He felt the man's life force drain into the great bloodcrystal, and shivered in pleasure.
But there was still enough lingering power for him to take the slave's blood and shape it into a lesser bloodcrystal, one no bigger than his thumb. He crossed the cellar once more, laid his free hand on Haeron's forehead, and drained the lesser bloodcrystal, releasing its stolen life force to into Haeron.
Haeron shuddered, his eyes going wide. He looked a few years younger when Maglarion finished, his face smoother, his hair thicker than it had been.
"I think," said Maglarion, "that it is time I moved."
"Oh?" said Haeron, his voice slurred. "Where?"
"The great tower in your mansion," said Maglarion. "The chamber at the top." He gestured at the massive bloodcrystal. "I wish my primary bloodcrystal moved there at once."
Lord Haeron, still drunk on the infusion of fresh life force, did not argue.
###
"If you are not going to kill him," said Ikhana, "then you should let me kill him."
Maglarion and Ikhana stood in the round chamber atop the great tower of Lord Haeron's mansion, five hundred feet above the ground. The high, narrow windows had a magnificent view of Malarae, even of the Imperial Citadel on its mountain spur.
But the view was unimportant. House Icaraeus's ancestral mansion lay close to Malarae's heart. From here, the bloodcrystal's life-draining aura covered the entire city. Even now he felt fresh death feeding into it, increasing its power.
Making him stronger.
"Patience, my dear," said Maglarion. "Fear not. Haeron Icaraeus shall die at his appointed time."
Followed by a great many other people.
Including Ikhana, now that he happened to think about it.
His bloodcrystal stood in the center of the chamber, concealed by heavy tarps, lest some sharp-eyed Ghost glimpse its glow through the windows. A wooden podium waited before the bloodcrystal, a dagger and the Maatish scroll lying upon its surface.
Maglarion crossed to the podium, read the scroll for a moment. Then he lifted the dagger and whispered a spell. Something like rancid oil spread over the dagger's surface, and then it began to gleam with green flames.
He lifted the tarp and scratched the dagger's tip across the bloodcrystal's side.
And black blood oozed from the scratch. It dripped the floor, sizzling and boiling like fat in a hot kettle.
Maglarion needed only one more thing to achieve true immortality, to transcend the flesh forevermore.
He needed a great deal of death.
And in the black blood sizzling on the floor, he had found the instrument to bring about those deaths.
***
Chapter 23 - Seduction
Caina decided upon a simple plan.
She would stay with Julia and attend the nobility's endless balls and feasts. Sooner or later she would run into Alastair Corus again, and this time she would respond to his advances. When he invited her to his townhouse for dinner, she would go.
And after she had taken a look around, she could return at night, break in, and carry off whatever evidence she found. His correspondence, most likely. Lords often maintained a voluminous correspondence, and if Alastair was smuggling slaves for Lord Haeron, he might mention it in his letters. Or perhaps Alastair kept a ledger to record his earnings. Lord Macrinius had, after all.
Either way, the letters or the ledger would ruin him, perhaps send him to the executioner's block.
###
A few days later Caina waited in the ballroom of Lady Aureon, another of Lord Haeron's allies. Nobles and wealthy merchants stood in small groups, talking and drinking. Caina accepted a glass of wine from a servant and pretended to drink. She wore a green gown with black trim, tighter across the chest than she preferred. In fact, it left her shoulders and a good part of her bodice exposed.
But that was all right. It was part of the plan.
Lady Julia had told her that Alastair would almost certainly be in attendance, and Caina did not have to wait long. He strode into the ballroom, clad in his usual close-fitting black coat and trousers, sword and dagger at his belt.
She stared at him until he noticed her, then she looked down and smiled, as both Theodosia and Julia had taught her to do.
As she expected, he walked over.
"Countess Marianna," he said, catching her hand and kissing her signet ring, "so good to see you again."
"And you, my lord," said Caina. "I..."
He kept his grip on her hand and spun her into a dance.
Caina laughed, despite herself. "I thought I told you that it was customary to ask first!"
"To ask what?" said Alastair. "How much work it took to get into that gown? At least three hours, I'll wager."
"It is customary to ask a lady before you dance with her, my lord Alastair," said Caina.
"Why, I already did ask," said Alastair.
"I think not," said Caina. He spun her again, his free hand cradling her back. He did it flawlessly. When she had regained her balance, she said, "I would remember it if you did."
"I did," said Alastair. "At that festive little gathering of Lord Haeron's, as you might recall. You wandered off, and the next thing I knew the ballroom was exploding. Most distressing."
"Exploding buildings are like that," said Caina.
"What?" said Alastair. "Don't be absurd. I am a tribune of the Eighteenth Legion of the Empire of Nighmar. Exploding buildings are simply part of my duties. I was simply distressed that we never got to finish our dance."
"Well, that was your fault," said Caina. "You said that Haeron's pet sorcerer was a charlatan, and instead he ripped apart half of Haeron's mansion with his spells!"
Alastair frowned. "It's just as well you got Julia away from him. She is rather entertaining, for a meddlesome old woman, and I wouldn't want her in the clutches of some deranged foreign sorcerer." He snorted. "Sorcery. Magi are too much trouble, mark me well."
Caina raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you on such friendly terms with Lord Haeron? All the rumors say the Restorationist lords are friendly with magi and foreign sorcerers."
Alastair sighed. "Rumor and calumny." He dropped his voice. "And just between you and me, Haeron Icaraeus is a tedious bore. They say he's hard and loveless. Not true. He is in fact deeply in love."
Caina frowned. "So what does he love?"
"The sound of his own voice," said Alastair.
She burst out laughing at that.
"So then," she said, once she had recovered herself, "if he is such a tedious bore, why do you associate with him?"
Alastair sighed. "Money, my dear lady, money. House Corus, alas, was never wealthy, and my father drank away what little wealth we had." His eyes tightened, and Caina realized that she had never seen him drink or eat to excess, the way other nobles did. "And while serving as a tribune in the Eighteenth Legion bestows honor and glory, it brings in very little money. And so I must turn to commerce to support myself."
"So," said Caina, frowning, "you're not a Restorationist? Or a Militarist?"
Now it was Alastair's turn to burst out laughing. "You shock me. A Restorationist? You think I want the magi to rule the Empire? The magi are incapable of governing themselves, let alone the Empire. Or that the Lord Commanders of the Legions should choose the Emperor? My lady, I've met most of the Lord Commanders, and I wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw them. And some of them are quite fat."
"Then you don't really care about politics?" said Caina.
"Not particularly," said Alastair. "I just want to get paid." He sighed. "Someday, I'll have enough money. Then I can buy a pleasant villa along the Bay of Empire, settle down with a wife and some children."
That was something Caina would never know. Ghost nightfighter she might be, but she still felt a pang at that.
"Then I can leave all the nonsense of Imperial politics behind me, once and for all," said Alastair. He stared at her for a moment, and then smiled. "I didn't expect you could get m
e to talk about that. You know, you're rather cleverer than I thought."
Again Caina's eyebrow came up. "So you thought me a fool, my lord?"
"Not particularly," said Alastair. "But one doesn't expect to find intelligence in a lovely woman, and you, my dear Countess, are most lovely. And a surprisingly adept conversationalist. We should continue this talk tomorrow, I think, at my townhouse. My cook can prepare an excellent roast lamb."
Caina smiled. "I would like that."
And to her surprise, she meant it. And not just because she wanted to reconnoiter his townhouse.
###
The next evening she arrived at Alastair's home.
To her surprise, it was smaller than Julia's. Considering Alastair made at least some money smuggling slaves for Haeron Icaraeus, she would have expected a larger house. Perhaps he spent it all on fine clothes.
A liveried servant met her at the door, led her inside. The townhouse's hall looked much as she expected. Trophies of war hung on the wall, armor and swords from the barbarian lands beyond the Imperial Pale. A small shrine to Markoin, the god of soldiers, occupied one table, and a banner of the Eighteen Legion hung from the ceiling.
"Lord Alastair will be with you shortly," said the footman. "He apologizes for his absence, but urgent business delayed him."
"Very well," said Caina, putting bored impatience into her voice. "I hope his lordship will not keep me waiting too long."
The footman bowed and departed.
Caina wandered over to the wall, picked up one of the barbarian swords. The blasted thing was heavy! How did the barbarians wield them in battle? Still, she supposed it had to be heavy, to punch through the Legionaries' heavy armor...
A woman's shout cut into her musings, and Caina spun, eyes looking back and forth.
She was alone. But she heard angry voices coming from the stairs.
"You are useless, Alastair, useless!" A woman's voice, shrill and angry. "Utterly worthless! I cannot believe my father forced me to wed you! The next time you go north, perhaps you should do us all a favor and get yourself spitted upon a barbarian sword. Death in battle is the only accomplishment you will ever have."
"What more do you want from me, Nerina?" Alastair's voice lacked its usual casual insouciance. "I've already given you all the money I have, and then some. You spent it all. There's no more, not until I finish some more...business with Lord Haeron."
"Then I suggest you find some more, fool," said Nerina. "I expect to be supported in the manner that I deserve."
"That you deserve?" said Alastair, his voice incredulous. "You have a wardrobe full of gowns and boxes full of jewels. You have a dozen maids waiting on your every whim...at least, you did, until you dismissed them all without cause. You can eat the finest foods whenever you wish. All of this, I might add, I paid for. How have I failed to support you in the manner you deserve?"
"If you were a man," said Nerina, "a strong man, then you would have the money. You find a way to get the money, to get what I deserve." She scoffed. "Enough! I cannot bear to look at you for another second! I am going to visit my sister."
"Nerina," began Alastair.
Caina heard heavy footsteps. A few moments later she saw a coach with the sigil of House Corus drive past the house, the shape of a woman visible through the windows.
She turned, and saw Alastair standing on the stairs, looking at her.
"You look," he said with a smile, "as if you're going to use that sword on me."
Caina blinked, looked at the heavy sword, and felt her face redden. "It...well, I heard shouting."
"Alas," said Alastair. He took the sword and returned it to the hooks on the wall. "One of the maids neglected to polish my boots. I don't care, of course, but I have a reputation for fearsome cruelty to maintain, so I had to shout at her. Merely a formality, you understand."
"It sounded like you were fighting with your wife," said Caina.
Alastair sighed, and the smile drained from his face. "Nerina is...difficult. My father arranged the marriage. It hasn't gone very well, I'm afraid."
"My mother used to talk like her," said Caina, voice quiet.
Alastair scowled. "And you approve, do you?"
"I hated my mother."
His scowl turned to a surprised smile. "Really? Well. I knew there was a reason I liked you," he looked her up and down, "asides from the obvious, of course. But it's terrible gauche to point out the obvious."
"Terribly," said Caina.
He took her hand and kissed it. "Shall we eat?"
###
Dinner was indeed excellent. Caina even liked the wine.
And bit by bit, she worked her way past Alastair's glib charm.
All he had ever wanted, he told her, was to be a soldier, a Lord Commander of a Legion. To serve and defend the Empire as his fathers had done before him. He wanted, Caina realized, to be like one of the noble lords of old, to go out on campaign to defend the Empire, and then return home to his wife and sons and daughters.
Caina blinked in surprise. "So you wish children, then?"
"Of course!" said Alastair. "What man could say otherwise?"
"Sometimes we want things we cannot have," said Caina.
Alastair sighed. "True enough. Still, better to strive for them than to sit forever yearning and moping, no?"
"Spoken like a true soldier of the Empire," said Caina.
"And now you flatter me, my lady," said Alastair.
###
After dinner they walked on the townhouse's flat roof. It was a small townhouse, by the standards of Malarae's nobility, but it still stood five stories high, and had a large roof. There was ample room to walk, to look at the towers and domes of Malarae, to gaze up at the stars.
Alastair took Caina's hand in his as they walked, and to her surprise she did not pull away.
"So what do you want, my lady?" said Alastair.
"Oh, merely the world, I suppose," said Caina, "and everything in it."
Alastair winced. "Now you sound like Nerina."
"Which means you think I sound like my mother," said Caina. "A cruel thing to say, my lord."
He tugged her hand, spun her around to face him.
"Then what," he said, "do you want?"
Caina blinked, caught off guard, and for a moment her poise wavered.
"Children," she said at last, voice quiet. "I...want children."
"That's rather easy to arrange," said Alastair.
"Not for me, it isn't," said Caina. She cursed herself for a fool, but told him anyway. "I had a...a carriage accident, when I was a girl. I was stabbed through the belly by a...a broken axle. I can't have children. Not now, not ever."
"Oh," said Alastair. "I'm sorry."
She had miscalculated. A barren woman was an object of pity and scorn. Her goal had been to get closer to him, to find his letters and his ledgers...
He touched her cheek, and she looked up at him. "What a pair we must make. You want children, but cannot bear them. I want children, but my wife refuses to have anything to do with me."
Caina tried to smile. "It's like an opera."
"A bad opera," said Alastair. "Sometimes I think that life is a cruel farce, a joke played upon us by malevolent or indifferent gods. Perhaps they take pleasure in watching us suffer."
"There is so much suffering in the world," said Caina, "but I will fight against it."
"How?" said Alastair.
She hesitated, realizing that she had said too much, been too honest. "There...are ways. I...will feed the poor, I will find them shoes and clothing, and..."
"You surprise me," said Alastair. "I...never would have expected such things from you."
"And you are repulsed?" said Caina.
"Not at all," said Alastair. "Perhaps...someday, when I have more money, I can assist you. I...have been forced to do many things that I am not proud of. To hear you talk this way, it gives me comfort."
"It is a cruel world," said Caina. "I suppose we must take what c
omfort we can."
"You're right," said Alastair, leaning forward.
He was going to kiss her, she realized.
A dozen thoughts flashed through her mind. He was married. His wife seemed like a pettier version of Laeria Amalas. This was only a delusion, a fantasy. He wanted children, and she could never have them. And undoubtedly there had been other mistresses before her, and he would certainly take more after she left Malarae.
But he was different than what Caina had expected. Maybe Theodosia had been right. Maybe she should take what comfort she could. And she could do this without consequence, could she not? She could not become pregnant, could not bear a bastard child.
And there was one other thought.
A virgin's blood, Maglarion had said, as he cut into her belly. A virgin's blood could fuel all manner of useful necromancy. She still had nightmares about lying on that metal table.
And perhaps if she were no longer a virgin...perhaps that would never happen to her again...
So when he kissed her, she kissed him back.
###
A short time later they ended up in Alastair's bedroom, still kissing. Caina started pulling off her gown, her hands trembling with excitement and a little fear.
She stopped.
Alastair was staring her exposed stomach.
At her scars.
Heat flooded into her face.
"Don't," she said, half-turning away, "don't...don't stare at me like that, I..."
"Shh," said Alastair, putting his fingers over her lips. "Do you think they make you ugly? They do not."
He took her face in both hands and kissed her again.
Eventually, she got out of the gown, and he carried her to the bed.
###
Later Caina lay entwined with Alastair as he slept, her head pillowed on his chest. He had scars, as well, old wounds across his arms and shoulders and ribs. She had seen enough violence in her life to recognize the scars from a sword. Whatever his wife thought of him, Alastair was a brave man, brave enough to lead his Legionaries from the front.
His wife.
Caina's mouth twisted. Nerina was unworthy of him. And yet she was still his wife, which made Caina an adulteress. Her mother, she was sure, had seduced married men, more than once. Was Caina any better than her?
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