility, so you have no proof.” The laughter continued. “I guess you don’t live a millennium and not pick up a trick or two.”



Mychael and Tam froze. They could hear Sarad Nukpana.



Through me.



Through the Saghred.



Oh no.



“Greetings, gentlemen.” I could hear the slow smile in Nukpana’s voice. “I cannot tell you how good it is to be heard by someone other than Raine. Not that she isn’t a sparkling conversationalist, but the three of you—all together like this—it’s simply charming.” His next words came out as a resonant purr. “And a death sentence for Paladin Eiliesor should anyone on the Seat of Twelve discover that he’s in an umi’atsu bond with a dark mage and the Saghred’s bond servant. I didn’t think you were such a risk taker, Paladin Eiliesor. Or since we’re all on such intimate terms now, may I call you Mychael?”



“What do you want, goblin?” Mychael’s voice was cold and hard.



“Such vehemence and disrespect to my race, elf.” Sarad Nukpana made tsking sounds. “No doubt Tamnais is mortally offended.”



“Not at all,” Tam shot back smoothly. “I’m not your kind of goblin.”



“I ask twice,” Mychael demanded. “What do you want?”



“Why, to be of service, noble paladin. Although your boorish behavior makes me reconsider my generosity.”



I put a finger to my lips. “Let’s see . . . The containment spells are down, the Saghred is vulnerable, and Rudra Muralin’s made a deal with Hell so he could get his hands on your little prison. I’d think you’d be asking for our generosity—and protection.”



“But I am not the one needing protection.” Nukpana savored the words, and I could almost see the smug glee on his face. “There are many on this island who are in mortal danger of their lives—and their souls. And unless you act quickly, it’ll be too late to save either one. Rudra Muralin has made a deal with the demons—they get the Saghred for him, and in return, all of the students and mages on Mid are theirs to do with as they will.”



“Muralin wants me to get the Saghred for him,” I said.



The goblin laughed softly. “He is merely lining up an alternative plan should his other fail. A most enterprising young man, Rudra Muralin. Either way the demons will get all of those precious, magically gifted children.”



“We are listening, Primaru Nukpana,” Tam said, his tone the very model of calm propriety, but his eyes were blazing.



The goblin’s satisfied sigh floated through our minds. “There, that’s much better,” he murmured. “Was that so difficult? You should take note, little seeker. Polite respect for your betters can soothe almost any insult. Tamnais has not forgotten his courtly manners.” He paused meaningfully. “Nor has the goblin court and royal family forgotten him.”



“I’m certain they haven’t—nor I them,” Tam shot back smoothly. “What do you require?”



“I require many things, but it would be rude to put my desires first. A better question might be what do the demons require—besides your students?”