Piaras lowered his hands. I saw a flicker of what may have been hope in his dark eyes. Hope and surprise—and a healthy quantity of doubt. After all, this was Garadin we were talking about.

“Garadin said that?”

“He did. He told me how you put everyone in the Mad Piper to sleep in just a few measures.”

That at least earned a crooked grin from Piaras. At this point I’d take any progress I could get.

“They were bored and drunk,” he said. But the grin had widened.

“According to Garadin, they weren’t bored, and Salton Oakes didn’t get his shipment that day and had to water down the ale. So they weren’t drunk, either. They were bespelled—by your voice. Garadin told me he was very impressed.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“You expected him to? Garadin doesn’t give out praise lightly. Trust me, I know.” My godfather probably wouldn’t appreciate me telling his student how brilliant he was, but if anyone needed a big dose of confidence, and needed it now, it was Piaras.

I could use some myself. Piaras couldn’t do his work until I did mine. Now that we were away from the press of courtiers downstairs, I felt the ample wards Primari A’Zahra Nuru had left behind to protect her beloved prince. If I failed to block those wards completely, Piaras wouldn’t get past the first few notes of his goblin lullaby. My job was to let the guards enjoy a sleepsong serenade while covering the figurative ears of Primari Nuru’s wards.

Piaras swallowed. “I’ll do my best.” His voice was firm and his eyes determined.

And I would do mine.

“I’ll shield you while you work,” I told him. “Once the guards are out, we’ll have to move quickly. Once we’re on the estate grounds, stay close to me. Once we’re off the grounds, stay very close to me.”

He nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

He didn’t, but I wasn’t going to be the one giving him the gruesome details of what was waiting for us outside the estate walls—and probably inside as well. He’d find out for himself soon enough.

My part was almost as challenging as weaving a lullaby for five Mal’Salin royal guards. More than five, actually, but I wasn’t going to tell Piaras that either. I would shift my shields to let his song extend to the guards outside our door. I didn’t want to be climbing down a potentially rotten trellis at night with goblins at my back. I could feel Primari Nuru’s wards around and inside the house. Once those were disturbed, Prince Chigaru would have every guard on the estate after us. There were enough things out there without Mal’Salin royal guards to deal with. I estimated it was about three hours until midnight. During my previous visit to The Ruins, I had found out the hard way that this was the height of feeding time. Not the best time to be out and about, especially when those doing the feeding considered you tasty.

The amulet, beacon, or whatever it was had been helpful until now, at least when it came to shielding me. If it helped with what I was about to do, I would gladly overlook its previous attempt on my life.

While it wasn’t necessary for the goblin guards to actually hear Piaras’s song, it was necessary that there not be any magical barriers in his way. Master spellsingers could blast through just about anything, and while Piaras might be able to do the same, the less work he had to do right now, the better. The shields I was about to put up wouldn’t be a problem. They were to keep nosy wards from listening in—Piaras’s song just needed to get out.

It took a few minutes of concentration on my part to nestle my shields into place just above the goblin primari’s wards. It was a good fit. Nothing disturbed. Nothing activated. Everything shielded. Too well shielded. I did good work, but this was way beyond my capabilities. Even Garadin might have been impressed. It looked like the beacon was up to its new tricks, but I’d have to worry about that later.

Now it was Piaras’s turn.

He was hesitant at first—not from any lack of knowledge of his craft, but from too much knowledge of our situation. He knew what was at stake, and the pressure showed. His first few notes were tentative as he felt his way through the melody, concentrating hard to get just the right blend of tone and intensity. Concentrating too hard. The song suffered as a result. It might cause a few yawns down below, but that was about it.

I held up a restraining hand. “Wait.”

He stopped midnote, his face pale and strained. His breath seemed to stop as well. This wasn’t going to work, not like this.

“You’re trying too hard. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to relax.”

“Relax?” Piaras’s tone and expression were equal parts panic and disbelief.

“I know. Easier said than done.”

“Yes,” he said, as if I couldn’t have uttered anything more obvious.

“You’re going to have to ignore the goblins,” I told him.

“I’m singing to them. The spell doesn’t work without an audience.”

“You know what I mean. Ignore who and what they are. Think of them like the people at the Mad Piper.”

“No one at the Piper wanted to kill me.”

I hated it when logic reared its ugly head.

“The goblins don’t want to kill you either. At least not right now. That leaves you free to think happy, peaceful, sleepy thoughts at them.”

Piaras looked at me like I had lost my mind. I wasn’t entirely sure he was wrong. But I was entirely sure that if he didn’t get this right, the goblins would kill both of us, and there wouldn’t be anything happy or peaceful about it.

He thought about it, decided something, but didn’t look happy with his decision.

He sighed. “You’re right.”

I’m glad he thought so.

I took both his hands in mine. “You can do this. I know it, and so do you.”

He began his song again. Quietly, shyly, but without the fear of his first effort. The soft, gentle melody rose to weave a vision of warm spring evenings, the golden pulse of fireflies, and the scent of night-blooming flowers. The song rose and fell like rolling swells of a ship in a calming sea, or a mother’s hand at a cradle. Floating above it all was the heartbreakingly beautiful song of a nightingale.

I was glad he wasn’t aiming at me.

I casually strolled over to the window and looked down into the garden as if admiring the view. I was. Goblins were dropping like flies. It started gradually. A spear dropped from relaxing fingers. A head bobbed to an armored chest. A goblin body leaned against the outer wall. Piaras accomplished it all with extreme care and control. Garadin was right; Piaras had a genuine gift. Tonight I was grateful for it.

I returned to the settee. I couldn’t help but smile. “Good work,” I said in the barest whisper.

For the benefit of anyone who either looked or came into the room after we were gone, I left an image of Piaras and I still seated and passively awaiting our fate. Another shield would keep anyone from seeing us leave through the balcony doors. My usual mirages looked solid enough, but they wouldn’t stand up to touch, and would dissipate in about ten minutes—good old smoke and mirrors magic.

What sat looking back at me wasn’t my usual work.

If I hadn’t known I was standing by the glass doors, I would have had a hard time believing that wasn’t me sitting at the foot of the bed. Piaras looked similarly challenged.

“That’s good,” he said, looking a little wild-eyed.

I swallowed. “Yeah, it is.”

I tried to ignore myself sitting behind me and picked the lock on the glass doors. The beacon apparently deemed me qualified, and let me do that all by my lonesome. I was right about the trellis. It was iron, bolted to the house, and built for the ages. I was grateful for the builder’s attention to detail. The guards slept peacefully on the ground around us.

We had to cross an expanse of lawn to get to the forest. It was windy, and the clouds raced overhead. In a few seconds, I estimated a large cluster would pass in front of the moon, giving us better cover for a dash across the lawn.

At that moment, a goblin sentry came around the corner of the house and plowed into Piaras. It was one of the guards who had pulled him off of Prince Chigaru. Unfortunately, he remembered us, too. So much for quiet.

“You!” he roared, and lunged for Piaras.

Piaras jumped back with a startled yelp. He didn’t think, he just reacted—with a solid right hook to the goblin’s temple. The guard dropped like a rock, a surprised look frozen on his face. I was surprised, too, but for different reasons entirely.

Piaras stood over the sprawled form, stunned by his own handiwork. “That’s for calling me bait,” he finally managed.

Someone had been teaching Piaras bite to go with his bark. “Where’d you learn that?”

Piaras winced and shook his fist against the sting. “Phaelan thought it was something I needed to know.”

I might have known. “What else has he been teaching you?”

Piaras flashed a sheepish grin. “You really want to know?”

“Probably not.” I peered out into the gloom. It looked as clear as it was probably going to get, but not nearly clear enough. There were things out there. And considering the hour, chances were better than average that we were going to be meeting some of them. I stripped the goblin of his weapons and handed Piaras a long dagger.

“Phaelan teach you to use one of these?”

He looked uncertainly at the blued-steel blade in his hand. “We’re working on it.”

“Hopefully you won’t get a chance to practice tonight.”

I took a curved sword and a pair of throwing knives. The guard probably had more on him, but I didn’t want to take the time for a more thorough search.

We ran across the lawn and into the cover of the trees. They were low and dark and more than adequate to hide us. After we had gone about fifty yards, I stopped and listened. No one was following. But that didn’t mean something wasn’t following. I was quite sure something was, and I didn’t need the beacon humming against the center of my chest to tell me about it. The hair on the back of my neck was doing a fine job.