“To get the strength he needed to kill someone like General Aratus, he probably began with people he thought wouldn’t be missed,” Mychael surmised.

“A correct assessment, in my opinion. A weakened predator consumes whatever it can to become strong enough to go after the larger game it truly desires.”

I snorted. “People whose deaths would cause an inter-kingdom incident.”

“You said that Sarad Nukpana consumed the general’s memories,” Mychael said.

Kalta nodded. “That is correct.”

“Would Nukpana retain those memories?”

“His memories, as well as his abilities and talents.”

Oh hell.

That meant Sarad Nukpana knew everything a top elven general knew, meaning Aratus’s military strategic ability and any secrets he was privy to by being in close contact with elven intelligence. Only now they were Nukpana’s secrets. He could use them, or he could share them with the goblin secret service. Their highest-ranking officers had been arriving on Mid along with their counterparts in elven intelligence. Give it another week and Mid would be seething with spies.

All of them wanted to get their hands on me. Any of them would be perfect victims for Sarad Nukpana.

I blew out my breath, steeling myself for what I knew I had to do next. “Mychael, I know I’m stating the obvious here, but we have to find him. Now.”

I looked down at General Aratus. He used to be an elven general. Now he was all that was left of one. He was an object who had been killed in one of the most repulsive ways I’d ever heard of. As a seeker, I could pick up impressions from inanimate objects touched by someone I was looking for. I grimaced. Yep, the general was about as inanimate as you could get.

Mychael knew exactly what I was thinking. “Raine, no. If he intended the general’s remains as a gift, it’s almost certainly a trap.” His tone said no arguments.

I had to give him one. It might be the only chance we had.

“He probably left something for me, but it’s not a trap. Nukpana’s just starting his game; he’s not about to end his fun before he’s even gotten started. And Nukpana touched the general for . . .” I turned to Vidor Kalta. “How long does this ritual take?”

“An hour, probably longer.”

Shit. Sarad Nukpana sucking your life out through your mouth for an hour or more.

“Yes, it would be quite appalling,” Kalta said.

I told my body to stop shaking. It almost listened to me. “That’s a lot of contact, leaving a lot of residue.”

“I forbid it,” Mychael said. “There are other ways we can do this.”

“Name one.”

Mychael couldn’t and we both knew it.

“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is touch that thing,” I assured him. “Yes, he used to be a person, but right now, he’s a thing—a really disgusting thing. But if there’s any chance that I can find out where Nukpana was when he turned the general into what’s on this table, I have to take that chance.”

“It’s exactly what Nukpana wants you to do.”

“Maybe, maybe not. A dead elven general tossed at my feet is trouble enough; maybe that’s all the trouble he needed to cause. Mychael, we’ve got the elven ambassador parked outside with a hearse, and his boss is ‘out’ somewhere in the city right now. If we don’t have trouble already, it’s brewing. The quicker we find out where Nukpana did this, the closer we could be to finding out where he is now.”

Whatever Nukpana had done to him, any magical residue would be gone soon, if it wasn’t already. The goblin said he’d be doing this again, and I believed him. Oh yeah, I definitely believed him. That meant I had to touch his handiwork.

On the lips.

I grimaced at the thought. “You’re here. Vegard’s here. Nachtmagus Kalta, will you help pull my ass out of the fire if necessary?”

“Of course.” The inquisitive sparkle in Kalta’s eyes told me he’d love to see something bad happen just for the academic interest.

I turned to Mychael. “I’m as safe as I’m going to get.”

Mychael’s sea blue eyes narrowed in disapproval. I took that to be a “yes” but under extreme protest. Protest noted. And if what I was about to do worked, that protest wouldn’t matter. Unless, of course, it was a soon-to-be-fatal trap, in which case it still didn’t matter what Mychael thought because I wouldn’t be around for him to yell at.

I quickly muttered my personal shields into place. Get shielded and get it done. If I truly thought about what I was going to touch, I’d probably run screaming from the room. Touch him, find out what you can, and get the hell away from him. I was going to do this. I might be sick afterward, but I was going to do this.

I laid my hand across the corpse’s mouth.

The connection was immediate, but not what I expected. It certainly wasn’t the type of connection I usually got. I smelled musty air that had been closed up for way too long. Traces of mold . . . and something else. Something familiar. I’d smelled it before, but couldn’t place it now. I stood absolutely still, doing my best to block out that I was getting this from my hand on a corpse’s mouth.

That was all I got. Smells. No noise, no screams, no final moments of life about to be extinguished, no sense of General Aratus or Sarad Nukpana. No life at all. None. I breathed in and slowly out, trying to relax, to open myself to whatever was there.

Nothing.

The corpse’s hand snatched my wrist in an iron grip.

I shrieked. Mychael’s magic flared behind me and Vegard drew steel.

“No!” I told them both. I sucked air in and out through my teeth. The corpse’s grip tightened, dry and cold. I shivered all the way down to my toenails.

“It is but a programmed response, Paladin Eiliesor,” I heard Kalta say. “A message. The corpse is but a vessel.”

Dried eyelids drew back to reveal empty sockets, and the jaw dropped open in a sick parody of speech. I heard a squeak; I think it was me. Then Sarad Nukpana’s silken voice filled my head. No sound came from Aratus’s leathery lips. Nukpana’s words were for me alone.

“I knew you could not resist, little seeker. As you can see from General Aratus, I have taken your enemies as my enemies.” His voice dropped to a low purr. “And I very much want to take your friends. I will meet all of them one by one, and I will grow stronger with each one I take. Their knowledge shall become mine, as will their power.” The goblin’s onyx eyes appeared to glitter in the depths of those dead, empty sockets. I knew it wasn’t real, just another illusion, a really sick one.

“Remember the promise I made to you when you refused to help me escape the Saghred?” The goblin’s voice was as hard and cold as the corpse’s withered hand that clutched me, and just as unyielding. “I always keep my promises. You betrayed me, seeker. I warned you what action I would take, but you chose to ignore me. You will ignore me now at your peril. Attempt to find me. Use all of your skill, all of what you call cunning; I will stay one step ahead of you. And while you’re hunting me, I’ll be hunting those you love. And after I’ve taken them all, and your pain and loss has become too much for you to bear, then I will come for you. And when I take you, your soul and the Saghred’s power shall be mine.”