Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “You look terrible,” said Jiri.

  “I probably do,” said Caina, finishing with one knife and starting on the next.

  “What happened?” said Jiri.

  “Radast was right,” muttered Caina. “All those vanished beggars. All those people afraid to let their children go outside. There is something wrong in Marsis. We just couldn’t see it.”

  “And you saw it?” said Jiri. “You found what is wrong?”

  “Yes,” said Caina. “I did.”

  The correct knock came at the warehouse door. Jiri hobbled over, crossbow in hand, and opened it. Halfdan, Ark, Ducas, Radast, and Hiram Palaegus entered, looking tired and grim.

  A surge of emotion went through Caina at the sight of Hiram, and she took a half-step towards him. Her uncle. He had always smiled at her, given her presents, and she had drawn pictures for him. She had never thought to see him again…

  It took a moment for Caina to realize that the emotions and memories were Lydia’s, and not her own.

  “Should he be here?” said Jiri, pointing the bow at Hiram.

  “He’s in as deep as we are,” said Ducas, voice morose. “When Lord Governor Corbould finds out that we moved our men into the city and didn’t capture Icaraeus…he’ll have our hides. If we’re lucky.”

  Hiram stared at Caina, blinking in surprise. “Anna Callenius? You, too, are a Ghost?”

  Caina nodded.

  “Gods of the Empire,” muttered Hiram. “Am I surrounded by spies?”

  Despite her exhaustion and fear, Caina smiled. “It would seem so.” She used her disguised voice, and Hiram flinched in recognition.

  Ducas snorted. “So you had an unmarried woman in your room, Hiram? Just like you not to do anything about it.”

  “Enough,” said Halfdan, crossing the room to stand by Caina. He poured himself a cup of wine, swallowed, and sighed. “At least you’re alive, thank the gods. Arlann told me that you took off after Icaraeus. Well, we haven’t found Icaraeus, but at least we’ve found you. What happened?”

  “I…” said Caina.

  She found herself staring at Ark. His face was grim, as always, his gray eyes cold and watchful. How would he react, she wondered?

  Lydia’s thought whispered inside her head. You love him.

  She did. He was her brother, joined by bonds of pain and battle if not by blood. And now she had to tell him that his wife had been held captive in a sunless pit for five years, that his son would die tonight upon a slab of black stone.

  “I…” repeated Caina.

  “Gods,” said Halfdan. “You look terrible. What happened to you?”

  “Ark,” said Caina. “I’m so sorry.”

  He blinked and managed a small smile. “But for what? I am pleased you are alive. And it seems I owe you my life, yet again. Icaraeus would have had my head if you had not stopped him.”

  “Your son’s name is Nicolai,” said Caina.

  Ark did reply, did not move, but his face went still. Like the instant of calm before a thunderstorm.

  “How do you know that?” said Ark. “I never told you his name.”

  “Ark,” said Caina. “There’s no simple way to say this, so I shall simply say it. Tanya and Nicolai are alive. The reason their ship never arrived in any of the slave ports is that the ship never left Marsis. There are tunnels and vaults underneath Black Angel Tower. I followed Icaraeus there, after he fled. That’s where he’s been keeping his slaves all these years. Tanya and Nicolai are down there.”

  “No,” said Ark. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “She thought you were dead,” said Caina. “Jadriga told her that you died in the attack.”

  Ark shook his head. “No. I looked everywhere for them. Everywhere. I’ve gone from one side of the Empire to the other.”

  “I saw them, Ark,” said Caina. “They’re still alive.”

  His voice began to shake. “And all this time, all this time, they’ve been here in Marsis?” His face remained calm, but the muscles in his jaw trembled like overstressed wire. “Right underneath my damned feet? All this time? All this time? Icaraeus has been hiding them here the entire time?”

  His sword appeared in his hand, and he stormed towards the door. Halfdan barked a command, and Ducas and Hiram seized Ark’s arms. Ark bellowed at them, and almost broke free, but Ducas and Hiram together were too strong.

  “Let me go,” snarled Ark, “let me go.”

  “You idiot,” said Ducas. “She hasn’t told you where your wife and son are. What are you going to do, run around the streets waving your sword and screaming at the sky? That will surely succeed.”

  Ark kept struggling.

  “Ark!” said Caina. She hurried over, grabbed his shoulders. “Ark, listen to me.” He stopped struggling and stared at her. His eyes were full of anguish, and she had never seen such a bleak expression on his face. It frightened her. “You can’t get them back by yourself. I swear to you that I will help you find them, that we’ll get them back, or we’ll die trying.”

  Ark nodded, his face compressing back into its usual cold mask. Ducas and Hiram let him go, and he rammed his sword back into its scabbard.

  “Then tell me where they are,” Ark said. “Tell me now.”

  “Yes,” said Halfdan. “I think you had better tell us everything.”

  So Caina did. She told them how she had chased Icaraeus, how she followed him into the darkness below Black Angel Tower. She described the endless rows of collared slaves, staring blankly as they sat in their own filth. The domed chamber, and the shadow-choked pit in its heart.

  Vorena plunging the knife into her son. Her voice caught a little on that one.

  The butchered slaves, and the streams of blood. Tanya, Nicolai, and Peter, imprisoned in comfort, like fattened calves awaiting the butcher’s block. Jadriga’s cruelty and power, and what she planned to do.

  She did not tell them about Lydia Palaegus.

  They stared at her in silence after she had finished.

  “That’s not possible,” said Ducas, his voice thick. “Sorcery on that scale. That can’t be possible. No brother of the Magisterium could accomplish such a feat.”

  Caina shook her head. “Jadriga has power greater anything the magi could work.”

  “Gods of the Empire,” said Hiram. “I’ve met that woman. I’ve spoken to her. I thought she was a fraud, a charlatan. And instead she’s this…this horror out of the ancient past. The Moroaica of the Szalds.” He shook his head. “Agria, damn her. I knew she murdered Martin and Lydia, I knew it. But I thought she used poison, or an assassin…but instead she butchered them with her own hands.”

  One of Lydia’s memories flashed through Caina’s mind, hard black stone, Agria’s voice droning in a chant, the piercing agony of cold steel plunging into warm flesh…

  “Jadriga must be stopped,” said Radast, scribbling into a notebook. “Sorcery of this magnitude…Anna is correct. Thousands will die, even if the spell is unsuccessful. And if hundreds of these fallen angels come out of the pit, the amount of harm they will do is…is…” His pen came to a ragged stop. “Is incalculable.”

  “I don’t see how we can possibly kill Jadriga,” said Ducas. “A woman…a creature like that, she’s probably crushed more enemies than anyone here will ever see. How can we possibly kill something like her? We would be fools to even try.”

  “But we must do something!” said Jiri. “At midnight, she’ll kill that boy and thousands of people will die.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Ark. “She has my wife and my son. I will get them back. Even if I must go alone.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” said Halfdan. “You won’t go alone.” He rubbed his chin. “So it seems that Jadriga was our real enemy all along. The Ghosts have been seeking Icaraeus for years, but Jadriga was always pulling the strings.” He shook his head. “No doubt he came to her for refuge, when he first fled Malarae. Now he’s her puppet, and I’ll bet he doesn’t even know it.”

 
“What fascinating speculation,” said Ducas, “but how does that help us kill her?”

  “You’re right,” said Halfdan. “I doubt we’ll be able to kill her.”

  Ducas scowled.

  “But it occurs to me,” said Halfdan, “that we might not have to.”

  “What do you mean?” said Ducas.

  “She needs Ark’s son to cast this Opening of the Way,” said Halfdan. “So, if we can snatch him away, there will be no spell.”

  “How are we going to do that?” said Caina. “Icaraeus and his surviving men are guarding the stairs. I don’t doubt that we can force our way past them, but as soon as we do, Jadriga will know. How will we survive that?”

  “We survive that,” said Halfdan, “by hurting Jadriga badly enough that she flees. Listen to me. The Ghost circlemasters have secrets, and Jadriga is not the only sorceress of great power that the Ghosts have ever faced. There’s maybe a few hundred like her in the world, ancient sorcerers that should have died a long, long time ago. In fact, I’ll wager that’s why she wants to free the fallen angels, so she can use their power to gain an advantage over an enemy that equals her strength. But underneath all her spells and arcane power, she’s still a living woman, and vulnerable to all the ills of and injuries of the flesh.”

  “Such as?” said Ducas.

  “Poison, for instance,” said Halfdan. He crossed to the wall and opened a crate. Inside lay a massive iron Strigosti trapbox. Halfdan produced a pair of keys, released the locks, and flipped open the lid. Carefully he reached inside and drew out a pair of clays vials.

  “What are those?” said Caina.

  “Poison,” said Halfdan. “The ingredients are expensive and incredibly rare, and the formula is known only to the Ghost circlemasters. Suffice it to say that if you coat a weapon with the poison, a single scratch will kill a healthy man within a few heartbeats. A sorceress as old and powerful as Jadriga will be well-protected from injury, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she can recover from even serious wounds in a matter of moments. But if we can get this poison into her blood, it will do her harm. Enough that we can snatch Nicolai and get away. Maybe even enough that we can kill her. But if we can force her to flee, that will be enough.”

  “Such a fine plan,” said Ducas. “How do we get close enough to get the poison into her?”

  “We don’t,” said Halfdan. He pointed at Radast. “We shoot her. Or, if we’re lucky enough to get close, we stab her. Anna’s cloak will guard her thoughts from Jadriga’s powers, and as you may have noticed, she knows a thing or two about stealth.”

  Hiram snorted. “I did notice.”

  Ducas raised his eyebrows. “Can you do it?”

  “I can,” said Caina. “I was close enough to cut her throat from behind, and she never noticed me. If I had tried, she would have killed me. But if I coat a dagger with that poison, and get close enough to use it…” Her hand clenched into a fist. “If I can get close enough, she won’t be able to stop me.”

  “It’s settled, then,” said Halfdan, putting the vials on the table. “Coat your weapons before we go. And for the love of the gods, don’t accidentally cut yourselves.”

  Caina nodded and reached for one of the vials.

  “Hiram, Ducas,” said Halfdan. “We’ll need your troops again. Icaraeus has more than enough men left to make a fight of it.”

  “I don’t know how many more men I can pull under my own authority,” said Ducas. “My Legate was getting suspicious, and so was the Lord Governor. Too much more and I’ll find myself in a world of trouble.”

  Caina laughed, despite herself. “And we’re not already?”

  “She’s right,” said Halfdan. “I hope you like to gamble, Ducas, because this is the biggest gamble of your life. Either we stop Jadriga and win, or we lose and thousands of people die. Look at it this way. If we stop Jadriga, you’ll be a hero. One of the men who captured the traitorous son of old Lord Haeron. And if we lose…well, your Legate and the Lord Governor will probably die anyway.”

  Ducas barked a short, tired laugh. “You almost cheer me.”

  “You shall have whatever men I can obtain,” said Hiram. “Agria, Jadriga, and Icaraeus murdered my brother and my niece. They must be brought to justice. My own rank and position mean nothing next to that.”

  “When do we attack?” said Ducas. “At nightfall?”

  Halfdan shook his head. “No. That will be too late. It’s well past noon already, and it will take at least a few hours for you to gather your troops. Jadriga’s going to cast the Opening of the Way by midnight, and the sooner we interrupt her, the better.”

  “All right,” said Ducas.

  “Gather as many men as you can find and meet us at the abandoned mansion,” said Halfdan. “It’s not that far from this secret entrance.”

  “It will be done,” said Hiram. He and Ducas turned towards the door.

  “Oh, and Hiram?” said Halfdan. “Congratulations.”

  Hiram stopped, frowning. “For what?”

  “On becoming the newest brother of the Ghosts,” said Halfdan.

  Hiram said nothing.

  “You see, I’m afraid you know too many of our secrets at this point,” said Halfdan. “You’ve seen our faces, and you know several of the disguises we use. So it’s really in everyone’s best interests if you decide to serve the Emperor as one of his Ghosts.”

  “And if I decide that it isn’t?” said Hiram, scowling.

  “Look at it this way,” said Caina. Another of Lydia’s memories touched her, and she knew just what words would persuade him. “You want to avenge what happened to your brother and niece. Well, things like that happen every day. But if you join the Ghosts, then you might have the chance to stop some of them.”

  Hiram nodded, his expression changing. “I suppose I already serve the Emperor as a solider. Why not as a spy, also?” He grinned. “Do I get one of those shadow-cloaks?”

  “Only when you reach nightfighter rank,” said Caina.

  “It’d be wasted on you,” said Ducas, clapping Hiram on the shoulder. “You couldn’t move quietly if your life depended upon it.”

  Hiram snorted. “Which will make me an effective spy, I suppose.”

  “You’d be surprised,” said Halfdan. “Stealth is all well and good, but sometimes the right man in the right place is worth a thousand pounds of gold. Or more. Get going, both of you. Hiram, I’ll give you the oath once this is all over.”

  Hiram and Ducas nodded and left.

  Caina sat for a while longer, finishing her work on the weapons, and added a coat of Halfdan’s rare poison to one of her steel daggers. She took the remainder of the vial and tucked it into one of her belt pouches. She thought about coating her ghostsilver dagger, but decided against it. She might run into more of the mercenaries equipped with steel-warding bracers, and she wanted to save every drop of the poison for Jadriga. Besides her Radast worked, coating several of his crossbow quarrels and daggers with the poison.

  After Caina had finished, she crossed the room to join Ark. He was sharpening his broadsword, perhaps to keep his hands busy. His face was set, and his eyes stared at a fixed point on the wall.

  “How are you?” said Caina.

  Ark scowled. “How do you think?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Caina. “I knew how much pain this would cause you. But you had to know.”

  “I know,” said Ark. He shook his head. “It…for years I wanted know what happened to Tanya and Nicolai. And now I know. I wondered if they were dead. I wondered if she had been sold into some Anshani emir’s harem.” His voice grew quieter. “I never thought to look in Marsis. Not even once.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” said Caina.

  Ark shook his head. “Of everything I thought had happened…I never thought Tanya and Nicolai would become captives of a mad sorceress.” He hesitated. “How…how are they?”

  “Physically well, at least,” said Caina. “Jadriga wants Nicolai healthy enough for the sacrifi
ce. And she needed Tanya to keep Nicolai well enough for the spell.” She shook her head. “And who better to care for a child than his mother? Otherwise…they’re a lot like you. Full of rage and pain. Jadriga told her that you had been killed, that no one would ever come for them. How Tanya fought off the despair enough to care for Nicolai, I’ll never know.”

  “She…was always strong,” said Ark. He took a deep breath and straightened up, some of the pain seeming to leave him. “But this is better. Now I know. And today things will be decided. Either I will rescue my family…or I will die. Halfdan was right. Either I shall win everything, or I shall perish.”