Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “What do you think, daughter?” said Halfdan.

  “I think it’s an act,” said Caina, voice soft. “I think she’s far more dangerous than she lets on.”

  “Agria?” said Ducas, dubious. “She’s not bright enough to act.”

  “Perhaps,” said Halfdan. “Come, Ducas. Introduce me to wealthy women in need of jewelry. Daughter, why don’t you go and mingle? Arlann, stay with her, in case she meets a rake like Ducas.”

  “Of course, Father,” said Caina. “Lady Agria has a lovely home. I should very much like to see more of it.”

  Halfdan smiled and followed Ducas across the marble floor.

  “And you want to see more of it,” said Ark, “so it will be all the easier to break in later?”

  “What a dreadful thing to say,” said Caina.

  She spent an hour exploring. The ball had begun in the great hall, but had spilled through the rest of the mansion. She walked through the halls, listening to snatches of conversation. More than a few guests approached her, lords and merchants and the sons of lords and merchants, ranging from a boy of fifteen to a lord who had to be at least eighty. Most were inebriated. Caina flirted with them as necessary, gently rebuffed some, had Ark scowl at a particularly obnoxious suitor until he took the hint and remembered urgent engagements elsewhere. Everyone agreed it was a dreadful business about these slave raids, but surely the Lord Governor and the Legions would take care of it. No one knew anything useful.

  “Fools, the lot of them,” growled Ark.

  “Aye,” said Caina. “But not foolish enough to buy slaves from Icaraeus.” She spotted a balcony at the end of the hall. Perhaps it would make a useful entrance for a later visit? “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

  The balcony had a fine view of the city and the gardens below. Caina put her hands on the cold stone balcony, took a deep breath, and realized that she was not alone.

  A man stood at the railing, glaring down at the garden. He was in his forties, and like Ducas, he wore the armor of a Legion tribune. Unlike Ducas, his armor had seen some hard use. There were scars on his face, ugly ones. His grim eyes turned towards Caina, and his hand twitched towards the hilt of his broadsword. A reflex action, she judged.

  “I am sorry, sir,” said Caina. “I did not realize you were here.”

  The man relaxed. “The error is mine. I forget that I am not on the battlefield, and that enemies do not lurk in every shadow.” That had a mocking edge too it. “Are you enjoying the party, my lady?”

  Caina looked at him again, and made a gamble. “In truth, no. I do not care for these revels. I find such debauchery…unpleasant.”

  “We are of like mind then,” said the man. “The Empire of old had sober, upright men and virtuous women. Now we are reduced to,” he waved a contemptuous hand at the mansion, “this.” He gave her a closer look. “You must be a…merchant’s daughter, I deem, come to Marsis to find a husband.”

  “I am,” said Caina.

  “A word of caution, then,” said the tribune. “You will not find a worthy husband here. And do not trust anything Lady Agria tells you.”

  “I don’t know,” said Caina. She gave him a bold smile. “You seem worthy enough.”

  He blinked at her, and burst out in rough laughter. “I am hardly a suitable husband for a wealthy woman. Nor do I have any desire to take a wife at this time. Though you flatter me.”

  Caina did a curtsy. “Anna Callenius, daughter of Master Basil Callenius of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers. This is my father’s hired man, Arlann of Caer Marist.”

  He bowed to her in turn. “Hiram Palaegus, tribune of the Ninth Cohort of the Twentieth Legion.”

  Caina blinked. “You’re Lady Agria’s brother?”

  “Brother-in-law,” said Hiram. “Lord Martin was my half-brother. I was a bastard, and my brother gave me the right to the Palaegus name, but no rights of inheritance, as he hoped to have a son one day. So when Martin died, along with his daughter, Agria became Lady of House Palaegus.”

  “My lord,” said Caina. “I am sorry to hear of your loss.”

  Hiram blinked. “It was five years ago. But Martin was a good man. Far too good for that…” He shook his head and looked at Ark. “You, fellow. You were in the Legions, were you not? I can always tell.”

  “Aye,” said Ark. “I was a centurion, and ran the Legion while the tribunes amused themselves at grand balls.”

  Again Hiram let out a burst of rough laughter. “Well put! But some advice. Keep your mistress away from Agria. She would not be a…good influence.”

  He turned and walked away, vanishing into the mansion.

  “Bitter,” said Ark.

  Caina shrugged. “It’s not surprising. He says he loved his brother and hated his sister-in-law. He can’t be happy with how things turned out. Or he’s simply bitter. It’s common enough, in highborn bastards.” She shook her head, thinking.

  “Mistress?”

  Caina looked up. A young woman in a maid’s dress approached. “Yes?”

  “Are you Anna, Master Basil’s daughter?”

  “I am.”

  “Lady Agria extends her compliments, and would like you to join her in the solar,” said the maid.

  “Of course,” said Caina. “Could you show me the way?”

  The maid led her through the marble maze of the mansion, with Caina taking careful note of the details. They went up a spiraling flight of steps, stopping at a door of dark wood. The maid knocked, and Lady Agria stepped out.

  “Ah, Anna, there you are,” said Agria. “I hope you could join me and a few friends for a quiet glass of wine, away from the party.”

  “Of course, my lady,” said Caina.

  She glanced at Ark just long enough to look dismissive. “Though your father’s man will have to wait outside, I’m afraid. One cannot have a decent chat with men hanging about, the brutish louts.”

  Ark looked at Caina.

  She touched his arm. “I’ll be fine. Wait for me at the bottom of the stairs.”

  Ark nodded and left, the maid following after him.

  “Come inside, my dear,” said Agria, taking her hand.

  She led Caina into the solar atop the tower. Pillars held up a domed ceiling, and the spaces between the pillars had been filled panes of glass mounted in intricate leaden frames. The room had a splendid view of the city, and the Black Angel Tower reared up in the distance. Two women in expensive clothes sat in a circle of chairs around a central table, drinking wine and talking to each other.

  None of that captured Caina’s attention, though.

  It was the fat white candles standing everywhere. It was the odd symbols and sigils, painted on every available flat surface. It was the fist-sized lump of misshapen crystal sitting atop the table. It was the odd, chemical scent in the air, something she remembered but could not quite place.

  “Not quite what you expected?” said Agria.

  Caina blinked. “It looks…very mystical,” she said at last. Actually, it looked like gibberish and stage props. She knew a fair bit about sorcery, and most of the symbols were nonsense, or so she thought. Though some of them were legitimate. “Like something the Magisterium would do.”

  “The Magisterium? A collection of foolish old men,” said Agria. “It is women who have the true power, women who have the true mystical strength.” She waved a hand. “Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Lady Messana Heliorus, a poor widow like me.”

  Lady Messana had black hair and brown eyes, and looked about the same age as Agria. Like Lady Agria, she wore a black mourning dress that was too tight and had been cut too low. Like Agria, she seemed to have that same look of overripe beauty. No doubt Ducas found her attractive.

  Caina gripped her skits. “My lady, an honor.”

  Heliorus had been in Icaraeus’s ledger.

  “My, my, Agria, what a lovely young lady,” said Lady Messana. “I’m sure we shall become fast friends.”

  “And this is Lady Vorena C
hlorus,” said Agria.

  Another name in Icaraeus’s ledger.

  Lady Vorena also wore a black mourning dress, though hers at least was of modest cut. She looked deep in thought, almost troubled. She gave Caina a distracted nod and returned to contemplating of her wine glass.

  “We are widows all,” said Agria, “and some of us have even lost children, the poor dears.”

  “We are better off without them,” said Messana, smiling. She patted Caina’s hand. “Take my advice, dear, and when you take a husband, find an apothecary who can sell you a decent abortifacient. Children are nothing but trouble. The whining, the complaints, the expense…and not to mention what it does to your figure.” She gave a delicate shudder. “Frankly, the illness that did away with my husband and son was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Scarlet rage flooded Caina. Long practice kept her face still and her voice calm. “I…don’t know for myself, my lady. I suppose I would like children. Though I expect my father shall pick some fat old lord for my husband.”

  Not that she would ever have a husband and children. Not her.

  Agria and her friends chorused with laughter.

  “Fat, indeed,” said Lady Vorena. “My husband was a man of high Nighmarian lineage, but a flabby old bore. I am better by far without him.”

  “Oh, dear, you have so much to learn,” said Agria, “and we are happy to teach you. Do you know why we meet in private?”

  Caina shook her head. “To…talk, I suppose, without men listening in.”

  “Of course,” said Agria, “and to practice the mystical arts.”

  Caina stopped herself from laughing, but only just. “You mean the arcane sciences? The brothers of the Magisterium have fearful powers.”

  “The magi?” said Agria. “What do they know? The arcane sciences, indeed. They have no real power.” Caina knew better. She had seen magi strike men dead with nothing more than a gesture. “No, no, sorcery is an art, not a science. And through that art we can bestow blessings.”

  “Blessings?” said Caina.

  “You can look younger,” said Lady Messana, twirling a finger through her hair. “I used to have gray hairs, though you would never know it to look at me now. Or, if you like, we can force a man to love you, to make his heart yours. He will become your very slave.”

  “We can smooth away wrinkles, make the years melt away,” said Agria. “Or, if you indeed want children, we can bless you so that you will bear many strong sons, and yet retain your beauty.”

  “That is…very remarkable,” said Caina. She did not bother to keep the doubt out of her voice.

  The things they described were possible through sorcery, but they required the bloodiest necromancy, arcane sciences that even the Magisterium banned. Her mother had desired to learn such sciences from Maglarion, and Caina doubted this circle of spiteful widows had the fortitude for murderous necromancy.

  But Agria reminded Caina of her mother.

  And Icaraeus was getting his sorcery from somewhere.

  Agria gave her a small smile. “You don’t believe us?”

  “I…I don’t know, my lady,” said Caina. “It seems so remarkable.”

  “Please. I am not some prating priest, asking you to take wonders upon faith,” said Agria. “Come. Sit, sit. Let me show you.”

  Caina sat between Messana and Vorena. Both women refilled their wine glasses from a carafe next to the crystal, and Agria filled a glass of her own. She passed it to Caina. “Here, drink, and we shall show you the true wonders of the mystic arts.”

  Caina lifted the glass to her lips and froze. All at once she recognized the odd chemical smell. It was a wild shrub that grew in the hills north of Marsis. Properly distilled and prepared, it could cause intense hallucinogenic visions. Agria had dosed the wine. No wonder she believed herself capable of sorcery.

  Caina waited until the other women drank, their eyes closed in pleasure, and quickly dumped her glass into the cushion of her chair.

  “Mmm,” said Agria, rolling her neck. Her pupils had opened very wide. “How is the wine?”

  “It…is very good. Very good,” said Caina, putting a slur into her voice.

  “Yes,” said Agria. “Now, look into the crystal, and you shall see wonders.”

  She lifted her hands theatrically, drew herself up, and began to chant. The language was mostly gibberish, with various Szaldic and High Nighmarian terms thrown into the mix. Caina listened with half an ear, her mind working. Agria seemed like a bored noblewoman with decadent tastes. She might have purchased slaves for the thrill of it, but it seemed unlikely that she could hide them.

  Then all at once Caina felt the surge.

  Ever since her mother’s betrayal, ever since the torments Maglarion had inflicted upon her, she could feel the presence of sorcery. It made her skin tingle and crawl, and always left her feeling half-nauseated. There was a flare of blue light around Agria’s fingers, and the crystal pulsed with the same light.

  Lady Agria Palaegus had just cast a spell.

  And Caina realized that the noblewoman had cast the spell at her. She was trying to look into Caina’s mind, and she felt the faint brush of Agria’s thoughts against her own. Anger was the only defense against an arcane attack upon the mind. Caina drew up her rage at Messana and Agria’s remarks, her hatred of sorcery, and the tingling sensation faded.

  Agria blinked a few times and looked at her.

  “Did you see anything, my lady?” said Caina. “I saw only a blue flash.”

  “You seem so angry, my dear,” said Agria, voice quiet.

  “It…I was thinking of my father,” lied Caina. “How he will force me to marry soon.”

  “Indeed,” said Agria. “I saw that in your future, I’m afraid.” She laid a sympathetic hand upon Caina’s shoulder. “But you must not be afraid. We will help you, won’t we? With our mystical powers, you will soon make your husband into your slave. Our arts can force him to love you, to make him pant and beg for your very touch.”

  “I…I would like that,” said Caina. “I would like that very much.”

  “You should go back to your father now,” said Agria. “Do expect another invitation from us soon.”

  “Of course,” said Messana Heliorus. “You seem like a young lady of quality, and we would like to get to know you better.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina.

  She rose, curtsied, and managed not to run from the room.

  ###

  “She has some power,” said Caina.

  They sat in Halfdan’s coach, exchanging what they had learned.

  Ducas gave her a dubious look. “Agria? Are you sure? How much wine did you drink?”

  “I know real sorcery when I see it,” said Caina, “and she tried to break into my mind.”

  “Agria?” repeated Ducas. “I can scare believe it. The woman is barely clever enough to read, let alone to cast a spell.”

  “The candles and the drugged wine were all a smokescreen,” said Caina, “trying to hide what she was really doing.”

  “Do you think she’s strong enough to create those bracers you saw on Icaraeus?” said Halfdan.

  “I don’t know,” said Caina.

  “And where would Agria have learned sorcery?” said Ducas, still struggling with the idea. “The Magisterium would have taken her years ago, if she had enough talent. Some foreign sorcerer?”

  “Maybe,” said Halfdan. “Regardless, the next step is clear. Tomorrow night someone will have to break into Lady Agria’s mansion and have a look around. Perhaps we can locate her slaves, and learn more about her arcane abilities.”

  “Someone?” said Ducas. “Her mansion is patrolled day and night, and her guards know their business. We’d need a nightfighter to break into the mansion, and we have no one of that skill.”

  Ark looked at Caina.

  Ducas blinked. “You?”

  Caina gave him a tight grin.

  ###

  That night Caina’s nightmar
es returned in full force. Cold-eyed women surrounded her, laughing, knives glittering in their hands. She saw Agria Palaegus and Messana Heliorus and Vorena Chlorus, all laughing, and they turned into her mother. Caina screamed and tried to ward off the blows, but the gleaming knives stabbed.

  The girl in the gray dress watched, eyes solemn.

  Chapter 7 - Night Hunting

  The night after Lady Agria’s ball, Caina dressed for work. She donned the steel-lined black jacket, the boots, the gloves, the belt of knives and other useful tools, the black mask, and the shadowed cloak.

  “I still think this is a bad idea,” said Ducas.

  They had gathered in Radast’s workshop. It was closer to Lady Agria’s mansion than Zorgi’s Inn. Halfdan, Ark, Ducas, and Jiri stood near the door. Radast sat at a table, scribbling numbers, oblivious to the discussion.

  “She knows what she’s doing,” said Halfdan.

  “Foolishness,” said Ducas. “Agria’s security is excellent, and her guardsmen have been well-trained. A master thief would have trouble getting in and out of there alive, much less some pampered merchant’s daughter.”

  Caina smiled behind the black mask and pulled up the cowl of the shadow-woven cloak. She crossed to a window, opened the steel shutters, and hooked a steel grapnel to the sill. A rope had been tied to the grapnel, and she let it fall to the alley below.

  Halfdan laughed. “A merchant’s daughter? You know better. Do you really think that I am a jewel merchant? Or that Anna came to Marsis to find a husband?”

  “Basil is right,” said Jiri. “When has he led us wrong, Ducas? If he says that Anna has a nightfighter’s skills, then she can get in and out of Agria’s mansion.”

  “If she’s caught, she’ll be tortured,” said Ducas. “She’ll spill everything, and that will lead back to me. I have hardly any career as it is. How long do you think I’ll last if people find out that I spy for the Ghosts?”

  “Nineteen hours,” said Radast, not looking up from his numbers.