“At the moment I do not give a damn if Lord Cassander wants to murder both the Emperor and the Padishah and make himself despot of both nations,” said Martin. “Open the gate and let me find my wife.”
The Grand Wazir shook his head. “Not until the Alchemists arrive.”
“Then you leave me no choice but to force my way out,” said Martin.
Erghulan started to reach for his sword, but Claudia ran forward.
“Martin!” she shouted. “Stop! I’m here.”
“The gods be praised,” said Martin, hurrying to her. “You’re not hurt?”
“No,” said Claudia, “but it was close. Master Kyrazid helped me escape. We hid until the Huntress and the Adamant Guards had passed, and then made our way here.”
“Adamant Guards?” said Martin. “Did they try to hurt you?”
“They tried to kidnap me,” said Claudia. “They wanted to use me against you.”
“That is a serious accusation,” said Erghulan.
“I witnessed it as well, my lord Wazir,” said Caina.
“So much for the security and safety of the ambassadors to the court of Nahas Tarshahzon,” said Martin. “Does the Padishah’s word of honor mean so little?”
Erghulan drew himself up, bristling. Caina wondered why Martin would provoke the Grand Wazir, and then realized the strategy behind it. Erghulan Amirasku might be a supporter of Callatas and his Apotheosis, but he cared a great deal about his image as an Istarish nobleman, and an Istarish nobleman did not let harm come to his guests.
“Did you see,” said Claudia, “when the Huntress attacked, she did not strike at Lord Cassander or any of his Adamant Guards? Nor did Cassander fight in our defense! He is a potent sorcerer. Perhaps his powers could have turned the tide against the Red Huntress. But he did nothing.”
“These are serious charges,” said Erghulan, “and in the light of tonight’s massacre, I shall investigate them with the utmost gravity. Rest assured, my lord Martin, that the Padishah takes the security of his guests seriously, and anyone who threatens them shall know his wrath.”
“I shall wait to see if that is true or not,” said Martin.
“That is an insult,” said Erghulan, “but given the situation I cannot deny you that.”
“I will withdraw back to the Lord Ambassador’s mansion,” said Martin. “I no longer feel secure here.”
Erghulan scowled. “The Red Huntress may still be about. If you withdraw, I cannot guarantee your protection.”
“Nevertheless,” said Martin, “while I am certain your intentions are noble, my lord Erghulan, the Huntress slew fifteen of my men in the Court of the Fountain. It seems my protection is not guaranteed anywhere.”
“What news of the Huntress?” said Caina, since no one else had bothered to ask. “Is she still here? Did your men slay her?”
“I fear not,” said Erghulan. “For whatever reason, she withdrew. Most likely she knew that she could not assail the Old Armory and retreated to await a more opportune moment to strike.”
“The Huntress had a spirit of the netherworld within her,” said Claudia. “It grants her speed and prowess. I…detected it with my spells, and tried to banish it, but it was too strong. I suspect that may have frightened her off.”
“I see,” said Erghulan. “Did your spells discern what manner of spirit?”
“No,” said Claudia. Caina was relieved that Claudia had the wit to lie. Erghulan might have been concerned about his honor as an Istarish emir, but he was still a supporter of Grand Master Callatas. If Callatas thought that Claudia and Martin knew about the nagataaru, he might have them both killed.
“Very well,” said Erghulan. “I shall inform the Alchemists when they arrive. Perhaps they will have some insights.”
“Come, my wife,” said Martin. “Let us gather our dead and be gone from this place.”
###
A short time later Claudia stood in the Court of the Fountain and watched as the Imperial Guards gathered up their dead comrades.
Fifteen men slain trying to protect her husband. She was grateful to them, and she would never have the chance to tell them. If the gods were just, she hoped the men who had died in the course of their duty would be rewarded in the next life.
But if the gods were just, why had Corvalis died?
“You shouldn’t go back to the mansion,” said Caina in a quiet voice, cutting into Claudia’s bleak thoughts. “At least not yet.”
“You think the Huntress will lie in wait for us there?” said Martin.
“Possibly,” said Caina. “I think Claudia drove her off. She went berserk after Claudia tried to banish the nagataaru. I suspect she retreated to prepare a new plan of attack. If her first arrow hadn’t missed you, she could have just jumped off the wall and vanished into the streets. So her most logical course of action now is to lie in wait at the mansion and kill you quickly.”
“How do you suggest we proceed?” said Martin. “This Huntress creature seems as dangerous as Sicarion or the Moroaica. A hundred Imperial Guards and a hundred Immortals, and she fought her way free! One woman, and she overcame them all. Some of them landed wounds, aye, but they healed quickly. What strategy can we use against her?”
“I don’t know,” said Caina. Claudia was surprised to hear that. Caina usually had a plan.
“You said you had faced these nagataaru creatures before,” said Claudia in a low voice.
“Three times,” said Caina. “No. Four. Technically.”
“You’re still alive,” said Martin. “How did you prevail?”
“The first time I blew up the building with Hellfire,” said Caina. Claudia blinked in surprise.
Martin snorted. “I doubt we could reproduce that here, even if we could convince the College to lend us a few hundred amphorae of Hellfire.”
“No,” said Caina. “The second time a nagataaru inhabited a fresh corpse. We overcame it by cutting the corpse to pieces.”
“We’d have to first kill the Huntress to actually have a corpse,” said Claudia.
“The third time a nagataaru possessed another Ghost, a wraithblood addict,” said Caina. “Something about wraithblood seems to render the user vulnerable to sorcerous attack. I stabbed her in the leg with a ghostsilver dagger. The ghostsilver hurt the nagataaru enough that it fled. The last time…”
Her voice trailed off, and for a moment she looked haunted.
“I was in the netherworld,” said Caina.
“Again?” said Claudia.
“It’s a long story,” said Caina. “The Moroaica’s great work damaged the netherworld. The golden rift left cracks in the walls between the worlds, cracks the nagataaru can use to enter. They came for me, millions of them, so many that they filled the sky with shadow and purple flame.”
“How did you escape?” said Martin.
“I ran faster,” said Caina. “I reached the gate to the mortal world before they did.”
“None of that helps us against the Red Huntress,” said Claudia, sharper than she intended.
Caina gave no sign of offense. “No. There have been stories about the Red Huntress in Istarinmul for years, maybe even centuries. At first I thought our attacker only wore the costume of the Huntress to frighten us. But if she has a nagataaru inside her, the spirit could have kept her alive for decades. The nagataaru feed on pain and torment…”
“Which is why the Huntress killed all those men,” said Martin.
“Most likely,” said Caina. “If she’s cooperating with the nagataaru, if she’s had decades of experience in combat, all of that backed up by the power of the spirit…she will be incredibly dangerous. Perhaps a team of battle magi or Kyracian stormdancers working in concert could defeat her, but we certainly could not.”
Martin shook his head. “It is flattering, I suppose, that Cassander thought me dangerous enough to hire such a potent assassin.”
“I’m not sure Cassander sent her,” said Caina.
“Who else could it have possi
bly been?” said Claudia.
“Think it through,” said Caina, sending a flush of irritation though Claudia. “If someone murders you and Martin, Cassander is the obvious suspect. And why try to take you captive while the Huntress is killing Martin? If the Red Huntress had slain Martin, you would have been useless to Cassander. I think Cassander was as surprised as anyone when the Huntress showed up, and then decided to seize the opportunity to abduct you.”
“All of this is moot,” said Martin. “We shall never learn who hired the Huntress if she kills us first.”
“No,” said Caina. “I don’t know how to kill the Huntress. But I know a man who might.”
Chapter 10 - Refuge
Claudia scowled as Caina explained her plan, but Martin seemed amenable enough.
They returned to the coach and started back to the Lord Ambassador’s residence, followed by Imperial Guards bearing the corpses of their slain comrades. The coach stopped in a narrow street, and Caina, Martin, and Claudia slipped out the door and ducked into an alley. The coach continued on its way, empty as the driver took it to the mansion in the Emirs’ Quarter. Tylas would tell any callers that the Lord Ambassador and his wife, dismayed by the attempt upon their lives, would refuse all visitors for the next few days.
That, Caina hoped, would give them time to take action.
They hurried through the maze of alleys at the southern edge of the Old Quarter, and soon the stately stone houses gave way to the ramshackle, towering tenements and cheap wine shops that dominated the Anshani Quarter.
“What a charming neighborhood,” said Claudia “Shall we wait to be robbed, or to save time shall we simply leave all our valuables upon the ground?”
“You’re a sorceress, my dear,” said Martin. “Any thieves would be in for quite a surprise.”
“We’re here,” said Caina, stopping at the base of a tenement. A flight of stairs ran down to a wooden door, and she produced a key and opened the lock.
“What is this place?” said Martin.
“A safe house,” said Caina, stepping inside. The door opened into a sparsely furnished apartment. The main room had a low table ringed with cushions and a wooden wardrobe against the wall. A door opened into the bedroom, which held a pair of cots and several chests. “There are supplies and clothing. We’ll need disguises so we can move about the city unnoticed. My lord Martin, there is clothing and leather armor that should fit you in the wardrobe. Try to look as disreputable as possible.”
“The Lord Ambassador creeping about his host’s city in disguise,” said Martin. “This spying business has some peculiar turns, does it not?”
“You would be surprised,” said Caina. Martin crossed to the wardrobe and started rummaging through it. “Claudia, with me. I should have something that will fit you in the bedroom.”
Claudia said nothing and followed Caina, closing the door behind her. Caina stooped over one of the chests and began pulling out clothing and weapons.
“What did you have in mind?” said Claudia.
“We can’t disguise you as a man,” said Caina. “I don’t have anything that will fit you because you’re too…”
“Fat?” said Claudia with a scowl.
Caina looked up. “What? For the gods’ sake. I was going to say that you are too,” she cupped the air in front of her chest, “endowed. Too hard to hide.”
“Oh,” said Claudia.
“And at most,” said Caina, “you have gained ten pounds since I saw you last. Given how much your stomach disagrees with Istarish food, I suspect that problem will solve itself in short order.”
“How reassuring,” said Claudia.
Caina found a green dress and headscarf and handed them to Claudia. “I know a locksmith who could calculate your exact height and weight from a single glance. She has a bad habit of doing it when first meeting people. Though since I was wearing high-heeled sandals when we first met she’s been consistently incorrect about my height by about two inches.” For all her genius, Nerina Strake had a bad habit of not rechecking her initial calculations. Solved problems held no interest for her.
Claudia laughed a little at that. “I imagine that does not make her many friends.”
“Not really, no,” said Caina, pulling off the disguise of Kyrazid Tomurzu and donning the worn trousers, boots, and leather armor she used as a caravan guard. She draped a worn cloak over her shoulders and put a weapons belt around her waist, making sure to take the ghostsilver dagger with her. If the Huntress returned, the ghostsilver blade and Claudia’s spells might be their only defense. “But she has other gifts.” She put daggers into her boots and throwing knives up her sleeves, settling her usual weapons into place.
“Better that you don’t tell me more,” said Claudia, tying the headscarf over her blond hair. “The less I know, the less Cassander will find out if he takes me and makes me talk.” She fiddled with the headscarf and sighed. “I thought the Umbarians would make trouble. But I never expected something like the Red Huntress. Gods. Even the most powerful spirits the Umbarians conjure from the netherworld are not as dangerous as her.”
“Thank you,” said Caina.
Claudia blinked. “For what?”
“For my life,” said Caina, meeting the taller woman’s eyes. “She had me, Claudia. I would have died there, if you had not hit her with your banishment spell.”
Claudia shrugged, uncomfortable. “It…we are both Ghosts, whatever might have happened in the past. You have saved my life before. And,” she sighed, “and Corvalis would have been wroth if you had come to any harm.”
Caina felt her eyes sting, which seemed to make Claudia even more uncomfortable.
“And thank you for my life,” said Claudia. “Cassander would have taken me alive, if you had not outwitted him.” She laughed. “By dressing up like a prostitute.”
Caina grinned. “Slave dancer, technically. Licensed Istarish prostitutes generally wear more clothing.”
Claudia gaped at her, and burst out laughing.
“Gods!” said Claudia. “This isn’t funny!” She wiped at her eyes. “Why am I laughing?”
“Because you’re still alive,” said Caina. “If we get through this, you’ll want to lie down and sleep for a week. And…Claudia. If you had been killed, Corvalis would have been wroth, too.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Claudia looked at the floor, at the ceiling, at the walls, anywhere but Caina, her eyes wet.
“Well,” said Claudia at last. “We had better go, hadn’t we?” She rubbed at her eyes and took a long breath. “This…informant of yours, whoever he is, would likely be annoyed if we drag him out of his bed.”
“Actually,” said Caina, “I don’t think he ever sleeps.”
“There is one thing I wonder about,” said Claudia. “How are you still alive?”
Caina shrugged. “Dumb luck?”
“Probably,” said Claudia, “but that’s not what I mean. The fiery sword the Huntress summoned…”
“I’ve seen the nagataaru manifest those before,” said Caina. “I think it’s a blade of pure sorcerous power. It can cut through almost anything.”
“I know,” said Claudia. “I saw the Huntress kill with it. I also saw her drive it right into your chest. Why aren’t you lying in pieces on the ground?”
“I think it was the torque on my left arm,” said Caina. “You saw it?”
“Aye,” said Claudia. “I wondered about that. You don’t usually wear jewelry unless it’s part of a disguise. Certainly not something like a torque.”
“It’s called a pyrikon,” said Caina. “I don’t know what it does, not exactly, but it’s enspelled. I thought it was a key, but apparently it can act as a shield as well. Have you ever heard of the loremasters of Iramis?”
Claudia’s brow furrowed. “Vaguely. An extinct order of sorcerers. The College of Alchemists wiped them out during the War of the Fourth Empire.”
“That’s not quite right,” said Caina. “Callatas destroyed Iramis,
personally. Burned it to ashes with a relic called the Star of Iramis. I suspect the Prince of Iramis realized what Callatas intended to do someday with the Apotheosis and tried to stop him. Or perhaps the loremasters did. I don’t know for certain. But I do know the pyrikons were the loremasters’ badges of office. Most of them died with Iramis, but Callatas hunted down the rest and claimed their pyrikons. He used them as keys.”
“You hate sorcery,” said Claudia. “Even if it did just save your life. Why do you still have the thing?”
Caina gave a quiet little laugh. “I can’t get rid of it. Every time I try to take it off, it just reappears on my arm. Or reshapes itself into a ring or a bracelet and returns to me.”
“I can examine it, if you like,” said Claudia. “I know how much you hate sorcery, however irrationally. Perhaps I know a counterspell to remove it.”
“Later,” said Caina. “We should get moving.”
She opened the door and stepped back into the front room. Martin had discarded his formal clothing for ragged garb and armor similar to Caina’s, sword and dagger waiting at his belt.
“You look positively villainous, my lord,” said Caina.
“Well,” said Martin. “My father always thought I would one day turn to banditry.”
“If there’s any talking necessary, let me do it,” said Caina. “Neither of you can speak without Nighmarian accents. Our cover story, my lord Martin, is that you and I are brothers, caravan guards both, and we are visiting your wife after returning from Anshan.”
“Sounds simple enough,” said Martin.
“These things never are,” said Caina, and they left the safehouse.
###
Caina led them to a ramshackle tavern on the southern edge of Istarinmul.
Ever since fleeing Artifel with Corvalis all those years ago, Claudia had been in some disreputable places, but none quite as disreputable as the Shahenshah’s Seat. The raucous noise from the caravanserai just outside the walls filled her ears, while caravan guards and mercenaries stood drinking and talking. They cast admiring glances at her as she went past, but scowls from Martin and Caina dissuaded them from approaching. The tavern itself was a sprawling maze of wings and courtyards, firelight pouring from its entrances, the sounds of laughter and conversation rising from within. Caina led them to a common room filled with benches and tables and men in various states of drunkenness. A grizzled man with the look of a Legion veteran leaned against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his thick chest. His eyes turned towards Caina, and a flicker of a smile went over the man’s face.
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