Corvalis shrugged. “Who can say? Perhaps you will come to Malarae sooner than you think. Lord Martin seems fond of you.”
Claudia gave him an arch look. “What are you saying? That I ought to be his mistress?”
“I am saying,” said Corvalis, “that I want you to be happy. And training to become a physician seems to make you happy.” He grinned. “And if becoming the mistress of a Lord Governor makes you happy…well, who am I to object? Though if he wrongs you, I shall have to put the skills I learned from the Kindred to good use.”
Claudia glared at him, laughed, and then hugged him. “I love you, brother.”
“And I love you too, sister,” said Corvalis, and kissed the top of her head.
The door opened, and Caina looked inside.
“We should go,” she said.
Corvalis nodded and released Claudia. “Until next time.”
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Don’t tear out your stitches early.”
“I’ll see to it that he doesn’t,” said Caina. “Claudia.”
The younger woman’s cold blue eyes regarded her, and Claudia felt something shrivel up inside of her. Caina would criticize her, would prove once and for all that she was a failure.
“Thank you for everything,” said Caina.
Claudia blinked. She had not expected that. “Ah…what?”
“You made Martin Dorius into a friend of the Ghosts,” said Caina. “I don’t think I could have managed that. And you distracted Rhames. If you hadn’t done that, he would have killed us all. I think…I think that was the bravest thing I have ever seen you do.”
“Oh,” said Claudia. “I’m just glad we’re not dead.”
Caina grinned. “Me, too. Farewell, Claudia.”
She beckoned, and they departed with Lord Martin, Talekhris, and Harkus, leaving Claudia alone with Komnene.
“You’re smiling,” said Komnene.
“I suppose I am,” said Claudia. “It is true, isn’t it? That you can learn from your mistakes?”
“It is,” said Komnene, “and most of what I know I learned from my mistakes. Now, come. We shall treat the baker’s son for his broken wrist, and since he is betrothed to the carpenter’s daughter, perhaps we shall get our door repaired all the sooner.”
Claudia nodded, and went to work.
###
Ten days later, Kylon stood in Thalastre’s bedroom in the Tower of Ixionos, watching as the stormsingers wove their spells.
A blue bloodcrystal sat atop Ephaltus’s Dustblade, and the stormsingers worked their spells, activating the blue gem’s power. The crystal flared with azure light, its glow sinking into the Dustblade’s glowing sigils. The blade shivered, the light flickering. The bloodcrystal trembled and crumbled into smoking ash, and the Dustblade shriveled like paper tossed into a fire.
And on the bed, Thalastre gasped and opened her eyes.
Kylon crossed to her, taking her hands.
“What?” she said, sitting up. “What I am doing here?” She looked around, blinking in confusion. “Gods, I’m so stiff. What happened?”
Kylon hesitated, allowing himself to feel the relief, the sheer overpowering relief. Thalastre sensed it, her eyes growing wide as she looked at him.
“Was I ill?” she said.
“It is,” said Kylon, “quite a long story.”
###
Fifteen days after leaving Calvarium, Caina walked into the House of Kularus, again wearing the rich gown and gaudy jewelry of Sonya Tornesti. Corvalis walked at her side, clad in the sober black merchant’s garb of Anton Kularus. Men and women sat at the tables on the floor and the balconies, drinking coffee and talking.
Shaizid bowed. “Master Anton, Mistress Sonya. It is good that you are home.”
“Yes,” said Caina, “it is.”
She looked at Corvalis. She knew that trials awaited them, dangers and perils known and unknown. She might lose him fighting them…or he might lose her.
Such was the life of the Ghosts.
But for now, it was good to be home.
Epilogue
Claudia used a mortar and pestle to grind the dried leaves to a fine powder. Komnene had departed to treat patients, leaving Claudia to prepare medicines. She didn’t mind. The work was quiet, and complex enough to keep her mind occupied.
The door opened, and Claudia forgot about the medicines.
Martin Dorius stepped into the shop.
“Mistress Claudia,” he said. “You are well?”
“Well enough,” she said, smiling as she stepped around the counter. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he said, gazing at her. “What I am about to say is outside the bounds of propriety, but after the horrors we have seen, the things we have survived…I think propriety can be damned.”
He stepped forward, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. A wave of shock rolled through Claudia, followed by spreading warmth, and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.
“I wish for you,” said Martin, when they broke apart, “to join me for dinner.”
“Yes,” said Claudia. She smiled. “I wish that, too.”
###
Night fell, and the Moroaica stood alone on a hill outside Calvarium.
She rolled the shoulders of her new body. Every new body was an adjustment, a difference. This one had once belonged to a seventeen-year-old Caerish peasant girl, unlettered and ignorant of the world outside of her father’s farm. But she had a latent talent for sorcery, and Jadriga had taken the body for her own.
She could have taken the body of Claudia Aberon, but she could not do that to Corvalis, could not inflict that kind of pain upon him…
Jadriga pushed aside the thought.
Her new body was young and strong. It would last for decades. But Jadriga didn’t need decades.
She needed only a few months.
Because at last, at long last, after millennia of labor, she was ready to undertake the great work.
Once Sicarion showed up, anyway.
He would. He had no loyalty to anyone or anything, save his unending love of killing, and Jadriga had promised him more killing than anyone had ever seen.
How many mortals could claim they had seen the death of the gods?
She waited, motionless on the hilltop, and her eyes turned to Caer Magia’s ruins. It was strange that Rhames had survived so long, pursuing her across the centuries, but not surprising. Not after what she had done to Maat. When she had learned of his survival, she had been alarmed, even frightened, for the first time in centuries.
But then she had thought of Caina.
The Ghost had defeated foes of great power over and over again, not with her own native strength, but through cunning and guile. And Jadriga possessed most of Caina’s memories now…and a plan had suggested itself, a plan of cunning and guile.
It worked.
Some of Caina’s other memories drifted through her thoughts. Corvalis Aberon, his green eyes, his hard hands, his muscled arms, his lips against hers…
Jadriga hissed in annoyance and pushed aside the recollections. They had not happened to her. Corvalis Aberon was insignificant, of no importance to her or her great work.
But still the thoughts lingered.
A rustle in the grass caught her attention.
A middle-aged man in the robe of a master magus climbed the hill. He was gaunt and lean, with a shock of graying black hair and a prominent nose. Jadriga raised an eyebrow, and the master magus stopped a dozen paces away.
They regarded each other in silence for a moment.
“You put me,” said Ranarius at last, “in the body of Oberon Ryther?”
“Do you object?” said Jadriga.
“The man is useless!” said Ranarius. “He was an utter laughingstock within the Magisterium. Little wonder he found himself banished to Calvarium.”
“Would you rather return to a body of a woman?” said Jadriga, lifting one hand. Pale green fire blazed to life around her new body
’s slender fingers. “That can be arranged. Though I would have to kill you again.”
Ranarius shrank back. “No. No. Not another death. Two…two has been quite enough.” He grimaced, and then lowered his head. “Thank you, mistress, for my life.” His words were bitter. “Again.”
“You served me well in Calvarium,” said Jadriga, “and I reward loyal service. You may find your ability to claim a new body has been…enhanced. If you are slain, you can choose another body at will, even without my aid.”
Ranarius frowned. “Thank you. But…to achieve that spell…” His eyes widened. “You could kill me with a thought. No matter how far away.”
Jadriga smiled. “Loyalty is such an admirable virtue. I like to encourage it.”
Ranarius scowled, but said nothing.
He was learning.
The grass on the hillside rustled again.
“Someone’s coming,” said Ranarius.
A dark figure climbed the hillside, and resolved into Caina Amalas, clad in a brilliant green gown, a sword and serrated dagger in her hands. Ranarius cursed and stepped back, raising his hands in a spell, but Jadriga frowned.
“Really?” she said. “You took his mask?”
Caina grinned, sheathed her weapons, and rubbed her hands over her face. A golden mask appeared over her features, the metal worked into an expression of serene beauty. She reached up and pulled Rhames’s mask away from her face.
Her form rippled and became Sicarion, his scarred face grinning.
“A mask that allows me to assume any appearance I wish?” said Sicarion, tucking the mask away beneath his dark cloak. “You expected me to leave behind such a useful tool?”
“I suppose not,” said Jadriga.
Sicarion’s mismatched eyes shifted to Ranarius. “The mistress permitted you to live? Pity. I liked your old body better.”
“Say that again,” said Ranarius, beginning a spell, “and I’ll…”
“Enough,” said Jadriga. “Do you have it?”
Sicarion bowed and produced a metal coffer from beneath his cloak, its sides carved with warding sigils. “I do, mistress. I confess I had my doubts about the plan, but she was fooled. When she stabbed the decoy, I sealed the real thing inside the coffer. That shielded its aura, and made the Ghost think it had been destroyed.”
“Good,” said Jadriga, holding out her hands. “Give it to me.”
She wondered if he would refuse, if he would try to keep its power for himself. Then she would simply kill him. But Sicarion offered the coffer with a flourish. Jadriga took it and opened the lid.
The green fire of the Ascendant Bloodcrystal danced before her eyes, its thunderous power echoing against her senses.
“Use me,” said Rhames, his voice whispering inside her head.
Of course the Ascendant Bloodcrystal would speak to her in the voice of the man she hated most.
“Use me,” said the crystal with Rhames’s voice, “and fulfill my purpose, and you shall have your vengeance at last.”
“I cannot believe,” said Ranarius, “that she fell for the decoy. I was certain we were defeated.”
“You were certain,” said Jadriga, “that I was dead and Rhames was destroyed, and you could claim the crystal’s power for yourself.” She closed the lid, the green light winking out, Rhames’s voice vanishing from her head. “But she has slain you twice now, has she not?” Ranarius scowled. “Perhaps you have learned that guile is often better than force. Which is why Caina Amalas must die.”
“Mistress?” said Sicarion, a smile starting on his scarred features. “It is time? May I kill her at last?”
“Yes,” said the Moroaica. “The great work is ready. I have everything I need. But if Caina learns of it, she will try to stop me. She might even suceed, as she stopped me below Black Angel Tower. So I have a task for the two of you.” She regretted it. Caina would have been a powerful ally. But she would understand, once the great work washed away all suffering. “Find her and kill her. Use whatever means you think best, but kill her, and ensure that she never comes to New Kyre.”
Ranarius laughed, and Sicarion bowed.
“It shall be as you command, mistress,” said Sicarion with another florid bow.
Jadriga knew she ought to order the death of Corvalis Aberon as well.
But she could not make herself say the words.
###
In New Kyre, in the Sanctuary atop the Pyramid of Storm the Surge started to scream.
“She comes!” she said in her threefold voice as the priestesses rushed to attend her. “She comes! The darkness comes at last! The night without end, the fire that is never quenched! The world burns! The world burns! The great darkness comes!”
The priestesses looked up, and saw the woman standing in the entrance of the Sanctuary. She was a Caerish peasant girl of about seventeen or eighteen, clad in a red gown, and carried a staff of gray metal, fire and ice and lightning dancing around its length.
“Greetings,” said the Moroaica. “At last it is time for the great work to begin.”
THE END
Thank you for reading GHOST IN THE MASK. Look for the next book in the series, GHOST IN THE SURGE, to appear in the first quarter of 2014. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review at your ebook site of choice. To receive immediate notification of new releases, sign up for my newsletter, or watch for news on my Facebook page.
Other books by the author
The Frostborn Series
Frostborn: The Gray Knight
The Orc’s Tale (Tales of the Frostborn short story)
The Soulblade’s Tale (Tales of the Frostborn short story)
The Third Soul Series
The Testing
The Assassins
The Blood Shaman
The High Demon
The Burning Child
The Outlaw Adept
The Black Paladin
The Tomb of Baligant
The Third Soul Omnibus One
The Third Soul Omnibus Two
Computer Beginner’s Guides
The Ubuntu Beginner’s Guide
The Windows Command Line Beginner’s Guide
The Linux Command Line Beginner’s Guide
The Ubuntu Desktop Beginner’s Guide
The Windows 8 Beginner’s Guide
The Linux Mint Beginner’s Guide
The Ghosts Series
Child of the Ghosts
Ghost in the Flames
Ghost in the Blood
Ghost in the Storm
Ghost in the Stone
Ghost in the Forge
Ghost in the Ashes
Ghost in the Mask
Ghost Dagger (World of the Ghosts novella)
Ghost Aria (World of the Ghosts short story)
Ghost Claws (World of the Ghosts short story)
The Fall of Kyrace (World of the Ghosts short story)
Ghost Omens (World of the Ghosts short story)
The Demonsouled Series
Demonsouled
Soul of Tyrants
Soul of Serpents
Soul of Dragons
Soul of Sorcery
Soul of Skulls
Soul of Swords
The Dragon’s Shadow (World of the Demonsouled novella)
The Wandering Knight (World of the Demonsouled short story)
The Tournament Knight (World of the Demonsouled short story)
The Tower of Endless Worlds Series
The Tower of Endless Worlds
A Knight of the Sacred Blade
A Wizard of the White Council
The Destroyer of Worlds
Otherworlds
The Devil’s Agent
The Mirrored Knight
The King of Unnumbered Tears
Sacrifices
The Tournament of Thieves
Threefold Gift
Inexorable
Blood Artists
Driven
About the Author
S
tanding over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.
He has written the DEMONSOULED series of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write THE GHOSTS sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the COMPUTER BEGINNER’S GUIDE series of computer books, and numerous other works.
Visit his website at:
http://www.jonathanmoeller.com
Visit his technology blog at:
http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/screed
Contact him at:
[email protected]
You can sign up for his email newsletter here, or watch for news on his Facebook page.
Table of Contents
Description
Chapter 1 - Dust and Ashes
Chapter 2 - History of the Dead
Chapter 3 - The Physician’s Apprentice
Chapter 4 - The Stormdancer
Chapter 5 - Followers of the Dead
Chapter 6 - The Surge
Chapter 7 - The City of Skulls
Chapter 8 - Brother and Sister
Chapter 9 - The Exile
Chapter 10 - Dust and Blood
Chapter 11 - The Venatorii
Chapter 12 - A Mask of Jade
Chapter 13 - Failures
Chapter 14 - Nightfighter
Chapter 15 - Caer Magia
Chapter 16 - The Disciple and the Assassin
Chapter 17 - The Occultist
Chapter 18 - Shadows in the Night
Chapter 19 - Allies
Chapter 20 - The Ultimatum
Chapter 21 - Fists of Stone
Chapter 22 - The High Priest
Chapter 23 - The Oldest Enemies
Chapter 24 - Fury
Chapter 25 - The Chamber of Ascension
Chapter 26 - Father and Mother
Chapter 27 - Jars of Flesh
Chapter 28 - Undying
Chapter 29 - Promises
Epilogue
Other books by the author
Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask Page 33
