Ghost in the Flames (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  Caina grinned and let go. There were plenty of hand and footholds in the rough wall, and it did not take her very long to get down to the courtyard. Still she saw no sign that anyone had noticed her, so she unhooked her grapnel and started for the wall.

  ###

  A short time later Caina walked into her sitting room, wearing a nightgown, the roll of names in one hand.

  Ark sat in one of the chairs, dozing. Caina’s bare feet made no sound against the carpet, but nonetheless Ark’s eyes shot open, his hand flying on the hilt of his sword. He stared at her for a moment, face blank, and then relaxed his grip.

  “You’re back sooner than I thought,” he said.

  “I told you I knew what I was doing,” said Caina. She sat at the table, smoothing the paper, and beckoned Ark to join her.

  “What is that?” said Ark. He crossed to the table and sat down, scowling.

  “A list of those burned to death,” said Caina, read the names. Twenty-six total, all of whom had died in agony. She felt a twinge of anger, and twisted her father’s ring, still on the first finger of her left hand.

  “How did you get that list?” said Ark.

  “Valgorix.”

  “You stole it from him?”

  “No.” Caina shook her head. She recognized several of the names on the list. “I asked.”

  Ark stared at her.

  “He was actually quite helpful,” said Caina. “It seems that he hates Lord Nicephorus, and blames him for Rasadda’s recent troubles. So he may be useful in the future.” She pushed the list towards him. “You’d better read this.”

  Ark stared at the list for so long that Caina wondered if she had offended him in some way. Maybe he had never learned to read. Then he pointed at a name, his face grim and hard as a marble mask.

  “Narmer, of the dockside ward,” said Ark.

  Caina nodded. “That explains why he never met us here.”

  “Crastia, of the north ward,” said Ark, still reading, “Aulean, of the Imperial Basilica…” He spat a curse and slammed a fist down on the table, his eyes so full of crazed rage that Caina almost took a step back. “Gods damn it. The entire circle. They killed the entire damned circle.”

  “Keep your voice down,” snapped Caina. “If you wake up the maids, we’ll have some awkward explanations.” Ark glared at her, but he fell silent. “The entire circle? All of them?”

  “Yes,” hissed Ark, looking back at the list, “all…wait. There’s one missing. Other than myself. Our circlemaster. He must have escaped.”

  “Or no one’s found his body yet,” said Caina.

  Ark glared at her again, but he nodded.

  “So someone targeted the Ghosts of Rasadda,” said Caina. “The Magisterium, perhaps.”

  “Why the Magisterium?” said Ark. “You are always so quick to blame them.”

  “The Magisterium hates the Emperor’s Ghosts, because we have more than once stopped them from taking total control of the Empire,” said Caina. “You spoke highly of Ephaeron, I know. But that would not stop him from killing us all if given the chance.”

  “And any of the Empire’s other enemies would target the Ghosts,” said Ark. “The Sons of Corazain, perhaps.”

  Caina nodded. “Have you heard of a Brother of the Living Flame named Gaidan?”

  Ark nodded. “Yes. He’s a troublemaker. In deep with the Sons of Corazain, I heard.”

  “Valgorix thought he was behind the murders,” said Caina. She thought for a moment. “All right. We have three tasks, then. First, we must find as much information as we can about both Nicephorus and his cronies and Gaidan’s Sons of Corazain. Our murderer, in all probability, has contact with one of those groups.”

  “Very well,” said Ark.

  “We’ll also have to try to find your circlemaster,” said Caina. “The Ghosts of Rasadda were murdered for a reason. They may have learned something, or they might have gotten too close to the murderer. If your circlemaster is still alive, he almost certainly knows something that we must know.”

  Ark nodded again.

  “And, lastly,” said Caina, voice quiet, “we’ll have to wait for someone to kill you.”

  Ark blinked, hand twitching to his sword.

  “If someone’s gone to the trouble of killing the entire Ghost circle,” said Caina, “then they must have been strongly motivated to do it. And if they realized that you were part of the circle, then they’ll come for you, sooner or later. We could catch our enemy in the act.”

  “If they come for me,” said Ark, “they will regret it.”

  “Oh, they’ll regret a lot of things,” said Caina, “when we catch them. Which we will. What about these other names? Do you recognize them?”

  Ark read over the list. “Some of them. Middling merchants, for the most part. Not quite wealthy, but well-to-do.”

  “Merchants,” muttered Caina. “I can see why someone would want to kill the Emperor’s spies, but why random merchants? I shall have to lean upon Romarion. I’d be curious to know what kind of business he was conducting with Vanio,” she gestured at the list, “or with these men.”

  “What now?” said Ark.

  “Now? Now I’m going to get some sleep,” said Caina, “and you should too. Tomorrow I will see if Romarion’s still willing to follow up on that dinner invitation.”

  Ark nodded and returned to his chair, and Caina went to her bedroom. The bed was huge. Caina suspected it had been built for the sort of nobleman who enjoyed sharing it with several mistresses at the same time. But it was comfortable, at least. Caina lay down, and worn out by the day’s exertions, she fell asleep at once.

  ###

  She awoke to pounding at the door. Caina blinked, morning sunlight streaming into her eyes, and rolled out of bed. She crossed to the door, a knife held tight against her forearm, and pulled open the bar.

  Ark stood in the doorway.

  “What is it?” said Caina.

  “Sairzan just found a burned corpse outside the Inn.”

  Chapter 8 - A Burned Man

  A crowd had already gathered by the time Caina and Ark emerged from the Inn.

  Caina had wanted to go out at once, but Cornelia and the other maids protested. They had been scandalized that Caina wanted to go out with so little preparation. After some bickering, they settled on a green riding dress and a light cloak of a similar color, her black hair pulled back with a silver clasp. Caina seethed at the delay, but saw no way around it. Bad enough that the maids had already seen her kill; Caina wanted to give them further hints that she was an Emperor’s Ghost.

  So by the time they had gotten to the Inn’s courtyard, the crowd had already gathered. Mostly wealthier Saddai and Nighmarian merchants, though more poor Saddai peasants than Caina would have expected. Militiamen in leather jerkins held the crowd at bay, spears and crossbows ready in their hands.

  The smell struck Caina at once, the same charred, greasy stench she had encountered in Vanio’s bedroom. Burned flesh was a hard sort of smell to forget. It was not as strong as she might have expected, but perhaps the odor had dissipated somewhat in the open air.

  “Where?” muttered Caina, as they threaded around the edges of the crowd.

  “The alleyway behind the Inn,” said Ark.

  Caina shook her head. “I walked past there twice last night, and saw nothing. It must have happened within the last few hours. How did they find the body?”

  “One of Sairzan’s serving girls found it,” said Ark. “I was eating breakfast and heard her scream. Sairzan and I found her out here, and he sent one of his servants running for the militia.”

  “You saw the body, then?” said Caina. She saw more militiamen blocking the alley’s entrance.

  “Aye,” said Ark. “No one I recognized.”

  “The face was intact, then?” said Caina.

  Ark frowned. “Yes.”

  “Odd.” Vanio’s features had been badly burnt, and Valgorix had said several of the dead remained unidentified.
“That’s not like the others.”

  “But I discerned nothing else from the corpse,” said Ark. His mouth twisted. “When you look at him, no doubt you’ll be able to unravel all his secrets from a single glance.”

  Caina chose not to respond that. “Let us hope so. We could use whatever we can find.”

  She spotted an officer’s red plume, and saw Valgorix talking to his men. It seemed that the Decurion himself had come to take charge of the investigation. He looked worse than before. Evidently a midnight visit from a Ghost had not improved his nerves.

  Caina beckoned Ark to follow her, and began striding towards the militiamen. “Decurion? Decurion!” she called in her most imperious tone.

  Valgorix scowled, saw her, and made a quick bow. “Countess. Forgive me, but this is a very poor time.”

  “I heard another of these dreadful burned corpses was found outside the Inn,” said Caina, adding a little quaver to her voice.

  Valgorix’s expression softened a little. “I’m afraid you are correct. As I told you yesterday, the city’s streets are not safe, and you should remain indoors.”

  “But I must speak with you!” said Caina, letting the words tumble out of her. “I am sorry to interrupt your duties, but one of my maids disappeared last night, along with my new coachman. They haven’t returned yet, and I thought…and I thought…”

  Valgorix stepped towards her, frowning. “You’re sure?”

  “I am,” said Caina. Her lip trembled just a bit. “It’s just…since I’ve come to the city my coachman was murdered, and now my maid has disappeared.”

  “Come with me,” said Valgorix. “Lady…I warn you, this sight might be upsetting. But if you can identify the corpse, that will be of great help.” He glanced at Ark. “If your captain doesn’t object?”

  “Only if I come with her,” said Ark.

  “Very well,” said Valgorix. “Follow me.” He led the way into the alley, and the burnt smell grew stronger. A corpse lay slumped against the Inn’s gleaming black wall. “Here it is.”

  Caina looked at the dead man. Some part of her concentration went to maintaining an appropriate expression of shock and horror, but the rest of her attention focused on the naked corpse before her. It was a man, middle forties, of Caerish birth, most likely. He had been badly burned across the legs, torso, and lower arms, but his head and shoulders remained mostly undamaged. Caina’s eyes swept over the corpse, noting the details.

  She recognized the man at once.

  “Do you know him?” said Valgorix.

  “No,” she said. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t know him.” She gave him a tremulous little smile. “I’m just…I’m just relieved it’s not my maid.”

  Valgorix sighed. “Of course. I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” he said, in a tone that suggested his time had been wasted.

  “It…wait,” said Caina. “I don’t know him, but I think I might have seen him before. Last night, when I dined with the Lord Governor. I thought I saw him in the Imperial Basilica.”

  Valgorix turned towards her, eyes intent. “You did? Can you remember his name?”

  “I’m…I’m afraid not, Decurion,” said Caina. “There were so many people going back and forth, so many servants, and I’m afraid I have little memory for names. But I am sure I saw him in the Imperial Basilica last night. Perhaps he was a servant.”

  “That is more to go on than we had before,” said Valgorix. “Thank you, Countess. And if I were you, I would speak sternly to your maid and new coachman. They have worried you needlessly, and no doubt they simply crept out for a tryst.”

  “No doubt,” said Caina. “May the Imperial gods smile upon your investigations.” She turned, and let Ark lead her back to the square.

  “You didn’t recognize him?” said Ark.

  “Keep your voice down. Of course I recognized him,” said Caina.

  “But you said…”

  “A Countess of the Empire cannot be bothered to remember the little people,” said Caina. “And before you ask, I gave him that hint on purpose. The poor fool would blunder around for days trying to identify the body otherwise.”

  Ark took a deep breath. “Who was it, then?”

  “I don’t know his name. But I did indeed see him in the Imperial Basilica last night. Some merchant. One of Nicephorus’s cronies, I think. He spent most of his time talking with Septimus Romarion.”

  “The same Romarion you saw in Vanio’s ledgers?” said Ark. “And this man has been murdered in the same manner as Vanio.”

  “No,” said Caina. “The deaths were nothing alike. This man was not burned to death.”

  Ark stared at her. “Ridiculous.”

  Caina stopped, took his arm, and lowered her voice. Ark’s arm felt like a bundle of taut steel cables, and his cold eyes locked on her. “He was stabbed to death. You could not see it? Four, maybe five stab wounds to the chest. Either blood loss finished him, or one of the blows found his heart. Then the corpse was thrown into a fire and dragged here. Probably one of the pyramid pyres.” She glanced at the Great Pyramid of Corazain’s flaming crown. “Not that one. Probably that smaller pyramid on the other side of the square. A shorter climb, and it’s about the same distance to walk. No doubt they burned the body to cover their tracks. Twenty-six burned corpses have turned up. What’s one more? Then they dumped the corpse here – you could see the soot marks on the street were they dragged it – and they fled.”

  Ark said nothing.

  “Do you disagree?”

  He pulled free of her grasp and shook his head. “You have the eyes of a hawk, or perhaps a demon.” He thought of a moment. “So, who do you think killed this man?”

  “I have no idea,” said Caina. “It was not the same person or group behind the other deaths, that is plain. I suspect this man’s business rivals killed him, and then made his death look like the others in order to disguise their involvement. Merchants have enemies, after all.”

  “That makes sense,” said Ark. “I wonder…get behind me!”

  He shoved her behind him, his broadsword flying into his hand. Caina frowned, caught her balance, and turned, reaching towards the knives hidden in her sleeves.

  Saddai peasants were filling the square.

  A lot of Saddai peasants. Two hundred, at least. And unlike those who had followed Sister Tadaia, they looked violent, and ready for blood. Some had taken off their tunics, and Caina saw the flame tattoo of the Sons of Corazain. At least a dozen of them were heading towards her and Ark, clubs in hand. This was bad. Caina wondered if they could run for the Inn, or vanish into the streets…

  “Imperial-born bitch,” snarled one in Saddaic, “you should have never set foot upon our lands.”

  Ark’s broadsword came up, the steel reflecting the sunlight. “Come here and say that, fool.”

  The Saddai hesitated, and another voice rang out.

  “Hold!” Valgorix stalked towards them, a troop of his militiamen behind him. “Our Lord Governor has prohibited public assemblies. Especially of armed men, feeble though your weapons are.” He cast a withering glare over the assembled Saddai. “I am feeling clement, however. Depart at once!”

  “We will be heard!” A young Saddai man shoved his way to the front of the mob. He looked somewhat plumper than the typical Saddai peasant, and he wore red robes similar to Tadaia’s. Despite his soft appearance, his eyes blazed with fervor, or perhaps madness. “We are Saddai, and this is our city. You will hear us!”

  “Gaidan,” muttered Ark.

  “You are under warning, Gaidan!” said Valgorix. “Depart at once!”

  “What is your Lord Governor’s law to us?” shouted Gaidan, his voice ringing over the plaza. “Does not a lawful ruler protect his people? Does he not shield them from harm? Instead my people are found burned to death in the streets and your Empire does nothing!”

  “If you have a grievance with Lord Nicephorus,” said Valgorix, “settle it in the courts. Or send a petition to the Imperial Curia or even t
he Emperor, should you feel so affronted. But unless you something important to say, I have work to do.”

  “Look!” said Gaidan, pointing at Caina. He did not seem to be speaking to Valgorix, but preaching at his followers. “See the perfumed whores the Empire bring to pollute our city! The Emperor grows fat on our labor and our sweat, and his prostitutes fasten upon us like leeches. Our people lie butchered in the street, and this harlot struts arrogantly amongst us! How long shall we suffer this injustice, oh men of Rasadda?”

  “I see no men here,” said Caina, filling her voice with icy contempt, “only mewling children, throwing feeble mockery at their betters.”

  Every eye turned towards her. Gaidan’s pale green eyes focused on Caina for a moment. She saw the loathing in them, the utter hatred. Ark’s knuckles began to whiten around the hilt of his sword, and a trickle of sweat crawled down Valgorix’s face.

  “Your miserable Imperial whore!” snarled Gaidan, stepping towards her. “You’ll die screaming for mercy, I promise you. When the great day of burning comes at last, you’ll scream with the rest of them.”

  “Stop!” roared Valgorix. He gestured, and the crossbowmen leveled their weapons at Gaidan. “Take another step and you’ll be dead before your heart beats again.”

  Gaidan wheeled to face Valgorix. “Do not threaten me!”

  “Do you want to settle this right now?” said Valgorix. “I swear on the names of the Imperial gods that if you take another step I’ll gut you, and damn the consequences.”

  Valgorix, it seemed, had more backbone than Caina had thought.

  “Then do it!” said Gaidan, his eyes alight. “Strike me down, if you can. I have four times as many men here. Kill me, and they’ll rip you to pieces, and all of Rasadda will rise in revolt.”

  “And if Rasadda rises in revolt,” said Valgorix, “the Emperor will summon his armies. They will tear down the walls and swarm into the streets. The Legions will butcher every last man, woman, and child in Rasadda.”