more than mutual,” Tam said. “A chance to ruin Sarad’s dream of world domination? Kesyn would never forgive me if I
didn’t
let him have a piece of that.”
Jash spoke. “Mistress Benares, I take it that you will be using your unique skill set to clear a way to the altar once we’re in the temple?”
Tam raised a brow.
“We?”
“Of course, ‘we.’ I’d never forgive you, either, if you didn’t let me have a piece of Sarad Nukpana.” Jash looked at me, waiting for his answer.
I looked back at Jash.
Silence.
“Is there something I should know?” While Jash’s question was directed at those of us who’d come from Mid, his eyes were on me.
Just because no one had said anything about the Magh’Sceadu ignoring me and making a beeline for Talon didn’t mean they didn’t know what that implied. My ribs and I had no doubt that Carnades knew. Yes, if any of us used magic we’d essentially be sending up a flare for Sarad Nukpana and his Khrynsani to locate us. But if there was no way out, no way to survive other than using magic, these goblins were counting on me being able to lay waste to whatever or whoever was about to do the same to us, namely fifty worshiping Khrynsani. The only thing I could lay waste to right now was a good dinner. The Resistance needed to know—at least the people in this room should. Mychael and I’d agreed that if we had to admit to anything, we’d say that my magic had become unreliable after my last encounter with the Saghred. That was the understatement of the millennium. While not entirely the truth, it wasn’t a lie. My magic could come back at any time. We didn’t think it was going to, but we didn’t know that for sure.
I glanced at Mychael and received a quick nod in return.
Oh, boy. Here we go.
I took a deep breath and dived in. “While vaporizing Sarad Nukpana and his boys would be the quickest—and undeniably the most satisfying—way to get to the rock, it’s not exactly a realistic part of our plan right now.”
No one said a word. Tam took a big swig of Barrett’s rescued port straight from the bottle.
I wished I had some.
I hit the highlights of what had happened in the elven embassy dungeons, and how the Saghred had consumed an elven mage through me; and while the rock was at it, it’d given my magic a figurative kick in the teeth. However, I was still left with all of the fun of being linked to the thing.
Lady Deidre Nathrach was stunned. I suspected it was an emotion she didn’t have much experience with. “You don’t have any magic?”
I shrugged. “It comes and goes, ma’am.” I decided partial truth would go down better than the full variety. I didn’t think the spark I was occasionally able to muster counted as a resurgence of my magic, but it was better than admitting I was potentially a permanent mundane in a room full of goblins, one of whom—namely Prince Chigaru—didn’t like me all that much to begin with. I’d rather keep the possibility open that if he messed with me, there wouldn’t be anything left of him to mess with anyone else ever again.
Prince Chigaru had been sitting quietly through all this, his fingers steepled in front of his face. “When was the last time you had your magic?” he asked quietly.
I’d had the answer to that one ready to go. “Yesterday on Mid.” I didn’t mention that magic was a miniscule spark on the tip of my finger.
“Your magic vanishing, do you know before it happens?”
“No advance warning, if that’s what you mean.”
“It is.” The prince turned to Imala. “Did you know about this?”
“I did.”
“And you did not tell me.” No direct accusation, just hard eyes. Mal’Salins didn’t like being given bad news.
“It had no bearing on our mission. We had to come here regardless. We’re taking many risks; this is merely one more, and Raine is bearing the brunt of it.”
I had to hand it to Imala—if lying had been a profession, she could have made a fine
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