“Not a clue.”

I had no idea what time it was; my body was telling me it was way past time to get some sleep. I blew out my breath and gave the old man the shortened version of the demon queen’s demand delivered by her undead warriors at Sirens.

“So the demon queen and Sarad Nukpana both want this Scythe of Nen,” he said.

I nodded. “Right. Nukpana doesn’t know what it is, but the demons do. And to add a sick twist on this whole mess, the demon queen—or that bobbing, talking head thing she sent to Sirens—wouldn’t tell me. She thinks that I know what it is, where it is, and that I’m lying to keep her from getting it.”

“A scythe would indicate a blade of some kind,” Piaras offered. “Or so you’d think. But aren’t scythes large and used to harvest wheat or something?”

“Size is relative,” I said. “The Saghred is its own self-contained world. The smallest dagger would be massive if seen from inside.”

“Every type of steel, stone, and spell has been used to try to destroy—and open—the Saghred,” Mychael said. “Obviously none have succeeded.”

“Professor Berel was killed because the demons believed he had it,” I reminded them. “He was screaming that he didn’t have it—not that he didn’t know what it was.” I liked this train of thought; it might actually lead somewhere besides a dead end. “Professor Niabi said she didn’t know what Berel could have been carrying that the demons would want, but she did tell me that demonologists have all kinds of talismans and trinkets. She just might know what this Scythe of Nen is. If so, it’d save us time that we may not have. If not, I’ll just do it the old-fashioned way. Have the locations of the demon sightings been reported to you or the chief watcher?”

Mychael’s brow creased. “Both.” He didn’t know where I was going with this, but I finally did. At least I felt as if I knew something; it was a welcome change.

“It stands to reason that if the demons were sent to look for something, they’d pop up as close as possible to where they thought it was. Those locations just might help us do more than find that Hellgate.”

Justinius Valerian’s eyes were brilliantly bright. The old man hadn’t heard my entire idea, but he liked what I’d said so far—a lot. In an instant, Mychael’s solemn expression turned forbidding.

I held up my hands defensively. “I’m looking for the Scythe of Nen, not a pack of dark mages bent on world domination. Yes, I would love to get my hands around Rudra Muralin’s throat. All I’ve managed to do to him so far is leave my teethmarks in his ear.”

Justinius grinned impishly. “Your what?”

I told him about my tussle with Muralin on the catwalk above the stage at Sirens right after the goblin had tried to spellsing him to death.

Justinius laughed, a dry wheeze. “He tried to kill me, and you bit him.”

“And used my knees, elbows, and fists anywhere on him I could get to. Unfortunately, that’s all I could do.”

“Sounds damned gratifying to me.”

“I didn’t get nearly as much out of it as I wanted.”

“A dead goblin.”

I nodded. “Would have been the ideal conclusion. And if I could have done that then, we probably wouldn’t be doing all of this now.” I rubbed my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Probably a little after two bells.”

The sun would be up in a few hours. “I don’t have time to sleep, but I need it,” I said.

“Yes, you do.” Mychael glanced at Piaras. “You both do.”

“Cadet, I have a spare room down the hall,” Justinius said.

“Until Mychael can get your big brothers on guard duty, you need to sleep somewhere warded. Sarad Nukpana can’t reach you here. And Miss Benares, I have a guest room right next to this one that you’re more than welcome to.” He winked. “Don’t worry. Your virtue’s safe with me.”

I snorted. “Because you don’t have the strength right now to get out of bed.”

“Sadly true.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want my sleep warded. I want Sarad Nukpana to come looking for me.”

Chapter 19

I think I fell asleep somewhere between the bedroom door and the pillow.

I was back in the citadel guest room I’d occupied before I’d moved onto the Fortune. Mychael didn’t like what I was going to do. If I wouldn’t accept a ward, he at least wanted me guarded. I told him I was perfectly capable of having a nightmare by myself, but I conceded to the guard. This earned Vegard the mind-numbingly dull job of watching me sleep. He’d guard my physical body; protecting my dream self was my problem.

When I opened my eyes—or more accurately when my dream self opened her eyes—I wasn’t in my bedroom back home in Mermeia. I wasn’t really anywhere that I could determine. Part of my brain wondered if I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even conjure a decent setting—the other part of me didn’t give a damn because I had gotten what I wanted.

Sarad Nukpana was waiting for me.

The goblin made a show of looking around. There was no one but the two of us and he knew it. “Apparently your father is unavailable.” His eyes glittered brightly. “So much more intimate this way, don’t you think? Though it is unfortunate that your bed is missing.”

“I’m not here to see my father. I’m here to talk to you.”

“Why, little seeker, this keeps getting more delicious.”

“Don’t excite yourself, goblin. I’m not your midnight snack—and neither is Piaras.”

Nukpana shrugged elaborately. “You didn’t believe me. What happened to Piaras tonight was entirely your fault. You forced me to stage a demonstration of my control. Though I would think you would be more grateful. Without my influence, your songbird would have never survived. Only my skill with a blade kept him alive.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “Either way, your little show bought us time to stop Piaras from killing that Guardian, traitor though he is.”

Nukpana negligently waved an elegant hand. “My point was made; I needed to do nothing more. So I released the boy. Have you come to submit to my request? Or do you require further demonstrations?”

I smiled and didn’t say a word. My smile was genuine and I could virtually feel the evil twinkle in my eyes. I trusted Justinius’s work; better yet, I trusted the old man’s viciousness. If he said he had a nasty surprise in store for Sarad Nukpana, I believed him. Hell, I wanted to watch it happen.

“I’m not submitting to anything, but I am going to find the Scythe of Nen.”

Nukpana was utterly still. “And release me.”

I shrugged. “That’s what you want, but it’s not my first order of business.”

“I dislike your games, seeker.”

My voice dropped, low and angry. “I dislike you, and I don’t play games. So let’s save us both time and aggravation and just cut the crap. I don’t know what the Scythe of Nen is. You say you don’t. The demons do—and your fellow inmates include at least one demon. Either ask him or get close enough to find out.”

“We all want something. Ask him yourself, seeker.”

“See, here’s the thing. I can’t. You’re in the Saghred; I’m not. You want out of the Saghred; I couldn’t care less if you rot. But if you don’t want to do business with me . . .” I shrugged. “Your continued imprisonment would be, in your own words, entirely your fault.”

The goblin’s narrow-eyed silence told me I had him by the short hairs, he knew it, and he did not like it. Tough. None of this was my idea of a good time, either.

“You gamble with your nightingale’s life.”

“I only bet on sure things.”

Nukpana’s gaze went distant. I knew what he was doing—or what he was trying to do.

“Having a little trouble finding him?” I asked innocently.

The goblin’s lips were a thin, angry line. “His mind is warded.”

“It seemed like an obvious solution.”

“A solution that needs reinforcing to maintain its effectiveness. Or did the archmagus fail to mention that?”

He didn’t. And I didn’t respond. Nukpana had lied before and he could be lying now.

Or not.

“I’ll take that as a no,” the goblin said. “Perhaps he was too weakened from his initial effort. Reinforcing such a ward would drain a healthy man. For one in such a fragile condition as Justinius Valerian . . . No doubt he hopes I will abandon my efforts when I spring the trap he has laid for me in Piaras’s mind. Your archmagus did not take into account my motivation. I am a desperate man. Pain lasts mere moments—existence in the Saghred is an eternity. Piaras’s mind cannot remain warded forever, but forever is all I have.” Sarad Nukpana’s gracious veneer had cracked, reminding me that not only was he a sadistic monster, he was now a desperate sadistic monster. “Rethink your impertinence, seeker.”

“Rethink your cooperation. Do you want the Scythe in my hands or demon claws? I need that information.”

“From the demon king.”

I nodded once. “That’s him. If the demons get this Scythe of Nen first, you know you’re going to get left behind. So you have to ask yourself who do you trust more—me or the demon queen?”

Nukpana sneered. “You or a queen of demons. You present me with a most difficult choice.”

“I never said it’d be easy.”

“I do not know what the Scythe of Nen is. I did not lie when I told you that. But even if I did, you will never find it without my help. You need me, seeker.”

“And that would be because . . .”

“You lack, shall we say, a certain necessary quality. You could be in the very room with the Scythe of Nen and you would not recognize it for what it is.”