Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  Halfdan knew how to tell a story.

  Caina made another sloppy drink of the beer and wandered down the bar, closer to Tigrane. Neither Tigrane nor any of his thugs were listening to Halfdan’s story, their attention focused on their own discussion. One of the men looked up as Caina drew closer, hand twitching towards his weapon. Caina pretended not to notice and leaned against the bar, watching Halfdan.

  She wanted to hear what Tigrane was saying. Had to get closer, though. But how?

  She took another drink, spilling most of it on the floor.

  “Another!” she bellowed, slapping a copper coin on the bar.

  The bartender’s eyes were still on Halfdan, but he nodded and shoved another mug in her direction. Caina picked it up, letting the motion spin her in a drunken spiral. She used the opportunity to take a good long look at Tigrane and his men.

  And at the open window in the wall behind them.

  “And then,” said Halfdan, gesturing with his mug, “and then the lady tells him that her horse has been in the stable all night!”

  There was a roar of laughter from Halfdan’s audience. Caina slammed her mug on the counter, beer sloshing over the rim.

  “Damn it,” she rasped. “He’s told that same story every day for the last two months. I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of him. Do you have a privy in this hole? I’ve got to take a piss.”

  The bartender jerked his head at the door. “The alley, out back. Piss on my floor and I’ll crack your head.”

  Caina stalked towards the door, scowling.

  “Your friend’s a sour one,” said the bartender.

  “Aye,” said Halfdan, “but he’s a stout one with a blade. Handy in a tight spot.”

  Caina stepped into the street and headed into the alley. Even without the bartender’s directions, her nose could have led her right to the privy hole, a simple shaft bored into the city’s sewer. Caina passed the hole, taking great care not to fall in, and looked up at the tavern wall.

  The window was a dozen feet above her, the faint sound of voices leaking into the night.

  Caina took a deep breath, regretted it, and scrambled up the crumbling brickwork. She yanked the dagger from her belt and jammed it into the rotted mortar below the windowsill. Boots braced against the wall, she hung below the window.

  She could hear every word Tigrane and his thugs spoke.

  “Too much of a risk, I say,” said a man’s voice.

  “You know what His Lordship always says,” came Tigrane’s voice. “No profit without risk.”

  “His Lordship’s not the one taking the risks on this raid,” said a third voice. “You know what the Legions do to slavers, when they capture them? Crucifixion. You ever seen it, Tigrane? Not a pretty way to go. Takes days. They don’t even have the breath to scream, at the end.”

  “Don’t be such a woman, Vardan,” said Tigrane. “Risk, you say? Well, there’s hardly any risk in this. We’ll snatch a few dozen women and children out a single tenement at the docks, and burn the place to ashes when we’re done. Those tenements are firetraps. The Legion will assume some fool kicked over a lantern and burned the building down while we walk away with the profits.”

  “After His Lordship takes his cut,” said the first voice.

  “Idiocy,” said Tigrane. “If not for His Lordship’s brain, where would we be? On pirate ships or brigand gangs. Or on the bottom of the sea, or rotting by the roadside…or nailed to a cross somewhere, eh, Vardan?”

  “Don’t joke about that, Tigrane.”

  Tigrane snorted with laughter. “And there’s always enough left for us after His Lordship takes his cut. Another four or five years and none of us will ever need to work again. His Lordship’s clients pay ridiculously well.”

  “I don’t know,” said another voice. “Too much of a risk. Better to take the money now and run.”

  “You’re a fool, Rhicon,” said Tigrane, voice hard. “You know how His Lordship feels about traitors. Run now and he will find you. Then you’ll wish you had been crucified. Because we’ve a quota to fill, and maybe we’ll just turn you over to His Lordship’s clients. To them, one slave is just as good as another.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” said Rhicon. “Who said anything about backing out? I’m loyal, Tigrane, you know it. Who stuck with you after that business at Hruzac, eh? When the Ghosts were on our tails?”

  Caina blinked. Hruzac. She knew that name.

  Ark’s long-vanished wife had come from the village of Hruzac.

  “Gods of the brine,” spat Tigrane. “Don’t talk to me about Hruzac. That was a damned mess. But enough of that. Are you in? Or are you out?”

  “I’m in,” said Rhicon.

  “So am I,” said Vardan.

  One by one the other men chimed in, adding their support to the venture.

  “Good,” said Tigrane. “Here’s the plan. The tenement on Dockyard Street. You know it?”

  Caina heard a rumble of assent.

  “It’s mostly apartments,” said Tigrane, “rented by dockworkers and their families. Well, most of the dockworkers in that tenement work the night shift. We hit the place at midnight, when they’re all working. We’ll only need to snatch up the children, the women, and the old men and women. Easy pickings.”

  “His Lordship’s clients must be mad,” grumbled Vardan. “Who in their right mind pays top price for children and women? Young lads with strong backs and virgin girls, that’s where the money is.”

  “I’ve met His Lordship’s clients,” said Tigrane, “and trust me, they are mad. All of them.” His voice dropped, so low Caina had trouble hearing it. “Especially the…chief one. The witch woman. Don’t repeat this, especially not to His Lordship, but she’s dangerous. I fear no man, and I feared no woman save for my dear dead mother, but this one...well, I wouldn’t cross her for all the gold in the Emperor’s palace. She’s cruel, and she’s got power…like the Magisterium, but worse. But…if she wants slaves of any age, and she’s paying good coin for them, who am I to care?”

  A roar of laughter came through the window. Halfdan must have finished another of his stories.

  “Blood witcheries and black sorcery,” said Vardan. “It’ll be the death of us, mark my words.”

  “It might be the death of the slaves,” said Tigrane, “but not of us.”

  Blood witcheries. What did that mean? Caina had a suspicion, and she did not like it. She remembered Agria’s talk of “blessings”, and shivered.

  Tigrane was talking. “We’ll gather here two nights hence. Make certain that you are here by midnight. Vardan, round up the necessary wagons. Seven or eight ought to do it. I’ll provide the collars and the bracers, as usual.” She heard the smirk in his voice. “Our clients’ sorcery might be black…but it does come in handy from time to time, eh?”

  “It does at that,” said Vardan. “Whips and chains erode resale value. Too much risk of scarring. The collars are much cleaner.”

  Caina wondered what that meant.

  “We’re agreed, then,” said Tigrane. “Midnight, at the Dead Fish Tavern. Two nights hence. Any man who’s late will lose his share of the profits.”

  There was a general rumble of assent.

  Caina listened for a while longer. The conversation split up into several smaller ones. Tigrane lamented to Vardan how it was impossible to get decent Caerish whiskey in Marsis. Rhicon began discussing some sort of card game with another man. Apparently, they had finished discussing business.

  She pulled her dagger free and dropped back into the alley just as a drunken man wobbled around the corner, fumbling with the front of his pants. His bloodshot eyes widened as he saw her.

  “Wha?” he managed. “What were you doing?”

  “The smell,” said Caina, nodding at the privy hole. “It’ll drive you right up the wall.”

  The drunkard gave the privy hole a suspicious look.

  Another gale of laughter greeted Caina as she opened the door. Halfdan had half the bar gathered around
him. Only Tigrane and his men remained in their corner, watching everything with cold eyes.

  “Enough talk!” bellowed Caina, staggering towards Halfdan. “Damn it, I’ve had enough watery beer. I want a woman, the cheaper the better.” She pointed at the bartender. “There a decent brothel near here?”

  “Down the street, four blocks,” said the bartender. “My old mate Severus owns it. Pretty young things he has, too. Assuming his bouncers don’t bear the tar out of you for that smart mouth.”

  “Well, you heard him,” said Caina to Halfdan. “Let’s go.”

  “It’s been a while since I had a woman,” said Halfdan. He finished off his mug and dropped some coins upon the counter. “I think I’ll go make some pretty young thing my lady love…for an hour or so.”

  “Come back any time,” said the bartender, scooping up the coins. He glared at Caina. “Don’t bring your friend.”

  Caina offered a rude gesture in response, and followed Halfdan and Ark into the darkened streets. Halfdan led them into a deserted alley, glanced around, and nodded.

  “You said we were to remain inconspicuous,” said Ark. “Telling jokes to a crowd of drunks, in front of our enemy’s men, is not the best way to do it.”

  Halfdan grimaced. “You may be right. But…they’ll only remember a drunken old caravan guard telling stories. Not spies.” He grinned at Caina. “And his sour friend, of course. I trust you found something interesting in the privy?”

  Caina took a deep breath. “Oh, yes.” She told them what she had overhead of Tigrane’s plan.

  “We have to stop them,” said Ark, voice fierce. “We cannot allow these…these dogs to snatch innocent women and children from the streets of Marsis.”

  “We won’t,” said Halfdan. “But this is our chance. Tigrane is leading the raid, you said?”

  “It sounded that way,” said Caina.

  “But not Icaraeus himself,” said Ark.

  “No,” said Halfdan. “But this is our chance to find where Icaraeus is hiding. If we capture Tigrane, we can get him to talk.”

  “Torture?” said Ark. He seemed eager at the prospect.

  “No, too unreliable,” said Halfdan. “We’ll use…other methods. He’ll talk until his lips bleed.”

  “Where will we get the men?” said Ark. “It sounds like Tigrane might take twenty or thirty men on this raid. We’ll need at least as many.”

  “Ducas’s cohort,” said Halfdan. He scratched his jaw. “He can’t take his troops into the city proper without warrant from the Lord Governor…but if he receives word of a slaver raid, he’ll have ample justification for taking action.”

  “Hiram would be willing to help, as well,” said Caina.

  Halfdan shook his head. “Ducas is a Ghost, and will do as I command. Hiram is not. Too much uncertainty. If we bring him the evidence he needs to bring down Lady Palaegus, I’m sure he’ll bear the Ghosts no grudge.”

  The mention of Agria stirred Caina’s mind. “There’s something else you should know. I think I figured out what Agria and her friends are doing with those slaves.”

  Both Halfdan and Ark looked at her.

  “She’s killing them,” said Caina, voice quiet. “Whenever I meet her, she keeps talking about how her mystic ‘blessings’ can smooth away wrinkles, can turn back age itself. That kind of transformation is possible…but only with black sorcery. Necromancy. The way Maglarion did it. She’s the necromancer Nicorus warned us about. She’s murdering the slaves and using their blood and flesh to fuel her spells. I’m certain of it.”

  “That is monstrous,” said Ark. “Dealing in slaves is bad enough, but this…”

  There was no conviction to his voice.

  “That explains how Agria and her friends purchased hundreds of slaves,” said Caina, “and why we haven’t seen a single trace of them. She probably has a mass grave somewhere under her mansion, or in Messana’s grounds.”

  Halfdan’s face grew grimmer. “Then Icaraeus has even more to answer for when we catch him. And it looks like Hiram gets to become Lord of House Palaegus after all.”

  “There’s something else, too,” said Caina. She looked at Ark. “You’re not going to like this.”

  He did his almost-smile. “I’ve been a Ghost for over five years. I’m used to bad news by now.”

  “Tigrane was at Hruzac,” said Caina. “He and another man named Rhicon. They mentioned it in passing.”

  Halfdan muttered a curse. Ark remained motionless. He did not even blink. Caina knew him well enough to be alarmed.

  “Did they say anything else?” said Ark, voice toneless.

  “Only that whatever happened at Hruzac was a mess, and that Tigrane didn’t want to talk about it,” said Caina. “I’m sorry.”

  Ark shook his head. “No. Don’t be.” His fist squeezed against the hilt of his broadsword. “I am…glad that the slave ship sank, I suppose. Yes. I am glad. At least my wife and son were spared…whatever it is that Lady Palaegus does to her slaves. At least they were spared that.”

  “We’ll bring them down, Ark,” said Halfdan. “Icaraeus and Agria Palaegus both.”

  “You had better,” said Ark. Caina saw the veins standing out on his temples. “Otherwise I’ll kill them myself. Both of them.”

  “Hiram will be disappointed,” said Caina.

  “Hiram can be damned,” said Ark. “I’ll give him Lady Palaegus’s head for an apology.” He fell silent, breath rasping through his nostrils.

  Caina hesitated, and touched his arm. Ark flinched, and Caina saw the anguish in his eyes. “We’ll find Icaraeus, and he’ll pay for what he’s done. One way or another. I promise you that, Ark.”

  Ark took a deep breath, collected himself, and gave a sharp nod. “We’d better get back to the Inn.”

  ###

  The next morning, Caina awoke, shaking off the final shreds of the strange nightmares that still plagued her. She went through her morning ritual of unarmed forms and a bath, and felt much better afterwards. In fact she felt a fierce eagerness. For years Icaraeus had been free to spread misery and sorrow.

  Tomorrow night, they might find the key to his defeat.

  Caina wrapped herself in a robe and went to the living room in search of breakfast. Ark sat at the table, sharpening his weapons.

  “This came for you,” said Ark, nodding at a sealed scroll on the table. “From a messenger in Palaegus livery.”

  Caina scowled, picked up the scroll, and broke the seal.

  “It’s an invitation,” said Caina. “Lady Agria is holding a dinner tonight for a few friends, and she would like me to join her.” She sighed and tossed the scroll aside.

  “Are you going to go?” said Ark.

  “I have to go,” said Caina. “If I don’t go, she might become suspicious. And if she becomes suspicious, she might flee the city before we can take her. Someone of her sorcerous abilities…if she flees, we’ll never catch her again.”

  “If she’s as powerful as you think,” said Ark, “it will be dangerous.”

  “Of course it will be dangerous,” said Caina. “I’ll just have to be on my guard.”

  She hoped that would be enough.

  Chapter 13 - Jadriga

  The coach rattled to a halt before Agria Palaegus’s mansion, and Caina tried to take a deep breath. Her blue gown felt too tight around the bodice and stomach, and she wished she had worn something else. But too late now.

  Caina stepped into the night, Ark waiting for her.

  “Are you ready for this?” said Caina.

  Ark gave a short, sharp nod, his eyes burning.

  “You sure?” said Caina. “You look like you want to kill someone.”

  Ark glanced at the mansion. “I do.”

  “Don’t let it show,” said Caina, voice low. “The whole point of this is to avoid suspicion. If Agria notices you, she might decide to look into your mind. That would be very bad for us.”

  Ark took a deep breath, nodded again, and closed his eyes. A moment
later his face settled into its usual grim mask. “Better?”

  “Much,” said Caina.

  “What if they try to look into your thoughts?” said Ark.

  “I'll be on my guard,” said Caina. “And Agria’s tried and failed before. I know what it feels like. Hopefully I can distract Agria, break her concentration, if she does try something.” Again Caina tried to take a deep breath and failed. Damned gown. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Agria’s footmen bowed and opened the doors for her. A liveried servant greeted her, and led her into the mansion’s cavernous hall. A single small table stood in the center, laden with rich foods and wine. Agria Palaegus, Messana Heliorus, and Vorena Chlorus sat around the table, laughing and talking.

  “My lady,” said the servant. “Anna Callenius, daughter of Basil, master of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers.”

  “Anna, dear,” said Agria, rising. She took both of Caina’s hands and kissed her cheek.

  It took every ounce of Caina’s self-control to keep smiling, now that she knew what Agria was, but she did it. She kissed the older woman on the cheek and stepped back. “It is…good to see you again, my lady. I fear I have not had the chance for a good talk with other women since my father brought me to Marsis.”

  “We’ll just have to take care of that, won’t we?” said Agria. She glanced at Ark and frowned. “My dear, I thought I invited just you, and you alone.”

  “But I did come alone,” said Caina. “Oh, you mean Arlann? Well, you don’t expect me to travel the streets alone at night? My father would never hear of it.”

  “Of course, of course. That was thoughtless of me,” said Agria. She waved a dismissive hand at Ark. “You may wait by the doors.”

  Ark bowed and retreated. Agria forgot about him at once. She looked…excited, somehow, almost anticipatory. She led Caina to the table, and they both sat down.

  “So nice that you could come,” said Messana.