“You’re in a bad situation—”

“It’s my friends—”

“Your good friends.”

I nodded once and took a little breath. It shook just like the rest of me. “My very good friends.”

“You fear for them.”

“More than for me.”

“Sarad Nukpana is a threat to you, a very real threat. But know this, daughter. I am a very real threat to Sarad Nukpana. There are others like me, and he knows it.”

I remembered what I’d seen the last time I was in the Saghred. Shadowy figures just waiting for Sarad Nukpana to give the word. “There are others like him—and worse.”

“Makes life interesting.” Eamaliel grinned. “Or whatever it is we have in the Saghred.”

“I want to get you out.”

“No.” His gray eyes were like twin thunderclouds.

“What do you mean, no?”

“If you find the Scythe of Nen and try to release me, others will follow—others who should not be loose in the world. I am still a Guardian, and I still guard the Saghred from those who would abuse its power. I do the same thing, only now from the inside. As to Sarad Nukpana, leave him to me.” Those gray eyes went from grim to sparkling. “Or the demon king.”

“What about the demon king?” I asked.

“What about him?” My father’s expression was the very picture of innocence.

“You’re smiling,” I said.

“Am I? I wasn’t aware of it.”

“If it’s something good, tell me. I could use a laugh.”

“The demon king has an unspoken rule. We stay away from him; he doesn’t eat us. We feel it’s a fine arrangement.”

I felt myself begin to smile along with him. “Let me guess. Nukpana’s the new kid on the block, and no one’s told him anything.”

My father grinned from ear to ear. “We thought we’d let it be a surprise.”

Chapter 20

I woke up in the same place where I’d fallen asleep. I loved it when that happened.

What I didn’t love, and couldn’t believe, was that Piaras had actually gone to class this morning. I didn’t care that the four Guardians who’d become the kid’s new shadows could squash flat anything that Sarad Nukpana tried. And even worse, Mychael had to leave the citadel only an hour ago to deal with what Vegard called a sizable demon outbreak in the center city. Sora, her faculty, and the grad students hadn’t been able to find the Hellgate.

And my loyal Guardian bodyguard had let me sleep through every last bit of it.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“The boss ordered me not to.”

I stifled a growl—and some four-letter expressions of my displeasure—and strapped on my weapons. There was no use starting an argument. It wouldn’t change the fact that Piaras was somewhere on campus, Mychael was somewhere in the center city, and demons were all over the freaking place.

I armed myself as fast as my sleep-induced grogginess would let me, which wasn’t nearly fast enough for me. Then I was out the door and down the corridor. I was almost running, and Vegard kept up. He was getting used to it.

“Sizable meaning a lot of demons?” I asked. “Or one really big one?” I had a flashback to the big, yellow, and ultimately squishy demon that’d virtually taken apart watcher headquarters, and hoped nothing like that was rampaging through the city right now.

“Sizable as in more than one.”

That didn’t make me feel better about anything. I told Vegard some of what Sarad Nukpana had told me and all of what my father said about the Scythe of Nen and the only way to find it.

I’d never seen the big Guardian look so completely baffled. “Virgins?”

“Yeah, virgins. You know, people who haven’t had sex yet.”

“I know what they are, ma’am.”

“You just don’t know any here.”

He barked with laughter. “In the citadel? Hell, no.”

“I mean on the island.”

“Well . . . I guess some of the students could possibly—”

I waved my hand, cutting him off. “That’s what I figured. We’re going to see one of them now. I think. I hope.”

“Which one?”

I told him.

Vegard chuckled. “No real surprise there. Though he’s not gonna like why you need him to help.”

I’d come to that uncomfortable conclusion all by myself. For teenage boys, virginity didn’t exactly give them bragging rights. It was more like a disease they wanted to cure as soon as possible.

I’d rather fight demons with Mychael.

“Mychael probably doesn’t have time for this now, but Dad said that the demons might be looking to get themselves a virgin guide, too.”

Vegard swore. “Though how many students could that apply to, realistically speaking?”

“One student in demon claws would be enough,” I told him.

“I’ll send a runner to the boss.”

Or I could tell Mychael myself. Right now.

I really trusted Vegard, trusted him with my life, but the fewer people who knew about my bond with Mychael and Tam, the better. And it would be safer for Vegard. If Carnades went into inquisition mode, I’d rather Vegard not end up on his list of interrogation subjects. Though after carrying me out of watcher headquarters yesterday, Vegard was probably the first name on Carnades’s list.

“What is it, ma’am?”

“Can you contact him?” I asked. “With mindspeak?” Mychael had contacted his men that way last night as backup for Piaras. Hopefully Vegard could do the same thing.

“Normally I could, ma’am. But for some reason there’s too much distortion. It’s the same way all over the city. Must have something to do with the demons. Everyone is having to use runners.”

I took a deep breath. Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. Maybe an umi’atsu bond could cut through demonic magical distortion.

“Mychael?”

Static. And no Mychael.

Crap.

Piaras had gone to Ronan Cayle’s tower for his morning voice lesson. I guess his way of dealing with everything that had happened last night was to do what he was supposed to be doing this morning.

The kid was doing his job; I was doing mine. I had to find the Scythe of Nen, which meant I had to find a virgin. A demon would know instinctively whether Piaras was a virgin or not. I wasn’t a demon, so I wasn’t sure. I was actually going to have to ask the kid for confirmation.

Now I’d really rather fight demons with Mychael.

Ronan Cayle’s tower was only about a quarter mile from the citadel walls. I guess when you trained all of the Guardians’ top spellsingers it paid to be close to your best source of income. Uncle Ryn had often said the same thing about his home-port’s proximity to the eastern kingdom shipping lanes.

There was a pair of Guardians at the door to Ronan’s tower. Good. Even better, they let us in when Vegard asked them the first time.

I looked up through the center of the winding stair that spiraled toward infinity and hopefully the top of the tower.

Dang.

Vegard looked up with me. “Yeah, this is why I’m glad I can’t carry a tune.”

And Ronan’s spellsinging students had to haul themselves to the top in less than three minutes.

I was almost certain there was a top, even if I couldn’t see it. Ronan Cayle’s tower didn’t look that high from the outside. But I’d discovered that people weren’t the only things you couldn’t trust on Mid; you couldn’t trust your eyes, either.

There was no impatient, toe-tapping maestro waiting at the top measuring our speed, but Vegard and I hustled anyway. Time was something none of us had. When we reached the top, we weren’t the only ones in Ronan’s reception area. Vegard exchanged greeting nods with a pair of huge Guardians who I assumed were two of Piaras’s new big brothers. I was wheezing like a punctured bellows; Vegard was trying to breathe normally and still get enough air to stay conscious. I guess he didn’t want his brothers to see him winded. I didn’t give a crap and kept right on gasping. The Guardians weren’t alone. Two goblins were standing in the shadows against the wall, armed and armored in more ways than one. I recognized them. Apparently Talon also had a voice lesson this morning, as well as guards of his own, courtesy of his dad’s dark mage school buddies. It made sense to me; who better to protect Talon against Sarad Nukpana’s black magic? This pair probably knew every dirty trick in Nukpana’s book and had a few of their own. The Guardians and the goblins were keeping a wary eye on each other, but keeping their steel and spells to themselves. The boys were playing nice—for now. Unless one of them had to scratch, there shouldn’t be any fatalities.

Vegard passed his hand over a crystal set into the wall next to the door. The crystal flashed once, and after a minute or so, Ronan answered the door.

If you were a magic user, you’d heard of Maestro Ronan Cayle. The spellsinging master. The legend who only taught future legends. The maestro who turned out the finest spellsingers the Isle of Mid and the Conclave had to offer. The snappiest dresser I had ever seen.

His robes were a riot of silk and color. Red, orange, amber, gold—every color that flame could be at one point or another in its capricious existence—Ronan managed to wear them all at once and wear them well. It was nothing short of a stunning fashion achievement.

I was about to say as much when Ronan quickly held up a hand to stop me and put a warning finger to his lips. I shut up and froze, and so did Vegard.

I cautiously looked over his shoulder. Ronan’s music room was filled with a profusion of cushions and rugs and furniture carved from exotic woods all topped with more cushions, all in sumptuous, brightly colored and gilded fabrics. A Nebian pasha’s throne room would have looked drab in comparison. Piaras and Talon were there along with another pair of large and highly watchful Guardians. Everyone was standing perfectly still, and the Guardians weren’t watching Piaras. They had their eyes on something else entirely and had glowing weapons in their hands. I looked where they were looking.