“But it was the amulet they really wanted.” Quentin was looking in growing desperation from one of us to the other. “Right?”

“Probably.” I answered. “But Stocken might take some convincing. Then he’d have to get back to the client for confirmation. All of which is going to delay your payment. In the meantime, you can’t turn over the amulet without proper payment. As a businessman, Stocken would understand that. It’s just not good business.”

“Makes sense to me,” Phaelan added.

Quentin shot a betrayed look at my cousin. “You didn’t have to break into that crypt Nigel Nicabar calls home.” His fear from earlier in the evening had been soundly replaced by moral outrage and greed. “You didn’t have goblins jump on you out of thin air. You didn’t—”

“Fight Khrynsani guards to keep you from being sliced apart one piece at a time?” Phaelan’s voice was soft and low. It was the voice his enemies never wanted to hear. He stepped toe to toe with Quentin. “Something I’m beginning to regret.”

Quentin raised both hands and stepped back. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful, but—”

“It sounds that way.” Phaelan didn’t back down. Retreating isn’t a concept my family’s too familiar with. If we’ve gone to the trouble to stake out ground, or water, we’re keeping it.

I blew out an exasperated sigh and stepped in. “Just tell Stocken what happened. But don’t show him the amulet. Don’t tell him what was in the box at all at this point. On second thought, just so you won’t be tempted, why don’t you give me the amulet? I’ll keep it until you finish talking to Stocken.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Phaelan asked.