He beckoned, and Ark climbed the dais to stand beside Corbould, wondering if this was some sort of bizarre joke.
“Arcion of Caer Marist,” said Corbould, “for your courage in defense of the city, for your tenacity in rallying our defense when all was lost, and for your astounding victory over the stormdancer Kleistheon of House Tericleos, men have called you the Stormslayer.”
Ark hated that. He was beginning to understand why “Balarigar” so annoyed Caina. It had been luck. Had Kleistheon been a bit more careful, Ark would be dead.
“Arcion Stormslayer, once of the Eighteenth Legion,” said Corbould, “today I name you the Champion of Marsis!”
Ark blinked, astonished.
The roar of approval from the crowd struck him like a wind. The thousands of assembled Legionaries struck the flats of their blades against their shields, filling the Market with a thunderous din. But even that was not enough to drown out the cheers.
Corbould stepped forward, gripped Ark's hand.
“Well done,” he murmured. “I say this plainly. Without you, the city would have fallen.”
“I do not deserve this,” said Ark. “I was lucky. I didn’t...I did not set out to save Marsis. All I tried to do was to get my son back.” And Caina rescued Nicolai, not Ark.
“Aye,” said Corbould. “And to save your son, you saved my city. It seems only fair that I name you Champion in return.”
He hung a golden medallion fashion in the shape of a Legion's eagle around Ark's neck.
“Though if you mock my age again, blacksmith,” said Corbould, “I'll have you hung.”
A dozen different responses warred in Ark's mind. Some were grateful. Some were insulting.
So he only bowed, and the cheers went on.
###
After the ceremony, Ark returned with Tanya and Nicolai to Zorgi's inn. The Inn had taken a great deal of damage during the fighting, but already carpenters swarmed over the building, hammering and sawing.
“You have returned!” boomed Zorgi as Ark entered the common room. He grinned and made an elaborate bow. “Or should I say that you honor my humble establishment, my lord Champion?”
“Gods and devils, Zorgi!” said Ark. “Not you, too.”
“Ah, I always knew you were a good man,” said Zorgi. Peter hurried out, carrying a tray of food. “And now all of Marsis knows it. We have prepared a fine meal to celebrate, Champion. Sit! Sit!”
Peter set the tray of food on a table, beckoning Tanya and Nicolai to sit.
“Thank you,” said Ark. “I'll be back in a moment.”
He went upstairs, to the suite Caina occupied.
He found her curled in a chair near the balcony door, reading a book, a cup of tea balanced on the chair’s arm. She read for enjoyment. Ark could never understand that. Reading was a tool to be used, much like a hammer or a shovel.
But she was clever. She had told him how she had outwitted Rezir Shahan.
She looked up from the book and smiled.
“Ark,” said Caina.
“You knew,” he said.
She shrugged. “I suspected. You saved Lord Corbould's life. Halfdan told me about him. He is an arrogant old bastard...but he does understand gratitude. And you saved Marsis.”
Ark shrugged. “I did nothing.”
“You killed Kleistheon,” said Caina. “It's not every day that a normal man can kill a stormdancer. And you rallied the Nineteenth, got them to hold the gate until Hiram returned.”
“Kleistheon,” said Ark, touching the hilt of the stormdancer’s sword. “I kept thinking…if you had been there, you would have found some clever way to kill him. And then I got lucky with that chain.”
“Or clever with that chain,” said Caina.
“You killed Rezir Shahan,” said Ark. “And you stopped Andromache.”
“Andromache,” said Caina, her face distant, “stopped herself.”
“Lord Corbould should have named you the Champion, not me,” said Ark.
“Don't be absurd,” said Caina. “You saved Marsis, Ark, whether you like it or not.” She smiled. “And I am a Ghost nightfighter. A spy. I must do my work from the shadows. Hard to do that as the Champion of Marsis.”
“No one ever leaves the Ghosts,” said Ark.
“No,” said Caina. “And the Ghosts need friends in high places. Even the Champion of Marsis.”
“I am a blacksmith,” said Ark, “not a high noble or a rich man.”
“Maybe,” said Caina, “you can be both. A message came from the Emperor. A courier, sent out from Malarae after he got the news about Naelon Icaraeus. It's on the table. You should go look at it.”
Ark crossed to the table. A scroll rested there, and he picked it up and read it. It was written in High Nighmarian, an official proclamation from the Emperor himself. In it he expressed gratitude to the man who had slain the traitor Naelon Icaraeus, and offered a reward for the renegade's death...
Ark's eyes grew wide.
“It's yours.” Caina did not look up from her book.
“What...” Ark found that his mouth had gone dry. “You killed Naelon. You should have that money.”
“No,” said Caina. “What would I spend it on? Throwing knives?”
“But...”
“I can't have children, you know that,” said Caina, glancing up from her book. “But you have a son. And you can have more.” She smiled. “And you can make sure they have better lives than you and I.”
“Thank you,” said Ark. “For Nicolai, for everything, I...”
“I know,” said Caina.
Ark walked out, returned to the common room.
Tanya looked up at him, smiled.
“I don't think,” said Ark, “that I'm going to work in the foundry.”
Tanya frowned. “Well, you are the Champion of Marsis. But what will you do instead?”
“I think,” said Ark, “that I'm going to buy my own.”
###
Caina watched Ark go from the room.
“That wasn't very nice, you know.”
Halfdan hobbled into the room, leaning on a cane.
“You,” said Caina, “should be in bed.”
“Bah,” said Halfdan. “It was just a scratch.” He winced. “A deep one, though.”
“I'm glad Ark did well out of this,” said Caina. “Enough people died. And more people will die when the Emperor sends the Legions against Istarinmul and the Kyracians.”
“Aye,” said Halfdan. “We'll have work enough for us. The Istarish and the Kyracians will send their spies into the Empire, and some factions of the Magisterium might side with them.”
“And we'll be ready for them,” said Caina. “The Istarish are slavers, and the Kyracians keep slaves. If they try to take any more captives from the Empire, they will regret it.”
“So they shall,” said Halfdan.
They looked at each other in silence for a moment.
“Do you think,” said Caina, “that he was telling the truth?”
“Who?” said Halfdan.
“Sicarion,” said Caina. “About having part of Jadriga's power inside of me.”
The thought made her stomach clench with revulsion.
“I doubt it,” said Halfdan. “And even if you do...perhaps it is a good thing.”
“What?” said Caina. “How could it possibly be a good thing?”
“Because you have no talent for sorcery,” said Halfdan. “Even if you have part of that power trapped within you, you cannot use it. It's safe there. It will die with you...and it will not fall into the hands of someone like Andromache.”
“I hadn't considered that,” said Caina. “Now go get some sleep. Or I'll have Katerine chain you to your bed.”
Halfdan laughed. “Am I the circlemaster here, or not?”
But he went.
Caina stared at her book for a moment, thinking. She would never have a family, not as Ark did. But she could make sure that the children of others would be safe, that they nee
d not fear the chains of slavers or the spells of necromancers.
The Ghosts would make it so.
She would make it so.
Epilogue
Sicarion opened his eyes.
Dim light leaked through the cellar windows. He had spent the last few days hidden in this cellar below a tavern, recovering his strength. Even after all these centuries, he could still feel pain, but it no longer meant as much as it once did.
Still, having the Ghost blast off his right arm had been...unpleasant.
Remarkably so.
He grinned at the memory.
Oh, but she was worthy.
Footsteps thumped down the stairs, and Sicarion stood up. One of the tavern’s workers, a brawny man of twenty or so, came into the cellar.
Sicarion hobbled toward him, the stump of his right arm twitching.
The worker stopped, eyes wide. “Who are you? Are you one of the Istarish soldiers?” He grinned. “The Lord Governor put a bounty on your head.”
Sicarion shook his head. “I am not an Istarish soldier, my young friend.”
“Then what do you want?”
Sicarion smiled. “I was hoping you could lend me a hand.”
A short time later he walked out of the tavern, flexing his new fingers.
He would have to get out of Marsis, of course. But once he did, there was nothing left to do but wait. And he would not need to wait very long.
For the Moroaica would be reborn soon enough.
Smiling, he pulled up his hood and walked into the crowds, dreaming of the great days to come.
THE END
GHOST IN THE STONE Description
Caina Amalas is a Ghost nightfighter, an assassin and spy of the Emperor, and her cunning saved the city of Marsis from a brutal invasion.
Now she must keep the war from becoming worse.
The nobles of the Imperial city of Cyrioch plan to revolt, and assassins stalk the high lords of the Empire. Only Caina stand betweens the Empire and a ruinous civil war.
But Caina faces a far more dangerous enemy than mere assassins.
A enemy that whispers from the darkness of her own mind...
Chapter 1 - Assassins
Caina Amalas spotted the assassin.
She stood among the crowds filling the Praetorian Basilica and watched Lord Corbould Maraeus give his speech. The Basilica was a vast stone hall, its vaulted roof rising five hundred feet overhead, elaborate balconies lining the walls. Corbould, a lean man in his middle fifties, stood upon the dais, tall and imposing in his black armor. Nobles and magistrates sat near the dais, and master merchants and magi sat behind them. Commoners packed the balconies, looking down upon the nobles, merchants, and magi.
Caina stood with them, disguised as a common serving girl. She wore a gray dress and a leather boots, and a curved dagger rested in a sheath at her belt, since no sensible man or woman went about unarmed. Yet an additional pair of daggers waited in her boots, and she wore throwing knives strapped to her forearms, hidden beneath her sleeves.
Watching the assassin move through the crowds of commoners, Caina knew she would need the extra weapons.
"My lords and ladies!" said Lord Corbould Maraeus, his voice booming through the Basilica. A magus stood near the dais, discreetly using a spell to amplify the speech, and Corbould's voice thundered through the walls like the words of an angry god. "Brothers of the Magisterium! Masters of the collegia! Citizens of the Empire of Nighmar! I am Corbould, Lord of House Maraeus, and the Lord Governor of Marsis! I address you today, citizens of the Empire, to tell you that we have been betrayed. Treachery has been wielded against us, and our enemies move to strike us down!"
Corbould was more right than he knew.
Caina moved after the assassin, murmuring apologies as she pushed past the spectators.
The assassin looked like any other man. He had brown hair and brown eyes, and wore the simple clothing of a moderately successful shopkeeper. Yet the man was lean and fit for a shopkeeper, and moved with a quiet grace of a hunting cat.
Of a predator.
Caina knew an assassin of the Kindred when she saw one.
"Our Emperor," said Corbould, "extended the hand of friendship to the Padishah of Istarinmul. The Padishah sent his cousin, the emir Rezir Shahan of the Vale of Fallen Stars, as his ambassador."
For a moment Caina remembered Rezir Shahan lying on the floor of that burning warehouse, remembered the terror in his eyes as she killed him.
"I greeted Rezir Shahan as my guest!" shouted Corbould, making a fist. "And how did he repay the hospitality of our Emperor? With treachery and black betrayal! He smuggled soldiers into the city, attacked the innocent men and women of Marsis. He clapped women and children into chains, intending to sell free citizens of the Empire upon the block as slaves!"
A rumble of discontent went through the galleries, but not all the nobles and magi looked displeased. Slavery had been banned in most of the Empire for over a century, but not all the magi and the nobles thought this a good thing. Some of them wanted to restore slavery to the Empire.
The assassin reached the end of the balcony, spoke a few words to the black-armored Imperial Guard at the door, and vanished into the stairwell.
"To aid the treachery of the Istarish," said Corbould, "the Kyracians came, sailing into the harbor of Marsis and betraying our treaty of peace. Truly, the city would have fallen, if not for the valor of Legionaries, the determination of the free men of Marsis, and the heroism of the Champion of Marsis."
Caina strode for the stairs, and the Imperial Guard at the door lifted an armored hand.
"See, girl," he said. "Where are you going during the Lord Governor's address?"
Caina felt a stab of annoyance. The idiot Guard hadn't even bothered to question the assassin. But she kept the irritation from her face.
"I am sorry, sir," she said, in her most querulous voice, "but my time of the month is upon me, and I..."
The Guard jerked his head. "Go."
The stairs spiraled down to the floor of the Basilica, but she saw no trace of the Kindred assassin. Had he disappeared? No. He had gone up. If he had come to assassinate Lord Corbould, he would make his way to the triforium, the highest balcony in the Basilica. A skilled archer would have a clear shot from there.
Caina looked up, glimpsed a shadow moving above her. And without a trace of sound - the Kindred were skilled in stealth.
But so was Caina.
She glanced over her shoulder, but the Imperial Guard had already forgotten her.
Caina slid a dagger from her boot and hurried up the stairs, her feet making no sound against the steps. Her mind worked as she hurried, the dagger ready in her right hand. The triforium was an obvious vantage point for any assassin, and a guard must have been posted...
Caina heard a faint gurgle, followed by the distant clank of metal hitting stone.
Like an armored man falling against the stairs.
Caina moved as fast as she dared.
She reached the top of the stairs and saw that the door to the triforium stood open. An Imperial Guard lay before the door, the front of his cuirass wet and gleaming.
Blood pooled beneath his helmet, leaking from his slit throat.
Caina hissed a curse and eased onto the triforium. The narrow balcony was dark and gloomy, the railing lined with thick pillars. Light shone from the clerestory windows overhead, but little of the light reached the triforium.
The shadows offered dozens of hiding places for a skillful assassin.
And the Kindred were nothing if not skillful.
"We have retaken Marsis, destroyed the Istarish invaders, and driven the Kyracians back to their ships," said Corbould. "Yet they still threaten our Empire. The Kyracian warships ravage the seas, seizing our merchant ships. The Istarish emirs gather their hosts and march north to challenge our Legions, and if we do not stop them, they shall raise the banner of Istarinmul over Malarae itself!"
Caina slipped forward, gliding
from shadow to shadow. The shadows of a pillar would make an ideal place of concealment. But which one? There were dozens.
"I call on you," said Corbould, "to do your duty as citizens of the Empire! My fellow nobles! Serve diligently in your offices, and lend your wealth and support to your Emperor's Legions. Merchants of the collegia! Sell your goods honestly, and do not cheat the tax collectors. Free men of the Empire! Enlist in the Legion, and teach the cringing slaves of Istarinmul how free men of the Empire fight!"
A cheer went up from the crowds. For a dreadful instant Caina expected the assassin to use the cover of the cheers to mask his arrow. But nothing happened. The Kindred were methodical assassins, and always planned to escape with their lives. So where...
There.
The second set of stairs, at the other end of the triforium. The assassin would shoot Corbould and escape out the Basilica's rear entrances. By the time the chaos from Lord Corbould’s murder subsided, the Kindred assassin would be on the other side of the city.
The Ghosts Omnibus: The Kyracian War Page 33
