The Huntress did not move, but the blade snarled in her hand, and Kylon felt her nagataaru’s rage like heat from a furnace.
“What do you want?” said Kylon. “If you were here to attack, you wouldn’t have bothered with the talking. You’d have struck from the shadows.” A splinter of agonizing memory burned through him. “Just like at the Tower of Kardamnos.”
“Straight to the point?” said the Huntress. “How tedious your lovers must find you. Very well. I’ve come for Caina Amalas. I know she’s here.”
“No,” said Kylon. “You…”
“Kylon.”
He risked a glance to the side.
Caina walked from the ruined shop, holding something dark in her hands. Her face was a bloodless mask and her eyes were like chips of ice as she stared at the Huntress.
“Ah,” murmured the Huntress with satisfaction.
###
Caina stopped next to Kylon, the ghostsilver dagger in her right hand, the shadow-cloak draped over her left arm. Kylon stared at the Huntress, the valikon blazing with fury in his hands, the white light throwing his face into harsh relief. He looked angrier than she could ever recall.
She understood, because she was terrified.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like the boom of a drum, and her mouth had gone as dry as the Desert of Candles. It seemed she could think of nothing but that awful night in Rumarah, of Kalgri’s sword ripping into her flesh, of dying upon the floor as Kylon knelt next to her.
For a moment the fear threatened to overwhelm her.
Yet Caina was still alive. Kalgri had failed…and something was wrong here. The Red Huntress did not boast. The Red Huntress did not gloat and brag. The Red Huntress struck from the shadows and killed without mercy, discarding petty pleasures like gloating in favor of feasting upon the agony and death of her victims.
What was Kalgri doing?
The red mask turned towards her, the shadow-cloak streaming behind Kalgri. The child lay motionless in her left arm, too terrified even to move.
“Well,” said Kalgri. “The Balarigar herself.”
“Where?” said Caina.
“Where is what?” said Kalgri.
“The little girl,” said Caina. “Where did you find her?”
“She is of no importance,” said Kalgri. “A slave’s child, fleeing the city with her mother.” She turned her head a few degrees to the right. “You may come out now.”
The wrecked stall behind Kalgri shifted, and an Istarish slave woman in a gray dress crawled out on her knees, her wrists bound before her, her mouth gagged. Her black eyes were filled with desperate terror as she stared at her daughter in Kalgri’s grasp.
“Why?” said Caina.
“A way to make sure you behaved long enough to have a parley,” said Kalgri. “Kylon of House Kardamnos has already seen a child murdered in front of its mother. I’m sure he wouldn’t want that again. And poor, barren Caina Amalas will never have a child of her own, so she risks herself to save everyone else again and again. Would you like to see a child die? I can arrange that, if you like.”
She twitched the blade of force closer to the terrified girl’s face, and the slave woman screamed into her gag.
“You won’t kill that girl,” said Caina, keeping her voice cold and hard. Theodosia would have been proud of how Caina kept the fear from her tone.
“And just why not?” said Kalgri.
“Because that is the only thing keeping you alive right now,” said Caina. “Because if you kill that girl, Kylon is going to take the valikon and cut out your black heart, and you know what that valikon will do to you and your nagataaru. It wounded you at Silent Ash Temple. Would you care for a greater experience of it?”
Kalgri laughed. “How splendid.” Her right hand moved in a blur, removing her mask, and Caina flinched as a jolt of memory went through her.
The Huntress’s face had changed. When Caina had first met Kalgri, she had looked like an Istarish woman in her thirties. Now she looked Szaldic or Nighmarian, with blue eyes, a lean face, and thick blond hair. In fact, she looked a great deal like Caina.
Caina had forgotten that in the aftermath of Rumarah.
“Gods of storm and brine,” muttered Kylon. “She looks like…”
“Your blond sister,” said Morgant.
“The Voice has a sense of humor,” said Caina. “Gods. You even got shorter. You’re exactly my height.”
“Annoying, isn’t it?” said Kalgri. “I admit I do like the eyes. So cold and hard. Do you like her eyes, Kylon? Do you look into them as you take her? Or do you think of your dead wife as…”
To her own surprise, Caina laughed. She had endured similar japes from Morgant ever since she had met him. Kalgri had already stabbed her through the heart. After that, a few insults about her relationship with Kylon were feeble.
Kalgri seemed to realize her mistake, and for a moment purple fire and shadow flashed through her eyes.
“What do you want?” said Caina.
“The kingdoms of the world, and all the lives within them,” said Kalgri.
“You’re not getting them today, though,” said Caina. “If you don’t start running, you’re going to burn with the rest of us when Cassander finishes his spell. You ought to be with him, laughing as the city dies. Or running as fast as the Voice will carry you. But you’re here. You gave me back the shadow-cloak and ghostsilver dagger. Which means…”
The answer came to her.
“You want,” said Caina, “to help me.”
“I really don’t,” said Kalgri.
“I don’t want to talk to you, but here we are,” said Caina. “You know we’re going after Cassander. So that means…you and Cassander had a disagreement.”
“Alas, what can hide from your keen insight, mighty Balarigar?” said Kalgri. “I put on my prettiest dress and my shiniest jewelry, and Cassander didn’t even glance at me. So to salve my spurned heart, of course I came to you at once to kill him.”
“No,” said Caina. “All you care about is killing people.” Again that pulse of purple fire and shadow went through Kalgri’s eyes. She looked so much like Caina that it was unnerving. Caina hoped she never had that hungry, half-mad expression on her face. “You ought to be at Cassander’s side, watching the city burn. But you’re here instead, and that means…you think that by stopping Cassander, you’ll have the opportunity to kill even more people in the future.”
Kalgri smiled, her cold blue eyes glittering in the rift’s fiery light.
“The Apotheosis,” said Caina. “If Cassander destroys Istarinmul, he’ll kill all the wraithblood addicts and destroy all the wraithblood laboratories. If that happens, Callatas will never finish his Apotheosis.”
“It is such a pompous name, isn’t it?” said Kalgri. “The Apotheosis. The ascension of a new humanity to replace the old. Of course, that means killing the old humanity first.” She smiled. “I’m looking forward to that part.”
“But it won’t happen if Cassander burns Istarinmul,” said Caina. “So why don’t you go kill Cassander yourself? You could do it. You don’t need my help for…ah.” She laughed.
“Is something funny?” said Kalgri.
“You’re not sure you could beat Cassander,” said Caina. “So you’re going to get me to do it for you.” She blinked as a thought occurred to her. “Which is why you didn’t tell Cassander that I’m still alive. Just in case you needed to get rid of him.”
“You know better than that,” said Kalgri. “What is the point of having enemies if you cannot use them against each other? Cassander might kill you for me, and Callatas will just have to start over somewhere else. Or you might kill Cassander, and the Apotheosis will come to pass. Or perhaps you will kill each other, which would be splendid.”
“Fine,” said Caina. “You want to help. How?”
Kalgri smiled. “You’re going to the wrong place. The Umbarian embassy is empty. Clever of him, really. Cassander knew someone might try to stop
him. So he left a token guard at the embassy, enough to put up a convincing fight. By the time you break into the mansion and find it empty, it will be too late.”
“So where is he?” said Caina.
“At the fortified dock of the Brotherhood in the Cyrican harbor,” said Kalgri.
Caina frowned. “The Slavers’ Brotherhood wouldn’t consent to this. Not even…ah. He killed them all, didn’t he?”
“Every last one,” said Kalgri with a cheery smile. “I helped, of course. No one escaped, so the rest of the nobles and the merchants think the cowled masters locked themselves away to find a way out of their difficulties. Currently they are rotting in their dining hall. The smell has gotten quite unpleasant.”
“A good hiding place,” said Caina.
“If she’s telling the truth,” said Kylon.
“Poor befuddled Lord Kylon has a point,” said Kalgri. “I might be lying to send you all to your deaths.”
“Maybe,” said Caina, thinking hard. “But maybe not.”
Kalgri was capable of profound deception. She had masqueraded as a serving maid at the House of Agabyzus for months, following Caina and studying her every movement. Her game with the curved knives had taken just as long, pushing Caina to isolate herself until the moment came when the Huntress could strike. Both times Kalgri had nearly been successful. There was absolutely no reason to trust a single word that came out of Kalgri’s mouth.
And yet…
The Red Huntress was a brutal and merciless killer, yet she was not insane. A dark logic underlay all of her actions. She wanted to kill as many people as possible, and Caina noticed that she always took steps to guarantee her own survival. Those two goals took priority over everything else. There was no reason, no reason at all, the Huntress would not help Cassander burn Istarinmul. No amount of personal contempt for the man would keep Kalgri away from that much killing. So the only reason, the only possible reason, that Kalgri would betray Cassander was because she thought she could kill more people in the long run if she did.
Which, in turn, meant she was telling the truth.
“Fine,” said Caina. “I believe you.”
“I cannot tell you what an overwhelming comfort that is to me,” said Kalgri. She glanced at the weeping Istarish slave woman. “I may fall to my knees and sob like a pathetic child.”
“You do?” said Kylon.
“She wants to kill the world,” said Caina. “Why help Cassander kill a city when helping Callatas will kill the world?”
Kylon glared at the Huntress, but said nothing.
“You will find Cassander in the solar atop the central tower of the Brotherhood’s dock,” said Kalgri. “With him is a relic called the Throne of Corazain that…”
“Summons ifriti through the rift, I know,” said Caina. “We had a chat with an Umbarian magus.”
“Very good,” said Kalgri, “though you failed to learn where the Throne is hidden. When you confront Cassander, I expect he has made himself the locus of the summoning spell, so killing him should cause it to unravel.” She glanced at the rift spreading ever wider across the sky. “Or you can destroy the Throne of Corazain. Either the ghostsilver dagger or the valikon could do it, though the valikon would be quicker about it.” She shrugged with her right shoulder, the sword of the nagataaru twitching before the face of the child. “I have told you the truth. Choose what fate you will.”
“Leave the child and her mother,” said Caina. “Unharmed.”
Kalgri grinned. “And if I don’t?”
“Then to hell with Istarinmul and to hell with Cassander,” said Caina. “Kylon and I will hunt you down right here, right now. Do you think you can dismiss your sword and draw on the Voice’s power fast enough to get away if you harm that child?” She gestured at Kylon. “Especially since he has been ready to attack since the moment you appeared.”
Kalgri laughed. “Then Istarinmul will burn while you chase me in a futile quest for vengeance.”
“Oh, yes,” said Caina. “You and I will burn together. As I intended at Rumarah.”
She met the eyes of the Red Huntress for a long moment without blinking. Kalgri licked her lips, her tongue running over her teeth, but her cold blue eyes did not waver as purple fire and shadow pulsed behind them. She tilted her head to the side, as she did when listening to the counsels of the Voice, of the nagataaru that suffused her and granted her its terrible power.
“As you believe me, I believe you, Caina Amalas,” said Kalgri, stepping back. The Istarish woman let out a terrified little cry. “Don’t try to follow me. You do not have the time to waste chasing me. Cassander’s spell is very nearly done.”
“Fine,” said Caina. “Leave the child and her mother, unharmed, and go. We shall settle our differences later.”
Kalgri giggled again. “If you survive.” She rolled her shoulders. “Well, I…”
“Huntress.”
Kylon’s voice was hard and flat and sharp as the valikon’s blade.
“He speaks!” said Kalgri. “Caina, you should put a tighter leash on him. He might start thinking for himself.”
“This is not over,” said Kylon.
“Of course it isn’t,” said Kalgri. “If you survive, I will come for you both one day, and…”
“No,” said Kylon. “If we survive, I am going to kill you.”
Kalgri laughed. “To avenge your pregnant wife?”
“The only reason you are alive right now is because that girl and her mother deserve life more than you ever have,” said Kylon. “The only reason I’m not going to kill you the minute you put her down is because there are hundreds of thousands of people in this city who deserve life more than you do. But once this is done, once you come for us again, I am going to kill you. To avenge Thalastre and my child, yes. And to avenge all the people you have murdered and to protect all the people you will murder if you survive.”
Caina stared at him, at his hard face and his unshaking hands, and for an instant was so proud of him that her heart felt as it if would burst.
“You?” said Kalgri, and there was something like a serpent’s hiss in her voice. “You think you can take me, stormdancer? Do you know how often I have heard such words? How often men have boasted such things to me? I have left their corpses in my wake and feasted upon their deaths. I have slain lords and princes and Master Alchemists and great sorcerers. And you think to kill me? You? A wretched exile far from his home, a man who failed again and again, and you think to kill me? You could not save your sister from her own folly. You could not save your pregnant wife from me, and I laughed to see your face when she died. You have taken a barren termagant into your bed to replace her, and you could not even protect her from me. Only a fluke in the laws of sorcery saved her, not you.” Kalgri let out a hissing laugh, her eyes flickering with shadow and fire. “And you, Kylon of House Kardamnos, you think you can kill me?”
“Yes,” said Kylon, pointing the valikon at her.
“Foolish boy,” said Kalgri. “I killed men mightier than you before your grandfather was born. What makes you think you can kill me?”
“You think so, too,” said Kylon. “Else you would not have kidnapped a child to use as a shield.”
For a long moment Kalgri said nothing, the shadow-cloak stirring behind her in the hot wind. Caina wondered if she would attack, if she would kill the child and her mother in a fit of spite, of if she would fade away without saying anything. She looked so much like Caina that it was like looking into a distorted mirror. There was something of Claudia in Kalgri’s features as well, but…
Caina blinked.
Kalgri was Caina’s height. She was Caina’s exact height.
And a plan blazed like lightning through Caina’s mind.
“Kalgri,” said Caina. “If you really want me to kill Cassander, there is one thing I need from you.”
“Oh?” said Kalgri. “Do amuse me.”
“I need,” said Caina with a hard, mirthless smile, “to borrow some cloth
es.”
Kalgri blinked, and then a malicious smile spread over her face as comprehension came.
Caina hoped she didn’t look like that when she smiled.
Chapter 23: A Commission
Kylon cut the slave woman’s bonds and helped her to stand. The valikon’s blade was dim, the white fire fading from the sigils.
The Huntress had indeed departed after handing over the item Caina had requested…or she had simply donned the shadow-cloak and watched them unseen. Though Kylon suspected the former. Istarinmul was about to burn, and the Red Huntress would flee to escape the firestorm.
The slave woman let out a little cry and snatched up her daughter, who started to wail as she clung to her mother. The story tumbled out of her in a rush. The woman’s name was Kirzi, and she was a kitchen slave in the household of some merchant or another. The circle of golden light had ripped through her master’s palace, and she and her daughter barely escaped with their lives as the palace collapsed around them, hoping to join her husband where he toiled in their master’s forges.
Then the demon-woman had found them and brought them here.
Somehow, Caina realized that Kirzi had helped several slaves deliver their own children, and she sent Kirzi to help Annarah. The news that a woman was giving birth seemed to steady Kirzi, and she pulled herself together, taking her daughter along, and vanished into the shop.
Maybe Caina’s old teacher had been right, and work was the best cure for sorrow.
“Lord Martin,” said Caina in a quiet voice. “I need to ask something of you.”
Martin nodded, his emotions a mix of fear for his wife, rage at Cassander, and a grim, steely determination to do his duty. “You want me to take the Guards to attack the Umbarian embassy while you go to the Brotherhood’s dock.”
“Yes,” said Caina. “I think Kalgri was telling the truth…but she has fooled me before, more than once. It could all have been a twisted game upon her part. We might get to the dock and find it empty. Or an Umbarian trap waiting for us. But you are right here. The Umbarian mansion is no more than a few blocks away, and there aren’t any cataphracti in the way. We can look in both places at once.”
Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) Page 33
