Ghost in the Tower

by Jonathan Moeller

  “They could just be random killings to cause chaos,” said Morgant. “The Umbarians have Silent Hunters to spare.”

  “There’s no way the Silent Hunters did this,” said Ariadne. “All four of the high magi were murdered in their towers, and every master magus and high magus in the city has warded their homes against the Silent Hunters.”

  “And the Umbarians don’t just kill at random,” said Caina. “Not without a goal in mind.”

  “Unless they’ve hired someone like Kalgri again,” said Morgant.

  Caina shuddered at the memory.

  “Who is Kalgri?” said Ariadne.

  “She was an assassin,” said Caina. “That wasn’t her real name. The Istarish called her the Red Huntress.” She looked at Morgant. “But even Kalgri didn’t kill at random. She killed to feed, or to cause terror.”

  “These killings could be calculated to inspire terror,” said Ariadne.

  “Then you’re certain they’re not suicides?” said Caina.

  “Are you?” Ariadne.

  “They’re not suicides,” said Caina. “If it was just one, I would say it was a suicide. But four in the same fashion? Either they were murdered, or they were forced to kill themselves.” She thought it over for a moment. “Hiram Nilas. Was he a relative of Cassander Nilas?”

  “Yes, a cousin, I believe,” said Ariadne. “But he had every opportunity to go over to the Umbarians, and he did not. Kalin Nicephorus’s sister joined the Umbarians, I believe, after their brother was assassinated while he served as the Lord Governor of Rasadda.”

  “I’d heard that,” said Caina, who had been the one to assassinate Lord Governor Nicephorus in Rasadda.

  “I’m not sure what happened to her,” said Ariadne. “Hiram’s sister. Maria Nicephorus, I believe her name was.”

  “She was with Cassander in Istarinmul, and she died the day he tried to destroy the city,” said Caina.

  “I see,” said Ariadne. “Well, all four of the dead high magi were nobles, and all of them had relatives on different sides of the civil war.” She shrugged. “Our own family is no different.” Caina’s stomach twisted at the term, but it was accurate, even if she did not like it. “Rania, Talmania, and Selene sided with the Umbarians. Myself, Jocarna, and Cybele sided with the Empire. So did you.”

  “Talmania and Rania are two of the Provosts of the Order,” said Morgant. “Is this entire civil war a family squabble within House Scorneus?”

  Caina expected Ariadne to take offense, but she grinned. “It might well be. We really ought to find a more productive way to deal with our disagreements, should we not? But we’ve squabbled since we were girls, all my sisters and me. Our father saw to that.”

  “These four high magi,” said Caina. “Did they have anything in common? Other than coming from noble Houses? Common interests, shared friends, that sort of thing?”

  “Not particularly,” said Ariadne. “Hiram Nilas and Secundus Camwallen supported the First Magus, but that was about all they had in common. The same with Livia Iconias and Kalin Nicephorus. All the high magi know each other, of course, as do the master magi, but we often do not have any overlapping interests.”

  “Were any of them friends of yours?” said Caina.

  “No,” said Ariadne. “I knew them, of course, but I thought Hiram and Secundus were fools, and I confess I found Livia and Kalin tedious.”

  “But you knew them all,” murmured Caina.

  But that wasn’t surprising, was it? The Magisterium was a vast organization, with thousands of magi and tens of thousands of servants supporting them, yet there weren’t all that many high magi. Ariadne would know or know of all of them.

  And yet…

  “How old were they?” said Caina, an idea coming to her.

  “Middle forties,” said Ariadne with a shrug. “About my age, give or take a few years.”

  The idea crystallized in Caina’s head. “Were you students together?”

  Ariadne blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you do your…what is the term, your novitiates together? The seven-year course of study all brothers and sisters of the Magisterium take? Did you go through it together?” said Caina.

  Ariadne blinked. “Yes. Yes, come to think of it, we did. We were all enrolled together as initiates in the same year. All five of us – myself, Hiram Nilas, Secundus Camwallen, Kalin Nicephorus, and Livia Iconias.”

  “How many of you were there?” said Caina. “In that year’s group of initiates?”

  “About…six hundred, if I remember right,” said Ariadne. “We can look up the exact number in the records of the Motherhouse. I think about five hundred of us finished training together.”

  “What happened to the other hundred, my lady?” said Sophia. Perhaps she worried the same thing would happen to her if Caina failed and she was forcibly enrolled in the Magisterium.

  “They were all killed, and their blood used in necromantic experiments,” said Morgant.

  Sophia flinched, and Ariadne let out an exasperated sigh.

  “They were not,” said Ariadne. “They were simply put out of the Magisterium. Most did not have the talent to master the training. A few were expelled because they lacked the temperament or self-control to become a magus. Others because they committed crimes or offended the high magi in some way.”

  Caina frowned. “Can you remember anyone who might have a grudge against your particular class of initiates?”

  “No,” said Ariadne. “At least several dozen initiates were expelled during my training. I’m afraid I cannot recall them all.”

  Caina let out a breath, thinking. “That seems to be the only link between the four high magi. It’s tenuous, though. And yet…that seems unlikely, does it not? Four high magi committed suicide in a grotesque and spectacular way, all within two weeks? And all four high magi were from the same class of initiates? That is too much of a coincidence.”

  “It’s artistic,” said Morgant.

  “Don’t tell me you want to make a painting of it,” said Caina.

  “I would make an excellent painting, but it would be a little too macabre to sell,” said Morgant. “But what did you call it? Grotesque and spectacular? Yes, that’s exactly right. Hanging themselves with the word CLEAN painted on the wall in blood? If you wanted to draw attention to the deaths, it would be difficult to think of a more dramatic way to do it.”

  “If someone just wanted to murder those high magi,” said Caina, “there would be easier and less complicated ways to do it. Poison, for one.”

  “Poison in the food is always a good way to kill sorcerers,” said Morgant. “Especially if you can make it look like an illness. Or a quick shove off a high balcony. That one’s risky because you only get one chance to do it right. But if you pull it off, it looks like an accident.”

  "True," said Caina, thinking of Maglarion again. "It doesn't always work, though."

  “For a painter,” said Ariadne, “you seem to know quite a lot about murder.”

  Morgant shrugged. “Oh, I’m just observant.”

  “But this is all speculation,” said Caina. “We need hard facts.” She looked at Ariadne. “Tomorrow, I would like to visit the site of each of the suicides. Also, I assume the high magi have their own households and servants?” Ariadne nodded. “We’ll need to question them at length. I’d also like to look at their account books and ledgers. If the four of them were involved in something that brought about their deaths, a good place to find it is in their expenses.”

  “I have sufficient authority to arrange that,” said Ariadne. She glanced at one of the windows facing the street. Through the windows, Caina saw the dark woods surrounding the base of the Tower of the Cataphract. “It is, however, getting late, and it has been an unpleasant day for all of us. Though more unpleasant for you than for me, I must admit.”

  “How gracious,” said Caina.

  “I suggest we go to my house and spend the night there,” said Ariadne. “Tomorrow morning, we c
an start visiting the sites of the suicides. Perhaps the vision of the valikarion will see something that the Lictors failed to notice.”

  “Maybe,” said Caina. Though she did not relish the thought of sleeping in the tower of a high magus. “Just as long as you send a message to the Inn of the Seal first, letting Lord Kylon know where we are.”

  “Very well,” said Ariadne “If you write something when we arrive at my home, I’ll have one of my servants deliver it.” She took another sip of coffee, set down her mug, and started to rise.

  “Though I have a suggestion first,” said Morgant.

  “This ought to be good,” said Caina.

  He grinned at Ariadne. “Maybe you should be on your guard.”

  “And why is that, sir?” said Ariadne, lifting her eyebrows. “Other than the normal perils of the life of a high magus?”

  “Four initiates from your class have committed suicide,” said Morgant. “Maybe you’re next.”

  She gave him a thin smile, but a shadow flickered in her blue eyes. “I assure you, sir, if I were of the temperament to commit suicide, I would have done so years ago.” She hesitated. “Still, you have a point. If these suicides are in fact murders, it would be best to remain vigilant.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” said Caina. “Shall we go?”

  She finished off her coffee and wished for a second cup, but she wanted to be able to sleep tonight. Caina rose from the booth, and the others followed suit.

  “It’s not far to my house from here,” said Ariadne. She hesitated.

  “What is it?” said Caina.

  “Could you wait outside for a moment?” said Ariadne to Morgant and Sophia. “I wish a word alone with Lady Caina.”

  “Come along, girl,” said Morgant. “We’ll let the womenfolk of House Scorneus grapple with the fact that they all resemble each other so much.”

  Caina gave him a sour look. Morgant only grinned and guided Sophia outside.

  “He really is a very offensive man,” said Ariadne.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “But he keeps his word. What did you want to talk about?”

  “You don’t remind me of Laeria at all,” said Ariadne.

  Caina blinked. “That’s good. Considering what Laeria was like.”

  “I finished raising Seb and Calvia,” said Ariadne. “I’m afraid Calvia inherited some of Laeria’s more undesirable traits. Seb, not so much, thankfully. But you…you remind me more of Talmania.”

  Caina felt a chill, followed by a surge of anger, and she pushed both down. “As do you.”

  Ariadne sighed. “People keep telling me that. Well.” She gestured towards the door. “Shall we?”

  Chapter 7: Rich Rewards

  Calaver Aberon, battle magus of the Imperial Magisterium, strode to the gates of the Motherhouse.

  He didn’t care for the place.

  Partly because he thought it ugly. The Magisterium tended to build in unrelieved black stone, and Calaver found that tedious, despite its utility. And partly because all his memories of the Motherhouse were bad. One would think that the bastard son of the First Magus of the Magisterium would receive preferential treatment, an easy path to high office and riches.

  The First Magus thought otherwise.

  He had dozens of bastard children, and he sired them with an eye towards raising them as his agents and enforcers. It was a common enough practice among the Magisterium. The magi were a paranoid lot, and who better to trust than your own flesh and blood?

  Of course, only the strong could serve the First Magus. The training of a normal brother or sister of the Magisterium was hard. The training of Decius Aberon’s bastard sons had been far more brutal. Calaver remembered well the beatings, the days without food, the nights without sleep, the constant exercises to make him stronger in both body and mind and arcane skill.

  By the gods, how he hated this place.

  Unlike most of the Magisterium, he had welcomed the start of the civil war. In the battles to the east, Calaver had found a place where he could exercise his skills without his father’s supervision. War was a miserable experience, but Calaver found he enjoyed being part of the army, of supporting the Legions in battle. For their part, the Legionaries had accepted him and his skills. They might have been afraid of him…but he was still on their side.

  Calaver would have preferred to remain on the front, where he could be useful.

  Instead, he had to come here to heed his father’s orders. With both Lord Conn Maraeus and Lord Valerius Hadrazon off negotiating with the Umbarian provost in Arzaxia, there had been no one with sufficient rank to countermand the First Magus’s orders.

  So Calaver had made the journey across the Strait of Artifel to the Motherhouse, never mind that there were a dozen places in Nova Nighmaria where his talents could have been better utilized for the war. He wondered what errand his father wanted carried out.

  Probably he wanted someone killed.

  That’s what it usually was. Well, Calaver would get it done as soon as possible, and then he could get back to the front, rather than wasting his time with his father’s endless political games.

  He strode into one of the interior courtyards, the black domes rising overhead. The sky had turned the color of steel, and a light rain of snowflakes fell from the sky. Calaver scowled at the sight. With his luck, a serious snowstorm was on its way. There were rarely major blizzards this far south, but sometimes a snowstorm swept off the Inner Sea with the strength to match the blizzards of Ulkaar. If that happened, Calaver might be stuck here for days.

  Well, at least that would give him time to deal with his father’s errand, whatever the hell it was.

  He passed through a door and into the labyrinthine stone maze of the Motherhouse’s interior. The black stone walls and floor gave the place a gloomy appearance. At least it was well-lit, with glowing glass spheres mounted in iron cages on the walls every few yards. Initiates of the Magisterium spent a great deal of time manufacturing those spheres. A typical initiate was expected to make ten spheres a day.

  Calaver’s tutors had expected him to make twenty a day, and if he fell behind, he was beaten or denied supper.

  He gritted his teeth at the memory and forced himself to calm. A show of temper when dealing with his father would accomplish nothing.

  Calaver came to the base of the First Magus’s private tower. Four Magisterial Guards stood there, solemn in their black armor. A flicker of contempt went through Calaver. The Guards ought to have been off fighting with the Legions, but the First Magus insisted on keeping his bodyguard. Decius’s personal Magisterial Guards liked to swagger and strut, but Calaver could have killed all four of them with ease.

  “I am here to see the First Magus,” said Calaver, stopping a few yards from the Magisterial Guards. “I was summoned, and he is expecting me.”

  “Very well,” said one of the Guards. “I shall inform the First Magus. Wait here.”

  The Guard disappeared through the door to the tower, and Calaver rolled his shoulders and settled in for a wait. He expected to wait at least an hour. His father did enjoy his petty little games of authority and dominance. Calaver was surprised when the Magisterial Guard returned after a few minutes.

  Perhaps the matter was urgent.

  “The First Magus will see you now,” said the Guard. “You may proceed to his study.”

  Calaver strode forward. The Guard was in his path, and the man jerked aside at the last minute. Calaver walked up the stairs without bothering to look back, though his lip did curl with contempt. Useless excuses for soldiers. If they had to fight the Legionaries, real Legionaries, the ones who had spent the last two years battling the horrors the Umbarians conjured up, the Magisterial Guards would not last five minutes.

  The stairs spiraled up and up, and at last Calaver came to his father’s private study.

  The First Magus’s sanctum was a large round chamber, a black dome rising overhead. The curving walls had high, narrow windows that admitted a great d
eal of sunlight and provided an excellent view of Artifel in all directions. Bookshelves lined the walls between the windows, and a massive desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered with papers.

  There was a noticeable smell of strong alcohol in the room. It seemed the First Magus had been drinking again.

  Decius Aberon sat behind the desk, scowling at Calaver.

  Gods, had the man gotten even fatter since Calaver’s last visit to Artifel?

  Calaver offered a bow. “First Magus.”

  He always called Decius Aberon the First Magus. Never his father.

  “Calaver,” said Decius, tapping his fingers together.

  Calaver stared at his father, marveling at the complete lack of fear he now felt.

  It had not always been so. Calaver’s attitude toward his father had changed over the years. Once he had been terrified of the man while holding him in worshipful reverence. Decius Aberon was a visionary, a man of power and strength, the man who would lead the Magisterium to its former glory and restore the magi to their proper place of power and respect in the governance of the Empire.

  Later, as Calaver left boyhood behind and began doing his father’s dirty work, his opinion of the man soured. The admiration had evaporated, but the respect and fear remained. The First Magus was a ruthless and brutal man, a man who won more often than he lost, and he ruled the Magisterium with an iron fist. Calaver did not like him, but he would not cross the man.

  Then the civil war began, and Calaver saw his father’s failures. Decius had tried to assume command of the traitorous Umbarians, only to barely escape with his life and flee back to Artifel, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. The First Magus had proven such an inept military leader that he had left all such matters in the hands of the Praesar, and Calaver’s respect for Valron Icaraeus had grown while his fear and respect for his father curdled into contempt and loathing. Battle magi bled and died alongside the Legions in the field against the Umbarians, and all the while Decius Aberon hid in the Motherhouse, gorging himself and playing his stupid political games as the Empire burned around him.