“I don’t know,” said Ark.
“Which is part of the reason I’m suspicious of the local Magisterium,” said Caina. “These burning murders have been going on for at least a year, correct? Why haven’t they found our pyromancer yet?”
Ark shook his head. “We haven’t, either.”
“We haven’t. I, however, have only been looking for a few days,” said Caina. “If I am still looking in a year, we have problems.”
Ark snorted.
“The truth is, we do not have enough information,” said Caina. “Gaidan knows something. Romarion knows something. The Magisterium knows something. Together, they might know everything.”
“And just how are you going to learn that?” said Ark.
“I told you,” said Caina, “I’m going to start accepting dinner invitations.”
She went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be busy.
###
The damned grooming and beauty regimen, as usual, took forever.
The maids clucked over the collection of bruises and scratches Caina had acquired. They washed her hair, complaining at how sweaty and tangled it had gotten. After the bath was done, she wound up in a dark blue gown in the old Imperial style, which Julia claimed matched her eyes. It left her arms bare, which Caina disliked, since it had no sleeves for concealing weapons, but it looked charming, which she supposed was the point. She could still keep the daggers in her boots. She also chose silver bracelets and earrings, and a silver coronet set with pale sapphires. Anya shaped her hair into an elaborate pile, and Caina was ready.
“My lady looks lovely,” said Cornelia.
“Let us hope so,” said Caina, examining her reflection. “I’d hate to have done all this work for nothing.”
“You will surely capture this rich merchant’s heart,” said Anya, “and live in comfort for the rest of your days.”
“Indeed,” lied Caina. She had no use for his heart. She needed his head, and the secrets it held.
Ark escorted her to the coach, and they rode to Romarion’s house. The streets were quiet, guarded by numerous patrols of militia. Caina suspected that Valgorix wanted to make a show of force. She doubted they dared to venture into the slums. Romarion’s house stood on the far side of Corazain’s pyramid, and it was only a short ride.
“Well,” said Caina, climbing out of the coach, “it seems that Romarion has done well for himself.”
Larger than the Inn of Mirrors, Septimus Romarion’s mansion had been built in the classic Imperial style. That meant lots of marble columns, a red-tiled roof, and numerous statues of Emperors and the Imperial gods standing in alcoves. Four armed guards stood by the doorway, keeping a cool eye on the street. Servants hurried from the front doors, and led her and Ark into the house.
Romarion met her in a cavernous atrium, sunlight pouring through the skylight and into a sparkling fountain. His coat and boots and shirt looked only slightly less expensive than the house itself, and he wore a bejeweled rapier at his belt. He bent over her hand and kissed her ring, and Caina gave him a polite bow in response.
“Welcome, Countess,” he said, speaking in High Nighmarian. His weathered face creased in a smile, but Caina thought she saw a bit of tired strain around the eyes. “It was good of you to come. My humble house is honored by your presence.”
“And it was good of you to have me,” said Caina in the same language. “Indeed, your house is most beautiful. Certainly a refreshing change, seeing as how the Saddai so enjoy unrelieved black.”
Romarion burst out laughing. “You’re quite right. For a people who worship fire, you’d think the Saddai would enjoy using different colors in their architecture. But, no. Permit me to give you a tour of my home.”
Caina followed Romarion deeper into the house, with Ark trailing a discreet distance behind, along with several of Romarion’s bodyguards. Romarion took great pride in his residence. He pointed out how the marble for the columns had come from the Tauseni Mountains, how glassmakers from Jear had constructed his windows, how the wood for his doors had come from the cedars of the Disali hills, how he had brought in the finest artisans from Nighmar itself to fashion the mosaics on the floor. Caina paid very close attention. She did not care about his building materials, but the layout of the house interested her a great deal. It would come in handy later.
“I grew up in Nighmar,” said Romarion, “but I came to Rasadda and the Saddai provinces to make my fortune.” He smiled. “Now that I have made my fortune, I have tried to bring some of the Imperial capital here.”
“It must have cost a great deal,” said Caina.
Still, Romarion had a lot of money. Caina wondered how he’d earned it.
He also had a mania for artwork. There were paintings on the walls and mosaics on the floors. Practically every doorway had a bust of some long-dead Emperor gazing down from the frame. Statues stood on pedestals and on alcoves. Most of the artworks were Nighmarian pieces in marble and bronze, but others looked to have been carved out of obsidian and basalt.
“What is this one?” said Caina. The statue seemed to show a naked woman stepping forth from an amorphous blob of black glass. Or she was melting into nothingness. Either way, she found the statue oddly disturbing.
“This?” said Romarion, pacing around the piece. “This is Saddai artwork, Countess. Created during the reign of Arzaidanir, or possibly Morazair. Striking, is it not?”
“It is,” said Caina, looking closer. “Is that…obsidian? I didn’t think it was possible to sculpt obsidian so smoothly.”
“It isn’t,” said Romarion. “At least not by conventional means. A Saddai Ashbringer used pyromancy to sculpt this statue.”
Caina remembered Ostros screaming in agony, and resisted the urge to cringe away from the statue. “Indeed? How does one use sorcery to create a statue? Did they merely wiggle their fingers and say the magic words?”
Romarion laughed. “Not quite. The records from that time are only fragmentary, but from what I understand, an Ashbringer would gather a quantity of volcanic sands. He would then use his pyromancy to heat it to melting, and then would mold it into whatever shape he desired. I believe the funeral pyramids in the city were reared in a similar method, though on a much larger scale.”
“It’s…almost disturbing to look at,” said Caina. “The poor woman looks as if she’s melting.”
“Oh, yes,” said Romarion. “The sculptures of the Ashbringers are always powerful, and frequently disturbing.” He shrugged. “It was apparently quite common for an Ashbringer to go insane. All that power must scramble a man’s brains.” He hesitated. “Though don’t repeat that in the hearing of a magus, please.”
Caina laughed. “I quite understand. You have my word.” She thought for a moment. “But there haven’t been any Ashbringers for centuries, which means there are no new statues. So I suppose the statue is quite valuable?”
“It is,” said Romarion. “This particular statue could easily fetch a quarter of a million denarii. Perhaps three hundred, four hundred thousand.”
“Four hundred thousand?” said Caina. In some parts of the Empire a man counted himself lucky to earn a hundred denarii a year.
“The buying and selling of antique artworks is quite remunerative,” said Romarion.
“I should say so,” said Caina. “If I may ask, where does one obtain antique Saddai artworks? I rather doubt the Saddai themselves are eager to part with them.”
Romarion shrugged. “A number of sources. Some of the wealthier Saddai still have some pieces, and will sometimes sell them. A huge amount was looted during Crisius’s conquest, and remains in circulation throughout the civilized world. But all that can be costly. The best way to obtain Ashbringer sculptures is to find them in the ruins.”
“Ruins?” said Caina. “There are Saddai ruins?”
“Quite a few, actually. You see, the Saddai Ashbringers used to rule over a great empire themselves. Nearly the entire eastern third of the modern Empire, along with most of t
he islands in the Alqaarin Sea, and large portions of the Alqaarin mainland. And an empire means fortresses and palaces and cities, many of which were destroyed in the war and now lost. No one knows where they all are, and if you find an untouched ruin, you can lay claim to any relics or artifacts found within.”
“That would be quite a windfall,” said Caina.
“It is,” said Romarion. He smiled, some of the strain vanishing from his face. “That was how I got my start, Countess. I started out as a merchant captain, trying to turn a profit trading cargoes between Rasadda and the Alqaarin cities. I was thrown adrift in a storm, and came across an uncharted island. Apparently the old Saddai empire had once maintained a fortress there, because we found a rich cache of statues that we sold for a tremendous profit.” He shrugged. “My business partners gambled and drank away their shares. I invested mine, and came to prosper.”
“A fine story,” said Caina.
“I rather enjoyed it,” said Romarion. “May I tell you more of it over dinner?”
“Certainly,” said Caina.
###
Romarion set a fine table. There was meat in sauce, spiced vegetables, chilled fruits, breaded mushrooms, and host of other delicacies. Caina even liked the wine, and she hated wine. All this food must have cost a fortune, especially with prices so high, but Romarion could afford it.
Which no doubt explained why six guards stood watch over the meal.
“My father threw me out of the house when I was twelve,” Romarion said. “So, of course, I went to sea. I thought it would be romantic.” He laughed. “I was whipped on my first day, and almost drowned the second, so I soon lost that notion. But I made my way up, and I soon had enough money to buy a share on a merchant ship. When the captain retired, I bought the ship outright. Then I got lucky and found that cache of old Saddai art. I started buying cargoes in bulk, and as you can see,” he waved a hand over the opulence of his mansion, “I have done quite well.”
“I can see that,” said Caina. “The wine is very good, after all.”
Romarion laughed. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What brings you to Rasadda?”
Caina shrugged. “My father sent me on a tour of the provinces, as is the custom for the children of noble Houses. I stopped at Mors Crisius, and hope to take ship from Rasadda back to the Imperial capital.”
“By yourself?”
“Well,” said Caina, glancing to where Ark stood silent and unmoving. “Not quite. My captain of guard is most direct with anyone who tries to take inappropriate liberties.”
“So I have heard,” said Romarion. “I shall strive to be the perfect gentleman, then.”
They both laughed.
“My life has not been nearly as adventurous as yours, in truth,” lied Caina. “House Nereide is an old House, founded shortly after the Saddai war. Yet we do not have much wealth, and consequently have stayed out of politics. No son of House Nereide has held a provincial governorship, a legion command, or an Imperial magistracy for generations.”
“Distressing,” said Romarion.
“It troubles my father more than it troubles me,” said Caina. “There is something to be said for living quietly.”
“But the greatest rewards come from risk,” said Romarion. “Had I not taken risks, I would still be counting jars of wine at my father’s tavern. Risks have taken me very far in life.” He shrugged. “All I truly lack at this point is a noble title.”
Caina hesitated just a bit, and then sipped her wine. “Do you?”
“I am ready to leave Rasadda,” said Romarion. “I have made all the money I can make here, I think. And Rasadda is turning sour.” He lowered his voice. “It is Lord Governor Nicephorus’s fault, I’m afraid. The Saddai province used to be peaceful and well-ordered. Even prosperous. Not the slightest hint of insurrection. Then the Imperial Curia appointed Nicephorus governor, and everything has gone downhill since. His greed has driven the province into the ground.”
“I thought you might approve,” said Caina, “or have profited from our Lord Governor’s dealings.”
“No,” said Romarion, shaking his head. “No. Nicephorus is a fool. He might make some money, but he’ll ruin the Saddai. There is a difference between shearing the sheep and slaughtering them.” He hesitated. “I will admit that Lord Nicephorus’s mismanagement is one of the reasons I wish to leave Rasadda. The province is going to explode into revolt sooner or later, probably sooner, if he is not removed from office.”
“Rasadda does seem mismanaged,” said Caina. “I am only a woman, of course, and know little of governance, but I have never seen so many beggars and vagrants.”
Romarion seemed to reach a decision. “My lady, may we be candid with each other?”
“Of course,” said Caina. “I certainly don’t wish for you to lie to me, after all.”
“The real reason your father sent you on this tour was to find a wealthy husband, was it not?” said Romarion. “I am not so innocent of the world.”
“It was,” admitted Caina. “I confess that my prospects were less than desirable in Malarae itself. I do not have enough money to attract of a husband of high birth, and our title is not venerable enough to interest a wealthy nobleman of less ancestry.”
“I see,” said Romarion. “My lady, I would make you a worthy husband.”
“Would you?” said Caina. “So direct, master merchant. You shan’t try to flatter my vanity, first? Perhaps praise my beauty, or write a poem about my eyes?”
“You do not seem, Countess, to be a woman who would appreciate flattery,” said Romarion.
“No,” admitted Caina, annoyed at his observation. Caina cared nothing for flattery. Countess Marianna Nereide was supposed to enjoy it. Romarion should not have seen that.
“Then I will be honest, though you are very lovely,” said Romarion. “And clearly a woman of uncommon resolve, too. You have been attacked, what, twice since you came to Rasadda? And yet you have not fled the city.”
“That is more my captain of guard’s doing than mine,” said Caina, glancing at Ark.
“But, still,” said Romarion. “I know I am not of high birth, but I have money, and know how to make more. I can bring great wealth to your house, and with a noble title, I could stand for Imperial office.” He hesitated. “I…am not a bad man, Countess. I am not cruel. I know some husbands enjoy lording over their wives, but I am not such a man.” He spread his hands. “We could go on to great things, you and I, as husband and wife. Permit me to travel with you when you return to the Imperial capital, so that I might meet your lord father.”
Caina could not decide to be amused or annoyed at his presumption. “Master merchant, if you wish to pay court to me, you may do so. Though any final decision, of course, will come from my lord father.”
“Of course,” said Romarion, smiling. “But I think you’ll find that I can be very persuasive.”
And he spent the rest of the evening trying to persuade her.
###
Later Romarion walked Caina to the coach and made her promise to return soon. She settled into the seat, Ark opposite her, as the coach rattled into motion. Caina fiddled with one of her bracelets, lost in thought.
She felt an odd pang. Romarion had indeed been very charming. That counted for little, of course; Caina had met men who smiled and whistled as they cut out an enemy’s heart. And she doubted that Septimus Romarion had amassed his fortune entirely by fair means. Yet Caina wondered what it would be like to take a husband, to have children.
But that was something she would never know, and that awareness put her into a black mood.
“Countess?”
Caina blinked, looked up. “Yes?”
“I was surprised,” said Ark.
“Surprised by what?”
Ark hesitated.
“Oh, just come out and say it,” said Caina.
“I am surprised you didn’t go to bed with him,” said Ark. “You probably co
uld have gotten him to tell you everything.”
“No doubt,” said Caina. “But I didn’t. Why does that surprise you?”
Ark shrugged. “I thought you would do it.” His tone hardened. “You…seem like the sort of woman who would use sex as a weapon.”
Caina glared at him, but could summon no real anger. Ever since she had met him, she had been pretending to be someone else. She could see how he might have drawn that conclusion.
“I did do it that way, once,” said Caina, her voice quiet as she remembered Alastair Corus, her first and only lover, a man who had died because of her decisions. “My first assignment for Halfdan. It…didn’t go well.” She shook her head. “It was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it. I won’t do it again.”
“I see,” said Ark. “So this entire evening was a waste of time?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” said Caina. “I learned two things, both of them valuable.”
She waited.
Ark sighed. “And what two things are those?”
“For one thing, why is Romarion so eager to get out of Rasadda?”
Ark frowned. “He said business had turned sour…”
“Did you see that mansion?” said Caina. “That big pile of marble and glass? And all those statues? It must have cost a fortune, maybe several fortunes. It’s not the kind of thing you can pack up and take with you. And if he moves to Nighmar he’ll incur huge losses in his business. The established merchants in Malarae won’t exactly step aside for him.”
“So?” said Ark.
“So,” said Caina, “something has him so badly frightened that he’s willing to flee the city at once. The fact that he’s so charmed by my beauty that he wants to follow me is simply a convenient excuse.”
The Ghosts Omnibus One Page 47
