didn’t like it. Not the lethal response part; he didn’t like me being anywhere near Tam. Tam was a dark mage; my connection with the Saghred made me a dark mage magnet. The two of us together with the Saghred wasn’t just trouble for us; it could be trouble for every living creature, period, not to mention civilization, such that it was.
The Saghred didn’t just forge our umi’atsu bond; the rock specifically chose Tam to pair me with.
Tam used to be the chief mage for the royal House of Mal’Salin, the late goblin queen’s magical enforcer, and possibly one of the most powerful dark mages there was. The Saghred didn’t want to use Tam; it wanted Tam to use it . The rock was starving and it wanted souls. And after the escape of those four souls yesterday, it had to be more desperate than ever. There was no way in hell that I was feeding the thing and the Saghred knew it, so it forged an umi’atsu bond between me and Tam. Since I refused to feed it, given enough time and temptation, Tam just might. But that didn’t mean the rock was giving up on me; what happened in that bordello was proof.
Like I said, Mychael didn’t want me near Tam, but he agreed with me learning to defend myself in every way Sarad Nukpana could possibly attack me. He had just one condition; actually it was more like two dozen conditions.
I was on horseback, riding to Tam’s nightclub, surrounded by at least two dozen mounted and absurdly well-armed Guardians. Needless to say, anyone we met gave us a wide berth. It was late afternoon, and the sun was starting to go down behind some of the Conclave’s government buildings, throwing most of the city streets into shadow.
I’d sent word ahead to Tam that what had happened with the Reapers wasn’t keeping me from my lesson, so the front doors were unlocked and unwarded. The main floor of the theatre was usually filled with small tables covered in crisp white cloths, each with two or four chairs. The second-floor dining suites were like private boxes in a fine theatre. Columns stretched from the floor to the high, vaulted ceiling, carved with mermaids and mermen—sirens that could sing men or women to their doom—or somewhere much more enjoyable.
Today the tables were bare of cloths and most of them were stacked against the far walls, leaving the center of the floor clear and open. Officially Sirens was closed for renovation. In reality, Tam had closed the club until the present situation had been dealt with. Tam had a lot of potentially fatal “situations” other than being in an umi’atsu bond with me and Mychael, and he didn’t want running a nightclub to distract him from staying alive, nor did he want some of his clients being killed because they had the poor timing to walk between Tam and someone bent on killing him.
Tam was waiting for me. He was wearing sleek, dark fencing clothes with his black hair pulled back in a long goblin battle braid. His strong hands were bare, and a pair of steel-mesh dueling goggles dangled from his long fingers.
Like most goblins, Tam was tall and leanly muscled, and as I’d experienced on more than one occasion, Tam was also lightning quick. His pale gray skin set off what was a goblin’s most distinctive feature—a pair of fangs that weren’t for decorative use only. A goblin wouldn’t hesitate to use them if a fight turned dirty. Tam wouldn’t hesitate to use them if I got within nibbling range.
Tam’s black eyes gleamed in the club’s dim lighting, lighting he wasn’t going to turn up for our lesson. Sarad Nukpana’s goblin eyes were at their best in this kind of light. Either I learned to adapt or I learned to be dead.
A table near the wall held an array of bladed goblin weapons. Chances were any fighting I’d be doing would be with magic, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. I’d always considered myself a good fencer; and when the situation called for it, I wasn’t squeamish about killing. If it came down to me or them,
The Saghred didn’t just forge our umi’atsu bond; the rock specifically chose Tam to pair me with.
Tam used to be the chief mage for the royal House of Mal’Salin, the late goblin queen’s magical enforcer, and possibly one of the most powerful dark mages there was. The Saghred didn’t want to use Tam; it wanted Tam to use it . The rock was starving and it wanted souls. And after the escape of those four souls yesterday, it had to be more desperate than ever. There was no way in hell that I was feeding the thing and the Saghred knew it, so it forged an umi’atsu bond between me and Tam. Since I refused to feed it, given enough time and temptation, Tam just might. But that didn’t mean the rock was giving up on me; what happened in that bordello was proof.
Like I said, Mychael didn’t want me near Tam, but he agreed with me learning to defend myself in every way Sarad Nukpana could possibly attack me. He had just one condition; actually it was more like two dozen conditions.
I was on horseback, riding to Tam’s nightclub, surrounded by at least two dozen mounted and absurdly well-armed Guardians. Needless to say, anyone we met gave us a wide berth. It was late afternoon, and the sun was starting to go down behind some of the Conclave’s government buildings, throwing most of the city streets into shadow.
I’d sent word ahead to Tam that what had happened with the Reapers wasn’t keeping me from my lesson, so the front doors were unlocked and unwarded. The main floor of the theatre was usually filled with small tables covered in crisp white cloths, each with two or four chairs. The second-floor dining suites were like private boxes in a fine theatre. Columns stretched from the floor to the high, vaulted ceiling, carved with mermaids and mermen—sirens that could sing men or women to their doom—or somewhere much more enjoyable.
Today the tables were bare of cloths and most of them were stacked against the far walls, leaving the center of the floor clear and open. Officially Sirens was closed for renovation. In reality, Tam had closed the club until the present situation had been dealt with. Tam had a lot of potentially fatal “situations” other than being in an umi’atsu bond with me and Mychael, and he didn’t want running a nightclub to distract him from staying alive, nor did he want some of his clients being killed because they had the poor timing to walk between Tam and someone bent on killing him.
Tam was waiting for me. He was wearing sleek, dark fencing clothes with his black hair pulled back in a long goblin battle braid. His strong hands were bare, and a pair of steel-mesh dueling goggles dangled from his long fingers.
Like most goblins, Tam was tall and leanly muscled, and as I’d experienced on more than one occasion, Tam was also lightning quick. His pale gray skin set off what was a goblin’s most distinctive feature—a pair of fangs that weren’t for decorative use only. A goblin wouldn’t hesitate to use them if a fight turned dirty. Tam wouldn’t hesitate to use them if I got within nibbling range.
Tam’s black eyes gleamed in the club’s dim lighting, lighting he wasn’t going to turn up for our lesson. Sarad Nukpana’s goblin eyes were at their best in this kind of light. Either I learned to adapt or I learned to be dead.
A table near the wall held an array of bladed goblin weapons. Chances were any fighting I’d be doing would be with magic, but I wanted to be prepared for anything. I’d always considered myself a good fencer; and when the situation called for it, I wasn’t squeamish about killing. If it came down to me or them,
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