Armed & Magical

Page 38

“Sounds like a damned fine way to get us out of there.”
“First we need a damned fine way to get in.”
“Tanik’s done some arms smuggling for the elven ambassador. He knows the basements of that place. Let’s get ourselves down to the harbor and reap the benefits of Tanik’s expertise.”
Chapter 21
Tanik Ozal’s yacht was the Zephyr. She was sleek, beautiful, and expensive—the same way I’d heard that Ozal liked his women. She was also docked uncomfortably close to the yachts of the people who most wanted to get their hands on me.
My father had hidden the Saghred in the catacombs of the Mal’Salin family estate in Mermeia. He claimed the safest place to hide something was under the very noses of the people who most wanted to find it. If that was true, right now I was about the safest woman on the island.
The wind was down and the harbor was a dark mirror reflecting the yachts’ deck lightglobes. One slip over from the Zephyr was a yacht flying the royal elven standard. Had to be Taltek Balmorlan’s. She looked fast, and she was definitely armed. Enough slender brass cannons gleamed on her well-lit decks to discourage anyone from boarding—or giving chase once she was under way.
On the Zephyr’s port side were two goblin yachts. One flew the royal Mal’Salin standard with two intertwined serpents battling for dominance, both surmounted by a crown. The flag of the other goblin yacht bore the single red serpent of the Khrynsani. Phaelan had been right; the bow of the Khrynsani ship was pointed toward open water. The deck and the interior were almost completely dark. A few red lightglobes cast a dim glow. Spooky. The only way I could see the Khrynsani flag was from the large harbor lightglobes mounted on posts along the dock.
All of the yachts looked like they had minimum crew on board. Hopefully their captains had given them shore leave for the evening. Even the most disciplined crew couldn’t resist having a few too many while out on the town. I’d take a tipsy or drunk crew over sober and alert any day.
“Looks like no one’s home,” I noted. “Tanik expecting us?”
“He’s expecting me. You’ll be an added bonus.”
My lips narrowed into a thin, angry line. “If he grabs my ass again, I will punch him.”
Phaelan flashed a quick grin. “I think he remembers that from last time.”
Tanik Ozal looked like someone’s jovial uncle. He was human. He was also big, bearded, and barrel-chested, with a booming voice and laugh. Tanik liked to enjoy himself, and most of the time he could be enjoyable to be around.
I still didn’t trust him. Maybe I just didn’t know him well enough. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to. Tanik Ozal would smuggle pretty much anything if the price was right. His fees were obscenely high, but I’d found over the years that when wealthy people wanted something badly enough, they were willing to pay for it.
Occasionally Tanik’s cargo was a human, elf, or goblin. That was why I didn’t like him. Most smugglers had lines they wouldn’t cross. I don’t think Tanik had found his yet.
Phaelan hit the high points of what had happened at Sirens. I wasn’t in the mood to explain anything to anybody.
I parted the curtain and peered out the window of Tanik’s main salon. It was still too quiet. I trusted quiet even less than Tanik Ozal. “So where are your neighbors?”
Tanik passed a drink to Phaelan. “Let’s see. The Mal’Salins were at that recital. One of their nieces was singing or something.”
I snorted. “Or something.” Like letting in enough Nightshades to kidnap two spellsingers and their maestro.
“Balmorlan’s probably still at the embassy. And who the hell knows where those Khrynsani bastards are. You see them come and go at all hours, but you never hear them. It’s not natural.”
“Nothing about them is,” I muttered.
“You sure I can’t get you something, love?”
“No, thank you.” So far Tanik’s hospitality had been faultless. He’d even given me some clothes better suited for breaking into an embassy, and a much-welcome assortment of bladed weapons. I’d asked for picklocks, and Tanik had provided a professional-quality set. I knew Piaras was being held behind wards, not iron locks, but I liked being prepared for any possibility.
And Tanik didn’t try to grab my ass, even when he’d seen me in my gown. I think he saw my mood when I walked through the door and knew better than to even think about touching me.
“Understood,” Tanik told me. “You’ve got a job to do, and you want to keep a clear head.”
“And I’m in a hurry.”
“Getting into that embassy isn’t quick work.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“If you’re worried about Balmorlan getting young Piaras on his yacht and out of this harbor, you can rest assured that will not happen.” Tanik smiled, showing all of his teeth.
“Thank you. But what I’m worried about is what might be happening to Piaras in that embassy right now. I want him out of there. Phaelan tells me you know it inside and out.”
“Do you know where he’s being held?”
“Upstairs.”
Tanik leaned back in his chair and the wood creaked in protest. “You’re a seeker.”
I was instantly wary. “I am.”
“I understand you’re more than a seeker now.”
I answered by not answering.
“You haven’t exactly kept a low profile since you got here,” Tanik noted. “I heard about what you did with the stage. I could tell you all about the embassy basements, and I will. I’ve delivered many a shipment for Giles Keril over the years. The ambassador has expensive tastes. But trying to get from those basements to the upper floors using mundane means is going to get you killed. If you’ve got something up those sleeves of yours other than my throwing knives—”
“Just say it, Tanik.”
His dark eyes shone. “Rumor has it you can do anything you want to, magically speaking. Why don’t you just walk in through the front doors?”
Phaelan chuckled. “She promised not to blast holes in the walls.”
“Magic makes noise,” I told Tanik.
“Not the little kind. I’m talking glamours. My son’s gotten quite good at them. Though it irritates the hell out of me never knowing what he looks like. He thinks it’s funny.”
I just stared at him.
“You know, a glamour,” Tanik said.
“I know what a glamour is, and I know how one is done.” I resisted the urge to snap at him. “I just can’t do one.”
Phaelan cleared his throat. “Have you tried since”—he made a fist-sized circle with his fingers—“you met you-know-what?”
The Saghred. “No.”
“Well, then you don’t know until you try.”
Tanik spoke. “Guards walk in and out the front gates of the embassy all the time—they don’t stop you if they know you. But to get in as a guard, you’re going to have to go in as a man.”
“Excuse me?”
Tanik raised his hands defensively. “Just looking like one. Your glamour will include a uniform; it’s not like you have to make yourself anatomically correct or anything. Embassy guards have been coming and going at all hours to Balmorlan’s yacht. I’ll just have my boys borrow one for a while so you can get a good look at him.” He paused and grinned. “And of course keep him occupied until you get back with Piaras.” He chuckled. “It’d suck to almost get out of the embassy and run into your double.”
I gave him a flat look. “Yes, it would.” I didn’t like the idea of a glamour, but I had to admit it was inspired.
“Though you have to ask yourself something, girl,” Tanik said. “And you have to be honest about it. Do you have the brass to walk through those front gates and into that embassy? The ambassador has some nasty mages on his staff. I think those bastards can smell fear.”
“I’ve got the brass to get in and the brains to get out,” I said quietly. “I’m a Benares, remember?”
Tanik laughed. “Just wanted to be sure. I didn’t want to have your death on my conscience.”
It was my turn to laugh. “You don’t have one.”
He leaned forward eagerly. “Well then, before I have my boys deplete the embassy guard population by one, why don’t you do a test run on Phaelan here?”
My cousin tensed in his chair. “Wait a minute. I don’t like magic. I especially don’t like magic done on me.”
I sighed in exasperation. “I won’t do anything to you. You’re just a model. I’m the one who’ll be doing the work. Stand up.”
He hesitated, then stood slowly.
I knew the mechanics of doing a glamour, but I’d never tried one before. I’d seen someone get stuck halfway through their transformation. It wasn’t pretty. That had put a damper on any curiosity I had. I walked around Phaelan, committing to memory how he looked, internalizing the smallest detail and then releasing the slightest touch of power into the image in my mind, projecting it outward.
I hesitantly looked down at myself. Tanik whistled and applauded. Phaelan turned and took one look, and his mouth fell open.
It looked like I owed the Saghred another thank-you.
Phaelan shook his head in wonder. “I never realized what a devastatingly handsome devil I am.”
“Nice work,” Tanik said. “How long can you hold it?”
“As long as necessary,” I told him. I gasped. I had Phaelan’s voice.
My cousin’s eyes went wide. So did mine.
“Are you supposed to be able to do that?” he asked me.
“No.” I stopped again at Phaelan’s voice coming out of my—I mean his—mouth. “A glamour is just an illusion to trick the eye. I’ve never heard of one being this thorough.”
Apparently the Saghred didn’t do anything halfway.