"My lord Macrinius," said Theodosia.
Macrinius rose to his feet, smiling. "You came yourself?"
"Of course," said Theodosia. "How could I ignore a message from so noble a lord? And your letter was so...fervent."
"How could it not be?" said Macrinius. "Your performance was magnificent. Splendid beyond words. I simply cannot describe it."
Theodosia laughed and did a polite little curtsy, one that gave Macrinius a look down the front of her costume.
Macrinius started to sweat some more.
"My lord is too kind," said Theodosia.
"I hope you will not think me too forward," said Macrinius, "but would you care to accompany me to my townhouse for some...refreshment? That performance, that magnificent performance, must have been most draining."
"Oh, it was, my lord, it was," said Theodosia. "I shall be most happy to tell you about it, in private."
Macrinius took her hand. "My coach awaits us, my dear." His voice was almost a purr.
"Oh, but let me change first," said Theodosia. "And let me take two of my servants. The girl," she fluttered a hand at Caina, "and my footman."
Macrinius frowned.
Theodosia laughed. "I may not be a lady, my lord, but surely you cannot expect a woman to travel without her servants?"
Macrinius blinked. "Well...that seems reasonable. Do not take too long, my dear."
"I shouldn't dream of it," said Theodosia, beckoning to Caina. "Come along, Marina. I want to change clothes, and quickly."
"Yes, madam," said Caina, following Theodosia from Lord Macrinius's box.
Riogan leaned against the wall outside the box, clad in the livery of a footman.
"It's time?" said Riogan, falling in step alongside Caina.
She nodded.
A cold smile spread over Riogan's face.
###
So Caina and Riogan hung on the outside of Macrinius's elaborate coach as it rattled through Malarae's streets. The coach rolled through Macrinius's gates, past well-armed and vigilant guards, and stopped at the foot of Macrinius's ornate mansion, its walls studded with reliefs and statuary.
Theodosia let Macrinius guide her from the coach and into the mansion's opulent entrance hall, Caina and Riogan trailing after them, along with Macrinius's own servants and bodyguards.
"Such a large house you have, my lord," said Theodosia, looking around with wide eyes.
"Why, this modest little hovel?" said Macrinius with a disparaging gesture. Caina took Theodosia's cloak, folded it over her arm. "It is nothing. Merely a place to sleep when I have business in the Imperial capital. You should see my villa in Cyrica. In summer, when the crops are ripe, and the fields are like seas of gold. Ah, now that is a magnificent sight." He smiled, took her hand, and kissed it. "Though not so much as you, my dear."
Theodosia gave a little laugh. "You flatter me, my lord."
"Why, it hardly counts as flattery if it's the truth," said Macrinius.
Theodosia kept smiling as Macrinius led them through the mansion, pointing out statues and armor and various historical relics from House Macrinius's history. Soon Lord Macrinius had one arm around Theodosia's shoulder, and she leaned against him, laughing at his jokes.
Finally they reached Macrinius's bedroom.
"Leave us," said Macrinius, looking at his bodyguards. "All of you. Now."
The bodyguards bowed and escorted Caina and Macrinius down the stairs, to a small room near the kitchens. The room had some cots, and a small fireplace, but was otherwise bare.
"You two will stay here tonight," said one of the bodyguards. "His lordship will probably be finished with your mistress by tomorrow morning. One of us will come for you then. Don't leave, and don't wander about the mansion. We catch you outside this room, you'll get a beating. If you're lucky."
"Yes, sir," mumbled Riogan, not meeting the man's eyes. "You won't have any trouble from us, sir."
"See that we don't," said the bodyguard.
He left, locking the door behind him.
Caina's lip twitched in amusement.
"Now?" she said.
"Not yet," said Riogan. "They'll check on us at least once. Count to a thousand."
Caina nodded and started counting in her head.
She had gotten to six hundred and ninety-four when she heard the rasp of a footstep outside the door. "Do you think his lordship will marry our mistress?" said Caina in her thick Caerish accent. "That would be ever so grand, aye? Our mistress would become a lady, and wear silks and jewels and furs, and we would get to live in this fine house..."
"Shut your yap, girl," said Riogan in the same accent, "and let me get some sleep, or you'll feel the back of my hand."
The footsteps faded away.
"I have to say," murmured Riogan in his usual cold voice, "you are the most annoying serving girl I have ever met."
"Thank you," said Caina. "Shall we get on with it?"
Riogan nodded.
Caina climbed to her feet and stripped off her serving maid's dress. Beneath she wore loose-fitting black pants, a long sleeved black shirt, and black boots. A belt around her waist held throwing knives, a coil of rope, a collapsible grapnel, and a few other useful tools. From her belt she drew out a black mask, tugged it over her face, and a pair of black leather gloves. Riogan tossed aside his servant's livery, revealing similar clothing.
"This way," said Riogan, crossing to the window. He raised a dagger, lifted the latch on the shutters, and pushed them open. He had prowled around Macrinius's mansion last night, scouting out the grounds and the buildings, and knew where the slaves were held.
Or so he claimed.
Riogan jumped out the window, and Caina followed. It was a short drop to the ground, only seven or eight feet, and Caina landed besides him, her legs buckling to absorb the force of the fall. Riogan led her around the mansion's bulk, their boots making no sound against the earth. From time to time a patrolling guard came into sight, and they ducked into concealment until the guard passed.
Then they came to the cellar doors.
Gardens ringed Macrinius's mansion, dotted with bushes and trees and statues and small bubbling fountains. In the middle of a garden lay a pair of doors, no doubt leading down to a cellar. Nobles often built such cellars on their grounds to keep wine and cheese and meat cool in the heat of summer.
But to judge from the two guards keeping watch over the doors, Lord Macrinius stored something other than cheese in his cellar.
Slaves, most likely.
Caina crouched behind a bush, Riogan waiting besides her. The guards stood talking with each other, making no effort to keep watch on their surroundings. Obviously, they did not expect trouble.
Riogan watched them for a moment longer. Then he gestured, pointing at the man on the left, and made a slashing motion with his other hand.
Caina understood.
Riogan circled around the cellar doors, moving like a shadow. Caina did the same, keeping herself behind the guards. She remembered training with Halfdan at the Vineyard, remembered creeping up to touch the other Ghosts on the shoulder before they noticed her presence. It was just like that.
Except Macrinius's guards noticed her, they would kill her.
Best not to think about that.
Caina stopped behind the guard, drawing a dagger from her boot.
In one smooth motion she straightened up, clamped one hand over the guard's mouth, and ripped the dagger across his throat. Blood spurted across her gloved fingers. He screamed into her hand, but she sawed the blade back and forth, and soon he choked on his own blood. Caina eased him to the ground, so his fall would not make any undue noise.
She shivered. She had killed before. The thugs at the tavern in Kaunauth. The Kindred assassin in the street. Her mother. But never before had she killed in cold blood.
S
he didn't like the feeling, not at all.
But she could worry about it later.
She heard a faint thump as Riogan levered his own guard to the ground. He rummaged through the dead man's belt for a moment, then pulled free a long iron key. A moment later he undid the lock on the cellar doors. The door swung upward to reveal a dark staircase descending into the earth.
Torchlight glimmered in the depths.
"Pull the corpses onto the stairs," murmured Riogan into her ear. "Less chance someone will stumble across them."
Caina nodded, dragged her dead guard onto the stairs as Riogan did the same. Then Riogan closed the cellar doors behind them, and they descended, boots making no sound against the cold stone. The stairs ended in a gloomy, vaulted cellar, similar to the place where Maglarion had held Caina captive years ago. Half the chamber had been cordoned off with iron bars, and behind those bars huddled fifty or sixty naked women and children.
The slaves. Kidnapped from their homes, no doubt.
Suddenly Caina did not feel so bad about killing the guard.
Five of Macrinius's men kept watch. Three sat at a wooden table, laughing and playing cards by the light of a lantern. A fourth man leaned against a pillar, watching the game, and a fifth walked back and forth before the iron bars.
The three men playing cards drank from a barrel of wine sitting against one pillar, from time to time filling their clay cups with it.
Riogan caught Caina's eye, gestured at the barrel. She nodded and crept towards it, taking care to remain silent. The thick pillars holding up the roof provided plenty of cover, along with the tangled black shadows thrown by the lanterns. Step by step she drew closer to the barrel.
At last she reached it, and her hand dipped into her belt, drawing out a small pouch. It held another of the powders that Komnene had taught her to make. Caina opened the pouch and dumped the entire contents into the barrel.
Then she settled against a pillar to wait.
The men kept playing cards, laughing and drinking, and soon refilled their cups. Yawns replaced laughter, and their speech grew slurred and slow. Then one man fell face-first onto the table, wine spilling across the floor.
The man pacing before the iron bars turned. "What's this? Bad enough you're drinking on watch. Now you're sleeping?"
"Marl," said one of the seated guards, his eyes heavy. "I think...I think there's something wrong with the wine..."
Then he, too, passed out.
Marl scowled, and the man leaning against the pillar straightened up. "Bah! They drank themselves senseless. Lord Macrinius will have our..."
Then Riogan exploded out of the darkness, a dagger in either hand, and killed the man against the pillar in a single smooth motion. But Marl leapt forward and drew his sword, his blade flying for Riogan's head. Riogan backed away, dodging and blocking with his daggers, but Marl kept at him, face grim and focused.
Until Caina's throwing knife landed in Marl's thigh. He staggered a step, and that was all the opening Riogan needed. One blade plunged into Marl's throat, another into his chest, and he went down.
The slaves began to shout, some of the children crying.
"Good throw," said Riogan.
"Thanks," said Caina, wrenching her knife free from Marl's calf.
"Calm the slaves down," he said, crossing to the table. "I'll find the keys."
Caina crossed to the iron bars, and the slaves drew back in fear. She couldn't blame them. They looked half-starved.
Not surprising, given what Maglarion probably had planned for them.
"We are here to rescue you!" she said, speaking Caerish in her disguised voice. "The Emperor will not let his people suffer, and Lord Macrinius shall answer for his crimes. Those of you who have children, make certain they are ready to travel. Help those too weak to stand!"
"But..." began one of the women, clutching a boy of seven or eight.
"Do as I command!" roared Caina, and the slaves complied.
She turned just in time to see Riogan finish cutting the unconscious guards' throats.
"Why did you kill them?" she murmured, keeping her voice low. "There was no reason for it."
The mask concealed his face, but she imagined his lip curling in contempt. "Because there was no reason not to. You don't leave live enemies behind you, girl. You've learned to kill, but you're still too soft for this." He gestured at the slaves. "Besides, are you going to argue that they didn't deserve to die?"
Caina had no answer for that.
Riogan helped himself to Marl's sword and handed her a ring of iron keys. "This is going to be the hardest part. Get the slaves moving."
Caina unlocked the iron door and stepped into the cage. The slaves had been chained to metal rings set in the wall, and she moved down the line, unlocking them as quickly as she could.
"Get on your feet and start moving," she told the slaves. "And keep quiet! Your lives depend on it."
They obeyed, for the most part, though the children kept whimpering.
Riogan pushed open the doors, and they hurried across Macrinius's gardens, making a straight line for the gate. Four men still stood guard at the gate. There had been no clever way to neutralize the gate guards, no way to sneak past them or avoid them.
They were going to have to fight their way out.
Like Riogan had said, the hardest part.
"Stay together," said Caina. "Anyone who runs off on their own is going to die."
The guards turned, eyes widening as they noticed the mob of escaping slaves, and reached for their weapons.
Riogan moved first.
He sprang forward with a bloodcurdling yell, sword in both hands, and struck. The blade crunched into an astonished guard's neck, blood welling over the gleaming steel. But by then the other men had their swords out, and they came at Riogan in a rush.
Caina was ready for them.
Her throwing knife lashed out, struck a guard's armored chest, bounced away. But the blow distracted the man long enough for Caina to jump onto his back and rip her dagger across his throat. But then another guard was on her. She managed to kick free of the dying man in time to avoid the first sword blow, but the pommel caught her on the temple, and she fell hard to the ground. The guard's sword plunged down, and she managed to roll aside. Behind them, she saw Riogan locked in a furious duel with the final guard. He couldn't help her.
And Caina had to face her guard in a fair fight.
Not good.
So she would make the fight a little less fair.
Her hand dipped into one of the pouches at her belt, drawing out a handful of black powder, and she flung it into the guard's face. Luck was with her, and some of the powder connected with the guard's eyes, and the man screamed in sudden agony.
She darted close, her dagger ending to his pain.
Another scream, and Riogan finished his guard.
"Move!" he growled, gesturing at the slaves with the bloody sword. "Move, damn you, move!"
He pushed open the gates, and the slaves streamed through them.
###
A short walk took them to a watchtower of the Civic Militia. The Militia, Malarae's police and garrison force, had fortified watchtowers scattered throughout the city. And Theodosia had said that Ghosts took care to keep friends among the Militia's officers.
Riogan banged on the tower's door until it swung open. A man in the red surcoat and chain mail of the Civic Militia stepped out, a plumed helmet on his head and a baton of office in his hand. A centurion, then.
And unless Caina missed her guess, the centurion was Tomard, Theodosia's eldest son.
She hid a smile behind her mask.
Theodosia did enjoy pulling strings. Certainly, Tomard did not seem surprised, or even fazed, by fifty naked slaves turning up at his doorstep.
"Aye, then?" Tomard said in Caerish. "What's all
this?"
"These slaves escaped at great peril of their lives from the cellars of Lord Macrinius," said Riogan, handing over the ledger that Otton had given them. "I suggest you move at once to seize any evidence before Lord Macrinius destroys it."
Tomard took the ledger, paged through it.
"Mother, Mother," he muttered to himself, "you do have a flair for the dramatic, don't you?" He looked at Riogan. "If you're who I think you are, you'd better disappear, now." He turned and bellowed into the watchtower. "Men! You, you, you! Get blankets and food for these fellows! The rest of you, with me! We get to arrest a lord tonight!"
Riogan and Caina vanished into the night.
###
The Civic Militia arrested Lord Macrinius, despite the furious protests of Lord Haeron Icaraeus and a half-dozen other Restorationist lords, but the evidence was overwhelming. Nearly fifty eyewitnesses, describing their illegal imprisonment in Macrinius's cellar. The ledger the Civic Militia had found with the slaves. And a host of other documents taken from his mansion, proving beyond a doubt that he had been engaged with Istarish slavers, kidnapping Imperial citizens and selling them as slaves.
Lord Haeron and the others withdrew their protests, leaving Macrinius to his fate.
The Emperor himself pronounced Macrinius's sentence, and a few weeks later, Caina stood in the crowd and watched the executioner behead Macrinius in the Grand Market below the Imperial Citadel.
###
"I am disappointed," said Theodosia a few days later, examining herself in the mirror. The rumors that she had been involved in the Lord Macrinius's ignoble downfall had only enhanced her reputation. The Grand Imperial Opera had been full to bursting the past few nights
"Why?" said Caina.
"We got Macrinius," said Theodosia, "but no evidence on Lord Haeron. The man is too clever."
"At least we did get Macrinius," said Caina.
Theodosia glanced at Caina. "And yet that troubles you. What is it?"
Caina hesitated. "You slept with him."
"I did," said Theodosia. She smiled. "And I must say, for a scoundrel and a murderer he was quite a skillful lover. Pity he was involved in slave-trading." She adjusted her hair. "That troubles you, I take it?"
Caina nodded.
"My dear," said Theodosia, "we have spent the last several months arranging Lord Macrinius's death. If I had sent you into the night with a dagger and a vial of poison to see him dead, you would have done it, no?"
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