“Figures,” I said. “Did Riggs believe him?”

“Not a chance. A goblin grand shaman usually has business in town other than what they list on their registration—and Khrynsani are never up to any good anytime. I’ve had Nukpana watched. He’s due to leave after the ball.”

The amulet felt icy cold and hard against my chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he applied to extend his visit for a few days,” I said. “Know where he was last night?”

“The report said neither he nor any of his shamans left the goblin embassy—at least not through the front or back door. I have to admit, for a Khrynsani trying to sneak out after curfew, a Gate would be the way to go. Perverted and sick as hell, but an efficient way to get around town.”

I knew I was going to regret this, but Janek needed to know, at least some of it.

“I think Nigel’s house was just the Khrynsani’s first stop of the evening,” I said.

The watcher sat motionless. “The first. You think.”

I nodded. “Simon Stocken’s warehouse was probably second.”

Janek’s face was devoid of any expression. It was his watcher’s face. I found I didn’t like being on the receiving end.

“Is this your opinion, or do you know it as fact?” he asked.

“I was at Stocken’s warehouse and sensed the remnants of a Gate. A few minutes later I ran into Sarad Nukpana and a handful of his shamans.”

“A Gate, Sarad Nukpana, a murdered Simon Stocken—and you.”

“Well, and a few other people, but they don’t enter into the equation.”

“Why don’t you let me decide that?”

“I’d rather not.”

Janek took a deep breath and quietly let it out. Then he just sat there for a few moments. He looked at me. I looked back at him.

“And this is related in some way to how Nigel ended up in the canal.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “More than likely.”

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to wait a couple of days for the next installment?”

“Simon Stocken was fencing what the goblins came here to steal.”

“Except the goblins didn’t manage to steal it.”

I nodded. “Right.”

“Do you know who did?”

“Yes, but I can’t tell you, and I promise this person’s identity has absolutely no bearing on this case.”

“It wasn’t you, was it?”

“No.” I sat up straighter. I was insulted, but only mildly. Considering my family and professional connections, I could hardly blame Janek for his conclusions.

Janek sighed. I almost felt sorry for him. I knew this was driving him crazy. Or more to the point, I was driving him crazy. Sometimes I had that effect on people.

“The person who stole this object escaped from Nigel’s house and took it to Stocken to collect the rest of the fee,” I said. “But I think the Khrynsani were there first.”

I opted to leave the Guardians out of it. It was confusing enough. Besides, Janek was law enforcement; Mychael Eiliesor was law enforcement. I didn’t want to find out the hard way that they had been old school buddies.

“Let me get this straight,” Janek said. “I have Nigel and Simon Stocken, two prominent Mermeian citizens dead, and in all probability, the murderer not only has diplomatic immunity, but cannot be physically placed at either crime scene.” He paused. “Does your nameless thief still have the thing that everyone’s after?”

“No.”

“Do you know where is it?”

I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.

“I could jail you on obstruction of justice and withholding evidence,” Janek told me.

“Possibly. But you won’t.”

“Give me one good reason why not.”

“I’m more valuable to you outside a cell than in.”

“As what?”

“Bait.”

Janek slowly walked around to the front of the desk and perched on it, directly in front of me. He leaned forward. “Raine, you’re in possession of stolen goods—either literally or by knowledge of location. In the eyes of the law it’s the same thing. Why don’t you just turn it over to me?”

That was true. I was in possession of stolen goods—stolen goods I couldn’t hand over even if I wanted to. One, said goods would probably kill me if I tried; and two, Janek was in no way qualified to defend himself against said goods or those who wanted it. While I wasn’t any more qualified than Janek, I just didn’t dump magical amulets on my friends then run away while every baddie in the city jumped them. I had to take the moral high road sometime.

“Believe me, Janek, I’d like nothing more, but truth is, I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to turn it over to me in the near future?”

“Nothing would make me happier—and that’s the honest truth.”

Janek sat back. “You’re going to be popular.”

“Too late. I already am.”

“I can spare a few men to stay close to you,” he said quietly.

I almost said I didn’t need protection, but that was absurd. I needed all the protection I could get. But I wasn’t going to take it from Janek’s already depleted resources. The watch commissioner was notoriously stingy with his men, especially in the Districts. It was a sincere and very generous offer.

“I appreciate the offer, but we both know you can’t spare the men. Not now. Besides, I’ve made other arrangements.”

Though with no room at any of Markus’s safehouses, my arrangements had just gone up in smoke. But I wasn’t about to tell Janek. He thought jail cells were safe; I knew jail cells were death traps when someone like Sarad Nukpana was after you.

He kept his eyes on mine. “The offer still stands. Just let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Janek stood. “Tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If you turn up on a table like Nigel, who do I go after first?”

“Good question.”

Chapter 8

In my opinion, the best source for information on Sarad Nukpana would be from a former member of the goblin royal family—especially from a primaru, or shaman of the royal blood. I considered Primaru Tamnais Nathrach a friend. Tam wanted to be more than friends. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I figured that friends or more than friends don’t normally kill each other, regardless of the Mal’Salin duchess they used to be married to, so I felt relatively safe paying Tam a visit.

Tam was one of those scoundrels who’d come into my life and actually stayed there. I knew him well enough to trust him—to a point. There were things about Tam that I’d probably never know, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I think that was part of his appeal.

In addition to locating missing people, I was often hired to find missing objects. Some of those objects were magical; most were mundane—and small and valuable and shiny. Mermeia was more than a favorite retirement destination for mages; it was a playground for mages and nobles alike. The kind of playground where if you wanted to play, you had to pay. Tam owned Sirens, the most exclusive and notorious nightclub and gambling parlor in the city. Most of the money that found its way onto Tam’s tables came from the healthy bank accounts of the mages or nobles placing the bets. Some of those bank accounts were less than healthy. Tam wasn’t directly involved in stolen goods, but he did have clientele who routinely came into unexpected bounty. Tam had no problem with that bounty being spread around his establishment—even if that bounty had yet to be converted into the coin of the realm.

Tam and I met as a result of yet another cash-strapped noble working his way through the remains of his wife’s inheritance to support his gambling habit. One wife in particular drew the line at her grandmother’s favorite ring. She hired me. I tailed her husband right to Tam’s high-stakes card table. The husband tried to compel me to look the other way. I don’t compel, and I sure as hell don’t look the other way. Tam’s been known to avert his eyes, as well as have troublemakers like me tossed into the canal behind his club. Tam may be a scoundrel and an opportunist, but he’s also a savvy businessman. It looked good for him to return the lady’s ring. He told me later he did it to impress me.

Tam considers me a challenge; I consider Tam a work in progress. I also think there’s a gentleman lurking under that calculating exterior. Tam thinks “gentleman” is a dirty word.

I talk dirty to Tam every chance I get.

This morning I wanted to talk to Tam about his former in-laws—and whether they had contacted him when they had arrived in town. After his wife’s death, Tam had asked to leave the royal family’s service. I had always suspected politics played an equal role in his decision. I wanted to know if someone had tried to pull him back in. Working for the Mal’Salin family wasn’t usually fatal, but telling them you were quitting almost always was, even if you were family. Especially if you were a talented shaman who had once provided a valuable service. Many felt Tam’s talents were wasted on a nightclub. I disagreed. Tam had had more than one bad experience in his former line of work, and he’d left that life behind to do what he enjoyed. Good for him.

I knew Tam wasn’t a loyalist when it came to King Sathrik Mal’Salin. I also knew there were many in the Goblin District who shared Tam’s political leanings. And with the king and his Khrynsani in town, it was healthier to keep those leanings to yourself. The politics of Tam the business owner was that if it was good for business, he was in favor of it. I couldn’t see the Khrynsani being good for anyone’s business, except possibly an assassin or an undertaker. I wasn’t so sure about the politics of a primaru and former member of the Mal’Salin family, but I did know I trusted him enough to ask.