Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [82]
A horrible thought came to me—what if Porter was working for Magoth? Was this some sort of a test? Was I about to be replaced? I dismissed the notion almost immediately; if Porter was in Magoth’s employ, he would certainly know exactly what I was. His threat of the dreadlord killing me if I mentioned the amulet just didn’t fit.
None of which explained why Magoth was so interested in the contents of Kostya’s lair.
‘‘You play games with me, and yet, they are not the games we can both enjoy,’’ he said in a light tone, but the undercurrent of menace was enough to turn my blood cold. ‘‘Answer the question, servant.’’
The word stunned with the force of a lash. I didn’t want to tell him the truth, but I could not refuse to answer a direct question. I could, however, censor out any information not specifically questioned. ‘‘I didn’t have much time to spend in the dragon’s lair. I took only one thing away, a gold amulet in the shape of a dragon.’’
‘‘An amulet?’’ He frowned, sitting up. I was pleased to notice that his erection had ceased being quite so rampant. ‘‘What sort of an amulet? Describe it to me.’’
‘‘It was nothing special,’’ I said, relieved that he hadn’t asked me either what I’d gone there to find, or who had sent me to take the amulet. It was far, far better that he think Gabriel had sent me to rob another dragon than to hear of the phylactery. ‘‘It was about so big, made of gold, but not made very well, as if it was a child’s toy.’’
He froze. ‘‘Describe it.’’
‘‘I just did.’’ Why was he so interested in the amulet? I shook my head at his odd reaction. ‘‘It’s just an amulet. Gold, shaped roughly like a dragon, very primitive and quite honestly, not attractive in the least sense. It was in the unlocked chest, so it can’t be worth much to anyone.’’
‘‘The Lindorm Phylactery,’’ he murmured, his gaze filled with disbelief and confusion.
My jaw just about hit the floor at his words. ‘‘The . . . the what?’’
‘‘Could it be?’’ His eyes narrowed as he thought about it. ‘‘I had not heard of it surfacing. It was in an unlocked chest, you say? That does not seem right, not right at all.’’
‘‘The phylactery? Are you saying that ugly little lump of gold was the phylactery?’’ I shook my head. ‘‘It can’t be. It’s not at all like the Gulden Phylactery you made me take from that oracle in South Africa. That was a lovely crystal vial. The thing I’m talking about is an amulet, a primitive-looking amulet of a dragon.’’
I hurriedly scooted out of the way as Magoth rose from the chaise, mindlessly pacing back and forth as he thought out loud. ‘‘What would a dragon be doing allowing the most valuable artifact of his kind to sit in an unlocked chest? It does not make sense, and yet the description matches.’’
‘‘It doesn’t make any sense at all. I might not have a great knowledge of dragons and their society, but from what Gabriel told me—’’ I stopped in horror of what I’d said, one hand going to my mouth.
Magoth spun around, his gaze so intense it slammed me backward a good six feet to the wall. My ears rang with the blow, giving me a moment of disorientation.
‘‘The wyvern spoke to you of it?’’ The temperature of the room dropped ten degrees as Magoth took a deep breath. I’m not a cowardly person in general, but at the look of unabated fury on his face, I crumpled into a ball on the floor, covering my head with my hands. And not a moment too soon.
‘‘You were sent to take it!’’ Magoth roared with a fury I’d never heard, loud enough to shatter every bit of glass in the room. Glass shards from the windows, pictures that hung on the wall, light fixtures, and assorted other sources rained down to the floor, several pieces piercing my skin.
I stayed curled in a protective ball until