Ghost in the Tower

by Jonathan Moeller

  The respect and the fear had gone…but a healthy measure of caution remained.

  The First Magus’s grip on power was loosening. Sooner or later, he would alienate enough of the high magi that they would vote him out of office. Or one of the high magi would arrange an “accident” for Decius and Valron Icaraeus would step into the office of First Magus. It was also just as likely that Decius Aberon would die when his heart gave out from excessive food and drink.

  But until then, he was dangerous. A grizzly bear with its leg caught in a trap was going to die…but if you drew too close, it still might bite your face off.

  “How goes the campaign in Nova Nighmaria?” said Decius. As if he did not already know.

  “Slowly, but better than I expected,” said Calaver. “The leadership of Lord Valerius Hadrazon as Marshal of the East is making a difference. We have been pushing the Umbarian levees and their Kagari allies back, and they have not managed a new offensive since we repulsed their last attempt to attack Artifel. I hope Lord Hadrazon’s mission to Arzaxia is successful. If Maxentius Traegast rejoins the Empire, perhaps Lord Hadrazon will be able to send a fleet through the Starfall Straits and land a force in the Saddaic provinces. If we retake Rasadda, we can hammer the Umbarians from two directions at once. And if they lose control of the Saddaic grain fields, they will have a devil of a time feeding…”

  “Do not waste my time with trivialities, boy,” said Decius with a wave of his thick hand.

  A pulse of fury went through Calaver, and he choked it back with an effort of will. Trivialities? How little his fool of a father understood the business of warfare! If Arzaxia rejoined the Empire and Rasadda fell, then all the momentum would belong to Lord Hadrazon’s Legions. Even better, without the ability to feed their conscripted troops, the Umbarians would have difficulties keeping their army together, and the Legions could begin a drive into the heart of the eastern provinces.

  “Trivialities, First Magus?” said Calaver, his voice calm as a pond on a windless day. That had been beaten into him as well. He showed no emotion unless he wished it.

  “The minutiae of warfare and logistics are beneath the concern of the First Magus,” said Decius. “I govern the Magisterium, and the arcane sciences are the only true power in the Empire. Perhaps simple men like Lord Hadrazon and Lord Maraeus shall march the soldiers about, but it is the magi who must govern the Empire once the Umbarian Order is crushed.”

  Simple men? Calaver respected Valerius Hadrazon and Conn Maraeus more than he had ever respected his father.

  “Such concerns are above me, First Magus,” said Calaver. “I am a battle magus, a soldier. I go where I am commanded, and I fight.”

  “Quite right, boy, quite right,” said Decius. He offered a thin smile. “It is good to speak with a man who understands his place in the order of things. But we must speak of higher concerns now.” He leaned back, his chair giving an alarming creak beneath his bulk. “What do you know of the political situation in Artifel?”

  “The…political situation, First Magus?” said Calaver, feigning confusion. He knew perfectly well what his father meant. Decius had alienated more and more of the high magi, save for a loyal core of supporters who desperately wished the Umbarian Order would disappear and the old days would return.

  “How the return of Iramis and the reinstatement of the Pact of Iramis has influenced the Magisterium,” said Decius.

  Calaver had not expected that. “The…Pact of Iramis, First Magus? I fear I know little.” He had heard the rumors, though, that Iramis had somehow returned from the shadows of the past. The news of the alliance with Istarinmul had been welcome. With the Starfall Straits closed to the Umbarian fleet, the risk that the Order would attack the Imperial capital had passed. If the Umbarians wanted Malarae, they would have to fight their way through Artifel and the Disali Highlands to reach the city.

  “You are familiar with the legends of the valikarion?” said Decius. “The Arvaltyri knights, as the superstitious Ulkaari peasants like to name them?” Calaver nodded. “They are immune to mind-affecting sorcery and divinatory spells and carry ghostsilver blades capable of piercing any defensive ward and destroying elemental spirits.” Decius’s mouth twisted. “And the Emperor means to unleash them on us. The Pact of Iramis gives the valikarion the right to travel through the Empire in search of illegal sorcery, to hunt down necromancers and pyromancers and spirits of the netherworld.”

  “That…will be useful against the Umbarians, First Magus,” said Calaver, uncertain of where his father was going with this. “Given how heavily they rely on both undead soldiers and elemental spirits to bolster their armies, we…”

  “Fool!” Decius slammed his fist against his desk. “Do you not see the danger? Are you that blind?”

  Calaver’s lips pressed into a thin line before he stopped himself. “Then enlighten me, First Magus.”

  Fortunately, his father was too angry to notice the lapse. “The Emperor means to break us. The Magisterium’s power was constrained and curtailed during the Third Empire when we had to live in fear of the persecutions and false accusations of the valikarion knights. When we seized control during the Fourth Empire, we drove the valikarion from the Empire, and then Iramis was destroyed. Now, though, that fool of an Emperor has invited the valikarion back. Oh, the pretense is that the valikarion and the loremasters will help against the Umbarians, but I see the truth. The Emperor will use them to erode our authority over sorcery. He would cripple the Magisterium’s power, and we would go from the governors of sorcery within the Empire to,” his mouth twisted, “mere tradesmen who happen to possess skill in the arcane sciences.”

  Calaver hardly thought that undesirable. He knew sorcerers were just as fallible as other men. Perhaps it was time the Magisterium was reformed and placed under better leadership. Had his father not been so obsessed with his own authority, then maybe the Umbarian Order would not have become so powerful, and good men would not be bleeding and dying in Nova Nighmaria to defend the Empire.

  “A grievous thought, First Magus,” said Calaver instead. “I assume you have summoned me here to avert this dire fate?” He rebuked himself. The sarcasm had leaked into his voice again, but it had grown more and more difficult to conceal his contempt around his father.

  Decius glared at him and then nodded. “I have. Tell me. Have you heard of a woman named Caina Amalas?”

  Calaver blinked. “A Ghost agent, or so the stories say. The stories also claim she brought Iramis out of the past, though that may just be the rumor. Apparently, she is also called the Balarigar, the demonslayer of the Szalds.”

  “An exaggeration,” said Decius. “The woman is a whore and a deceiver, like all women associated with the Ghosts. She assassinated Rezir Shahan in front of some Szaldic slaves during the siege of Marsis, and the legend of the Balarigar grew from that incident. However, she is also close to the Padishah of Istarinmul and the Prince of Iramis.” A smile went over his red face. “And she is here in Artifel.”

  Calaver frowned. “How the devil did she get to Artifel? It is a long way from here to Istarinmul.”

  “Talmania Scorneus,” said Decius. “Evidently the so-called Balarigar is one of Hyraekon Scorneus’s grandchildren. Talmania cast a spell using her own blood, and the spell accidentally pulled Caina to Ulkaar. It did the same with Sebastian Scorneus, and perhaps some other members of the pestilential House Scorneus as well.”

  “I see,” said Calaver. That was good news. He knew Sebastian Scorneus somewhat and respected the man for his courage and his skill as a fighter. Like everyone else, Calaver assumed that Seb had been killed by some new spell of the Umbarians.

  “Caina is currently with Ariadne Scorneus,” said Decius. “I have given them the task of investigating the recent suicides among the high magi.”

  Calaver nodded. “And you wish me to assist in their inquiries.”

  “What? Don’t be foolish,” said Decius. “I don’t give a damn about those suicides. No. I have a di
fferent task for you, boy. The Kindred family of Artifel will no longer answer my summons, but you still have contacts among them. You will find and kill Caina Amalas.”

  Calaver frowned. “I am yours to command, First Magus…but if Caina Amalas dies in Artifel, will that not offend the Padishah? We may not be able to win the war against the Umbarians without…”

  “I don’t give a damn about the war!” roared Decius. “My duty is to defend the power and prestige of the Magisterium. The war will work itself out one way or another. But when it is over, the Magisterium will be more powerful than ever before, and under my guidance, the Magisterium will lead the Empire to a new golden age. But to do that, Caina Amalas must first die.”

  Calaver said nothing, his contempt hardening into anger. The Magisterium’s prestige and power? Decius Aberon cared only about his own authority. His folly would see the Empire laid waste, and he would care not…so long as he clung to his position as First Magus. Decius was doomed, and he was too arrogant to see it.

  And yet…

  An idea came to Calaver.

  It was well-known that Lord Corbould Maraeus blamed the Balarigar for the death of one of his sons and had offered a reward for her death. Decius Aberon was going to fall, and there was nothing the First Magus could do to stop it. Depending on how violently he resisted his downfall, Calaver’s father might pull a lot of people down with him. The new leadership of the Magisterium might decide to rid itself of all of Decius Aberon’s remaining bastard children. Valron Icaraeus would most likely become the new First Magus, and he was not a vengeful man, but what if Valron was killed in the next few weeks? The vagaries of fate and politics were unpredictable. Someone just as vengeful and as petty as Decius Aberon might become the new First Magus.

  Either way, Calaver Aberon was going to need a new patron.

  And what better way to earn the favor of Corbould Maraeus, the most powerful lord in the Empire, than by presenting him with the woman who had killed his son?

  “First Magus,” said Calaver, offering a bow. “I shall carry out your will at once. Caina Amalas will die.”

  Or he would capture her and take her alive to Corbould Maraeus in Malarae. Upon reflection, that seemed the wiser course. If Caina really had been adopted into the Padishah’s house, then Kutal Sulaman Tarshahzon might look poorly on her death. Better to let Corbould decide what to do with her.

  “See it done, boy,” said Decius. “Serve me well, and you shall receive the rich rewards that only the gratitude of the First Magus of the Magisterium can bring.”

  Now that was a lie. Serving the First Magus had brought Calaver nothing but ashes and bitterness.

  He would secure his own rewards…and he would laugh when his father met his downfall at last.

  “I shall begin at once,” said Calaver, and he bowed again and left the First Magus’s tower.

  He had a great deal of work to do.

  Chapter 8: Widows & Husbands

  Caina wasn’t sure what to expect from Ariadne’s house.

  Perhaps Ariadne lived in one of those gloomy black towers of spell-worked stone that the magi preferred. Then again, she had been widowed twice before and had recently remarried. Maybe she had inherited a mansion from one of her previous husbands. Or perhaps Conn Maraeus had a townhouse within Artifel. Though Caina was surprised that Ariadne did not live in the inner city, but in the Western Quarter.

  And when the coach rattled to a stop, and the door opened, Caina found herself looking at a classic Nighmarian villa.

  It reminded her of the villa where she had grown up, with walls of whitewashed stone and a roof of fired clay tiles. A garden surrounded the villa, now mantled with snow, and while the grounds were not terribly large, the villa had been laid out cleverly to create the illusion of space. It was a strikingly beautiful house, and Caina found herself admiring it as she stepped down from the coach.

  Ariadne saw her looking and smiled. “Do you like it?”

  “The house?” said Caina. “I think I do.”

  “Architecture and sculpture are inferior art forms next to painting,” said Morgant, “but I will concede the villa has a certain aesthetic value.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment, sir,” said Ariadne. “I think. For I designed and built the villa.”

  “Did you?” said Caina, surprised. Maybe she shouldn’t have been. Seb had said Ariadne was more interested in architecture and engineering than in sorcery.

  “Aye,” said Ariadne. “I think when I retire, I should like to build an identical villa along the shores of the Bay of Empire. Somewhere I can see the ocean.”

  “Artifel is surrounded on three sides by the ocean,” said Caina. “You can see it whenever you like.”

  “True, but the Inner Sea and the Narrow Sea are both quite chilly,” said Ariadne. “For once in my life, I would like to go an entire year without seeing snow. But, speaking of that, let’s not stand around in the cold. Varzain, have the coach taken to the stables.”

  The captain of Ariadne’s Magisterial Guards bowed and turned to the coach. Ariadne led the way to the villa’s front door, Caina, Morgant, and Sophia following. To the vision of the valikarion, Caina saw wards glowing on the doors and the windows, likely to keep thieves at bay. There were also spells over the villa to help keep it cool in summer and warm in winter. Caina disliked relying on sorcery, but it was cold enough that she would not complain.

  Ariadne opened the door, and they stepped into a wide vestibule. The warm air was welcome after the chill of the twilight streets. Light came from a glass globe affixed to the ceiling. The floor was done in a mosaic showing a garden, and niches on the walls held busts of long-dead Emperors. Three doors led deeper into the villa, and a gaunt middle-aged man in black livery waited near the front door. He offered a bow as Ariadne entered.

  “My lady,” said the man, his voice dry and dusty. “It is good you have returned. We have guests?”

  “Yes,” said Ariadne. “Three. I think we’ll lodge the woman and the girl in the same room, and the man should have his own room. They’ll also be joining us for dinner. Also, is Alassan here?”

  “Yes, my lady,” said the dusty-voiced man. “Attending to his studies in the library.”

  “Splendid,” said Ariadne. “I’ll see him shortly.”

  “I shall attend to dinner and the guest rooms,” said the man.

  He bowed again and left the room.

  “My seneschal Libius,” said Ariadne. “He’s been with me for years. Jewel of a man. No sense of humor, though. We’ll have dinner, and…”

  Footsteps rang against the floor, and a boy ran into the vestibule.

  He looked about twelve, the age where he would start growing like a weed at any moment. The boy wore a tunic, mantle, trousers, and boots of fine material, and had a belt with a sheathed dagger on his hip. He had thick black hair and eyes the color of steel, and a feeling of recognition went through Caina. Had she seen him somewhere before? No, it wasn’t recognition, it was a family resemblance. The boy looked a great deal like Corbould Maraeus. This meant he was one of Conn Maraeus’s sons.

  One of Ariadne’s stepchildren.

  “Stepmother!” said the boy. “I would like to…”

  He trailed off as he saw Caina, Morgant, and Sophia. Then he straightened up and offered a bow.

  “Stepmother,” he said. “You didn’t say we were having guests.”

  “I didn’t know until this afternoon,” said Ariadne. “This is Lady Caina Kardamnos, Lady Sophia Zomanek, and Markaine of Caer Marist.”

  “Welcome,” said the boy with the stiff politeness of the young. “I am Alassan of House Maraeus, and I bid you welcome to our home.” His formality wavered, and then a grin split his face. “Are you really Caina Kardamnos?”

  “All of my life,” said Caina. “Though I’ve only had the name of Kardamnos for a few months.”

  “Is it true that your husband single-handedly destroyed a thousand ships in a single battle?” said Alassan.r />
  “Alassan,” said Ariadne, a mixture of exasperation and affection in her tone.

  “Not at all,” said Caina. “It was only nine hundred and ninety-seven.” Alassan laughed. “Maybe you read about it while you were studying rhetoric.”

  Alassan blinked in surprise. “What…how did you know I was studying rhetoric?”

  “Libius mentioned that you were at your studies when we came in,” said Caina. “Imperial nobles often study rhetoric by copying out the speeches of great orators from the Empire’s past. I can see from the ink smudges on your hand from where you were writing. You’re right-handed, I think.”

  Alassan looked at Ariadne, at Caina, and then back at Ariadne.

  “She’s one of your relatives, isn’t she?” said Alassan.

  “My niece,” said Ariadne. “One of my sisters had a daughter I didn’t know about.”

  “Stepmother notices things all the time,” said Alassan. “It’s really annoying. I can’t lie to her at all about anything. She’ll see a bit of dust on my boots and will know I was practicing swordsmanship behind the stables rather than reading a boring old book.”

  “That sounds incredibly frustrating,” said Caina.

  “Oh, it is,” said Alassan. “I’m glad you understand…cousin? No, that’s not right.” He frowned in thought.

  “Step-cousin?” said Caina. The thought that she had any familial connection at all to House Maraeus was a bizarre one.

  “Yes, that’s right!” said Alassan. “Step-cousin.” He smiled and offered a bow. “Then I am pleased to meet you, step-cousin Caina.”

  She offered a bow in return, careful to keep her face grave. “And I am pleased to meet you as well, step-cousin Alassan.”

  “Did you dye your hair blond?” said Alassan.

  “Alassan!” said Ariadne. “That is not an appropriate question to ask a woman.”