“Five hundred miles,” whispered Caina. That would kill everyone in all the Caerish provinces, and at least half of the Mardonish ones. Hundreds of thousands of people would die if the crystal was activated.
Even more, if Rhames took the crystal to Malarae or Marsis first.
“That is how the high magi of the Fourth Empire destroyed themselves,” said Anashir. “They studied the lore of Maat, and thought to turn themselves into gods and utterly destroy their enemies in a single stroke. They intended to take the Ascendant Bloodcrystal to Malarae and activate it there. Instead, they made an error in the final stages of the great spell, and the bloodcrystal consumed them all. The crystal is currently hibernating. It is just active enough to drain the life from anyone within a few miles of Caer Magia. It would stretch further, but the magi were clever enough to construct the Henge around the city’s hill.”
“And that is what Rhames wants,” said Caina. “To take the Ascendant Bloodcrystal and rebuild the Kingdom of the Rising Sun. The Moroaica wants the crystal for the opposite reason.”
To complete her great work, whatever it was.
“I suspect Maena would claim the crystal for herself, if she could manage it,” said Rhames. “The Moroaica rarely inspires loyalty in her disciples. Though if she tries to take the crystal, Sicarion will likely kill her.”
“You know a great deal about the Moroaica and her minions,” said Corvalis.
Anashir turned that pitying, condescending smile towards Corvalis. “You are a fighter. Does not a warrior closely study his foe to increase his chances of victory?”
“I am grateful for the information,” said Caina, “but I assume you have a reason for sharing it?”
“You are a surprisingly dangerous woman,” said Anashir. “No skill at sorcery, and a tendency to take unwarranted risks. Yet you must be clever, if you have survived so long. Or perhaps the gods simply favor you. Regardless, I do not wish to have you as an enemy. I suggest since we have the same goals, we cooperate to achieve them.”
“What did you have in mind?” said Caina.
“Lady Maena has almost accessed the Chamber of Ascension in the basilica at the heart of the city,” said Anashir. “Soon she will unravel the wards and seize the Ascendant Bloodcrystal. Another few days, perhaps, and she will reach her goal. I suggest, therefore, that we strike at her immediately. Once she is slain, we can deal with Rhames. The Great Necromancer has remained hidden in the hills, no doubt fearing an attack from the Moroaica.”
“You have sorcerous power,” said Caina, “and a small army of mercenaries waiting at your beck and call. Why do you need us?”
“It is better not to fight unless you can command overwhelming force,” said Anashir. His eyes narrowed. “I learned that lesson from a bitter teacher long ago, but I have taken it to heart since. You, Lord Kylon, are a warrior of renown. You, Corvalis Aberon, are skilled at killing. And you, Caina of the Ghosts, have a cunning mind. I will avail myself of every advantage.”
“And you need me,” said Caina, “for one more thing, don’t you? You need me to contact Talekhris.”
Anashir sneered. “I have little need of his aid.”
“Perhaps not,” said Caina, “but he is still powerful. And you need all the aid you can obtain against Maena and Rhames. Or the Moroaica, if she arrives to support her disciple.”
“I will concede,” said Anashir, “that Talekhris is like a mad dog. Useful to point at your foe for a distraction and little else. Nevertheless, I would welcome his aid. Will you speak to him?”
“I may,” said Caina. “I need time to consider what you have said.”
“Consider quickly,” said Anashir. “Maena will soon act to claim the Ascendant Bloodcrystal. The consequences, if you delay too long, will be dire. Send a messenger to my camp if you wish to cooperate…though if necessary, I will take action on my own.”
He turned and walked away, heedless of the ruined city’s aura. The seset-kadahn stared at Caina for a moment longer, the bronze mask glinting in the sun, and then followed his master.
“One question!” called Caina.
Anashir looked back. “Yes?”
“Sicarion and Maena,” said Caina. “They can both use sorcery. Why did they run from you?”
Anashir’s white teeth flashed in his graying beard. “Why, because they fear me.”
He walked away without another word.
“We should get back,” said Caina, “before Sicarion and Maena decide to take another shot at us.”
She led the way back to Calvarium.
###
Kylon looked out the windows of Caina’s sitting room, at the sun dipping over the hills to the west.
“Do you think,” Corvalis said, “that he was telling the truth?”
“No.” Caina sat at the table, wiping the makeup from her face with a rag. It was odd to watch her transform from a ragged mercenary into a lovely young woman, and even odder to see her halfway through the process. “He wants us to attack Maena for some reason.”
“Probably,” said Corvalis, “so he can claim the Ascendant Bloodcrystal for himself.”
“That was my thought,” said Caina. She rubbed her face for a moment. Her emotional sense remained ice wrapped around fire, but the fire blazed hotter at the moment. “Did you get anything from him, Kylon?”
“No,” said Kylon. “Nothing.”
She frowned and began tugging off her leather armor. “His self-control was that good?”
“No,” said Kylon. “I mean I felt nothing from him. Nothing at all.”
“No emotions?” said Caina, pulling off her armor. The loose shirt she wore beneath it was stained with sweat. “None?”
“Was he standing inside the Henge?” said Corvalis.
“That was my first thought,” said Kylon. “But he crossed over the Henge while he was speaking with us. And even then, I sensed nothing from him. It was like he wasn’t really there.”
“Or he had some sort of powerful protective spell on him,” said Corvalis.
“I didn’t sense anything from him,” said Caina. She ran her hands through her greasy hair, looked at her fingers, and grimaced. “Though my wits were addled from Caer Magia’s aura, I suppose. Gods, it was strong.” She looked from him to Corvalis. “Whatever happens, that Ascendant Bloodcrystal cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of anyone, not even to keep it safe.”
“Perhaps it is not as powerful as Anashir claims,” said Kylon.
“No, I think he’s right about the danger,” said Caina, unbuckling her sword belt. She rubbed her right hip and sighed. “There was a necromancer in Malarae, about four years ago. I think he was attempting to build an Ascendant Bloodcrystal. He tried to kill everyone in the city, in hopes of draining their life energy into the crystal so he could absorb it. It must have only been a crude copy of a true Ascendant Bloodcrystal. But he almost killed everyone in Malarae with the thing. And if there really is an Ascendant Bloodcrystal in Caer Magia…we can’t let anyone have it. No matter what the cost. Excuse me for a moment.”
She scooped up her discarded armor, belt, and cloak and vanished into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Kylon looked at Corvalis.
He shrugged. “She has something in mind, don’t worry. She always does. Probably plotting out a way to kill Maena, destroy the Ascendant Bloodcrystal, and get you a blue bloodcrystal all at the same time.”
“I am grateful,” said Kylon, “for your assistance. Yours and Caina’s. This…sneaking about, this poking into the shadows of the past, it is not my strength.” Andromache had dug into the shadows of the past, and they had devoured her. “Give me a blade and a foe to face, and I know my role. This is harder.”
Corvalis grinned. “You were not cut out to be a spy, my lord Kylon.”
“She was, though,” said Kylon. “I have never met anyone so clever, whether man or woman. If she were a man, she would be a captain and commander without peer. Her eye for observation and boldness mi
xed with command of an army…she would have conquered half the world.”
“But she was born a woman,” said Corvalis, “and instead has saved the lives of more people than I can possibly count.”
“Aye,” said Kylon. “Did she want to be a spy, do you think?”
“No,” said Corvalis. He sighed. “She wanted to be a mother.”
A strange ripple went through Corvalis’s emotional sense, a mixture of regret and fierce love. He usually felt icy cold against Kylon’s sorcerous senses, the cold of a man who had been trained as a killer, who had known so much pain that he had grown numb to it. Yet love pulsed through him when he spoke of Caina, along with regret for the pain she had suffered.
Kylon wondered what it would be like to be in love with a woman like Caina, a woman who could unravel a man’s secrets just by looking at him, a woman whose unending rage would drive to her death one day.
Suddenly he missed Thalastre very much.
The bedroom door swung open, interrupting Kylon’s musings, and Rania Scorneus stepped into the sitting room. There was no trace of the ragged mercenary left, though there was a gleam in her eye.
Caina did indeed have a plan.
“Captain,” she said in Rania’s cold voice. “With me, please.”
Corvalis rose and followed her from the sitting room, and Kylon shrugged and went with them. Part of him wanted to circle Caer Magia, trying to find a way inside to claim Thalastre’s salvation.
But he knew his best chance of obtaining a blue bloodcrystal lay with Caina.
Caina descended to the inn’s common room. A girl of sixteen with blue eyes and black hair sat by the fire, knitting. She shot to her feet at as Caina approached, looked at Corvalis, blushed, and then looked back at Caina.
“Mistress?” said the girl.
“Alexandra,” said Caina, “I need you to take a message to Master Harkus for me. Tell him I wish to meet with the Sage as soon as possible.”
Chapter 18 - Shadows in the Night
After Alexandra departed and Kylon retired to his room, Caina and Corvalis returned to their bedroom.
A moment later Corvalis pulled Caina into his arms, his lips against her. She kissed him back, her arms coiling around his back. In short order he had her out of her robe and then her shift, and he picked her up and carried her to the bed.
Nothing put a fire in Corvalis’s blood like a brush with death…and Caina had been surprised to learn the same was true about her. She was not sure why. Was it her fear of losing him, of seeing him die, that made her desire him all the more? Or perhaps the awareness of her own mortality made her want to feel alive, and she never felt so alive as when she was in bed with Corvalis.
Or she simply loved him and wanted him.
At the moment, she did not care why.
After they finished, Corvalis got to his feet, poured water from a carafe into two clay cups, and rejoined her. Caina pushed the sweaty hair away from her forehead and took a cup.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Gods, but she was thirsty. She sat up and drained the cup in two swallows.
“Your hair,” said Corvalis, running a hand down her shoulders and then the skin of her back. “You’ll have to dye it soon. It’s starting to show black at the roots.”
Caina laughed. “Or it’s all the running and fighting we’ve been doing. Theodosia claimed sweat wouldn’t wash it out. Maybe she was wrong. Though that might help the disguise. Rania Scorneus, cold and arrogant and aloof…and vain enough that she dyes her hair blond.” She lifted a lock of hair before her eyes, scowled, and let it drop. “Though I don’t know why. I preferred the black, myself.”
She was a babbling a bit, she knew, in the giddiness that came after.
“If we live through this and make it back to Malarae,” said Corvalis, “you can let it go black again. Claim that Sonya Tornesti decided to dye her hair.”
“I wonder,” said Caina, “if it is strange.”
“Your hair?” said Corvalis. “It looks fine to me.”
Caina shook her head. “No. I mean…this. We almost died today, Corvalis. We have almost died several times. And every time we escape, we do this the first chance we get.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you complaining?”
She kissed him. “Do I look dissatisfied? No. It’s just…peculiar.”
He shrugged. “Is it? I’ve heard retired Legionaries say that after a battle, the first things they wanted were a skin of wine and a woman.”
“We’re spies, not Legionaries,” said Caina.
“But we find ourselves fighting for our lives nonetheless,” said Corvalis. He shrugged again. “Perhaps it is strange. But I am the Kindred-trained bastard son of the First Magus, and you are the child of a minor nobleman who became a Ghost nightfighter. Is there anything about us that is not strange?”
“True,” said Caina. She leaned against him and sighed. “We almost died today.”
“I know,” said Corvalis.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” said Caina.
He frowned. “That’s rather alarming.”
Caina laughed. “No, not this. I mean…being a Ghost nightfighter. Running around from province to province. Almost dying over and over again. Because sooner or later our luck will run out, and I’ll die. Or you’ll die. I don’t want that.”
“I know,” said Corvalis. “I thought Mihaela killed you in Catekharon. That’s not…I don’t wish to experience that again.”
“No,” said Caina. “I like pretending to be Anton Kularus’s mistress. More, I like running the House of Kularus.” She laughed. “My father would be amused, if he knew I wanted to become a woman of commerce. My mother would have been appalled.”
“All the more reason to do it, then,” said Corvalis.
“This is harder than it used to be,” said Caina. “These tasks for the Ghosts. A few years ago I had nothing to lose. And now there’s the House of Kularus. My friends in Malarae among the Ghosts.” She squeezed his hand. “You.”
“I understand,” said Corvalis. “When I was seeking a way to free Claudia, I did not care if I lived or died. All that kept me going was the need to free Claudia from the stone.” He squeezed her hand back. “And now I have more reason to live.”
“So do I,” said Caina. “But I feel an obligation, Corvalis. To do this, these tasks for the Ghosts. Because if I had not…gods, think of all the people who would have died.”
“Just because you stop being a Ghost nightfighter,” said Corvalis, “doesn’t mean you stop being a Ghost.” He snorted. “Halfdan made it quite clear that a man is in the Ghosts until he dies. But there are other ways to serve. Look at Theodosia. She is an opera singer, and think of all the useful information she gathered for the Emperor. Or someone like Marzhod in Cyrioch. The man is hardly climbing through windows in a shadow-cloak, but he has helped many slaves escape to freedom.”
“I suppose,” said Caina. “I was thinking about that when we hid Tanzir Shahan from the Kindred. How easy it would be to just…stop, to become Sonya Tornesti in truth. But we saved Tanzir, didn’t we? And we saved Mahdriva, kept her and Sonyar safe from Sinan.”
“Perhaps it doesn’t matter whether you are a nightfighter or not,” said Corvalis.
Caina frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone dies,” said Corvalis. “Whether you risk your life or not, whether you live in comfort and safety or not, sooner or later you will die.” He snorted. “I suppose you could leave the Ghosts behind and accidentally choke on some bread the next day.”
“I know,” said Caina.
And she knew that she would lose Corvalis one day, whether Maena killed them tomorrow or in fifty years when they died of old age. No matter what she did, no matter what choices she made, one day she would lose Corvalis, or she would die first and he would lose her.
It seemed so unjust. But every generation before her had shared the same fate. Why should she and Corvalis be immune? And she had seen w
hat happened when men tried to defy mortality and live forever, the horrors that had been wrought by Maglarion and the Moroaica and her disciples.
Perhaps it was better that men died before they grew into monsters.
“What do you think awaits us after death?” said Caina.
Corvalis shrugged. “I don’t presume to know. I have heard a dozen things from as many priests.”
“The priests of the Living Flame,” said Caina, “say that we are reborn over and over again, purging the evil from our souls until we can become one with the Living Flame.”
Corvalis laughed. “I hope not. I have had enough suffering for one lifetime, and so have you.” He thought for a moment. “I know the priests of the gods of the Empire claim that the valiant and just are rewarded, and the wicked and cruel condemned. Sometimes I hope this is so, for evil is so rarely punished in this life.” He shrugged. “And sometimes I hope not, for there is innocent blood upon my hands.”
“I know,” said Caina, thinking of those she regretted killing.
“The Ulkaari shaman who gave me these tattoos,” said Corvalis, gesturing as the swirling black lines on the hard muscles of his chest and belly, “said the valiant join their ancestors in the next world, while the faithless wander forever in a waterless desert. I hope not. I would hate to spend eternity with my father.”
Caina smiled. “Perhaps we could spend it with mine. He would have liked you.”
“I wish I could have met him,” said Corvalis. “Though what would I say to him? That I am an assassin of the Kindred and the bastard son of the First Magus, and that I wanted to share a bed with your daughter even since I laid eyes upon her? I can only imagine his expression.”
Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask Page 20
