The Ghosts Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  As Caina was doing.

  She ducked behind a mansion’s marble colonnade, keeping an eye on Tigrane’s progress. She knew how to remain unseen. But this was a fool’s game. Too many people wandered Marsis at night. Sooner or later Tigrane would look over his shoulder, or someone would spot her, and things would get bad.

  She followed Tigrane to the poorer neighborhoods outside the docks, where only narrow alleyways separated the close-packed houses. Most of the houses had charms against the Moroaica and the Solmonari nailed to the doorframes. Caina blinked, and looked at the rooftops.

  People never looked up.

  She scrambled up a copper drainpipe, moving as fast as she dared. It was a hard climb, four stories straight up, and took longer than she would have liked. Fortunately, Tigrane hadn’t made much progress. In fact, he was weaving back and forth as if drunk, singing an off-key song about a sailor and the captain’s lonely wife. How the devil had he gotten drunk so fast? No, he was faking. But why?

  He was looking for victims, Caina realized. Hunting for inventory. Examining the houses in search of easy prey. Who would suspect a drunken old man of slave trading?

  Tigrane turned in a circle, still singing, and Caina ducked into the shadow of an eave.

  And as she did, she saw movement across the street. A man slipped into an alleyway, vanishing out of sight. Caina frowned behind her mask and remained motionless. Tigrane continued his meandering way down the street, still singing.

  He’d gone maybe thirty yards when the second man emerged from the alleyway. He was muffled head to foot in a heavy cloak, his face hidden beneath the hood. Yet Caina caught a glimmer of armor as the cloak parted, the hilt of a sword rising from his belt.

  Interesting. Someone else was following Tigrane. It wasn’t Halfdan or any of the other Ghosts, she was sure of that. So, who?

  Caina waited until the cloaked man had resumed his quiet pursuit, and followed them both. She leapt from rooftop to rooftop, springing over the narrow alleys. From time to time the cloaked man dodged into an alley, or ducked behind a barrel, and Caina flattened herself against the rooftops. The cloaked man concealed himself well enough, but lacked Caina's skill at stealth. Tigrane gave no sign that he had noticed either tail. Perhaps he was leading the cloaked man into a trap.

  Or maybe Tigrane was stupider than Caina had thought.

  They came to the docks proper, and the smell of brine and tar and fish grew sharper. The warehouses and merchant offices began as the houses ended, and Caina was out of rooftops. She hesitated, looking for a way down.

  Fortunately, she didn’t need one. Tigrane turned and vanished into a tavern. The sign over its door showed an upside-down fish, mouth hanging open, a black X covering its eyes.

  The Dead Fish Tavern.

  “What a charming concept,” muttered Caina.

  The cloaked man stood in the shadow of a building, watching the Dead Fish’s door. Something in his stance seemed satisfied. He watched the door for a moment, then turned and walked back up the street. As he turned, Caina caught a glimpse of his face.

  Hiram Palaegus.

  Caina stared after him, torn. She wanted to keep watching Tigrane. He might lead her right to Icaraeus’s hiding place. On the other hand, he might have just settled down for a long night of drinking. And even if he was meeting with business associates, Caina could not enter and overhear their conversation. She could hardly stroll into the tavern wearing black nightfighter’s garb.

  And Hiram knew something useful, she was sure of it.

  Caina made up her mind. She scrambled down the side of the house, using a drainpipe for leverage, and set off in pursuit of Hiram. Walking quickly, he turned into an alley and vanished. Caina followed him.

  “Hiram Palaegus,” she called in her disguised voice.

  Hiram responded at once.

  He whirled with surprising speed for a man of his size, his broadsword flying from its scabbard. He came at Caina in a lunge. Caina twisted aside, flattening against the brick wall, and thrust missed. Hiram recovered his balance and sent his sword in a looping swing for her head. Caina ducked, and the sword clanged off the brick wall. A dagger was better for close-quarters fighting.

  Caina sprang back to her feet, snatching the dagger from her right boot. Hiram wound up for another swing, and Caina punched. The hilt of her dagger struck Hiram’s jaw, and he stumbled back with a grunt of pain. Caina leapt forward, seized the wrist of his sword hand, and slammed it against the wall. Hiram wrenched his arm away, pulling his wrist from her grip.

  But that was fine, since it gave Caina the distraction she needed to take a half-step past Hiram and slam her boot into the back of his knee. Hiram staggered, and Caina swept his legs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a clatter of armor. Caina put one boot on his sword, the other on his throat, and stooped over him, her dagger resting against his lower eyelid.

  The Legions trained with sword, shield, spear, and crossbow, but rarely with the unarmed forms of combat.

  “Kill me and get it over with,” spat Hiram in Caerish. “You’re working for Agria, aren’t you? Well, get on with it already. Though she’ll probably cheat you out of your fee…”

  “Idiot,” rasped Caina in High Nighmarian. “I’m not here to kill you. I want to talk.”

  Hiram blinked and switched to High Nighmarian. “Then why did you attack me?”

  “I didn’t attack you,” said Caina. “I called out your name. Then you drew your sword and attacked me. Or did that escape your recollection?”

  The anger drained from Hiram’s face, replaced by confusion. “I…see.”

  “Get up,” said Caina, lifting her dagger from his face and her boot from his neck. Hiram collected his broadsword and rose, watching her.

  “Who are you?” said Hiram, returning the blade to its scabbard.

  “Merely someone seeking the answers to a few questions,” said Caina.

  Hiram stared at her. He could not see her very well, she knew, because of her cloak’s blurring shadows. She saw him get it.

  “You’re a Ghost,” said Hiram at last. “One of the Emperor’s spies.”

  “The Emperor has no spies,” said Caina. “If you are wise you will remember that fact.”

  “This is about Agria, isn’t it?” said Hiram. “Agria and her friends.”

  “The crimes of Agria Palaegus have drawn the notice of the Emperor,” said Caina. “We know much of her misdeeds. However, we need to know more, and we as yet lack the complete picture.”

  Hiram nodded. “So…that is why you have sought me out.” He scowled. “Did you know that Agria murdered her husband and her daughter? Did you know that?”

  Caina blinked. “Did she?” That surprised her. Thought she supposed it shouldn’t, given how much Agria resembled Caina's mother. She thought that Agria had been warped by grief, that she had turned to sorcery out of pain. If she had been cold enough to murder both husband and child…

  “Perhaps you should start from the beginning,” said Caina.

  “That may take some time,” said Hiram.

  “Is there somewhere else you needed to be?”

  Hiram scowled. “No. I suppose not.” He sighed. “I am the bastard son of the old Lord Palaegus. Martin was my younger half-brother.” His stern face relaxed in a smile. “Traditionally, I suppose, bastard sons and lawful heirs are the worst of enemies. But Martin and I were always friends. Probably because I had no desire to become Lord of House Palaegus, and preferred to enter the Legions rather than to endure the banalities of politics. About ten years ago Martin married Agria, of House Marken.”

  “What did you think of Agria then?” said Caina.

  Hiram shrugged. “I bore her no ill will. She was charming and courteous, though haughty as any other woman of high birth. She bore Martin a daughter, Lydia, shortly after the wedding.” The smile turned pained. “Lydia…was a sweet child. She could make friends with anyone, and she had none of her mother’s hauteur. The servants adore
d her. Everyone did.”

  “What went wrong?” said Caina.

  “Jadriga,” said Hiram. He spat the word like something poisonous. Caina remembered him cursing Jadriga in Agria’s bedroom.

  “And who is Jadriga?” said Caina.

  “A charlatan,” said Hiram. “She came from the Imperial capital, claiming to be an astrologer, a seeress, in touch with the ‘sacred mysticism’ of women and other such nonsense. Well, noblewomen like to collect eccentrics, and Agria was fascinated by Jadriga. Martin should have had her thrown into the street.” He shook his head. “Jadriga poured poison into Agria’s ear from the first day. She told Agria that her husband and daughter were hindrances, chains holding her back from reaching her full potential.” His scowl deepened. “Agria would spend all her time with Jadriga, and the wives of Lord Heliorus and Lord Chlorus, chanting and burning incense and painting symbols upon the wall. Foolishness, all of it.”

  “No,” said Caina. “Agria has some arcane power. Perhaps she learned it from this Jadriga.”

  Hiram blinked. “She…does?” He shook his head. “That would explain some things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why she changed,” said Hiram. “After she began meeting with Jadriga, her temperament changed entirely. She turned against Martin first, and then Lydia. She had screaming rages, beating the servants and smashing things when anything displeased her. And…you might think me mad, but she began to look younger, too.”

  “Younger?” said Caina.

  “Thinner,” said Hiram. “Fewer lines upon her face. Perhaps that was sorcery, too.” He gripped the hilt of his broadsword. “And sorcery would explain other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “How she killed Martin and Lydia,” said Hiram.

  “You’re sure she killed them?” said Caina.

  “I know it,” said Hiram. “I have no proof but I am sure of it. They both died of the weeping plague five years ago. The bodies were burned at once to keep the disease from spreading. And Agria did not care. Not a month passed before she began throwing lavish parties every week, and taking a different lover into her bed every night. It’s a miracle she hasn’t exhausted Martin’s money yet.”

  “She has,” said Caina. “In fact she is over six million denarii in debt.”

  “Six million?” said Hiram, shocked. “I knew that she was heedlessly extravagant…but to that extent?”

  “She’s not spending all that money on wine and jewels,” said Caina. “Is she?”

  “No,” said Hiram. He took a deep breath. “She is buying slaves, kidnapped from the countryside and the streets of Marsis. Hundreds and hundreds of them. And the gods only know what she is doing with them! She’ll hold a few dozen in the cellar for a few weeks, and then they disappear.”

  “Why do you think she is buying these slaves?” said Caina.

  Hiram shrugged. “I cannot imagine. Reselling them, I suppose, in order to cover her debts. There are mine owners and plantation farmers who are not choosy about where their labor comes from.”

  “Or traitors to the Empire,” said Caina.

  “What do you mean?” said Hiram.

  “You know of a man named Naelon Icaraeus?” said Caina.

  Hiram blinked in surprise. “Old Lord Haeron's son, isn't he? Banished from the Empire for treason and plotting with necromancers. There’s a vast bounty on his head, but no one has ever collected it.”

  “He has turned to slave trading to raise money,” said Caina. “Agria has been buying her slaves from him.”

  “She is consorting with an attainted traitor to the Emperor?” said Hiram, aghast. “Agria always meets with two men when she buys slaves. I followed one of them…”

  “That is Tigrane,” said Caina. “A former pirate captain. The other man is Icaraeus.”

  “Gods of the Empire,” spat Hiram. “Is there nothing that woman won’t do? She squandered her wealth. She is buying slaves. She murdered my brother and his daughter! And now she is dealing with a traitor to the Empire?”

  “You know she is buying slaves,” said Caina. “Why haven’t you gone to the magistrates, or to Lord Governor Corbould Maraeus?”

  “Who would believe me?” said Hiram, bitterness in his voice. “I have no proof, only the things that I alone have witnessed. I am the bastard half-brother of Martin’s widow. Without impervious proof, any accusation I level will be seen as a jealous bastard attempting to usurp Agria’s lawful rights. And I have no impervious proof.” He looked at her. “Do the Ghosts?”

  “Not yet,” said Caina. “But we will, soon. Especially if we have your assistance.”

  Hiram nodded. “You have it.”

  “Good. Have you followed Tigrane before?”

  “Several times,” said Hiram. “He drinks at the Dead Fish Tavern frequently. He usually has a dozen other men with him. I don’t dare approach him by myself, and I can’t bring the troops of my cohort into the city without a proper warrant.”

  “Which you cannot obtain without impervious proof,” said Caina.

  Hiram nodded. “How can we obtain such proof?”

  “You will continue to keep an eye on the Dead Fish Tavern,” said Caina. “Naelon Icaraeus is the priority.”

  “But Agria…”

  “If we take down Icaraeus, we shall have all the proof we need to deal with Agria,” said Caina.

  What she did not say was that they might just kill Agria anyway. The Emperor took a dim view of nobles who dabbled in the slave trade. More than once he had ordered their covert deaths. And Caina suspected that the Emperor would not care how Naelon Icaraeus died, so long that he did.

  “What about Martin and Lydia?” said Hiram. “Will you get justice for them?”

  “Agria will pay for what she has done,” said Caina. One way or another. “Do not approach her directly.”

  Hiram snorted. “I haven’t exchanged more than pleasantries with Agria in years.”

  “I am serious,” said Caina. “She has mastered a level of sorcery that permits her to control the minds of men. If she has the least inkling that you’re a threat to her, she might force you to kill yourself.”

  Hiram frowned, and nodded. “How shall I contact you if I find something useful?”

  “You will send a message, sealed with your tribune’s authority, to Ducas, a tribune of the Twentieth Legion,” said Caina. “He will know what to do with it. And I may call upon you later.”

  “Good,” said Hiram. He half-turned, looking in the direction of Agria’s mansion. “This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Maybe at last Agria will…”

  Caina took the opportunity to slip out of the alley and settle into a doorframe. Her cloak settled around her, merging with the shadows. A moment later Hiram burst in the street, looking back and forth.

  “How the devil did he do that?” he muttered. Then he gave a short, sharp shake of his head and stalked away, hand still resting on the hilt of his broadsword. Caina waited until he had vanished from sight, counted to a hundred, and started back to Zorgi’s inn.

  ###

  It took longer without a proper rope, but Caina scaled the wall, rolled over the railing, and pushed open the doors to their rooms.

  Halfdan sat at the table, sipping from a glass of wine. Ark sat besides him, cleaning his broadsword and daggers. They both looked up as she entered.

  “Good to see that you’re not dead,” said Ark.

  “I should have checked with you first,” said Caina. “But I saw the opportunity.”

  Halfdan waved a hand. “You know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t have brought you to Marsis if you didn’t. We found your dress in the coach, and your cloak and weapons gone. Since it was rather unlikely that Ducas had finally seduced you, I figured that you had seen something that needed investigating. So. What was it?”

  Caina told him about following Tigrane, and about meeting Hiram in the alley near the Dead Fish Tavern.

  “Hiram knew Agria was up to something,�
�� said Caina. “He just didn’t know the extent.”

  “Assuming he told the truth,” said Halfdan.

  “I think he did,” said Ark. “When I met him, it was plain that he hated Lady Palaegus.”

  Caina nodded in agreement.

  “Good,” said Halfdan. “I’ve heard of this Dead Fish Tavern. It has an evil reputation, and is supposed to be a den of thieves. It seems like the sort of place someone like Tigrane would frequent, and it’s entirely possible he’s operating out of there.” He rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking. “We’ve no engagements for tomorrow night. So we’ll stir up the Dead Fish Tavern and see what floats to the top. If we get lucky, we might find Icaraeus himself, or discover where to find him.”

  “And when we find him?” said Caina.

  “We capture him and bring him to the Emperor,” said Halfdan. “And if not, then we kill him.”

  “Finally, something to look forward to,” said Caina.

  ###

  Again the nightmare came.

  This time Caina fled through a maze of black stone, her heart racing, sweat pouring down her face, terrified sounds escaping from her lips. The walls blurred and slipped, shifting between black marble and the trees of Messana Heliorus’s grounds. Her bare feet slipped on the slick stone, and she fell with a scream, her head and wrist cracking against the floor.

  The solemn girl in the gray dress stood nearby, watching her, the silver comb glittering in her hair.

  Caina rolled over just in time to see twisted black shapes lunge around the corner, reaching for her with jagged yellow claws…

  ###

  She awoke with a shriek, tearing the blankets away as if they were poisonous things. She looked around in a panic, expecting to see the girl in the gray dress, or the black twisted shapes.

  But she saw nothing. The room was empty of everything but moonlight and shadows. She saw no trace of the solemn girl, or the snarling black shapes, or any of the experiences that had left scars upon her mind.

  Caina shuddered and rubbed her hands against her forehead. They did not shake, which was a relief, though they came away wet with sweat.