Ghost in the Hunt

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “I cannot argue with that,” said Claudia.

  Cassander laughed. “I am not terribly interested in the self-important opinions of yet another of Decius Aberon’s pompous bastards. Really, Martin. You could have found a far worthier wife.”

  Claudia bristled, but Martin lifted his hand. “You would do well not to insult my wife, magus.”

  “Or what?” said Cassander. “What shall you do about it, my lord Martin? Challenge me to a duel? I should like to witness that.”

  “I would imagine,” said Martin, “that our host would take it ill if blood were shed within the grounds of the Padishah’s palace.”

  “Indeed I would, Cassander,” rumbled Erghulan. “Do try to control yourself. I thought maintaining decorum would be easy for a magus of the Order.”

  Cassander’s smile never wavered, but for a moment Caina glimpsed the annoyance in his blue eyes. “Of course. Do forgive me, Grand Wazir. In my enthusiasm about the opportunities before you, I have gotten carried away.”

  They stopped before the high table. The dancers, hundreds of them, continued their rhythmic motions against the base of the Court’s snow-white walls. Slaves hurried to and fro, lighting bonfires as the sun dipped below the western horizon. The flames threw the dancers’ shadows against the white wall, stark and enormous. Caina had to admit that the effect was impressive.

  “And what opportunities are those, Lord Cassander?” said Erghulan, turning back to the magus.

  “Why, return of the Argamaz Desert, for one,” said Cassander. “The Order would be pleased to return it to the rightful control of the Padishah, once Malarae is taken and the Emperor’s tottering regime swept away. The Provosts of my Order…”

  “Provosts, my lord?” said Caina, raising her eyebrows.

  For the first time Cassander regarded her. “And you are…”

  “Kyrazid Tomurzu, my lord,” said Caina with a deep bow. “A factor for some prominent nobles of Imperial Cyrica.”

  “I see,” said Cassander. “Tell your masters to side with the Order. Unlike the Emperor and the Imperial Curia, we recognize that the natural order of mankind is of master and slave, and we shall not pass foolish laws against slavery.”

  “I am sure my masters shall be delighted to hear of it,” said Caina.

  “In answer to your question, the Order is guided by five Provosts, all magi of great power,” said Cassander. “The High Provost oversees their work as first among equals. Yet there are more important matters to discuss.” He looked back at Erghulan. “The price of slaves has trebled in the last year.”

  “Quadrupled,” said Erghulan, his smile turning into a scowl. “We have had problems with some madman disguising himself as a hero of Szaldic myth and terrorizing the Slavers’ Brotherhood.”

  “The Order can resolve that problem,” said Cassander. “Our recent conquests have provided us with vast number of captives, and slavery has been reinstituted in the provinces under our control. We would be more than happy to sell you slaves at low cost, which I imagine would go a long way toward easing your labor shortage.”

  “Ah,” said Erghulan. “I imagine the price for this largess would be an alliance? All the slaves in the world will do Istarinmul no good if an army comes out of Imperial Cyrica to invade us.”

  “Not at all,” said Cassander. “The Order respects both the borders and the sovereignty of Istarinmul. Simply permitting our war fleets to pass through the Starfall Straits shall be enough.”

  Caina kept her face calm. Cassander’s offer was a good one. Far more generous than she would have expected.

  Martin recognized the danger. “The Order has already failed to respect the boundaries of the Padishah’s realm. Three days ago two assassins of the Order broke into my residence and tried to murder my wife.”

  “Lies,” said Cassander.

  “A bold claim,” said Erghulan.

  “We made sure to preserve the bodies,” said Martin with a chilly smile. “The Order has the unfortunate habit of carving its sigil onto the flesh of its servants.” He gestured at the Adamant Guards’ foreheads. “We can show you the corpses, if you like.”

  Erghulan scowled at the Umbarian magus. “This is a serious charge, Cassander. I do not care if your Order and the Empire wipe each other out, but by the Living Flame you shall not do so upon Istarish soil. If you wish to murder Lord Martin’s wife, you can do so outside of the walls of Istarinmul.”

  “Those assassins were not there to murder Decius Aberon’s witless bastard,” said Cassander. Martin scowled, but Cassander kept speaking. “They were there to aid you, my lord Wazir.”

  “Really,” said Erghulan. “Do tell, Cassander. How does violating the Padishah’s laws aid me?”

  “They were there,” said Cassander, “to find the Balarigar.”

  Caina felt a chill.

  “Indeed,” said Erghulan, a sudden interest in his eyes. “So you suspect this renegade Szaldic legend is lurking in the cellar of the Lord Ambassador’s mansion?”

  “It is entirely possible,” said Cassander. “You see, my lord Grand Wazir, I know who the Balarigar is.”

  Caina’s chill worsened. She was suddenly aware of the dozen Adamant Guards around Cassander, of the scores of Immortals. If Erghulan ordered her death, she would not get three steps before they cut her down.

  Or they took her alive, which would be much worse.

  “You have earned my curiosity,” said Erghulan. “Proceed.”

  “Perhaps you have heard the rumors of the Balarigar slaying Rezir Shahan in Marsis, of stopping Armizid Asurius’s rebellion in Cyrioch, of fighting against the golden dead in New Kyre,” said Cassander. “The Magisterium wanted the Balarigar dead for years, and when the Order declared itself, many of the Magisterium’s secrets became our secrets. The Balarigar is in fact a Ghost nightfighter.”

  Erghulan grunted. “I already suspected as much.”

  “Absurd,” said Martin. “The Ghosts are a myth.”

  “Did you suspect,” said Cassander, “that the Balarigar is in fact a woman?”

  It took every bit of Caina’s control to keep from flinching, and she wondered if she had just walked into a trap.

  Erghulan laughed. “Now you are jesting. No mere woman could accomplish the feats the Balarigar has.”

  “Her name is Caina Amalas,” said Cassander. Martin said nothing, but Claudia’s lips thinned just a bit. “From what the Magisterium’s spies gathered, she is a noble-born orphan who the Ghosts recruited and then shaped into a capable nightfighter. Shortly before the day of the golden dead, she murdered one of Corbould Maraeus’s children. Lord Corbould wanted her dead, but the Emperor was loath to discard such a valuable tool, and instead he sent her to Istarinmul, where at his command she has begun an illegal war upon your Brotherhood of Slavers.”

  “The Ghost circle of Istarinmul was destroyed after the war,” said Erghulan, but there was doubt in his voice.

  “So Caina Amalas reestablished it,” said Cassander. “The servants of my Order were hunting for her. My lord, we had hoped to rid you of this pestilential woman as a sign of our esteem for the Padishah.”

  “That would be a splendid gift,” said Erghulan. “The Balarigar has caused great trouble for us. A woman, though? I find that hard to credit.”

  “Give me leave to search, my lord,” said Cassander, “and I shall find her for you. The common rabble murmur praise for her? Let us see how much they admire her when her naked corpse is hung from the walls of the Crows’ Tower.”

  For a moment Caina expected Cassander to unmask her then and there. He must know what she looked like, or at least had a physical description. Then she realized that he was looking for a woman. The only reason she was still alive was because she had dressed as a man. The minute he saw past her disguise, she was dead.

  “My lord Wazir, forgive me, but I must speak,” said Martin. “This is utter nonsense. The Emperor does not maintain a network of spies.”

  Erghulan snorted. “And nei
ther does the Padishah, of course. We are all innocent little lambs.”

  “It is still nonsense,” said Martin.

  “Lord Cassander presents a compelling argument,” said Erghulan.

  “I do not have the sophist’s tongue that Lord Cassander wields to adroitly,” said Martin. “I am a soldier, so I shall use blunt speech.” Erghulan nodded in approval, and Caina saw the cleverness of Martin’s tactic. “Cassander Nilas offers fine arguments and honeyed words. When was the last time you heard such rousing speeches? I suspect it was when Rezir Shahan convinced the Padishah to go to war against the Empire, to trust in the promises of Andromache of New Kyre.”

  Erghulan nodded again, slower, and Cassander’s smile flickered.

  “Andromache promised her power would win the day,” said Martin. “Rezir Shahan promised that Marsis would become a new emirate. All fine promises, all argued with the same eloquence Lord Cassander uses so readily. And what did those fine promises reap? Nearly two years of ruinous war! My lord, I will not make fine speeches or grand promises, nor will I promise you cheap slaves and your enemies’ heads upon a platter, but I will say this. Simply remain neutral, and the Empire shall return to the favor. Do not ally yourself with these deceitful rebels, these ruthless and murderous men who have turned against their lawful Emperor.”

  “A blunt speech,” said Erghulan. “This tedious business of diplomacy could use more blunt speeches. But all this talk has made me hungry. Let us eat!”

  He clapped his hands, and the slaves emerged from the palace proper, bearing more food. The other nobles and merchants began to make their way to the tables, and the dancers moved into new patterns, their shadows rippling across the wall. Cassander snapped an order to one of his bodyguards, and the Adamant Guards moved around him.

  Caina scanned the courtyard, seeking paths of escape. Cassander was clearly no fool, and if he looked at her too long, if he realized who she was, she would have to escape.

  If she could.

  As she scanned the Court, she saw the hooded shape move upon the wall.

  ###

  Kalgri gazed down into the Court, the Voice hissing with anticipation.

  She saw Caina Amalas standing with the Imperial nobleman and his wife, speaking with the Grand Wazir. To Kalgri’s mild surprise, she saw Cassander Nilas standing with them. She had not expected to see the Umbarian magus again, not after he had hired her to kill the Kyracian archons who had opposed an alliance with the Order, but it did not matter. He would be smart enough to stay out of her way. If he had gotten stupider in the year since she had gone on her rampage through the Assembly of New Kyre, well, she could kill him alongside anyone else who tried to stop her.

  Nobles, merchants, Immortals, Imperial Guards, and Adamant Guards filled the Court of the Fountain.

  Kalgri wondered how many of them she would have to kill before the night was out.

  The Voice’s hiss of anticipation grew louder.

  Kalgri would start with Caina. She was the most dangerous one, after all. None of the others bore the shadow of the future upon them.

  Kalgri had discarded all traces of the serving woman. Now she wore her armor, cloak, and mask, her weapons ready in her harness. She raised her recurved Anshani bow, drew an arrow, sighted upon Caina Amalas, and released.

  And in that very instant, Caina looked up and saw her.

  Chapter 8 - Huntress

  Caina flinched in surprise when she saw the hooded crimson shape upon the Golden Palace’s outer wall.

  The motion saved her life.

  In the instant she stepped back, a dark shape flickered before her eyes and something stiff tugged at the end of her fake mustache. A man screamed, and she saw one of the Imperial Guards next to Lord Martin stagger, an arrow jutting from a gap in his armor. The red shadow upon the wall was an archer, and Caina realized it at the same time everyone else did.

  “Archer!” shouted Martin.

  “Protect the Grand Wazir!” roared one of the Immortals, and the black-armored warriors hurried to his side. Some of the Immortals began running for the stairs to the ramparts, while the dancers screamed, their elaborate rhythms collapsing into chaos. The slaves gaped at the red shadow in panic, while others fled in terror, screaming a name over and over again.

  The Red Huntress. The Red Huntress.

  Caina turned towards Martin, urging him to take cover.

  ###

  Claudia summoned her power as the red shadow upon the wall raised its bow.

  The assassin had to be here to kill Martin. Cassander had hired the assassin and planned this from the beginning, smirking while his archer maneuvered into position. The damned Umbarian seemed amused by the upheaval, gazing at the wall with his eyebrows raised as the red-cloaked figure lifted its bow again.

  But Claudia had already lost Corvalis. She would not lose Martin, too.

  She would not!

  Claudia flung out her hands and cast a spell. A hammer of invisible psychokinetic force leaped from her fingers and slammed into the red shape. The assassin stumbled and fell from the rampart to the courtyard eighty feet below.

  The crack of shattering bone reached Claudia’s ears, and the assassin lay motionless.

  ###

  Caina let out a long breath as Claudia lowered her hands.

  “Good shot,” said Caina.

  Claudia ignored her and hurried to Martin. “Are you all right? The arrow…it didn’t…”

  “No,” said Martin, voice grim. “The Guard it struck is dead.” He glared at Erghulan. “Is this how you greet your Padishah’s guests, my lord Wazir? You invite guests into the Golden Palace and have assassins wait for them? This is an insult to the Empire and the Emperor!”

  “I did no such thing, my lord ambassador,” said Erghulan. Clearly he had not expected the assassination attempt, either. “Whoever this assassin is, it is not my doing or the Padishah’s.” Caina noticed he said nothing of Grand Master Callatas. “What of you, my lord Cassander? Have you not already sent assassins to assail an ambassador to the Padishah in his home? Will your boldness extend to dispatching assassins to the Golden Palace itself?”

  Cassander blinked. “I can assure you that neither I nor the Umbarian Order had anything to do with this assassin. If you do not believe me, at least consider our reputation for clever ruthlessness. Even if the archer had been successful, every eye in the courtyard would have seen the murder. The assassin would be caught and questioned at once.” He smiled, a glint in his blue eyes. “A pity Lady Claudia was so…overenthusiastic in her response. It might have proven informative to take the assassin alive.”

  “Threaten us and cast doubts upon the honor of the Lord Ambassador, rebel,” spat Claudia, “and you’ll see just how enthusiastic I can be.”

  Cassander laughed. “This bastard bitch has claws!” One of the Adamant Guards let out a metallic, humorless chuckle. Martin stepped forward, hand falling to his sword hilt, and it might have gone further, but Caina raised her voice.

  “Perhaps, my lords, I might presume to make a suggestion,” said Caina, and they looked at her. She felt the weight of Cassander’s cold blue gaze. “Should we not search the assassin’s corpse? Perhaps that will give a hint as to the identity of his master.”

  “Her,” said Cassander.

  Erghulan blinked. “Her? A woman hired the assassin?”

  “No, the assassin is a woman,” said Cassander.

  “Well, there is your Balarigar, Grand Wazir,” said Martin. “Perhaps you ought to pay my wife the bounty now.”

  “No, someone was trying to scare us with an old myth,” said Erghulan. “The tale of the Red Huntress, so feared and so admired by the common rabble. Likely someone dressed a common whore in a red cloak, gave her a bow, and hoped to frighten us with an old story. It explains why her shot missed.”

  “Given that she slew one of my Imperial Guards,” said Martin, “I suspect her aim was not as bad as that.”

  Caina stared at the corpse below the wall,
the frightened dancers keeping well away from it. The crimson cloak covered most of the body, but Caina saw no blood. A fall from that height should have resulted in a pool of blood beneath the corpse.

  Worse, she felt a faint aura of sorcery around the corpse.

  “My lords, forgive me,” said Caina, “but I suggest we withdraw inside at once.”

  Erghulan blinked. “But whatever for? The food is almost here.”

  She resisted the urge to yell at him. “You, my lord Grand Wazir, are the most powerful man in Istarinmul, and both Lord Ambassadors are likewise men of great influence. Surely only the most skillful assassins could succeed in taking your life. Yet this attempt was clumsy, and…”

  “You fear it might have been a ruse,” said Cassander, tilting his head to the side as he regarded her. Caina did not like the sudden contemplation in his eyes. “Or a diversion. Most clever for a simple factor.”

  “My lord only employs clever men,” said Caina.

  “Very well,” said Erghulan. “You four.” He pointed at some of the Immortals. “Bring the dead assassin here. Let us put Master Kyrazid’s mind at ease.”

  The Immortals moved towards the fallen woman, their black armor clanking.

  The red shape began to twitch as they approached, the crimson cloak rippling.

  ###

  Falling into the courtyard had hurt quite a lot.

  It annoyed Kalgri to no end.

  Wasted pain infuriated her. The Voice fed on torment and stolen life force and converted it to power. But the Voice could not feed upon the pain of its vessel, which meant any pain Kalgri endured was useless.

  Fortunately, there were other sources of pain close at hand.

  The Voice’s power thundered through her. She had broken her right leg, arm, and shattered most of her ribs, the fragments driving into her lungs. The Voice’s might sealed the bones back together and repaired the torn and bruised flesh. The process was excruciatingly agonizing, which irritated Kalgri further