“Not really.”
“Good. I’d hate to see you disappointed.”
She shut the door leading into the shop. She needn’t have bothered. Piaras already had a pretty good idea of what was going on.
Her green eyes leveled on me. “Now what are Khrynsani shamans doing visiting you at nearly two in the morning?”
“I have something they want.”
“Is it in your rooms?”
“No.”
“Do you have it on you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to give it to them?”
“I can’t.”
“Then you have a problem.”
I had to agree with her on that one. “Yes, I do.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
I thought for a moment. The last thing I wanted to do was drag everyone I cared about into the mess I found myself in. The fewer people who were in this with me, the better. Piaras knew some of it, but not enough to get him into trouble. But what little Piaras knew, Tarsilia would soon know. A Conclave inquisitor was nothing compared to Tarsilia when she felt she ought to know something. She was relentless. On the other hand, she might be able to help. Like most mages in the District, Tarsilia had a Conclave background and had spent more than her share of time on the Isle of Mid in her younger days. She didn’t talk about it much, but I know she didn’t learn to fight dirty behind an apothecary’s counter.
“Don’t worry about me getting myself hurt,” Tarsilia told me, as if reading my mind. She probably had. “I’ve survived a long time stepping in things I should’ve stayed away from. I’ve just made more enemies tonight. Those Khrynsani know where I live. If they want me, they know where to find me.”
That statement would concern me coming from almost anyone else. But Tarsilia wasn’t anyone else. If the shamans were smart, they wouldn’t come back.
“And if I’m lucky, they’ll give me another chance,” she said with an evil little smirk.
Or if they were suicidal.
“She’s just not a good tenant to have, Tarsilia,” Garadin said. He grinned and draped an arm around my shoulders. “You should have evicted her long ago. Better yet, you should have never let her in to begin with.” He planted a light kiss on the top of my head. I detected pride in his voice. “She’s bad to know and worse to be around.”
“Of course she is,” my landlady retorted. “Why do you think I like the girl? When you get to be my age, you take your excitement any way you can get it. Having Raine around keeps me from getting slow.” She turned back to me. “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?”
I sighed and pulled the amulet out of my shirt. The metal was warm and smooth beneath my fingers, almost as if it were trying to make up for its behavior last night. I dropped it against my shirt. I wasn’t buying.
Tarsilia reached for the amulet. I pulled back.
“You don’t want to do that,” Garadin warned her.
“Why not?”
Garadin and I held up our bandaged hands.
Tarsilia lowered her own hand. “Good reason.”
She settled for a close study. I turned it so she could see both sides. It behaved itself perfectly.
“Not much to look at, is it?” she finally said.
“It’s not my usual taste in jewelry.”
“How did you come by it?”
I gave her the short version of last evening’s events. I was getting better at it with each retelling.
“If they’re after this, they’ll definitely be back,” Tarsilia said when I’d finished.
I felt a small surge of hope. “You know what it is?”
“Not a clue.”
Hopes dashed. “Thanks.”
“It was obviously made to do something,” she said. “It certainly isn’t attractive enough to wear for any other reason. Considering the lengths those who want it are willing to go to get it, I’d say it has a more practical purpose. You’re sure you can’t take it off?”
“Not if I want to continue breathing. Meaning if anyone takes the amulet, they have to take me along with it. And I don’t plan on going anywhere with anyone I ran into last night.”
Tarsilia thought silently for a few moments. “If the Guardians are involved, it stands to reason that the Seat of Twelve is involved.”
That sounded reasonable enough to me. Not good, but reasonable. The Seat of Twelve was the name given to the twelve most powerful mages who made up the governing Conclave council. Not exactly people I wanted to notice me. I looked to Garadin. He nodded in agreement. Great.
“Well, I know a man who should know what this thing is and what it does,” Tarsilia said, “but it’s been over twenty years since I last saw him.”
“Who?” Garadin asked.
“Justinius Valerian.”
My godfather looked stunned. It was a look I didn’t get to see on him very often.
“You were a student of the Archmagus?” he asked, clearly impressed.
“No, we were business partners for a time. That, and I slept with him.”
I didn’t even try to stop my jaw from dropping. One man had absolute authority over the Isle of Mid and everyone on it. The Archmagus. And Tarsilia had slept with him.
“For about five years,” Tarsilia added. “The sex part, that is. The business partnership dissolved long before that. We just couldn’t seem to agree with each other.”
“Sounds like you agreed with each other just fine,” I said.
Tarsilia winked. “That’s a different kind of agreement, dear.”
Garadin recovered quicker than I did. “Think he would remember you?”
She gave him a flat look. “I can guarantee it.”
That was more than I’d ever wanted to know about my landlady.
“As nice as getting information about this necklace would be,” I told her as diplomatically as I could, “there’s the small matter of time. I don’t have any. Not to mention, the Guardians take their orders from Justinius Valerian. If he wants the amulet, he’d just have the Guardians drag me back to Mid along with it. Let’s see what we can do to avoid me surrendering to the Guardians, shall we?”
Tarsilia shrugged. “Suit yourself. But until you get rid of that trinket, things are going to be busy around here.”
“They’re not going to be busy, because I’m not going to be here,” I told her. “The Khrynsani will be watching my rooms. When I make it obvious that I’m moving out, I should take my trouble with me.”
Tarsilia bristled. “You’re not letting goblin shamans run you out of your home.”
“It’s just temporary,” I assured her. “I can’t have Khrynsani visits becoming a nightly event around here. I won’t endanger you or Piaras. Don’t worry, I’ll be going somewhere safe.”
Tarsilia didn’t look convinced, but she decided to let it drop. I knew it wouldn’t stay that way.
My rooms above Tarsilia’s shop were small, which I preferred to think of as cozy. Cozy also had the added benefit of less to clean. I’ve never been one for clutter, so what furnishings and possessions I had were there because I either needed or simply wanted them. Less clutter also made it obvious from the moment I opened the door whether anyone had been there while I was gone. Everything I owned had a purpose and a place, and if it had been moved, I’d know about it.
Nothing had been moved.
As a Benares, I had an eye for the finer things in life, and I saw no reason why I shouldn’t have a few of them. Nothing too terribly expensive, just nice. I liked warm feet, so why shouldn’t I keep them toasty on a Nebian rug or two? I bought one; Phaelan gave me the other. I knew where mine had come from; I couldn’t say the same for Phaelan’s gift. As to furniture, I had a preference for warm-colored fabrics and dark wood. And on one occasion, Markus Sevelien had paid me with a particularly beautiful painting I had often admired in his office. It was of a fog-shrouded landscape with the ruins of a temple. Not the most cheerful subject, but I liked it.
These rooms were my home. I was being forced to leave, and that made me angry. Now all I wanted was someone to take it out on.
Tarsilia had come upstairs with me, my self-appointed bodyguard for the morning. Piaras was downstairs opening the shop. Garadin had left once I promised him that I would get myself to one of Markus’s safehouses. It wasn’t a lie. At some point during the day I was sure I’d find my way to a safehouse. I needed answers, and answers were difficult to come by when you were hiding. By no stretch of the imagination was I that good a sorceress even on my best day, strange amulet or not.