“Wait,” said Caina. Mazyan’s scowl deepened, and he reached for his sword, but Sulaman stopped him. “Since you are so well-informed, you have probably guessed what I plan to attempt.”
“Some of it,” said Sulaman. “You are with Nasser, so likely you share the same goal.”
Caina wondered how much Sulaman knew about Nasser. Did he know that Nasser had once been the last Prince of Iramis? Nasser and Sulaman had clearly worked together in the past. How much did Nasser know about Sulaman? For that matter, did Tanzir know about either of them? And that did not even factor in whatever game Samnirdamnus was playing with her and Morgant.
No wonder Caina had been so agitated lately. She was in the middle of a web of secrets and lies, and though she had constructed much of it herself, she could not see all of it.
“Any counsel you can give me?” said Caina. “You’ve aided me before. Against the Huntress, and when I sought Morgant the Razor.”
“Yes,” said Sulaman. “I heard that you had found him. Tell me, Master Ciaran. Do we share the same goal?”
“You told me,” said Caina, “that you wanted to protect the people of Istarinmul. If Callatas is not stopped, he will kill the people of Istarinmul. That alone, I think, should be reason to help me.”
Sulaman inclined his head. “Very well. When you go to the Inferno, you must do as you have always done, or you shall perish.”
“And what have I always done?” said Caina.
“Break the chains,” said Sulaman. “Shatter the bonds. Free the slaves.”
“I don’t understand,” said Caina.
“You shall,” said Sulaman, “when the hour is upon you, for it is in your nature. That is all the aid I can give you for now, I fear.” He hesitated. “One secret I shall share with you, and one only.”
Mazyan growled. “Master…”
Sulaman raised a hand, and the hulking bodyguard fell silent, though he kept glowering at Caina.
“Callatas knows of me,” said Sulaman, “and he suffers me to live, for he thinks he may have need of me in the future. Yet if he realizes that I am his enemy, that I have aided his foes, he will either kill me or imprison me in a place like the Inferno. So I am limited in what I can do. Those words, scanty as they are, are all the aid I can give you for now.”
“I understand,” said Caina. “And your aid has saved my life more than once before. Thank you.” He had told her where to find Morgant the Razor, which in turn had led her to finding Kylon in the Ring of Cyrica. And if she had not found Kylon and Morgant on that day, if she had been alone, the Sifter would have killed her.
“I am glad,” said Sulaman. “May the Living Flame watch over you.” The poet bowed to her, and she bowed back. Sulaman left the room. Mazyan glared a little longer, and then turned and departed as well.
A few moments later Tanzir Shahan, emir of the Vale of Fallen Stars, walked into the tower chamber.
He had changed so much that Caina barely recognized him at first.
In Malarae he had been fat, so fat that he had trouble walking long distances. Tanzir had lost a great deal of weight since then, and while he was still stout, the climb up the tower stairs had not winded him. He wore chain mail and plate armor without discomfort, as if he had grown used to it. His face was harder, leaner, with fresh lines marking his bronze-colored skin despite his youth. He looked, in fact, like his dead brother, and Caina felt a twinge of alarm. Just how much like Rezir had Tanzir become?
Then he stopped and stared at her, the astonishment plain upon his face, and Caina remembered the terrified young man that had come to Malarae to negotiate peace between the Padishah and the Emperor.
“Sonya Tornesti?” Tanzir said. “It truly is you?”
Caina bowed. “My lord emir. It has been a long time.”
Tanzir started to pace back and forth. That was new, too. He had never preferred to stand when a chair was at hand. “When my khalmir told me that the mercenaries claimed to have a message from you, I was sure it was a trick. Or a trap. The Living Flame knows that the Teskilati have tried to have me killed a half-dozen times since I had my mother and brother exiled…”
“My lord emir,” said Caina, but Tanzir kept talking. He had used to stutter, but that seemed to have become a tendency to ramble.
“Though I should have guessed,” said Tanzir, still pacing. “All those stories coming out of the capital about a black-cloaked master thief terrorizing the Brotherhood? A thief who called himself the Balarigar? It had to be you. Who else could it have been? But for my life I could not imagine why you would be in Istarinmul, not when the Empire was ripping itself apart in civil war.”
Caina opened her mouth to speak, but Tanzir kept talking.
“I suppose it has something to do with the Umbarian Order,” said Tanzir. “That must be why you’re here. To make sure the Padishah does not ally with the Umbarians against the Empire. Of course, the Padishah disappeared before I returned to Istarinmul, and no one knows where he is. You’ll have to deal with Callatas, and Callatas…the man has been a malignant blight upon Istarinmul for decades, and he has been growing worse. He’s unleashed the Collectors upon the southern emirates, and if something isn’t done soon Istarinmul will have its own civil war.” His face hardened, and he looked more like Rezir than ever. “And we shall be right to do it! Callatas and his demands are ripping Istarinmul apart.” He blinked several times and focused upon Caina. “Oh. I forgot. Is Anton Kularus with you? I have some questions for him.”
Caina swallowed. “He’s dead.”
“Oh.” The energy seemed to drain out of Tanzir. “I am sorry. When…”
“The day of the golden dead,” said Caina. “He…died valiantly.”
“I am sorry,” said Tanzir. “I had hoped to ask him about the Kindred of Istarinmul. You see, to my chagrin I have become something of a leader to the southern emirs, and so the Grand Wazir has hired the Kindred to kill me. I’ve evaded them, but a man’s luck will only last for so long.”
“Actually,” said Caina, thinking of Morgant. “I have an expert on the Kindred with me. Perhaps he can tell you something of their techniques.”
“Good,” said Tanzir. “Thank you, yes. That…ah, that will be helpful.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“How have you been?” said Caina. “Since you returned, I mean. You seem…”
“Thinner?” said Tanzir.
“Different,” said Caina.
Tanzir snorted. “A diplomatic way of putting it. But I’ve had nothing but diplomacy for the last four years. That, and people trying to kill me.” He shook his head. “I took your advice and exiled my mother and my brother as soon as I returned, and set about…oh, cleaning house, you could say. I got rid of my mother’s loyalists and installed my own men throughout the magistracies of the Vale. Then the day of the golden dead happened, and all has been chaos since. The Vale of Fallen Stars is the most powerful emirate of the south, and the other emirs traditionally look to the House of Shahan for guidance. Which means me. By the Living Flame! If I had known all this was going to happen, I would have stayed in Malarae. The book shops were most pleasant.”
“I wish I was still in Malarae, too,” said Caina, “but I fear that is not possible.”
He hesitated, stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then looked at her. “Why are you here? Istarinmul is about to explode, and suddenly you turn up at the border of my lands.”
Caina took a deep breath. “Because I need your help.”
At once he looked guarded. “Why? I will not aid the Ghosts against Istarinmul. Nor will I argue that Istarinmul should join the war against the Umbarian Order. The Order is as vile as the Great Necromancers of old or the Magisterium of the Fourth Empire, yes. But Istarinmul should stay neutral in that war.”
“I’m not going to ask for that,” said Caina. “I will ask for two things. That you allow us to pass through the Vale, and that you do not warn the Inferno or anyone in Istarinmul when we kidnap the
emir Kuldan Cimak.”
She had just thrown the dice. She hoped her assessment of Tanzir was correct.
Tanzir blinked. “You want to kill Kuldan? Why? He is quite harmless. A bit too fond of his own poetry, to be sure…”
“Not to kill him,” said Caina. “Kidnap him. Then I will masquerade as him and enter the Inferno.”
“Why?” said Tanzir. “That is utter madness. The Inferno is where men are tortured into Immortals. It is an evil place, and the Master Alchemist Rolukhan is cruel even by the standards of the College of Alchemists. Why would you want to infiltrate the place?”
Caina took a deep breath. “I could tell you…but the answer would put you in danger.”
“Why?” said Tanzir again, meeting her eyes. He had indeed grown since their last meeting. Once he would not have been able to look her in the eye. Now she saw only a weary determination there.
“Because Callatas would kill me for what I know,” said Caina.
“To say nothing of the two million bezants upon your head,” said Tanzir.
“That, too,” said Caina. “But far more dangerous is the knowledge I have stolen. He would kill me to keep his secrets…and he would kill you as well.”
“I expect he already wants me dead, anyway,” said Tanzir. “What is one more reason? Tell me.”
“So be it,” said Caina. “The reason Callatas has sent the Brotherhood to kidnap slaves from the southern lands is because of wraithblood.”
“Wraithblood?” said Tanzir, wrinkling his nose with disgust. “That drug taken by the poor of the city? It causes delirium and madness. What would Callatas want with it?”
“He makes it,” said Caina, “from the blood of murdered slaves. That’s why he wants so many slaves, and that’s why the price of slaves has risen so high. Callatas has been murdering them by the thousands to produce wraithblood.”
Tanzir blanched at that. “Why? That is stark madness.”
“Have you heard of creatures called the nagataaru?” said Caina.
“Nagataaru?” said Tanzir. Some of his old manner returned as he searched the vaults of his memory. “It is an Iramisian word, I recall. The name for some manner of malevolent devil or demon conjured up from the netherworld. According to legend, the seven Demon Princes that ruled what is now Istarinmul were all possessed by great lords of the nagataaru. The Iramisian loremasters of old were founded to fight the nagataaru.”
“The nagataaru are real, not myth,” said Caina. “I’ve seen them and fought them.” Memories of Ricimer and the Red Huntress flashed through her mind. “Callatas is preparing a great spell to bind and summon millions upon millions of them at once, a working that he calls the Apotheosis. I’m not sure what his purpose for the spell is, not yet, but he needs the wraithblood addicts to do it. Maybe to provide physical bodies to house the nagataaru. I don’t know.”
“Why cast this spell?” said Tanzir. “According to ancient history, he destroyed Iramis in such a matter. Does he think to do the same to Istarinmul?”
“I’m not sure,” said Caina. “Perhaps he thinks it will bring him additional power. Maybe he has some other purpose. Whatever his reasoning, the nagataaru are malevolent, and they feed upon pain and death. If millions of them are summoned to our world it will be a catastrophe on the scale of the day of the golden dead.”
“What does this have to do with the Inferno?” said Tanzir.
“There is a prisoner there,” said Caina, choosing her words carefully. She did not think Tanzir would do anything harmful with the knowledge of the Staff and the Seal. If he was taken prisoner and the knowledge was tortured out of him, the results could be catastrophic. Tanzir and Sulaman had their secrets, but Caina had hers, as well. “Callatas doesn’t know that the prisoner is there, else he would have killed her already. But she has knowledge that could stop the Apotheosis and defeat Callatas.”
“So the plan,” said Tanzir, “is to attack Cimak’s caravan, kill all his Immortals, impersonate Cimak, and then you flee the Inferno with this female prisoner.”
“Yes,” said Caina.
Tanzir scowled. “Why do it in the Vale? I’ve tried to keep order in the Vale during the chaos of the last few years, and I’ve mostly succeeded. I do not appreciate private armies battling upon my lands.”
“We meant to attack him on the Trabazon steppes,” said Caina, “long before we ever neared to the Vale. Unfortunately, a dust storm arose, and before we could get around it, Cimak and his caravan made it to the Vale.”
“Hmm,” said Tanzir. “Just as well. This conversation explained a great many details about the Grand Master’s peculiar behavior over the last few years. What do you intend to do with Cimak? Are you going to kill him?”
“We were going to hold him prisoner somewhere,” said Caina.
“No,” said Tanzir. “Give him to me. He was a friend of mine when we were younger, and I might have need of him. We shall need every man of noble blood we can gather to our side.”
“You will?” said Caina. “You’re…planning to overthrow the Grand Wazir, aren’t you?”
“I suppose it is obvious at this point,” said Tanzir. “We are loyal men of Istarinmul and would never rebel against the Padishah, but the Padishah disappeared soon after I returned from Malarae. Erghulan Amirasku has not lifted a finger to aid us, and he has done nothing to stop the Brotherhood’s depredations. We mean to see him replaced and sound government returned to Istarinmul.” He sighed and looked at his books. “Though, historically…revolutions do not tend to end well.”
“Especially when the Grand Wazir is a puppet for a sorcerer with Callatas’s power,” said Caina.
“True,” said Tanzir. “Yet I fear we are left with no choice. Callatas and Erghulan Amirasku are destroying the nation. The Brotherhood of Slavers is waxing fat and rich, but their wealth comes from plundering the countryside and kidnapping our peasants to sell upon the auction block. Because of the fighting, trade is drying up. If something is not done soon, the situation will become dire. We must remove Erghulan and find the Padishah, or at least appoint someone competent as Grand Wazir, someone who will not jump every time Callatas snaps his fingers.”
“You’ve made an alliance with the Kaltari tribes, I assume?” said Caina.
“How did you know that?” said Tanzir. “Oh…yes, right. You’re a spy. The Kaltari have been the backbone of the Padishah’s armies for centuries, along with the small farmers of the southern emirates. They’ve organized under a former gladiator named Strabane, and the Kaltari have been fighting back, attacking the Collectors and waylaying the Brotherhood’s caravans whenever they can. Strabane has the Kaltari tribesmen at his call and a growing army of free slaves. If it comes to it, if civil war begins, they’ll march with us.”
“You think it might not come to war?” said Caina.
“I have sent emissaries to the Grand Wazir, demanding that he put a halt to the Brotherhood’s raids,” said Tanzir. “But I fear matters have gone too far for that. There is going to be war. Istarinmul is stuffed full of kindling, and all it will take is a single spark to set it alight.” He sighed. “Such as you breaking into the Inferno and making off with a prisoner.”
“Then you will help us?” said Caina.
Tanzir sighed again. “Actually…I fear I don’t have a choice in the matter. I have to help you. If you can weaken Callatas, if you disrupt his plans, the opportunity is too good to pass up. And if you can disrupt the Inferno, for that matter…it is a powerful fortress, and Rolukhan is not a man with whom one should trifle. The Inferno is too powerful of a stronghold to leave unguarded in our rear, if we must march upon the city.”
“Sound military thinking,” said Caina.
Tanzir waved a vague hand at the piled books. “All the histories say so. Fortunately, I have khalmirs with practical experience. A few of them even escaped Marsis.”
“Veterans, then,” said Caina, the cold memory of the battle flashing through her mind.
“Indeed,” said
Tanzir.
“Then you will help us?” said Caina.
“As I said, I don’t have any choice,” said Tanzir. “How shall we begin?”
Chapter 10: Epic Poetry
Two days later Kylon stood in the predawn gloom and looked at the village.
“Korundush,” announced Tanzir Shahan, reining up his horse.
Kylon nodded, looking around.
Compared to the farmlands around New Kyre and the other free cities west of Anshan, the Vale of Fallen Stars was arid. Compared to the Trabazon steppes and the Desert of Candles, it was a lush paradise. There were not many trees and only a few rivers, but an intricate maze of canals descended from the mountains and fed snowmelt from the peaks and into the fields. Everywhere Kylon looked he saw waving fields of grain, groves of olive trees, and vineyards heavy with grapes. According to Tanzir, who never wearied of expounding upon the history of Istarinmul, the canals had been built thousands of years ago, when the Maatish pharaohs still ruled this the Vale as one of the outer satrapies of their far-flung empire. After the fall of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, the ancestors of the Istarish had settled here, and every successive emir had expanded and improved the system of canals.
Certainly the Vale was the most prosperous region Kylon had seen since coming to the Padishah’s realm. The city of Istarinmul was filled to overflowing with beggars and slaves and impoverished free citizens subsisting on the Wazir of Grain’s bread ration, and the countryside had been a chaos of raiders and brigands, but the Vale looked prosperous. Kylon suspected the Vale had Tanzir to thank for its stability. There was a constant current of low-level fear running through Tanzir Shahan’s emotional aura, but he had it under control, and despite his scholarly and rambling demeanor he kept his men and officers under tight discipline.
He reminded Kylon a little of Rezir Shahan, though without the emir’s rampant love of cruelty. And hopefully without the overweening pride that had led to Rezir’s death at Caina’s hands.
Oddly, Tanzir bore Caina no ill will for that. His emotions whenever he spoke to her veered between a healthy respect, outright terror, and infatuation. Had Tanzir been a bolder man, Kylon supposed, he would have tried to have seduce Caina long ago. Of course, had Tanzir been a bolder man, he might already have started a war with the Grand Wazir and been crushed for his trouble.
Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) Page 14
