I looked at Tam. "And you're going to be smack-dab in the middle."

"I have a responsibility to my people-and to my son. A reign under Sathrik and Sarad would mean death, not only for the goblin people, but for elves and humans alike. Talon and others like him would be slaughtered or worse. It has to stop. Now. I will not stand by while others fight my battle. I not only know Sarad's plans; I know how he thinks. That makes me the best qualified to stop him."

I blew out my breath. "Okay, then. Besides me, Mychael, and Imala, who else has got your back?"

Tam went as still as a statue.

"Don't give me that look," I told him. "If this is anyone's battle, it's mine. I'm in it with you." I flashed a fierce grin. "You're not the only one who wants a piece of Sarad Nukpana."

"As to my allies, not everyone at the goblin court wants my head on a platter," Tam told me. "Many of them are from the old families, powerful and influential. Imala has been cultivating even more allies. And as Sathrik's behavior has grown increasingly erratic, even those publicly allied with him would change their allegiance if a better and stronger candidate presented himself."

I knew exactly where this was going. "Prince Chigaru Mal'Salin."

I didn't like the prince. It wasn't easy to forgive someone who had used Piaras as bait to kidnap me and then threatened him with torture to get me to find the Saghred for him. Somehow I didn't think his manners had improved any since then. The prince was cunning, manipulative, and ruthless, and conspiracies and plots were recreational activities. In other words, a Mal'Salin. But he could be reasoned with and he wasn't nuts. Those were two distinctions that his brother couldn't claim.

"What would Sathrik have to say about you impersonating his right-hand mage?" I asked Tam.

"Sathrik is presently without a right-hand mage."

I arched a brow. "He never gave Nukpana the job?"

"Sarad being the high priest of the Khrynsani would have been a conflict of interest-and too many powerful nobles would have objected. Sathrik couldn't risk it."

"And if Sathrik knew that legally you were still his chief mage?"

Tam smiled. "His Majesty would have a royal apoplexy."

"That'd be fun to watch."

"Yes, it would. Then he'd send every assassin he could hire, bribe, or blackmail after me."

I frowned. "How loyal are your dark mage friends?"

"What do you mean?"

"If Sathrik sends hired blades after you, any goblin who defends you is committing treason. Are they loyal to you or their own necks?"

Tam gave a short laugh. "They won't see why they can't do both."

"How about Talon?"

Mychael and Tam exchanged amused glances.

"What have you done to the kid?" Though if Talon hadn't gone running off, he wouldn't have gotten himself captured by Sarad Nukpana, Tam wouldn't have gone looking for his son, and Nukpana wouldn't have caught and possessed Tam.

And I wouldn't have had to kill Tam.

My fingers started curling into fists. "Let me rephrase that-what can I do to the kid?"

Tam's black eyes glittered mischievously. "At this very moment, Talon is being instructed that his actions, no matter how well intentioned, can have fatal consequences, and not only to him. He is also being encouraged to recognize the difference between right and wrong, or at least grow something that faintly resembles a conscience."

I grinned. "He's here in the citadel, isn't he?"

"With Piaras," Mychael confirmed. "Piaras's tutors are now Talon's tutors. Justinius and Ronan are helping."

I whistled. "I'll bet Talon doesn't consider any of it helpful."

"No, he doesn't," Tam said. "But it's needed. I've been teaching him how to fight, but he needs to learn more-and he needs more discipline than I can provide." He sighed, then drew in a slow breath. "When I look at Talon, I see myself at his age. He's coming into his full power entirely too fast, just like I did. I will not have him go down the dark path that I did. I thought I could handle it all myself, but I was wrong."

"Reining in and properly focusing impulsive young talent is what Guardians do best," Mychael said with a slight smile.

And it had taken more than reining in to keep Talon from following us the day we'd chased Tam/Nukpana in that coach. Dad had more than had his hands full. From what I heard, it'd taken three good-sized Guardians, plus Piaras, to hold the kid down. Dad suspected something bad was going to happen to Tam, and knew that his son most definitely did not need to see it. Me shooting his father down in the street certainly qualified. Grateful didn't even begin to describe what I felt for those Guardians who'd essentially sat on Talon.

"Anyone that comes after me will also consider Talon a target." Tam's jaw clenched and his tone turned cold with anger. "And as a half-breed, Talon has no rights under goblin law. If he was caught, Sathrik could legally do anything with him that he wanted. I've asked Mychael and he has agreed to accept Talon as a provisional cadet. After three months of training, he'll be evaluated, and if he is deemed worthy, he'll be accepted as a full cadet."

I nodded in approval. "And he would be under Guardian protection and law."

"As a provisional cadet, he is now," Mychael said.

"Elves don't recognize his existence," Tam said. "Goblins despise him. This was the only legal step I could take to protect my son."

I leaned back in my chair. "Now that Talon's as safe as he can be, what exactly is it that you're going to do?"

Tam's smile was a baring of fangs. "It'll be like just another day on my old job: destroy an archenemy, depose a king, and put an exiled prince on the throne."

Chapter 25.

Sarad Nukpana's body was in a crystal coffin woven with spells to keep it from being opened from the outside-or the inside.

Mychael wasn't taking any chances.

One of the spells inside the coffin was to preserve his corpse. The mortician who prepared the body and worked the spell called it "perpetual repose."

I called it creepy as hell.

Sarad Nukpana was still perfect, still darkly beautiful. He had a shadow of a smile on his face, like he knew something we didn't, something that was about to bite us all on our collective ass.

I had no doubt that he did.

The coffin was in a tower in the highest point of the citadel and at the farthest point from the Saghred. The stairs to the top could be revealed by a spell that only Mychael and Justinius knew. The circular room had one door, no windows, and was lit bright as day.

That had been my request.

Goblins didn't like bright light. I did. And for some irrational reason, I also liked knowing that Sarad Nukpana wasn't lying in the dark. Bad things happened in dark places. Sarad Nukpana was most definitely a bad thing.

I'd wanted the body destroyed and the ashes scattered to the winds in the far reaches of all seven kingdoms. That would get rid of Sarad Nukpana's body, but it wouldn't destroy him. His rotten soul was safe and secure in the body of his dearly departed uncle Janos. Janos Ghalfari's soul was long gone, so Nukpana had the house all to himself, so to speak. Just him and the souls of his closest allies-his own frat house of evil.

Two days ago, King Sathrik had sent Justinius Valerian a letter demanding that unless Nukpana's body was returned undamaged to Regor within the month, he would declare war against the Guardians, the Conclave, and the Isle of Mid, and come and get the body himself. Mychael and Justinius had no intention of returning Nukpana's body, but it never hurt to have an ace in the hole just in case. Hence the mortician's creepy reposing spell.

I'd gone to the tower room this morning. I had wanted . . . No, I had needed to see Sarad Nukpana's body for myself. Vegard had come with me. He'd become my most welcome shadow. He kept expecting that Reaper to come back to collect.

So did I.

But Reapers were eternal; I wasn't. With any luck, I'd be old and gray before it remembered my offer and came back. No, I didn't believe that, either. You knew you had too much bad crap in your life when Death's minion had become the least of your worries.

It was now early afternoon and I was back on the Fortune. Four more days had passed since Mychael had pronounced Tam fully healed-and Tam had announced that he was personally declaring war on Sathrik Mal'Salin and Sarad Nukpana.

"Hell, I'd be glad to haul the stiff back to Regor," Phaelan was saying, as he handed me the drink I'd desperately needed after viewing Sarad Nukpana's perpetually reposing corpse. "Things fall overboard at sea all the time." He flashed a grin. "Especially dead goblin psychos."

I remembered Nukpana's still lips with their all- knowing smile. "Define dead," I muttered.

Phaelan poured himself a whiskey. "By the way, Mago's on his way here."

I was in mid-swallow and almost choked. "Here? Is that good? For anybody?"

My cousin chuckled. "This island is teeming with weasel mages and politicians; how much more trouble can a weasel banker be?"

We both knew the answer to that one. But at least this weasel was related to us.

"Besides," Phaelan continued, "Mago is the hands-on type. He's set our plan in motion and has a person he can trust pulling the strings at the bank in D'Mai. Mago prefers to be as close to his mark as possible when an operation goes down." Phaelan raised his glass and drained it in one toss. "My brother takes great pride in his work."

I groaned. God help us all, and not just from conscientious weasel bankers.

The Fortune had been deemed to be the safest place to meet-or at least the most neutral and agreeable territory.

Markus Sevelien wanted to talk to Imala Kalis.

Markus had come over from the Red Hawk under cover of both darkness and tarp. There was a time and a place for Markus to let the world know that he was alive, but here and now wasn't it. My sometime employer would wait until his return from the dead would have the maximum benefit for him and the elf queen, and do the most damage to Taltek Balmorlan and his allies. I really wanted to see Balmorlan's face when that happened.

I could hear Markus and Mychael speaking in low voices from the next cabin. Eavesdropping wasn't necessary; I could hear every word, though not in the conventional sense. My mysterious bond with Mychael had become even stronger once my umi'atsu bond with Tam had been broken by that crossbow bolt.

Markus's clothes had been blown up along with his house. He and Phaelan were the same size, so my cousin had opened his considerable wardrobe to the chief of elven intelligence. Markus had arrived on board in an incredibly elegant black doublet and trouser ensemble. I would never have guessed that Phaelan had owned anything other than what a peacock would feel at home in.

Duke Markus Sevelien was dressing for the occasion.

Peace talks between the elven government and the hopefully soon-to-be goblin government.

Since Markus had been declared dead, he wasn't exactly the official representative of the elf queen, but that was fine since Imala was the representative of the goblin prince in exile.

But if everyone's plans came to fruition, these would be the first true and earnest peace talks between the elves and goblins in a couple of hundred years.

Markus and Imala had already agreed on one thing: the Guardians should continue to be the keepers and protectors of the Saghred. They had sworn to each other that they would leave the Saghred in peace.

If my plans came to fruition, the Saghred would be in pieces.

Imala Kalis arrived a few minutes later with only two guards. Trust is a beautiful thing; keeping a low profile is even better. Three goblins could be snuck on board without much trouble. Imala's regular entourage would have looked like a boarding party. Phaelan welcomed the head of the goblin secret service with a hand kiss that lingered a little too long and a gleam in his dark eyes that said he'd like nothing more than further exploration. I had to virtually kick my cousin out of his own cabin.

I wanted to talk to Imala alone.

"Could they wait outside the door?" I asked her, indicating her two bodyguards.

Imala kept her dark eyes on me, but spoke to the two heavily armed goblins. "Wait outside, please."

They went, the door closed, and it was just me and the lady who wanted Tam to help her overthrow a government. I knew Tam had already made up his mind, but I still had a problem with that. A big one. Call me protective of my friends.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked her. "Uncle Ryn sent over some port that he took off a royal frigate headed for Regor-and probably Sathrik's wine cellars. He and Markus didn't manage to drink it all."

Imala smiled faintly. "I would love a glass." She accepted it and took a sip. Then she sat quietly, her delicate fingers holding the even more delicate crystal. "Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't force Tam to help," she said quietly. "I could only ask. The decision was his."

I had taken the chair across from Imala, my own posture a virtual mirror of hers. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Good. Saves wasting time on small talk. I don't like what Tam wants to do; I don't like it at all . . . but it was his decision and he's made it, hasn't he?" I didn't bother to hide my sarcasm.

"Our people need him, Raine." She paused. "I need him."

"You don't like him, but you need him."

"Actually, I do like him. Even though he's stubborn, infuriating, and a few other things I don't care to mention." She took another sip. "Tam is also the best man for this job."

"A job that's going to use black magic to overthrow Sathrik and Sarad-"

Imala's dark eyes flashed. "No, Raine. I don't want Tam using black magic ever again. When I found out he was leaving court, I convinced him to go to my grandmother for help. Naturally, he didn't think he needed help or that he was in any danger, but I persisted and he eventually admitted that I was right."

"You convinced-"

Imala laughed. "So he made it sound like it was all his idea?"

"Pretty much."

She shrugged. "Regardless, he went, and once again the final decision was his. No one forces Tam to do anything he doesn't want to."

"You can say that again," I muttered.

"Now that Sarad Nukpana is no longer here, my grandmother and Prince Chigaru will be arriving within the week."

I blew out my breath through my nose.

"You don't trust any of us, do you?" Imala asked mildly.