“Not a clue. Laurian kept a lot of bizarre artifacts around.
We all do. Certain objects have power against demons. Everybody in the department has their own collection and their own favorites. It’s safer to have your own when you need it. Chances are if you need it, you don’t have the time to go borrowing.”
Mychael lowered his voice. “He was killed by a Volghul.”
Sora’s only reaction was a raised eyebrow. “Nothing he had would have saved him from that. Apparently when the demons didn’t get what they wanted from Laurian, they went to his town house. The place has been demolished from the inside out, like somebody got really frustrated.”
“Frustrated demonic searchers?” I asked.
“The brimstone smell gave it away.” Sora squinted through the thickly warded cell. “Is that a wine bottle?”
“The Volghul is in there,” Mychael told her.
Sora whistled. “In a wine bottle? Damn. Who stuffed it in there?”
I half raised my hand. “That would be me.”
“You?”
“Me. With a little help.”
“That’s some help.”
I tried not to wince. “Yes, it was.”
“Good work.”
“Thanks.”
Mychael nodded toward the demons’ cell. “Do you have everything we need to question those?”
Sora gave the knapsack slung over one shoulder a shake. I heard something metal clank heavily inside. “Never leave home without it.”
“And traps for transporting them out of here?”
“Got my two best grad students checking out a pair from the lab. They’ll be here any time now.”
“Good. Let’s get started.”
The demon’s enraged screams had subsided to low growls.
Sora Niabi had wrangled it out of that cell and into a binding circle in an interrogation room. There was a ring of silver about three feet wide permanently embedded in the stone floor. Sora had added a thick silver chain on top of that. Both inside and outside the circle, she’d carefully placed objects I couldn’t identify, and judging from how the demon had reacted when Sora forced him inside, he knew perfectly well what they were, and he didn’t want to be anywhere near them. The professor knew her business. Good. Any interrogation room I’d ever seen was just a table, two chairs, no windows, and a barred iron door, with the obligatory big, burly, and heavily armed guard standing right outside.
Of course they did things differently on Mid.
There were still big and burly types outside the door, but that was where the similarities ended. Sure, these boys could stop an escapee with a fist or steel; they could also spit a spell that’d tack a miscreant to the nearest wall like a bug. The door and all four walls were kept warded. Nothing was leaving that room unless it was let go. Mychael and Sora had no intention of releasing that demon. Her grad students were stationed on either side of the door-on the inside. I didn’t know if Sora had asked them to stand by the door in case they needed to make a quick getaway, or if they were there to make sure the demon didn’t do the same. They honestly didn’t look old enough to fight acne, let alone a demon, but I guess when it came to battling demonic forces, brawn didn’t matter. Brains did-that and nerves of steel. From what I’d seen so far, Sora Niabi had both in spades. Before they’d gone in and locked the door behind them, those two kids had looked like they were still in training.
Phaelan and I waited outside the door, about ten feet away and slightly off to one side, should that door suddenly decide to blow off its hinges. I’d seen it happen before. Better safe than squashed.
Phaelan leaned close to my ear. “Why are we still here?”
He was talking through clenched teeth again, a sure sign my cousin wasn’t happy in his present surroundings. I guess I really couldn’t blame him; a couple of the watchers were glancing at Phaelan’s wanted poster and then back at Phaelan. Sure, Mychael had given my cousin immunity from prosecution for any past legal indiscretions while on the Isle of Mid, but Mychael was questioning a demon right now. He wasn’t here. It was just me and Phaelan and a roomful of increasingly alert watchers.
Phaelan cleared his throat impatiently. I hadn’t answered his question yet.
“I could see those demons, but no one else could,” I told him, keeping my voice to a bare whisper. “A man is dead, and his killer said that he was honored by my presence and wanted me to go home with him. I want to know why.”
“Hmmm, let’s see… That makes you a possible demon ally and accessory to murder. So you thought you’d stand in the middle of city watch headquarters.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. “It doesn’t sound too bright, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Well, Sedge may not be through questioning us yet.”
“Did he say he wasn’t?”
“No.”
“Then he’s probably finished. I’ve talked to him. You’ve talked to him. The kids have talked to him. Vegard’s talked to him. I’d call that finished.”
“And if he’s not?”
“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness from a ship, than permission from a jail cell.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
The front doors opened and in strode the man Mychael had been expecting.
Oh crap in a bucket. I did not need this.
Carnades Silvanus wasn’t the type to drop by watcher headquarters for a friendly visit. He had a reason for being here, and that reason was me. And judging from the people who’d come in with him and the fanciness of their robes, it looked like he’d brought along some high-powered-or at least self-important-friends. Fancy robes just meant a mage had money. Fashion had nothing to do with firepower.
Either way, I wasn’t flattered that they’d all come to see me.
Carnades Silvanus saw himself as the champion of the elven people. I saw him as an uptight, self-righteous, narrow-minded jerk. Unfortunately, he also had the influence to convince a lot of powerful and dangerous people to see things his way.
Even before I’d set foot on the island, word had already arrived and spread about my link with the Saghred. Mages liked good gossip the same as everyone else. Some of those mages thought I had too much power. They couldn’t control me. I was a risk. I had to be stopped. Some favored a permanent solution. The squeamish ones wanted something less drastic. I didn’t think the five men and women behind Carnades were the ones with the weak stomachs.
No doubt Carnades considered himself the pinnacle of elven good breeding. The hair that flowed over his shoulders was the color of winter frost, eyes the pale blue of arctic ice, an alabaster complexion, a cold, sharp beauty. Pure-blooded high elf. His black and silver robes were understated and elegant, and clearly cost a small fortune. His only visible weapon was a curved and ornate silver dagger tucked into a silk sash. I knew better. Carnades Silvanus was a weapon.
With the archmagus temporarily out of commission, Carnades was in charge and he wasn’t about to let anyone forget it, starting with me-especially after that incident last week in the Conclave’s library. He called it assault; I called it entirely justified self-defense.
“Ma’am,” came Vegard’s tense warning from beside me.
“Thank you, Vegard. I see him.”
“I know you see him. That’s the problem.”
“I’ll behave if he does.”
“He won’t.”
“Then there’s going to be a problem.”
Vegard came to reluctant attention. He had to. The Guardians’ main duty was the protection of the archmagus and the mages of the Seat of Twelve. That included Carnades Silvanus.
Carnades crossed the room to me. He was as tall as Mychael, which put the top of my head level with his jaw. The elf mage had always looked down on me-in more ways than one.