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I
wondered if my father had lain awake at night listening to the voices, and
later the temptations. Though at this point, I’d settle for a good night’s
sleep—and count on my own special brand of stubbornness as a defense. Garadin
always told me I was stubborn as a rock. I never thought I’d actually have to
put it to the test.

So
far I hadn’t experienced anything approaching the Saghred’s full power. I
didn’t know what it would feel like, and I would really prefer to go the rest
of my life without finding out. I just hoped I wouldn’t wake up in a few hours
craving coffee, sugar knots, and world domination. The last one sounded like
entirely too much work, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be tempted by the Saghred’s
other offers. I’d only heard a few, and I was sure there would be more.

I
awoke to sunlight and sea air. Waking up meant I’d been asleep. Good for me.
Nice morning, blue sky. The
Fortune
was under full sail and moving fast.
I was alive. So were my friends. And most importantly, I didn’t feel the urge
to take over anything. Life was good.

I
still heard voices, but this time they weren’t coming from inside the Saghred.
They were warm, living, breathing voices and sounds. Tarsilia speaking, Piaras
laughing. Garadin knocking. Somehow I knew it was him.

I
rolled over. “Come.”

The
door opened. Yep, it was Garadin. Nothing like getting a brand-new power from a
soul-sucking rock to start your day.

“How
did you sleep?” he asked.

I sat
up, pulled the blanket around me and pushed what must have been some very scary
looking hair out of my face. I hadn’t bothered braiding it before I turned in.
I was only wearing a silk shirt. A big one. It wasn’t mine; it was Mychael’s.
It was also nice and comfy. With the Khrynsani probably on my tail, there was
no time for civilized niceties like packing. I had some clothes onboard, but
nothing for sleeping. Phaelan said he could find me some girl clothes, but I
knew where those clothes had come from, and I’d rather not wear anything one of
his nighttime visitors hadn’t had time to put back on.

“I
slept well enough,” I said. “All things considered.”

“All
things?”

“The
Saghred thinks I’m its new roommate.”

My
godfather didn’t respond immediately. “You’re the only one who can hear it. The
shields are holding for the rest of us.” There were the beginnings of dark
circles under his blue eyes. It looked like he’d been helping with those
shields.

“Apparently
I’m not the rest of us,” I said.

“I
know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I
figured as much.”

He
pushed off the door frame with his shoulder and crossed the cabin to the bunk.
He sat on the edge near the foot.

“You
might not want to do that,” I told him. “Rumor has it I’m dangerous right now.”

He
halfway smiled. “I’ve always known that.”

He
leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely in front of
him. He sat that way in silence. I had a feeling he was gathering words he knew
I didn’t want to hear.

“Heard
anything else from your father?”

I shook
my head and sat up straighter against the pillows. “Just Nukpana.”

That
thought troubled him. It troubled me more.

“Anything
now?”

“Not
a peep from the grand shaman.” I managed a weak smile, though there was no
humor behind it. “Maybe he got tired.”

“Maybe.”
Garadin bowed his head and looked at the deck. “I had no idea Eamaliel Anguis
was your father. Maranda never mentioned him. I asked her. Once. She said she
didn’t want to talk about it, and I knew she didn’t want me to bring it up
again. So I didn’t.”

“Sounds
like she was stubborn.”

My
godfather smiled. “Like someone else I know.”

He
lifted his head and looked at me then, and I found myself not wanting to meet
his eyes. I knew he saw me—but he was remembering my mother.

“She
loved you.” His voice was soft and husky. “And I don’t have that secondhand. I
saw it myself.”

If he
kept this up, my long-promised screaming fit was going to turn into a crying
jag. I could only manage a ragged whisper in response. “Thank you.”

He
was fighting his own case of the misties. He patted my knee under the blanket.
“Mychael’s a good man, and so is Justinius Valerian. We’ll get this taken care
of, girl.”

I
tried a shaky grin on for size. It didn’t quite fit. “One way or another.”

“No,
just one way.” He pushed himself to his feet and straightened his robes.
“There’s breakfast in the galley if you’re interested. Piaras might have left
something for you.”

He
stopped at the door. “Mychael isn’t sending word ahead to Justinius that he has
the stone,” he said quietly. “But I’m sure the goblins already have.”

“Well,
that’ll just make the bad guys easier to spot,” I said. “Anyone on Mid who
knows we have the rock got their information through the back door.”

Garadin
met my comment with calm silence. The kind you had when you were right and you
knew it—and so did the person who wanted you to be wrong. I chose to ignore it.
I could think about it when we got to Mid. That gave me about four days to
ignore my future.

I
swung my legs over the side of the bunk. My muscles had other ideas. I winced.
“I’ll get dressed and be out in a few minutes.”

My
godfather nodded and left.

I
took my time dressing, and then strapped on my blades. What threatened me most
right now couldn’t be hurt by steel, but I wasn’t going to let a few days at
sea get me out of a healthy habit. Once on Mid, I was sure I’d get ample
opportunity to use both spells and steel. There were plenty of people there who
wanted what I had, what I could do. That meant they wanted me.

I’m a
seeker. I find things. Fate sure does have a warped sense of humor. Now I’m
what the bad guys are trying to find. Most times people are glad when they find
what they’re looking for. Sometimes they’re sorry they asked. If you ask me,
folks should be more careful what they ask for. I cinched the buckle on my
brace of throwing knives. Some things are better left unfound. Like me.

I’d
had some sleep, I’d get some breakfast, talk to my friends, then I’d find my
favorite place near the bow. Wind in my hair, spray on my face. A little sun
and fresh air. A little happiness. I take my happiness when and where I can
find it.

The
End

 

 

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BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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Penguin
Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control
over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites
or their content.

MAGIC
LOST, TROUBLE FOUND

An
Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright
© 2007 by Lisa Shearin.
Cover art by Aleta Rafton.
Cover design by Judith Lagerman.

All
rights reserved.
For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York
10014.

ISBN:
1-4295-4040-0

ACE
Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin
Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ACE and the “A” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Many
thanks:

To my
agent, Kristin Nelson, for your guidance, enthusiasm, and for believing in the
magic.

To my
editor, Anne Sowards, for your sharp eyes, and for always taking the time to
answer a new author’s questions.

And
most of all to my husband, Derek. Thank you for your love, patience, and
encouragement. You never doubted, and always believed.

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