Piaras gave me a grim smile that he should have been too young to have. “We’re equal opportunity sleep-inducers.”

“We?”

“Maestro Cayle will be standing guard with me.”

I experienced a short, but oh-so-welcome, moment of relief. I hadn’t had many of those lately so I enjoyed it while I could. Maestro Ronan Cayle was the best spellsinger there was. If anyone’s ass needed kicking—mage, mundane, or demon—Ronan was the man to serve it up. He was also Piaras’s spellsinging teacher. If Piaras wouldn’t leave the island on an evac ship, knowing that Ronan would be with him was a comfort I’d gladly take.

“Is Talon staying, too?”

Piaras blew out his breath. “Oh yeah.”

“I understand he and Tam had quite the throwdown about that.”

“Heard by half the citadel.”

Talon Nathrach was Tam’s son. As former chief mage and magical enforcer to the goblin royal House of Mal’Salin, Tam was part of the team going to Regor. Talon’s mother had been an elf, which made Talon a half-breed, an abomination to both old-blood elves and goblins. The goblin court in Regor was packed to the walls with old-blood goblin aristocrats. From what I’d heard, they’d kill Talon on sight.

Talon becoming a Guardian cadet was Tam’s effort to teach his impulsive son responsibility, respect, and, above all, control. I told Tam he shouldn’t hold his breath.

“You can’t exactly blame Talon,” I said. “He just found his father, and now that father is leaving.” I left the “and maybe never coming back” unsaid. Piaras knew it as well as I did.

“Paladin Eiliesor ordered Talon to report to Sir Vegard for duty.”

I winced. “Bet that didn’t go over well.”

“No, it didn’t.” Piaras grinned. “Though walking back to the barracks last night with Talon tripled my knowledge of Goblin profanity.”

Just before the stairs that led down to the citadel’s lower levels, we passed several openings in the outer walls that looked over the harbor.