Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 05 - Ghost in the Stone

by Jonathan Moeller

  A moment later she passed the nobles and reached Theodosia, who stood beside a pair of harpists and a man with a flute.

  “Well done, fellows,” she said. “The Grand Imperial Opera is always in need of musicians. Present yourselves to the seneschal tomorrow, and perhaps he will find a place for you.”

  The musicians bowed their thanks, and Theodosia joined Caina.

  “What was that all about?” said Theodosia in a low voice.

  “That slave,” said Caina, looking at the assassin. The Kindred hurried towards the doors. “Kindred. He poisoned the wine. The only way I could think of stopping him was to trip, so I did.”

  Theodosia laughed. “Clever.”

  “And that cloaked man with the tattoos showed up,” said Caina. “Apparently his name is Corvalis Aberon.”

  “Aberon?” said Theodosia, startled. “As in the First Magus Decius Aberon?”

  “I don’t know,” said Caina. “He says he has no interest in Corbould Maraeus. To prove his good faith, he offered to help me stop the Kindred here. But then Sicarion showed up, and he and Corvalis fought. I don’t know what happened to them.”

  Odds were that the victor had escaped, and the loser’s corpse had been hidden somewhere in the Palace. Caina suspected that Sicarion had won the fight. She felt a twinge of guilt. Corvalis had fought for her and gotten himself killed. Of course, he seemed to hate Sicarion, and would have fought him anyway. But why?

  Another mystery.

  “Sicarion?” said Theodosia. “What was he doing here?”

  “I don’t know,” said Caina.

  “Are you sure the wine was poisoned?” said Theodosia.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “Look.”

  Theodosia looked at the puddle of wine and her eyes widened.

  A faint wisp of smoke curled from the marble flagstones.

  The wine was eating into the stone.

  “Gods,” said Theodosia. “So was the poison for Corbould or Khosrau?”

  “Maybe both of them,” said Caina. “I don’t know.” She frowned. “I intend to find out. We…”

  Her throat went dry, and she could not get the words out.

  “I…” Caina managed. “We…we need to…”

  Her hands started to shake.

  “Marina?” said Theodosia. “What’s wrong?”

  Caina looked at her hands, at the bloodstains on her sleeves and the droplets of wine on her fingers.

  At the droplets of poisoned wine on her fingers.

  A poison that could be absorbed through the skin?

  Her head throbbed, the Gallery spinning around her like a child’s toy.

  “Marina!” said Theodosia, grabbing her shoulder.

  “No,” rasped Caina, trying to pull away. “No, don’t touch me, the poison…”

  Her legs collapsed beneath her, and darkness swallowed her before she hit the ground.

  Chapter 10 – A Knife in the Tavern

  “For one so young,” said the Moroaica, running a finger over the spines of Sebastian Amalas’s books, “you have such tortured dreams.”

  Caina stood in her father’s library, watching her younger self weep over Sebastian Amalas. In a few minutes, she knew, her mother would enter and confront her. And then Caina would kill her mother. She hadn’t meant to do it. But she would do it nonetheless.

  “Eleven years old,” said Jadriga, stepping to Caina’s side, “and already you knew such pain.”

  “Yes,” said Caina.

  The world blurred, and she stood in Maglarion’s lair, watching herself scream as the necromancer extracted her blood for his experiments.

  “His methods,” said Jadriga, “were ever crude.” She leaned forward, her black eyes watching the screaming girl. “That sort of pain should have broken you, shattered you into a thousand pieces.”

  “How do you know,” said Caina, “that it didn’t?”

  “Because it made you stronger,” said Jadriga. “It let you understand the true nature of the world, as I do.”

  Again the world blurred, and Caina saw the Great Market in Marsis once more, saw thousands of people fleeing in panic as the Istarish attacked the city, Andromache’s lightning ripping down from the clear sky. Caina saw herself running with Nicolai in her arms, trying to get to safety.

  “You see the world as it is,” said Jadriga. “That it is broken, a prison made to torture us.”

  “If there is pain in the world,” said Caina, “it is because there are men and women like you in the world. I saw what you did under Black Angel Tower. How many other people have you killed over the centuries? How many other lives have you ruined?”

  “Life is the acquisition of power,” said Jadriga, “and when I have enough power, I will destroy the world and remake it. I will break the circle and assemble it anew. I will reforge the world so there will be no more pain, no more suffering.”

  “That’s mad,” said Caina.

  Jadriga smiled. “It is only mad if I do not have the power to do it. And I will, soon.”

  The world dissolved into nothingness.

  ###

  Caina blinked awake, sunlight stabbing into her aching eyes.

  Someone thrust a wooden bucket into her hands.

  “You’re going to need this,” said Theodosia, “in another three seconds.”

  Caina sat up. She just had time to realize that she was in Theodosia’s suite at the Inn of the Defender. Then her stomach clenched with agony, and she doubled over and threw up everything she had ever eaten into the bucket.

  Or at least it felt like it.

  After the spasms passed, Caina spat, blinked the tears from her eyes, and looked up.

  “Why am I not dead?” said Caina.

  “Because,” said Theodosia, “the poison in the glass was something called baneroot. It is absolutely lethal if ingested. But if absorbed through the skin, it merely induces unconsciousness and delirium. You were talking in your sleep for most of the night.”

  Caina winced. “How did you explain it to Lord Khosrau?”

  Theodosia smiled. “I told him you fainted from embarrassment.” She passed her a cup of wine. “This will help.”

  Caina nodded, swished the wine around her mouth, and spat it into the stinking bucket. “How long was I out?”

  “About sixteen hours,” said Theodosia. “It’s past noon now.”

  Caina set aside the bucket and stood, taking a few cautious steps. She felt lightheaded, but not dizzy, and had no trouble keeping her balance.

  “Corbould and Khosrau are still alive?” said Caina.

  “Aye,” said Theodosia. “The Kindred made no further attempts on them.” She sighed. “Though I fear they suspect we are Ghosts now. Still, you could not have done otherwise.”

  “Corvalis,” said Caina. “Any sign of him? Or of Sicarion?”

  “None,” said Theodosia. “Marzhod has spies among the slaves of the Palace, and they did a search. There was a bit of a stir when they found those dead mercenaries, but they found no trace of either Corvalis or Sicarion.”

  “How did they explain the dead mercenaries?” said Caina.

  “Thieves,” said Theodosia, “who fell to fighting over the spoils.”

  Caina snorted. “A likely story.”

  “But they believed it,” said Theodosia with a shrug. “A pity we couldn’t capture that Kindred. Or find out which wine glasses were poisoned. It would help us figure out who hired them.”

  “Maybe all the glasses were poisoned,” said Caina, stretching as she worked out the knots in her back and neck. “Maybe someone hired the Kindred to kill Corbould, Khosrau, and Armizid in one fell swoop.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a delightful mess,” said Theodosia. “How do you feel?”

  “Better,” said Caina, stretching. “Lightheaded. I don’t think I can keep any food down yet, though.”

  “Good,” said Theodosia. “We’re going to pay another visit to Marzhod tonight. Perhaps he will have learned something useful.”
r />   ###

  “It sounds,” said Marzhod, “like you made a thorough botch of it.”

  Caina and Theodosia stood in Marzhod’s workroom at the Painted Whore, the sounds of revelry coming from the common room beneath their boots. Marzhod sat slumped at his desk, glaring at them. Saddiq stood behind him, oiling the blade of his massive scimitar.

  “Oh?” said Theodosia, lifting her eyebrows. Disguised as a Sarbian mercenary, the expression made her look villainous. “And what, dear Marzhod, would you have done differently?”

  “Taken that assassin alive, for one,” said Marzhod.

  “He wouldn’t have known who hired the Kindred,” said Theodosia.

  “No,” said Marzhod, “but we could have gotten other useful information out of him. Like the location of their Haven, for instance. Or perhaps the names of higher-ranking Kindred.”

  “We had to take matters in our own hands,” said Theodosia. “You certainly were no help.”

  Marzhod’s hand curled into a fist. “Because my best men have all been turned to statues. I ask for help, and Halfdan sends me an opera singer and a girl who drops wine trays. If I ask for a sword and a shield, will he send me a flower and a marshmallow?”

  Theodosia stared to look affronted. “I remind you, master Marzhod, that Halfdan…”

  “Don’t threaten me, woman,” snarled Marzhod. “I rule the shadows in Cyrioch. If you disappear and I tell Halfdan that the Kindred killed you, do you think he will disbelieve me?”

  “Threats, Marzhod?” said Theodosia, and both of them began shouting.

  “Enough!” said Caina. Her head still ached from the poisoning. “Shut up, both of you!”

  Both circlemasters glared at her, and Saddiq’s lip twitched in amusement.

  “Yes, I wish things had gone differently,” said Caina. “But they could have been worse. Khosrau, Armizid, and Corbould are still alive, and I didn’t accidentally kill myself with poison. We need to figure out who sent the Kindred after Lord Corbould. Otherwise we will sit around and blame each other as the Legions burn Cyrioch to the ground.”

  “You are both fools,” said Marzhod.

  “I don’t give a damn about the opinion of a man who owns slaves,” said Caina, rubbing her brow. Gods, her head hurt. “But unless we find out who hired the Kindred, Corbould Maraeus is going to die, Cyrioch will rebel against the Empire, and the Legions will destroy the city. It will be hard to rule the shadows in a city that has been burned to ashes.”

  Marzhod said nothing. Theodosia smiled, briefly.

  “So,” said Caina. “Who hired the Kindred?”

  “I don’t know,” said Marzhod. “If you had figured out which glass on that tray was poisoned, that would have been helpful.”

  “We already know the Kindred are trying to kill Corbould,” said Theodosia.

  “Yes,” said Marzhod, “but if they’re trying to kill both Khosrau and Armizid simultaneously, that makes things different. The nobles are arrogant, but not arrogant enough to fake their own assassinations. One does not play games with the Kindred.”

  “Khosrau, Armizid, and Corbould,” said Caina, thinking hard. She remembered how the poisoned wine had smoked against the marble. “All three of them were standing together. Maybe the assassin was trying to kill all three of them. They would have taken wine from the same tray.”

  “So who would benefit from killing both Corbould Maraeus and Lord Khosrau and his son?” said Theodosia.

  “The Magisterium,” said Caina.

  “Doubtful,” said Marzhod. “Lord Khosrau has no enemies among Cyrioch’s magi. He doesn’t like the magi, but he doesn’t dislike them, either. I see no reason why Ranarius would want the nobles dead.”

  “What about Mhadun?” said Caina. “He’s Kindred, I’m sure of it.”

  “He is,” said Marzhod, “but not out of loyalty. Mhadun works for whoever can pay him.”

  “He loves coins, then?” said Theodosia.

  Marzhod gave her a chilly smile. “No. But he does enjoy naked slave girls, preferably virgins. Virgins do not come cheaply, and the Kindred can pay him quite a lot of money.”

  “Have you tried following him?” said Caina. “He probably ranks high enough among the Kindred to know who hired them to kill Corbould.”

  Marzhod scoffed. “Spying upon a master magus is not easy. And Mhadun has power enough to pluck the secrets from a man’s mind with a single spell. Not someone to cross lightly. He’s too dangerous to capture and interrogate.”

  “What about Khosrau’s other sons?” said Theodosia. “He has at least twenty, both legitimate and not.”

  “But what would they gain from killing him?” said Marzhod. “Their father’s patronage has given them offices and magistracies across the Empire. One of his bastards even commands a Legion in the Imperial Pale. If they kill Khosrau, they lose their patron. Besides, Khosrau has the rare gift of remaining on good terms with his sons. Even the bastards.”

  “There are too many possibilities for us to take decisive action,” said Theodosia. “I suggest we focus on keeping Corbould, Khosrau, and Armizid alive. Sooner or later the Kindred will make a mistake, and we can find their Haven and destroy them, or at least hurt them enough that they won’t go after the nobles again.”

  Marzhod. “A good idea from an opera singer. Will wonders never cease?”

  “What about Corvalis Aberon and the statues?” said Caina, hoping to forestall another argument.

  “Decius Aberon is the First Magus,” said Theodosia, “and…”

  “How remarkably well-informed you are,” said Marzhod.

  “Are you better informed?” said Theodosia. “Do you know anything about Corvalis Aberon?”

  Marzhod shrugged. “I have never heard the name Corvalis, no. But the First Magus has a number of bastard children. Most of them are magi, with reputations as dark as their father’s.”

  “Corvalis wasn’t a magus,” said Caina. “He fought with sword and dagger, not with spells.”

  “Yet you said that scarred assassin wanted him dead,” said Marzhod. The doubt in his voice was plain.

  “Aye,” said Caina. “I think Sicarion was there for another reason. He was surprised to see Corvalis.”

  Marzhod grunted. “So this Sicarion is turning people into statues?”

  Caina would not put it past him or the Moroaica. Yet Sicarion was a necromancer, and Jadriga was dead.

  Or she was dead and her spirit was trapped inside Caina’s head.

  “I don’t know,” said Caina. “But I don’t see what advantage he would gain from it.”

  “Was Corvalis hunting Sicarion?” said Marzhod.

  “No,” said Caina. “He seemed just as surprised as Sicarion.”

  “How delightful that you could arrange the reunion of two old friends,” said Marzhod. “But until I find proof otherwise, I’ll assume that Corvalis Aberon is behind the statues.”

  Caina nodded. “I’m sure his ‘business’ is connected to it.”

  “I suggest you focus on finding who hired the Kindred,” said Theodosia. “Meanwhile, we will try to keep Corbould, Khosrau, and Armizid alive.”

  “Another opera?” said Marzhod. “Perhaps you can sing the assassins to death with the tedium of your voice.”

  “That would be convenient,” said Theodosia, “but instead we are going to the Ring of Valor to watch gladiatorial matches. Lord Corbould brought the Grand Imperial Opera to Cyrioch in honor of Lord Khosrau. So to repay him, Lord Khosrau is holding gladiatorial games in Corbould’s honor.”

  “I didn’t think you had the stomach for gladiators, dear Theodosia,” said Marzhod.

  Theodosia sniffed. “The vulgar tastes of those too crude to appreciate the splendors of opera are hardly my concern. But Lord Khosrau, in his graciousness, has invited the men and women of the Grand Imperial Opera to watch the games. And I am hardly so churlish to turn down the invitation of such a gracious lord.”

  Marzhod’s dark eyes flicked to Caina. “Just d
on’t faint at the sight of blood this time.”

  “I’ll manage,” said Caina.

  “We will ensure that no harm comes to the lords,” said Theodosia. “I trust you will keep yourself useful.”

  “My men will keep watch on known members of the Kindred,” said Marzhod. ” And as for the statues,” he rubbed the dark stubble of his jaw, “I may have to hire…outside help.”

  “Outside help?” said Theodosia. “What do you mean?”

  “An expert in sorcery,” said Marzhod. “Someone to take a closer look at the statues.”

  “No members of the Magisterium,” said Caina. “They cannot be trusted.”

  “Of course they cannot be trusted,” said Marzhod. “Sorcerers are an unreliable and treacherous lot, and we’d be better off if we killed them all.”

  Caina felt her opinion of Marzhod improve.

  “But I’ve never heard of sorcery that could turn a man to stone,” said Marzhod. “So it’s time to consult an expert.” He grimaced. “Difficult as she may be.”

  “She’s mad, that one,” said Saddiq, his deep voice a rumble.

  Marzhod scowled. “Do you know another renegade sorcerer available for hire? No? Until you find one, we have to turn to her.” He stood. “If that is all, I do have work to do.”

  “Why, Marzhod,” said Theodosia. “I was sure you were going to offer us something to drink.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” said Marzhod. “I’m trying to turn a profit, and spying for the Ghosts does not pay very well. I certainly cannot turn a profit by giving away wine for free.”

  Theodosia sniffed and got to her feet as Marzhod walked to the door. “Not that the vinegar you sell can be properly called wine.”

  Marzhod and Theodosia headed into the hallway, still bickering, while Caina followed. Saddiq fell in besides her, moving with silence remarkable in so large a man.

  “I think,” said Caina, voice low, “that they’re going to kill each other.”