Like many goblins, Tam wore his black hair long. Normally it was pulled away from his face with a silver clasp. This morning it was loose, slightly disheveled and fell in a shimmering wave to the middle of his back. Looked like someone had spent the night here. Tam crossed the floor to me like a big, beautiful, and dangerous cat that had just awakened from a very satisfying nap. If I listened closely enough, I could probably hear him purr. He wore trousers and matching boots of dark, soft leather. Over that was a long silk dressing robe woven with an intricate pattern of silver and blue. He let the robe fall open, treating me to a view of smooth, silvery chest. Tam noted my appreciative glance with a sly smile and a bit of fang peeking into view.
He nodded toward the stage. “I see the two of you have met.”
“Not really,” I said.
“We are ready, my primaru, if you would like to listen,” the young goblin said.
“Very much so.” In a whisper of silk, Tam slid into the booth next to me.
While the musicians prepared, Tam took my hand and barely brushed my palm with his lips.
Seeing Tam made me breathe funny; touching Tam made me forget how.
“It’s been too long,” he whispered, his dark eyes shining in the half light.
Kell had said the same thing. Somehow it was different coming from Tam. I didn’t have to be told why.
After the night I’d had, on top of virtually no sleep, I thought I’d probably spook horses and scare small children. From the look I was on the receiving end of, Tam didn’t agree. Though knowing Tam, he probably hadn’t noticed anything going on above my neck.
Tam and his voice were like fine, dark silk—he was provocative, his voice was seduction itself, and both made you feel completely decadent. I wasn’t entirely immune to his charms, and I didn’t entirely mind. I had always told myself that Tam didn’t mean anything personal by it. It was a harmless little game that we both enjoyed. Perhaps if I told myself that long enough I’d begin to believe it.
The music began. Drums and two other percussion instruments established a languid beat, and then the low, vibrant tones of a goblin flute joined with the melody. The tempo increased slightly to the pulsing rhythm popular for the current mode of dancing. The young goblin began to sing, his body moving in perfect time to the drums. It was a love song that only a goblin could love, full of seduction, deception, and betrayal with just a touch of death thrown in for good measure. But it wasn’t the words that held my attention; it was the singer, or more to the point, his voice. His rich tenor gave meaning to the song far beyond the words. As the music increased in energy and intensity, so did his voice and his dancing. If I hadn’t been acutely aware of what he was doing, I could have easily found myself enchanted.
Although he was not in the same class as Mychael Eiliesor, the young goblin was a spellsinger of impressive power and control. It wasn’t unusual for establishments like Tam’s to employ spellsingers—a little subliminal singing to compel patrons to order more drinks, or to convince them they’re having the time of their lives was fairly common. This goblin’s skill was a little much just to raise bar tabs. If he had wanted to, he could have done much more. But then, Tam had never been one for doing things halfway.
The song concluded, and we both applauded, Tam with more enthusiasm than I.
“He’s good,” I murmured.
“Yes, he is,” Tam agreed.
“Too good.”
Tam looked over at me, a slow grin playing with the corners of his mouth. “I offer only the best. My clientele expects it from me. If they want shoddy spellsinging, they can go down to the Troubadour.”
“I wasn’t talking about his singing. I meant what’s going on under it.”
“He wasn’t aiming at you, darling, so where’s the harm? Spellsingers have to make a living, too.”
He wasn’t aiming at me, but he easily could have been. And after last night, I was a little more sensitive about that sort of thing. Not to mention, a spellsinger that gifted could easily find work more suited to his level of talent and probably better paying, though I knew Tam wasn’t cheap. He paid his people well, and then some. The result was an intensely loyal staff.
“That was well worth the wait, Rahimat,” Tam told the spellsinger.
The young goblin looked pleased. “Thank you, my primaru. With your permission, we will perform it tonight.”
“You have my permission and my blessing.”
With a bow to Tam and another glance at me, the spellsinger turned and began speaking in low tones with his musicians.
Tam was standing by the booth. I hadn’t seen him move. “You wish to speak with me privately?”
I looked away from the spellsinger and stood. “I do.”
Tam slipped his long-fingered hand to the small of my back. “Kell has brought refreshments to my office.”
The narrow hallway leading to Tam’s private domain was lit by illuminator globes set into recesses in the wall. The resulting light was pale golden, and very flattering, the same as the lighting in the main room. Everything and everyone looked better in low, soft lighting. Throw in a couple of strong drinks, and even Tam’s hobgoblin bouncers would look irresistible. I’d always found the glow to be a little too perfect. I’m sure Tam had added a few magical touches to enhance the effect.
Tam opened the door and stood aside for me to enter. A warm caress passed over my skin as I stepped across the threshold and through his shields. Being on friendly terms with the proprietor helped. Tam made sure his shields knew I was always welcome. Trust was a wonderful thing.
A door was open behind the mahogany desk. Through it I saw the corner of a bed, with pale sheets spilling into a pool on the floor.
“You would welcome a few extra hours of sleep.” He didn’t ask it as a question.
“I would welcome a few hours of sleep, period.”
“That could be arranged.”
From the sound of his voice, that wasn’t all that could be arranged. “Tam, I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
The goblin went to a small sideboard in the corner and poured Nebian jasmine tea into a pair of gold-painted porcelain cups so fragile they looked like they would shatter if you looked at them wrong. I could smell the delicate floral brew. Nebian jasmine was rare, and importing it was prohibitively expensive unless you had the money or the contacts. Tam had both.
He handed me a cup, deliberately brushing my hand as he did so. “What is so important that you cannot spare a few hours for me?”
I slid into one of the two overstuffed velvet armchairs facing the desk. “I don’t have a few hours. I have a problem.”
“Don’t you always? You need to make time. Play is important.”
“Play is your business, Tam, not mine.” I took a sip of tea, closed my eyes and inhaled. Night-blooming jasmine. A moment of pure and complete bliss. It’d be nice if I could make it last.
“It’s also my business to make people happy.” His voice dropped to a low, suggestive purr. “What would make you happy this morning?”
“Other than a few hours of sleep, the same thing that always makes me happy. Knowing things that the bad guys want to keep secret.”
“Those aren’t the fun kind of secrets.”
“They are to me. Now more than ever.”
“I’m probably going to regret this, but is there anything I can do to help?”
“Without endangering yourself or your business,” I finished for him.
“That would be nice, but with you, it’s usually not possible.”
I paused before continuing, taking both my time and another sip, and sniff, of tea. “You heard about Simon Stocken?”
“I heard.”
I didn’t say how I knew, and Tam didn’t say how he heard. Tam would never betray me, and I extended the same courtesy to him. But at the same time, we didn’t share anything we didn’t have to. Our relationship operated strictly on a need-to-know basis. I think there are things about Tam that I’d rather not know; and I’m positive there are things about me that I’d rather Tam not know. It’s not a lack of trust, just good sense. I’ve always been a practical girl.