Ghost in the Hunt

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “Master Ciaran,” said the man in Istarish with a Nighmarian accent. Caina had said that her mysterious ally thought she was a man.

  “Laertes,” said Caina. “Is he here?”

  Laertes’s hard eyes flicked over Claudia and Martin. “He is. I think he was expecting you. All kinds of rumors about fighting in the Golden Palace.”

  “And he thought of me?” said Caina. “How very flattering.”

  Laertes snorted. “Wherever you go, Master Ciaran, chaos follows.” Clearly he was a perceptive man. “And your friends?”

  “He’ll want to talk to them, too,” said Caina.

  Laertes nodded, pushed away from the wall, and headed up a flight of stairs. Claudia followed Caina and Laertes and began to summon power for a spell. She didn’t know where Caina was taking them, only that the man they were going to see was not a Ghost. For all Claudia knew the man was an agent of the Teskilati or a spy for the Umbarian Order.

  If he was, she would be ready.

  Laertes opened a door. Beyond was a sitting room furnished in Istarish style with a round table ringed in low cushions, the smell of fresh coffee in the air. A man sat at the other end of the table, clad all in black, his black eyes glittering in his dark face, a well-trimmed black beard framing his lips. He rose, a white smile flashing over his face, and regarded them for a moment.

  “There are rumors,” said the man. His voice was a deep, sonorous vibration, the sort of voice made for giving orations. “Tales of violence in the Golden Palace. Some men even claim that the Umbarian Order has overthrown the Padishah and seized the rule of Istarinmul. So many wild rumors…and then you arrive, Master Ciaran. With guests, no less.” He stepped around the table. “May I presume that I have the honor of addressing the Emperor’s Lord Ambassador to the Padishah?”

  Martin frowned. “How did you know that?”

  The dark man’s white smile widened. “A simple deduction, my lord ambassador. It is well known within certain circles that the Emperor would soon dispatch a new ambassador to Istarinmul. Since our mutual friend Ciaran is the circlemaster of the city’s Ghosts, one need only consider the recent upheaval at the Golden Palace to conclude that you are the Emperor’s ambassador.”

  “I see it is useless to hide from you,” said Martin with a sigh. “Very well. I am Lord Martin of House Dorius, the Emperor’s ambassador to the Padishah of Istarinmul. This is my wife, Claudia Aberon Dorius.”

  “Aberon?” murmured the dark man, his eyes turning toward Claudia. “Most intriguing. I would have assumed the entirety of House Aberon would have sided with the Order.”

  Claudia offered him a thin smile. “The Umbarian rebels are tyrants and murderers, and I have no wish to be either, sir.”

  “Well spoken,” said the dark man. He offered a bow to Martin, and then took Claudia’s right hand and planted a dry kiss upon the knuckles. “Permit me to introduce myself, since with Ciaran’s customary knack for secrecy he has no doubt completely failed to mention my name. My name is Ibrahaim Nasser, but I am more commonly known as Nasser Glasshand.”

  “Nasser…Glasshand?” said Martin. “Like the stories?” Claudia knew those stories, the tales of the legendary Istarish master thief with a hand made of sorcerous glass. She had always thought them folk tales.

  Of course, most people thought the Red Huntress a myth.

  “I may have inspired a tall tale or two, alas,” said Nasser. Claudia shot a look at his left hand, wondering if it was made of glass. It was balled into a tight fist, covered with a glove of black leather. He saw her looking, grinned, and flexed the fingers of his left hand, though the movement seemed to pain him. “But the stories are most egregiously inaccurate.”

  “Aren’t stories always?” said Claudia.

  “Indeed,” said Nasser. “Come, let us sit and have coffee and discuss our business like civilized men. For I assume you have business. Master Ciaran is not much of one for social calls, alas.”

  “Neither are you,” said Caina as she settled upon a cushion. Somehow she sat like a man. Even her voice had gotten deeper, rougher. “But we’ve had some profitable ventures together.”

  “Indeed,” said Nasser.

  “Aye,” said Caina, “and more to come, I hope. But this time I seek not a venture but information. I will pay you for it.”

  “Perhaps there is profit to be gained for both of us,” said Nasser. “Speak on.”

  “What do you know about the assassin called the Red Huntress?” said Caina.

  Nasser said nothing, but his face went very still. Laertes’s grim expression grew harder.

  “You’ve heard of her, then,” said Martin.

  “To my sorrow, yes,” said Nasser. “Perhaps you should tell me what happened. I had thought her dead.”

  Caina told him about the events at the Golden Palace, beginning with the Red Huntress’s attack, Cassander’s treachery, and Claudia’s attempted banishment of the nagataaru within the Huntress. Laertes rose and produced cups of coffee, and Caina drank as she talked. Claudia lifted her cup and sipped. It was harsh and bitter, harsher than the coffee in the House of Kularus back in Malarae.

  That was good. It would help her to focus.

  “That is a grim tale,” said Nasser. “Certainly you are most fortunate to be alive. Please do not be offended when I say that the Red Huntress has killed men and women far more powerful than you.”

  “Considering that we are alive and they are not,” said Martin, “we would be fools to take offense.”

  “Indeed,” said Nasser. He looked at Caina. “How much do they know? Or, to be more precise, how much do you wish them to know?”

  “We can speak freely,” said Caina. “I have already warned them about Callatas.”

  “Very good,” said Nasser. “My lord ambassador, I shall be as honest with you as I can, for your life is in grave danger. I cannot tell you everything about myself, since my life would be quickly forfeit if my secrets became general knowledge. But I will tell you everything I know about the Red Huntress.”

  Martin considered this and then looked at Caina. “Do you trust this man?”

  “As much as a Ghost circlemaster can trust anyone,” said Caina. “He has never broken faith with me. We have gone into great peril together and come out alive on the other side.”

  “Few bonds are as true as those forged by the flames of battle,” said Martin. “Very well, sir. I accept your terms.”

  “Capital,” said Nasser. “The first thing you should know is that I am enemy of Grand Master Callatas and his Apotheosis. My purpose is to defeat him and all his works. He should be your enemy as well, and the enemy of your Emperor.”

  “Why is that?” said Martin.

  “His past crimes have been appalling enough,” said Nasser. “He destroyed Iramis, burning a quarter of a million people with his sorcery. He has murdered tens of thousands of slaves to create his wraithblood, which is a blight upon the city. He has made alliances and pacts with the nagataaru, and today you have seen firsthand the malevolence of those spirits. His Apotheosis is a disaster that threatens both Istarinmul and the rest of the world.”

  “How?” said Martin. “What is his Apotheosis?”

  “I do not know, not yet,” said Nasser. “I am certain it is a sorcerous catastrophe on the scale of the day of the golden dead.”

  “Or the burning of Rasadda at the end of the Second Empire,” said Caina.

  “Gods,” said Martin. “Will we ever be rid of these sorcerous madmen?”

  “Probably not,” said Caina, “though the world would be better without sorcery.”

  “I do not agree,” said Claudia. “It is a tool like any other. Perhaps the world would be better off without swords. Yet a sword could be used for good or for evil. So it is with sorcery.”

  Caina said nothing, her face blank.

  “I agree with Lady Claudia,” said Nasser. “Neither the Magisterium nor the College of Alchemists nor the Umbarian Order are exemplars of benevolence. The lorema
sters of Iramis were, but Callatas slew them all.” He waved his hand. “This is neither the time nor the place for such a philosophical discussion. There are more urgent matters at hand.”

  “The Red Huntress,” said Caina. “What do you know about her?”

  “I do not know her name,” said Nasser, “nor do I know how old she is. But I do know that she is over a century old, and that she has the ability to change her appearance, her very face. From what I have learned, she was one of Callatas’s earliest experiments in summoning and binding a nagataaru into a living mortal. The Red Huntress was the result.”

  “Then she kills at the command of Callatas?” said Caina.

  “It is not widely known,” said Nasser, “but yes. Callatas uses her to eliminate targets of great importance, powerful nobles and sorcerers who are too strong to remove by more traditional methods of assassination. I suspect he uses the Huntress as a last resort because of her utter disregard for anyone who gets into her way. A Kindred assassin will quietly slip poison into his victim’s glass. The Huntress will cut off the man’s head, murder his wife and children, and then butcher any slaves or servants who get in her way.”

  “The nagataaru,” said Caina. “It feeds on death and torment, and shares the power with her. That is why she kills so wantonly.”

  “I fear you are correct,” said Nasser. “I have spoken with sorcerers who are experts in the netherworld, and they tell me that the spirit bound within the Huntress with a lord of the nagataaru that refers to itself as the Voice. If the Huntress has lived for a century, likely she and the Voice are in full cooperation with each other, unlike poor Tarqaz.”

  “Who?” said Claudia. “Who is Tarqaz?”

  “A slave who betrayed Callatas,” said Caina. “Callatas bound a nagataaru within him, and he didn’t know it, the poor fool. After he was killed, the nagataaru took control of his corpse.”

  “Why would Callatas send the Huntress after my husband?” said Claudia. “Does he want to start a war with the Empire?”

  “I do not know,” said Nasser. “I am certain that Callatas does not want a war with anyone. A war would distract him from the grisly work of his Apotheosis. My only thought is that Lord Martin was not the target, and merely got in the way.”

  “Her first arrow was aimed at Martin, I’m sure of it,” said Caina. “It hit the Imperial Guard next to him.”

  “Could she have come to kill Cassander or the Grand Wazir?” said Claudia.

  Caina shook her head. “The Huntress went nowhere near Cassander or the Adamant Guards.”

  “The Grand Wazir is Callatas’s devoted servant,” said Nasser. “I can think of no reason why the Grand Master would wish him dead.”

  “From what you have told me,” said Martin, “I suspect that you have faced and defeated the Huntress once before.”

  “Yes,” said Nasser. “Some years ago. I had thought her slain, but apparently I was mistaken.”

  “How did you defeat her?” said Caina.

  “A weapon called a valikon,” said Nasser.

  Claudia frowned. The term sounded similar to “pyrikon”, to the enspelled torque Caina wore.

  Caina noticed the similarity, too. “Is it an Iramisian weapon?”

  “Aye,” said Nasser. “You bear a dagger of ghostsilver. Such a weapon is capable of harming a creature of spirit, of banishing it back to the netherworld, but it cannot destroy a spirit, especially one housed in a body of flesh. A valikon is a sword with a ghostsilver core wrapped in enspelled steel. The steel bears spells of warding and banishment, and can utterly destroy a spirit.”

  “The loremasters made these weapons?” said Caina. Nasser inclined his head. “I thought you said the loremasters used their powers for knowledge and healing and defense.”

  “They did,” said Nasser. “Such blades as the valikons were only used upon those who had willingly invited malevolent spirits into their bodies.”

  “I could think of a few times,” said Claudia, remembering Ranarius’s elementals, “that such a weapon would have been useful.”

  “Do you recall,” said Nasser, “the tale of Istarr and the seven Demon Princes of old?”

  Caina nodded.

  “I’ve never heard of the story,” said Claudia, though she had some recollection of the title from Istarish myth.

  “The Demon Princes were seven sorcerers of power who ruled what is now Istarinmul,” said Caina. “The tales say they were possessed by demons, but apparently the demons were powerful lords of the nagataaru. Istarr led his people out of the steppes and waged war upon the Demon Princes, and with the aid of the Prince of Iramis, defeated them. He took the last Demon Prince’s stronghold of Starifel, and in his honor Istarr’s people renamed the city Istarinmul and called themselves the Istarish.”

  “I would say that it was a fable,” said Martin, “had I not just seen the power of a nagataaru with my own eyes.”

  “The valikons were created to counter that threat,” said Nasser, “to stop any who willingly cooperated with the nagataaru.”

  “I suppose you have such a weapon, and would be willing to rent it for a reasonable fee?” said Martin.

  “Alas, no,” said Nasser. “Valikons were quite rare, and only a few were outside Iramis when it burned.”

  “You don’t have one,” said Caina, “but you know where one can be found…and you would like our help to retrieve it.”

  The brilliant white smile spread over Nasser’s dark face once more. “Clever indeed, Master Ciaran. I know exactly where to find a valikon.”

  “Where?” said Caina.

  “A place called Silent Ash Temple,” said Nasser.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” said Martin. “Is it within the city?”

  “It’s a…pilgrimage site, I think,” said Caina. “For adherents of the Living Flame. Some distance south of here.”

  “In the Kaltari Highlands, to be precise,” said Nasser, “about three hundred miles south. You are correct that it is a destination for pilgrims. The Emissary of the Living Flame lives there.”

  “The Emissary?” said Caina. “As in the Seven Emissaries of the Living Flame?”

  Nasser nodded.

  “A woman who can speak to the gods?” said Martin. “An oracle?”

  “Something like that,” said Nasser.

  “If this woman can truly speak to the Living Flame or to the gods,” said Caina, “why haven’t I heard of her before? The Surge of New Kyre has true visions of the future, and all the Kyracians hold her in fear.”

  “The followers of the Living Flame are a fractious lot,” said Nasser. Laertes snorted at that and took a drink from his cup. “The Anshani followers of the Living Flame recognize seven Emissaries, and make pilgrimages to the Emissaries’ tombs throughout Anshan. The Cyrican and Istarish branches of the faith only recognize three of the Emissaries as legitimate, and the Saddaic followers do not recognize any Emissaries as valid. A legacy of the Ashbringers and their Burning Flame, I expect. There is one other obstacle to pilgrimage as well.”

  “What is that?” said Martin.

  “The Emissary,” said Nasser, “tells the truth.”

  “Is that not a desirable quality in an oracle?” said Claudia.

  “Not necessarily,” said Caina, her voice distant again. “If you learned what the future holds…you may not like it. It is the nature of mortal man to lie to himself,” she took a deep breath, “and having those illusions shattered is not always pleasant.”

  “I propose, my lord ambassador,” said Nasser, “that we journey to Silent Ash Temple, persuade the Emissary to loan us the valikon, and use it to dispatch the Red Huntress. In one blow we shall avenge your slain men, protect you from the Huntress, and deprive Grand Master Callatas of one of his most powerful servants. Additionally, you shall deal a setback to Cassander and the Umbarians, who would have benefited from your death, and greatly increase your standing in the Padishah’s court. The Red Huntress is legendary, and the prestige of the man who brings
her to justice at last shall be equally so.”

  “How will I contrive to make the journey?” said Martin. “It will take at least two weeks to reach this Silent Ash Temple…”

  “Usually eleven or twelve days,” said Nasser, “depending upon weather. And bandits. Banditry is something of a pastime for the Kaltari.”

  “A pilgrimage,” said Caina.

  “I follow the gods of the Empire,” said Martin, “not the Living Flame.”

  “The Istarish nobility are supposed to be pious,” said Caina, “though I doubt Erghulan believes in anything but his own advancement. All you need to say is that one of your Istarish servants convinced you that your survival was the miraculous work of the Living Flame, and so you are making a pilgrimage to Silent Ash Temple to make an offering of thanksgiving. Erghulan will have no choice but to let you make the journey, and you can travel with your full complement of Imperial Guards.”

  “They were unable to stand against the Huntress,” said Martin.

  “No, but they will be most effective against other threats,” said Nasser. “Such as bandits, for instance. It would do us little good if bandits took you hostage and held you for ransom. No, better to travel in strength through the Kaltari Highlands. There is a reason most caravans go through the Great Southern Road and the Vale of Fallen Stars rather than the Kaltari Highlands.”

  “Claudia?” said Martin.

  She shrugged. “I can think of no better plan, husband. If the Emissary is custodian of a weapon that can harm the Huntress, and we can persuade her to lend it to us, it could be our best chance to defeat the Huntress. If we defeat her, perhaps we can find proof that Cassander hired her to kill you. That would keep Istarinmul from aiding the Order.”