“I received a shipment of Caesolian red and some vintage liqueurs from him just last week,” Tam said. “I have two other sources, but they lack Master Stocken’s particular acquisition skills and attention to detail. I suspect my cellars will suffer before I find a suitable replacement.” His expression darkened. “If I can find one. Do you know who was responsible?”
“Why? Want revenge?”
“Possibly.”
“Sarad Nukpana.”
I like to give little gifts to my friends, and to myself. If Tam could somehow cut short the goblin grand shaman’s trip to our fair city, it would make a lot of people feel better—especially me.
Tam was silent for a moment. “More than a few individuals in the Goblin District would love to send Sarad Nukpana home in a large box, in small pieces. But just because they want it, doesn’t mean they’re going to volunteer to make it happen.” He regarded me soberly. “Is your interest professional or personal?”
“Both.”
Tam sighed. “Who hired you?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.” Especially since I had become my own client.
He shook his head and took the chair opposite mine. “Are you willing to take some advice?”
“I’m willing to listen.”
“Find another case.”
“I’ve already been given that advice.”
“You’d be wise to take it.”
“Too late for that.”
“It’s only too late when you’re dead.” Tam exhaled slowly and settled back in his chair. “I heard his shamans paid you a visit last night,” he said.
“You’ve always said I need to get a social life.”
“Raine, you’ve never met him. I have. Trust me, this isn’t anyone you want to have notice you.”
Too late for that. “I hear he’s quite the nutcase,” I said.
Tam voice was steady. “He’s also brilliant, skilled, sadistic, and utterly insane. He’s a monster, Raine. Do us both a favor and walk away from this one.”
“I can’t. At least not without help.”
He was wary. “What kind of help?”
“Just information.”
“And you think I have this information.”
“It would certainly make my life easier—and possibly longer—if you did. The Khrynsani also paid Nigel Nicabar a visit last night.”
“What did Nigel have to say?” Tam asked.
“Not much, because he’s dead.”
That seemed to be news to Tam. “Nigel’s dead?”
“Bobbed to the surface just off the Grand Duke’s Canal this morning.”
The tiniest smile creased Tam’s lips. “You have to admit that’s not a grievous loss to the necromancer community.” He paused and the smile vanished. “You think I know something about this, don’t you?”
“I think there’s a better than average possibility.”
To someone who didn’t know him that well, Tam’s face was an expressionless mask. But I knew him that well. There was plenty going on behind those large, dark eyes, and most of it had to do with deflecting my questions.
“I have nothing to do with Nigel,” he said. “And even less to do with the Khrynsani. I have my vices, and while some are arrestable offenses, it’s nothing I would burn in the lower hells for.”
“Some people would say that’s open for debate,” I said. “I know you like to watch those you don’t want watching you. The Khrynsani definitely qualify.”
Tam waved a negligent hand. “King Sathrik’s throwing himself a party two nights from now. Someone has to see to the catering.”
“I don’t think Sarad Nukpana’s minions are here to make tiny sandwiches or arrange flowers, and neither do you. Try again.”
“Unless it affects me, there are some things I’m content not to know. You should do the same more often.”
“Maybe next time.”
“The direction you’re heading, there’s not going to be a next time. The Khrynsani have come for whatever reason, they’ll do what they came to do—and then they’ll leave. When they do, Mermeia’s goblin community is going to let out a collective sigh of relief.”
“Not exactly welcoming their new king and his counselor with open arms?”
“Let’s just say many of us are reserving judgement. Anyone that chooses Sarad Nukpana as his chief advisor isn’t going to win many loyal subjects in this city. As long as Sathrik and his pet shamans are in town, I’ll be spending as little time as possible in the Goblin District. Too many Mal’Salins there who are best avoided.”
“Not eager for a family reunion?”
“I loved my wife,” Tam said point-blank. “I’ve never had similar feelings for her relatives. I’ll be staying here for the rest of the week.”
Time to put my cards on the table. “Sarad Nukpana wants something that Nigel had. Nigel doesn’t have it anymore and neither does Sarad Nukpana. I need to know what that something is and what it does. And I need to know it sooner rather than later.”
Tam sensed my mood shift. Playful, it wasn’t.
“I don’t know what they were looking for,” he told me. “But if Sarad Nukpana wants it, it would be best if you weren’t in his way when he finds it.”
I put my cup and saucer on the side table. “The only people who know I’m asking questions are people I trust not to betray me.” I paused meaningfully. “Or lie to me.” I threw that in for good measure. I was sure Tam had a perfectly good reason for not being totally honest. Quentin hadn’t been totally honest with me either, and look what kind of trouble that had caused. I was tired of getting the runaround, and was feeling a little spiteful. What I was wearing around my neck earned me the right to instill some guilt. If I was lucky, it might bear useful fruit.
Tam’s dark eyes widened beguilingly. “You trust me?”
For a brief instant, he looked sincere. I was touched. Almost.
I couldn’t help but smile. “With my life, yes. But not with the rest of me.”
His answering grin exceeded my own. He looked almost boyish. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay?” He indicated the pack at my feet. “It looks like you’re running away from home.”
I made a face. “You’re closer to the truth than you think. I had accommodations, really good ones, but they fell through. And I won’t be responsible for putting Khrynsani on Tarsilia’s doorstep again.”
“Then I insist that you stay here.”
“I thought you were staying here.”
His dark eyes shone. “I am.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
The smile vanished. “I’m almost as persistent as Sarad Nukpana.”
I stood and picked up my pack. “I know. That’s why I won’t stay here. I need sleep, not a wrestling match.”
Tam raised his right hand. “I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”
“Gentlemen—perfect or otherwise—don’t make promises they have no intention of keeping.”
Tam stood smoothly, his expression solemn. “I never do.” Then solemn turned to something else as he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Would you like a bath as well?”
Getting naked in Tam’s immediate vicinity didn’t seem like the best—or at least not the most direct—way to get to sleep, but I couldn’t deny that I needed and desperately wanted a bath.
“Is that a polite way of telling me that I need a bath?”
Tam stepped closer, his fingers trailing from my ear to lightly brush my throat. “I smell goblin blood on you.” His voice had turned husky.
I didn’t move. “He was asking for it.”
“No doubt, especially if the blood is Khrynsani.”
I saw no reason to deny it. “The blood is.” I paused. “Its owner was.”
Tam looked at me then laughed quietly. “So I assumed. I’ll have the tub filled.”
Tam’s tub was a wonderful place to think.
Even if Tam wasn’t a gentleman, at least he was trying. Tam was a businessman, and he considered me an investment. Tam never made an investment unless he knew it would pay him full dividends later. I reached for the soap. That was fine with me, later wasn’t now. For now, Tam had left me alone in his plush little apartment to make myself at home.