“There are too many possibilities for us to take decisive action,” said Theodosia. “I suggest we focus on keeping Corbould, Khosrau, and Armizid alive. Sooner or later the Kindred will make a mistake, and we can find their Haven and destroy them, or at least hurt them enough that they won’t go after the nobles again.”
Marzhod. “A good idea from an opera singer. Will wonders never cease?”
“What about Corvalis Aberon and the statues?” said Caina, hoping to forestall another argument.
“Decius Aberon is the First Magus,” said Theodosia, “and...”
“How remarkably well-informed you are,” said Marzhod.
“Are you better informed?” said Theodosia. “Do you know anything about Corvalis Aberon?”
Marzhod shrugged. “I have never heard the name Corvalis, no. But the First Magus has a number of bastard children. Most of them are magi, with reputations as dark as their father’s.”
“Corvalis wasn’t a magus,” said Caina. “He fought with sword and dagger, not with spells.”
“Yet you said that scarred assassin wanted him dead,” said Marzhod. The doubt in his voice was plain.
“Aye,” said Caina. “I think Sicarion was there for another reason. He was surprised to see Corvalis.”
Marzhod grunted. “So this Sicarion is turning people into statues?”
Caina would not put it past him or the Moroaica. Yet Sicarion was a necromancer, and Jadriga was dead.
Or she was dead and her spirit was trapped inside Caina’s head.
“I don’t know,” said Caina. “But I don’t see what advantage he would gain from it.”
“Was Corvalis hunting Sicarion?” said Marzhod.
“No,” said Caina. “He seemed just as surprised as Sicarion.”
“How delightful that you could arrange the reunion of two old friends,” said Marzhod. “But until I find proof otherwise, I’ll assume that Corvalis Aberon is behind the statues.”
Caina nodded. “I’m sure his ‘business’ is connected to it.”
“I suggest you focus on finding who hired the Kindred,” said Theodosia. “Meanwhile, we will try to keep Corbould, Khosrau, and Armizid alive.”
“Another opera?” said Marzhod. "Perhaps you can sing the assassins to death with the tedium of your voice."
"That would be convenient," said Theodosia, "but instead we are going to the Ring of Valor to watch gladiatorial matches. Lord Corbould brought the Grand Imperial Opera to Cyrioch in honor of Lord Khosrau. So to repay him, Lord Khosrau is holding gladiatorial games in Corbould’s honor."
"I didn't think you had the stomach for gladiators, dear Theodosia," said Marzhod.
Theodosia sniffed. "The vulgar tastes of those too crude to appreciate the splendors of opera are hardly my concern. But Lord Khosrau, in his graciousness, has invited the men and women of the Grand Imperial Opera to watch the games. And I am hardly so churlish to turn down the invitation of such a gracious lord."
Marzhod's dark eyes flicked to Caina. "Just don't faint at the sight of blood this time."
"I'll manage," said Caina.
"We will ensure that no harm comes to the lords," said Theodosia. "I trust you will keep yourself useful."
"My men will keep watch on known members of the Kindred," said Marzhod. " And as for the statues," he rubbed the dark stubble of his jaw, "I may have to hire...outside help."
"Outside help?" said Theodosia. "What do you mean?"
"An expert in sorcery," said Marzhod. "Someone to take a closer look at the statues."
"No members of the Magisterium," said Caina. "They cannot be trusted."
"Of course they cannot be trusted," said Marzhod. "Sorcerers are an unreliable and treacherous lot, and we'd be better off if we killed them all."
Caina felt her opinion of Marzhod improve.
"But I've never heard of sorcery that could turn a man to stone," said Marzhod. "So it's time to consult an expert." He grimaced. "Difficult as she may be."
"She's mad, that one," said Saddiq, his deep voice a rumble.
Marzhod scowled. "Do you know another renegade sorcerer available for hire? No? Until you find one, we have to turn to her." He stood. "If that is all, I do have work to do."
"Why, Marzhod," said Theodosia. "I was sure you were going to offer us something to drink."
"Don't be absurd," said Marzhod. "I'm trying to turn a profit, and spying for the Ghosts does not pay very well. I certainly cannot turn a profit by giving away wine for free."
Theodosia sniffed and got to her feet as Marzhod walked to the door. "Not that the vinegar you sell can be properly called wine."
Marzhod and Theodosia headed into the hallway, still bickering, while Caina followed. Saddiq fell in besides her, moving with silence remarkable in so large a man.
"I think," said Caina, voice low, "that they're going to kill each other."
Saddiq chuckled. "Perhaps. But Marzhod will not go against the Ghosts. He owes Halfdan too much."
"Why do you follow him?" said Caina as Theodosia and Marzhod started down the stairs to the common room. "He is cruel and owns slaves."
Saddiq shrugged. "Among the tribes of the desert, slavery is a way of life. It does not fill us with outrage as it does the Ghosts of the north, though a man who mistreats his slaves is as big as fool as a man who mistreats his horse, since he might find his horse unwilling to gallop when his foes close around him. But it may please you to know that Marzhod has freed many slaves."
"What?" said Caina.
"If a slave spies loyally for five years," said Saddiq, "then Marzhod will buy the slave and set him free. There are many such freedmen through the Cyrican provinces. They all spy for the Ghosts and do Marzhod's bidding, for they view him as a father."
"Why didn't he tell me this?" said Caina as they descended the stairs to the Painted Whore's common room.
"Because life has taught him that mercy is weakness," said Saddiq, "but his heart knows otherwise. Also, he thinks women are treacherous and fickle."
"Do you think that?" said Caina.
Saddiq grinned. "I have three wives, and they have taught me that women are just as treacherous and fickle as men."
Despite herself, Caina laughed.
The Painted Whore's common room was packed, the slaves hurrying back and forth as they brought food and wine to the sailors. A pair of musicians labored over a Caerish fiddle and an Istarish drum in the corner, filling the room with lively music. But the sailors still made way for Marzhod as he argued with Theodosia. A drunken man stumbled away from a bench, staggering as he fought to keep his balance.
Caina blinked.
It was the Kindred assassin from the Palace of Splendors, the man who had carried the tray of poisoned wine. Now he looked like a sailor, with rough trousers, bare feet, and loose shirt. But Caina saw the same cold glitter in his black eyes, despite the facade of drunkenness.
And she saw the knife in his right hand.
"Marzhod!" shouted Caina, but the noise of the crowd swallowed her words.
But the assassin saw her, and his eyes widened in recognition.
Caina seized the moment of hesitation and sprang at the assassin. He drew back his knife to stab, but she had the advantage. She rammed her shoulder into him, staggering the assassin. A cheer went up from the sailors, no doubt excited by the prospect of a fight.
Then the assassin got a better grip on his knife and Marzhod's Sarbian mercenaries detached themselves from the wall and headed into the crowd. Tavern brawls were one thing, but a killing was another. The assassin glanced back and forth, face twisted with rage. He looked at Caina, as if marking her for future vengeance.
Then he sprinted for the door.
"Stop him!" shouted Caina, but the Sarbians moved too slowly.
The assassin darted into the street and vanished.
"What the devil was that all about?" said Marzhod.
She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer to Theodosia, making sure they could not be
overhead over the crowd.
"That was a Kindred assassin," said Caina. "He was here to kill you."
Theodosia frowned, and Saddiq reached for his scimitar.
"You're sure?" said Theodosia.
Caina nodded. "The last time I saw him he was holding a tray of poisoned wine in the Palace of Splendors."
"Damn it," said Marzhod. "Damn it! If we had taken him alive, we could have gotten useful information out of him." He scowled at the door. "But why did he try to kill me? You're the one who tripped over him at the Gallery of the Well."
Caina took a deep breath. "Because," she said, "they figured out I was a Ghost. And they know you are the circlemaster of Cyrioch. So the best way to strike back against the Ghosts for stopping the assassination is to kill the circlemaster of Cyrioch."
Marzhod stared at her, blinking.
"Damn it," he said at last.
"Then it is well," said Saddiq, "that I just sharpened my scimitar."
Chapter 11 - The Renegade
Caina sat up, sweat pouring down her face. She looked around the darkened sitting room, expecting to see Maglarion standing in a corner, a bloody knife in his hand, or the Moroaica watching her with her deep eyes. Or the Istarish, carrying away a weeping Nicolai. But the sitting room was deserted and silent.
Just dreams.
How strange that the dreams frightened her so much when there was a good chance she might awaken to find a Kindred assassin standing over her bed.
Caina sat up, rubbing her face.
"You know, you make it damnably difficult to get a decent night's sleep."
Theodosia stood in the doorway to the bedroom, wrapped in a nightgown, dagger in her hand. Caina surged to her feet and looked around, expecting to see the Kindred storm through the door.
But there was only darkness and silence.
“What’s wrong?” said Caina.
“You are,” said Theodosia, tucking the dagger into the sash of her gown.
“Me?” said Caina.
“I heard you screaming,” said Theodosia. “I came out expecting to see you fighting assassins, but you were only having dreams. I should have known.” She shook her head. “Awake, you’re as cold as ice. It’s only when you sleep that you scream.”
“I’m sorry,” said Caina, raking her fingers through her sweaty hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Gods, but when was the last time she had slept the night?
It had been before the Istarish attack on Marsis, certainly.
“I’m sorry,” said Caina again.
“It’s not your fault,” said Theodosia. “You can hardly be blamed for having nightmares. What is it that Halfdan always says? That nightmares…”
“Are scars of the mind,” said Caina.
“And I would wager,” said Theodosia, “that you have quite a few scars.”
“Aye,” said Caina. She paced to the balcony doors, gazing at the dark shape of the Defender.
“You keep telling me,” said Theodosia, “that you’re fine, but you’re usually a better liar than that.”
“No,” said Caina. “No. I’m not fine.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Oh, my poor child,” said Theodosia. She crossed the room and hugged Caina, and Caina found herself blinking back tears. “It was something that happened in Marsis, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Caina. “I took Nicolai for a walk, Theodosia. He wanted to see the ships in the harbor, and I wanted to give Ark and Tanya some time alone. And then the Istarish came and took Nicolai.”
She let out a ragged breath and sat on the cot.
“Ark spent five years looking for Tanya and Nicolai,” said Caina, “and I lost his son in his hour.”
“But you got him back,” said Theodosia. “You found him and killed Rezir Shahan.”
“I was lucky,” said Caina. “So many people died that day. If I had been a second too slow, or if I had gone left instead of right, I would have been one of them. Then Nicolai would have been killed or enslaved…and I would have had to tell Ark what happened.” She closed her eyes, swallowed, her hands twitching. “The dread of it…I cannot forget it.”
“That’s not what’s really bothering you,” said Theodosia. “You saved Nicolai. You would not dream about Nicolai unless something else was bothering you, something that you haven’t fully realized yet.”
Caina nodded. “Something else happened in Marsis. I’ve only told Halfdan about it. No one else.”
Theodosia waited.
“Jadriga,” said Caina. “The sorceress I killed in Black Angel Tower. When she died, I think part of her power was trapped in me.”
Theodosia frowned. “You mean…her soul? Her soul is in your body?”
“Maybe,” said Caina. “At least a piece of it.”
“But you are obviously not possessed,” said Theodosia. “I know you quite well, my dear, and I doubt a power-mad sorceress could masquerade as you for so long.”
“I’m not possessed,” said Caina. “At least the Moroaica isn’t controlling me. But Sicarion thinks her spirit is dwelling in me. And she appears to me in dreams, over and over again.”
“Does she tell you to do things?” said Theodosia. “Give you commands?”
“No,” said Caina. “She gives me warnings. And they’re usually accurate, too. The first time Sicarion tried to capture me, she warned me it was about to happen.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to die again,” said Theodosia.
”Why not?” said Caina. “If she’s…trapped inside me, somehow, killing me would let her take another body. At least that’s what Sicarion thinks. But he could be lying. Or mistaken.” Her stomach clenched at the thought. “You know how much I hate sorcery. To have some of her power inside me…”
“Would indeed be a revolting thought,” said Theodosia. “But look on the bright side.”
Caina snorted. “There’s a bright side?”
“The power is harmless,” said Theodosia. “You can’t use it, and even if you could, you wouldn’t. And if the soul of this Jadriga is really inside you…then she can’t hurt anyone. So long as you’re still alive, she can’t escape.”
Caina blinked. “I…hadn’t thought of that.”
The notion hadn’t even occurred to her. If Jadriga’s spirit truly inhabited her body, Caina assumed that the Moroaica had some malevolent plan behind it. But what if Jadriga was simply trapped inside Caina’s body? So long as Caina lived, Jadriga could not escape to harm more people.
Though the Kindred might put an end to that, soon enough.
Caina remembered killing the assassin on the triforium of the Praetorian Basilica, remembered feeling his dying heartbeat shudder up the blade of her dagger.
“There’s something else, too,” said Theodosia.
“I’ve killed,” said Caina, “a lot of people.”
“You were defending yourself,” said Theodosia. “Or stopping them from doing worse things.”
“I know,” said Caina. “But there have been so many of them. I can’t even remember them all. That assassin in the common room of the Painted Whore? I might have killed more men than he has.”
“It bothers you,” said Theodosia.
“It used to,” said Caina. “But not as much as it used to. And that bothers me. I didn’t,” she shook her head, blinking fresh tears from her eyes, “I didn’t think…I didn’t think I would become what I am.” She sighed. “If you pointed out a man and told me that he was Kindred, I would kill him. I could kill him without hesitation, without guilt. That is what I have become, the sort of woman who can kill like that. There is so much blood on my hands.”
“And more blood would have been spilled if you hadn't killed those men,” said Theodosia. “Everyone in Malarae would have died, including my sons and I. Everyone in Rasadda would have burned.”
“I know,” said Caina. “That’s what I tell myself. But every time I close my eyes, Theodosia, I see someone dying. Every time I go to sleep, I have drea
ms, over and over again. And I’m so…so…”
“Tired,” said Theodosia.
“Yes,” said Caina. “Tired.”
“I suppose,” said Theodosia, “that this isn’t what you thought your life would be like.”
“I knew a Ghost nightfighter’s life would be hard,” said Caina.
“That’s not what I meant,” said Theodosia. “Before you joined the Ghosts, what did you think your life would be like? Before your father died?”
Caina managed a small laugh. “Nothing like this. I thought…well, I thought I would wed at eighteen, as most noblewomen do. I thought I would have children.” She scowled. “I swore I would be a better mother to them than my mother was to me. I thought I would have two or three children by now. Instead I am a killer without a family.” She bowed her head. "And I shall remain alone."
"I needn't be that way," said Theodosia.
"I don't see how it can be otherwise," said Caina. "I am a Ghost nightfighter. And even if I left the Ghosts, even if I left this life behind, I cannot wed. I cannot bear children, you know that. I want...I want a family. I want my father to have grandchildren." Her mouth twisted. "But he is gone, and I will never have children."
"Which is why you have so many nightmares about Nicolai and the slavers," said Theodosia.
Caina frowned. "Oh?"
"My dear child, I am but a simple opera singer," said Theodosia, "but do credit me with some insight. You reunited Ark with his family. A vicarious action for you, since you believe you will never have a family of your own. Then the Istarish stole Nicolai, and you feared losing your family all over again. By proxy, of course, though that would make the pain no less real."
Caina opened her mouth to argue...and found that she had no answer.
"You won't be a Ghost nightfighter forever," said Theodosia.
"No," said Caina, "I'll probably have a Kindred knife between my ribs first."
"Barring that," said Theodosia, "how old are you now? Twenty-one?" Caina nodded. "Do you still want to do this when you are thirty? Forty?"
The Ghosts Omnibus: The Kyracian War Page 43
