The Trouble with Demons (32 page)

My stomach did a little barrel roll. “I must have missed that one.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “You were face-to-face with a Volghul. You had more important things to do. Laurian always said that these little ones were bound and could do him no harm.”

Yeah, where had I heard that one before?

“If we’re all still alive next week, I’m sending these things back where they came from,” Sora told me.

Berel’s pets compared to what would be coming through that Hellgate were like house cats compared to lions—giant lions that were damned near impossible to kill. I looked down at the now chittering demon in the cage. I’d take Green Teeth here anytime.

I didn’t feel comfortable turning my back on the late Professor Berel’s pets, but I couldn’t exactly search the office while staring at a lidless mini-demon.

From the looks of things, Berel had been department chairman and had occupied this office for a long time. You just couldn’t get that kind of clutter overnight. There wasn’t room for one more book on Berel’s shelves. When he’d run out of horizontal space, he started stacking books vertically on top of other books. The shelves were floor to ceiling with a ladder on rollers that could slide down the entire length of the wall. That told me the shelves weren’t likely to fall on me, but I didn’t want to push my luck. Besides, I wasn’t looking for a book.

“Do you mind if I search?” I asked Sora. “I promise not to trash the place.”

“Search away. Anything I can do to help?”

“I know he hated daggers, but if he had kept one that he’d been given, where would he have put it? Did he have a safe, strongbox—”

Sora was shaking her head. Not the response I’d hoped for.

“Not that I’m aware of,” she said, “but I’ll look.”

“Thanks.”

“What can I do, ma’am?” Vegard asked me.

I nodded toward a row of file cabinets next to the table with the mini-demons. I smiled apologetically. “Check those, please.”

He gave me a flat look. “Professor Niabi?”

“Yes?”

“Permission to stab anything that escapes and jumps on me?”

“Feel free, Vegard.”

Before I started knocking on the walls to check for hidden compartments, I thought I’d eliminate the obvious. Berel’s desk. It was old and massive. I’d seen mages’ desks that had more hidden drawers than real ones.

The second drawer I searched had more of the usual desk contents—and a pair of small leather boxes, trimmed in gilt filigree, about the size of a man’s hand. I froze. My present problem didn’t start by my finding the Saghred or the amulet; my problem had started as a result of a thief friend of mine finding said amulet in a pretty little box much like these. That one had been closed with a black wax seal; these boxes were closed with latches. Still, there was no way I was touching them without asking a few questions first.

I took one step back. “Sora?”

“Yes?”

I leaned forward just enough to pull the drawer open wider.

“Any idea what’s in these?”

“These what?” She came over and looked. “The boxes?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know. Feel free to open them.”

I swore. “Gee, thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

I told her.

Sora whistled. “I wouldn’t want to open any more boxes, either.”

Vegard came over. “Ma’am, maybe I should—”

I held up a hand. “I found them.” I sighed. “I’ll open them.”

“I’ll stand here,” he said, his hands now faintly glowing.

Vegard had a spell ready to launch; I muttered a shielding spell into place. Not that either would do any good if there was something truly nasty in those boxes, but events of the past couple of weeks had made me cautious, if not downright paranoid. I picked up the first box; it was covered in midnight blue leather. I held it at arm’s length and gave it a little shake. It didn’t sound like there was anything in there. Only one way to find out. I put it on the desk, flipped the latch, and opened it. Inside was a star-shaped medallion; it looked like an award or something.

“The Order of Goulous,” Sora said as if that explained everything. It didn’t.

“Which is?”

“An academic award for excellence in research,” she explained. “Laurian was widely published.”

I took out the other box, flipped the latch, winced, and looked inside. It was empty, but there had been something in there, nestled in the dark velvet lining. Something that had left an indentation like a curved dagger no larger than my father’s hand.

Just an imprint, no dagger.

I made no move to put my hand anywhere near that imprint. “Okay,” I said carefully, never taking my eyes off of that box. “Theoretically the Saghred and I are one. So it would stand to reason that the rock wouldn’t be too fond of the Scythe of Nen—and possibly anything that had held it.”

Vegard didn’t move. “Ma’am, I think you should put the box down.” His voice was tight. “Slowly would be good.”

I kept my eyes on the box. “Vegard, we have to know for sure.”

“Are you feeling anything from just holding it?”

“A little tingle maybe, but that might be my nerves.” Before Vegard could stop me—or before I chickened out—I threw caution to the wind and reached out to touch the velvet indentation with my fingertips.

I really shouldn’t have done that.

The next thing I knew, I was on my ass, and the box was across the room. I’d never been struck by lightning, but this had to be what it felt like. I wanted to say something, my mouth was opening and closing, but words weren’t making it out.

Vegard and Sora were doing my cussing for me.

“I . . . think that . . . was it,” I finally managed. I couldn’t imagine the Saghred being that pissed off at any other piece of cutlery. Vegard started to reach for me and got one hell of a shock for his trouble.

“Don’t touch . . . Wait a . . . minute.”

“Laurian did have it,” Sora said.

I grabbed the edge of the desk and hauled myself off the floor. The desk didn’t catch fire, so I thought I was safe for contact. Vegard thought so, too. He grabbed my arm and helped me the rest of the way to my feet.

“Who else has access to this office?” I asked Sora.

“Just Laurian’s secretary. But he didn’t take it.”

“How do you know—”

“Daggers didn’t stay in Laurian’s possession long enough for anyone to steal them.”

I was confused. “If he gave it away, why would he keep the box?”

“The mage he gave it to collects daggers.” Sora said it like she knew I wasn’t going to like it. “He has display cases and didn’t need the box. Over the years, Laurian has given him a lot of daggers. He called them gifts; I called them bribes.”

I didn’t move. “Who?”

“Carnades Silvanus.”

That wasn’t the name I wanted to hear.

“Carnades collects exotic daggers,” Sora told me. “Laurian hated the things. Laurian also hated Carnades.”

“Sounds like he was a good judge of character.”

“Carnades is the chairman of the funding committee,” Sora explained. “They decide how much money each department gets. Guess which department Carnades thinks should be eliminated because any moral person wouldn’t want to study demons?”

“No guess needed. I see why you turned that demon loose on him yesterday.”

Sora grinned. “Mychael and I wanted to give Vegard a chance to get you out of there, but I will admit to a more personal reason.”

“Payback’s hell.”

“Literally.”

I chuckled. “And those blue demons were on him like—” I stopped, thought, and realized in the span of about two seconds. Then I felt a sudden and entirely justified urge to bang my head against Laurian Berel’s bookcases.

Vegard stepped forward. “Ma’am? What’s wrong?”

“Carnades had it.” Saying it out loud just made it worse.

“Carnades
has
it.”

“What does—”

“Carnades actually had the Scythe of Nen on him yesterday at watcher headquarters,” I said. “He had a small, curved silver dagger tucked in his sash. I saw it—and those demons knew what it was; that’s why they attacked him.” I suddenly felt like the biggest idiot on the island; then my Benares instincts put in an appearance. “When Carnades was out cold; I could have swiped the thing.”

“Ma’am, you didn’t know.”

“I do now, a lot of good it does me.”

I imagined myself tackling Carnades and wrestling that dagger away from him. Fun, but hardly practical. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and bit it while I thought some very Benares thoughts that would have made Phaelan proud.

“Ma’am, no.” Vegard was adamant, firm, and he knew he wasn’t going to change my already-made-up mind.

“Vegard, we have to have that dagger. We don’t have a choice.”

“We could go to the boss. He could talk to Magus Silvanus.”

I just looked at him. “Do you honestly believe that Carnades will hand over the Scythe to Mychael for safekeeping?”

“Hell would freeze over first,” he admitted.

“Exactly.”

“You can’t break into and rob Magus Silvanus’s town house.”

“I never said I was.”

“You didn’t have to say it; I know what you’re thinking.”

I half smiled. “And because I’m a Benares, you assumed that I’d opt for the larcenous approach.”

“No, ma’am.” He grinned. “Because you’re you.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “How long have you known me, Vegard?”

“A little over two weeks.”

I chuckled. “Damn, but you’re a quick study.” I turned to Sora. “You didn’t hear any of this.”

“Any of what?” she asked innocently.

“Thank you.” And I meant it. There were too few people I could trust on Mid, and I really wanted Sora Niabi to be one of them.

There was actually paper and pens on Laurian Berel’s desk. I scribbled a quick message and folded it tight. Then I pressed my thumb to the fold and muttered a sealing spell. No one could open that note except for its intended recipient. The thing would go up in flames if anyone else tried to take a peek.

“Do you have a student you can trust and spare to deliver a message?” I asked Sora.

“I do.”

“Do you have a student who can go to the gangplank of the
Fortune
, ask for Captain Benares, give this to him, and not crap their pants?”

Sora chuckled. “I train demonologists, Raine. They’re up to it.”

“Good.” I pointed at the Scythe’s box, still on the floor. “May we borrow that?”

“You can have it.”

Vegard looked baffled.

“It still has the Scythe’s residuals on it,” I said to his unspoken question. “If I knew for a fact that the thing was in Carnades’s town house in a display case, I could find it myself. I know what it looks like, so I wouldn’t need to drag Piaras into this with me. However . . .”

“The Scythe probably won’t be out in the open,” Vegard said.

I nodded. “That’s the thing. We don’t know. So Piaras can probably use that box the same way I use an object for seeking. I can’t touch that box again, and I know the Saghred’s not going to help me find that dagger.”

“So we still need a virgin.”

“Unfortunately.”

“What if Carnades is wearing it again today?” Vegard asked quietly.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” I told him.

Or tackle that mage.

 

 

Piaras’s class would be over in another ten minutes, so Vegard and
I waited around the corner from his classroom. Waiting for Piaras also gave me more time to think. I couldn’t exactly walk up to Carnades’s front door, knock, and ask nicely. But at the same time, Vegard was right. I didn’t need the real crime of breaking and entering added to the list of imagined crimes on Carnades’s arrest warrant. The little Benares voice in my head whispered that breaking and entering could only be added to the list if I got caught. I told the little voice to hold that thought while I tried to come up with something less risky. Problem was I was having absolutely no luck. Perhaps my family urges were too strong for my law-abiding efforts.

“And this is Starke Hall, home to the college’s demonology department,” said a familiar voice.

Vegard and I looked at each other in utter shock. His eyes went wide; my mouth dropped open.

Carnades Silvanus.

What the hell was the acting archmagus doing playing tour guide?

“I promise not to linger for long, Magus Silvanus,” said a melodious voice, smooth and seductively beautiful. “It would be unspeakably rude to be late for my own reception luncheon.”

I sucked in my breath and held it. I didn’t mean to hold it, but at the sound of that voice, my mind forgot to tell my lungs to breathe. It had other things to do. Like panic.

I didn’t have to look to see who it was. I knew who it was.

Rudra Muralin.

 

 

My mind raced, logic and reasoning struggling to keep up and failing
miserably. What I was hearing was impossible. Rudra Muralin was under the island somewhere opening a Hellgate, or in hiding. And if he wasn’t in hiding, he sure as hell wouldn’t be touring the campus with Carnades. I peeked quickly around the corner, Vegard’s head doing the same thing above mine.

It was Rudra Muralin, all right—young and perfect like fine sculpture, and just as ageless. His beauty was no glamour, no spell to trick the eye; it was all him. The goblin’s waist-length hair was so black it shone almost blue, and his black eyes were bright with entirely too much intelligence.

And he was evil incarnate, responsible for the enslavement of thousands of elves and the sacrifice to the Saghred of thousands more. He’d done it before and he couldn’t wait to do it all again. He was standing not twenty feet away from me with at least six black-robed Khrynsani shamans and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.