I was flabbergasted. “He has one?”
“It might be an appropriate time to apologize, dear,” Primari Nuru told the prince.
It was his turn to look appalled. I had to admit he did it well. He probably had a lot of practice.
He drew himself up imperiously. “For doing my duty as a prince of my people? For which I was viciously attacked.” He shot a scathing look at Piaras.
Piaras responded with a low growl, but from the sounds of things, Garadin and the two Guardians kept him from joining us.
“For not taking into consideration the sensibilities of your guests,” Primari Nuru helpfully clarified for him.
Prince Chigaru thought about that for a moment. Regardless of how he had considered us—guests or prisoners—it was clear that making apologies wasn’t something he had much, if any, experience with. He looked at me and cleared his throat. Then he stopped and thought some more. I knew this wasn’t easy for him, but unlike the primari, I wasn’t feeling particularly helpful. I was willing to wait as long as it took. I resisted the urge to cross my arms and tap my foot.
The prince cleared his throat again. This time, words actually made it out.
When he had finished, it sounded like an apology. It had all the right words, and they almost sounded sincere, but somehow the phrasing was off. In the end, I don’t think he accepted the blame for anything.
“Was that an apology?” I whispered to Mychael.
“It’s probably as good as you’re going to get.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Should I take it?”
“It might speed things up if you did.”
I took a moment to think, too. To my credit, I didn’t take as long as the prince.
“Do you promise not to try to kill or torture me or my friends ever again?” I thought for another moment. “Or order anyone else to kill or torture us, or betray us to anyone who would want to kill or torture us?” I was proud of the last two. I think I was getting the hang of how the Mal’Salin mind worked.
Mychael leaned toward me. “Don’t you think you’re being a trifle excessive?”
I didn’t even have to look at Chigaru Mal’Salin to know the answer to that one.
“No.”
To the prince’s credit, he responded almost immediately. “Barring betrayal on your part, or on the part of your friends—or another attack upon my person,” he said with a meaningful glance in Piaras’s direction. “Yes, you have my word.”
“We shake hands on it now, don’t we?” I asked Mychael, without enthusiasm.
“It is the accepted way to seal a pact.”
I only had to take one step to be in the center of the gazebo. The goblin prince had to take two. I know; it was petty of me to notice. I extended my hand. He took it. I was almost surprised when he released it.
“Well, we’ve agreed not to kill each other,” I said. “Now what?”
The prince answered. “We find the Saghred before my brother and Sarad Nukpana.”
I blinked. “We?”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. “We.”
“And when we do?”
“That is what we must now agree upon.”
“Any chance of you and yours going back to The Ruins and letting us take care of this?”
The prince’s eyes hardened resolutely. “None whatsoever.”
I shrugged. “I had to try.”
Mychael spoke. “As Paladin of the Conclave Guardians, my duty is clear—restore the security of the Saghred to prevent its use. By anyone,” he added meaningfully.
He’d get no argument from me.
“Mistress Benares is able to use it most effectively.” The prince’s tone stopped just short of being accusing. I saw where this was going.
“Against my will,” I told him. “The last thing I want is a connection of any kind with something known as the Soul Thief. Sarad Nukpana is holding a dear friend of mine hostage. He wants the beacon and the Saghred in exchange for her release.”
The prince bristled. “You are going to give it to him?”“Of course not,” I shot back. “And I don’t believe for one second that he actually plans to keep his word. I’m here tonight to help Paladin Eiliesor recover the Saghred.”
A’Zahra Nuru’s eyes had rarely left me. They were now focused where the beacon lay beneath my bodice. I saw mild surprise mixed with relief in her eyes. The beacon fluttered against my skin in response to her attention. I waited for the inevitable request.
“Do you have a blood link to its creator?” she asked gently.
That wasn’t the request I expected. Requests from goblins concerning the beacon usually began with “give” and ended with “now.” I had to admit it was a refreshing change.
Mychael responded before I could. “That has yet to be established.”
Not a lie. Not the truth, either. Apparently the paladin thought the fewer who knew my family history, the better. Considering who wanted to know, I agreed with him.
A’Zahra Nuru was still looking at me. “You do not seem to have experienced any adverse effects from its use.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer.
“What is your proposal, Your Highness?” Mychael asked the prince.
I welcomed the change of topic.
“The Guardians have failed in their duty,” Chigaru said without hesitation. “The Thief of Souls is too dangerous to be left in the custody of your order. As long as it is, there will be a danger of it being found and misused by those such as my brother or Sarad Nukpana.”
I’d heard enough. “Or yourself? To use against your brother?”
“The Thief of Souls cannot be wielded,” Primari Nuru said. “It brings madness and death to any who try. You are the first known exception. The stone’s very existence is an abomination.”
I already knew all that, and really didn’t want to be reminded with the rock itself probably less than a hundred yards away.
Mychael spoke. “In the nine hundred years since my order took the Saghred into our keeping has it ever been taken or used again for evil purposes?”
Prince Chigaru stood mute.
Mychael tactfully didn’t directly mention the single recorded use of the Saghred—by the prince’s own ancestor, whom the Guardians defeated. Subsequently, they took protective custody of the stone.
“Nine hundred years isn’t too shabby a record, Your Highness,” I said quietly. “Why don’t you just let these gentlemen do their job?”
The prince was as still as the marble statues in the garden, his dark eyes on Mychael. “You question my motives because I am a Mal’Salin.” It wasn’t a question. He knew the answer.
“Yes,” Mychael replied truthfully. “I do. But my main concern is for your present circumstances. You are still gathering allies with which to overthrow your brother. I wish you well and hope that you succeed. Your people will suffer under your brother’s rule. But for now, yours is a young government in exile. You may have the means to acquire the Saghred, but you lack the experience and—no insult intended—the strength needed to protect it. There is also the temptation to use the stone, if not by you, then by your allies. You trust them to help you defeat the king, but can you trust them near the Saghred?”
The prince placed his hand on A’Zahra Nuru’s slender shoulder. “When I first learned my brother’s plans, I will admit the temptation to use the Saghred against him was strong. But Primari Nuru has convinced me that I must choose another way.”
Good for her.
“Using the Saghred would only turn me into that which I have sworn to destroy,” he continued. “It may take longer to defeat Sathrik, but my allies grow more numerous and stronger every day. In the end, I will prevail. If I do not, Sathrik would use the Saghred against our own people and yours. He must not possess it.”
“Then we are in agreement,” Mychael said. “Allow me to carry out the duty of my office unimpeded.”
When the paladin stopped talking, the rest of us started holding our breath. To his credit, the prince seemed to give honest consideration to Mychael’s words.
“Is there any assistance either I or my people might offer you?” Chigaru asked.
I started breathing again, and I think I heard A’Zahra Nuru do the same.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Mychael said, with a slight smile. “Yes, there is one thing I may need your help with.”
I had to consider the possibility that Chigaru Mal’Salin may not have inherited all the personality defects his family tree had to offer. The primari thought the world of her prince. Tam trusted A’Zahra. I trusted Tam. Completing the circle shouldn’t be difficult, but it was.
“Excuse me, Your Highness, but I have a question,” I asked.
“Yes?”
“The Saghred isn’t all your brother and Sarad Nukpana want this evening. Does your agreement to help Paladin Eiliesor extend to me and mine?”
“I understand that having you and your spellsinger at his mercy would please Sarad Nukpana and my brother. My brother and I have long enjoyed depriving each of what makes the other happy. Preventing my brother from capturing the two of you would greatly annoy him.” He smiled. It was genuine, and it transformed his face with almost boyish glee. “This would please me.”
It wasn’t exactly the I’m-your-ally-now-and-you-can-trust-me answer I was looking for, but who am I to deny a goblin prince the simple joys of life?
Chapter 22
Only the Mal’Salin family would buy a house with a mausoleum in the gardens—and gardens that backed directly into The Ruins.
To tell you the truth, I couldn’t tell that much difference between The Ruins and what the Mal’Salins referred to as their gardens. In the distance, I could even see a few pinpoints of light that looked suspiciously like fire pixies. It was disconcerting to say the least. I glanced at Piaras. A muscle in his jaw was starting to twitch. Looked like I wasn’t the only one who had noticed.