If so, the only thing the bastard had to do was sit back and wait. He had what we wanted. He had the Saghred. He also had hundreds of hostages, nobles who supported Chigaru over his brother the king. All he had to do was wait on us to arrive to start the party.

The only way we’d know any of that for sure would be to step through the mirror.

“We need to go!” Carnades screamed over the sirens. “Now!”

For once, and probably for the only time, I agreed with him, but that didn’t mean I had to like it or what it meant. We did need to go, but going now would mean me, Mychael, and Carnades alone in Regor. Oh yeah, the elf mirror mage would like that. Kill us (or at least try), then run for his miserable life. He’d have to keep running, but he’d be free—until he pissed off another entire race and got himself dead. I had news for him—we weren’t going anywhere without the rest of our team. Tam, Imala, and Chigaru were goblins who knew Regor like the backs of their hands. After 934 years attached to the Saghred, Dad knew every trick that rock could pull to keep itself in one piece.

And even though Tam’s teacher hadn’t spoken to Tam in years, Tam was our best chance of finding him once we were in Regor. After that, it’d be up to Mychael. He was known throughout the seven kingdoms as the Paladin of the Conclave Guardians, and had the respect that came with the job. However, Mychael’s powers of persuasion wouldn’t do us a damned bit of good if he didn’t have anyone to persuade.

A sudden creepy-crawly sensation ran down my back that had nothing to do with goblins running amok in the city or Carnades within spell-slinging distance behind me. Power was building; power that wasn’t from Guardians with a collective case of magical jitters and nothing to smite. Even with no magic myself, I sensed it.