GHOST ARIA
Jonathan Moeller
Book Description
Sixteen years old, Caina is a student of the Ghosts, the spies and agents of the Emperor of Nighmar, and from them she learns the arts of stealth and infiltration, of disguise and intrigue.
But when a man dies of a mysterious poison, Caina faces a deadly test.
Because if she doesn't solve the murder, she might die next...
Other books by the author
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Ghost Dagger (World of the Ghosts novella)
Ghost Aria (World of the Ghosts short story)
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$1.99 Dark Fantasy
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Ghost Aria
Copyright 2013 by Jonathan Moeller
Published by Azure Flame Media, LLC
Cover image copyright Prochasson Frederic | Dreamstime.com
All Rights Reserved
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.
Ghost Aria (World of the Ghosts short story)
The men and women of the Grand Imperial Opera called her Marina, but that was not her real name.
Caina Amalas was sixteen years old, and she worked as a maid for Theodosia, the leading lady of the Grand Imperial Opera. She assisted Theodosia with her makeup and costumes and errands, and helped the other maids and footmen wait on the nobles and wealthy merchants who attended the performances.
But she was no more a maid than her name was Marina.
Five years ago her mother had murdered her father, and the Ghosts, the spies of the Emperor of Nighmar, had taken her in. They had trained her in stealth, in disguise, in fighting with knives and with her bare hands. The nobles and the merchants paid no attention to servants, which made it so easy for Caina to listen to their secrets as she poured their wine and brought them food.
And then she reported their secrets to Theodosia, who was the Ghost circlemaster of the Imperial capital.
Like Caina, she was more than she appeared.
At the moment, chaos reigned in the cavernous workshop below the Grand Imperial Opera’s main stage. Carpenters and painters swarmed over the massive wooden sets, double-checking the pulleys that would raise the scenery to the stage. The chorus singers waited by the sets, the women dressed as wood nymphs, the men wearing costumes approximating antique Nighmarian armor. Tonight’s opera told the story of an ancient Emperor’s romance with the daughter of a barbarian king, a romance that brought the barbarian tribe into the Empire as the Emperor’s loyal subjects.
Or so the story went. Caina suspected the actual history was rather bloodier.
“Marina!” Theodosia’s rich voice rang out like a thunderclap. “Marina, I need you at once!”
Caina sighed. Theodosia put up the front of a temperamental, demanding opera singer to deflect suspicion, since no one would believe that a selfish opera singer possessed high rank in the Emperor’s Ghosts. Theodosia was actually one of the more level-headed people Caina knew.
“Marina!”
Nevertheless, she was very good at putting up that front.
Caina hurried into Theodosia’s room. A huge mirror covered one wall, overlooking a table laden with hundreds of vials and bottles of cosmetics and stands holding a dozen different wigs. Theodosia herself perched on a stool before the mirror, wearing the fur clothing and bronze armor of a barbarian princess. She was in her forties with long blond hair, slightly plump but tall enough to carry the weight.
“Marina!” said Theodosia, tugging at her cloak. “This is deer fur! A barbarian princess would not attire herself in deerskin! I demand wolf fur!”
“Mistress,” said Caina, “I spoke with Lucinda, and she says we only have deer fur.”
“Rubbish!” said Theodosia. “Speak with her at once, or I shall not grace the stage this evening!” She lowered her voice, and leaned closer to Caina. “Have you seen who is in the audience?”
“Lady Audea is there,” said Caina. “No sign of Lord Haeron or any of his allies.”
“None of his friends among the merchant collegia?” murmured Theodosia, adjusting her hair. “Damn this wig.”
“No,” said Caina. “Just Master Gallus Tomerius, demanding that the Seneschal fire his daughter. Again.”
“Oh, for the gods’ sake,” said Theodosia. She opened her eyes wide, blinked several times, turned her head from one side to another. “She’s been married to Tollard for a year, and she’s going to pop that baby out any day. In fact, if I don’t force the Seneschal to make her take a few days off, she’ll have that baby on the floor of the costume room.”
“I hope not,” said Caina.
“Of course not,” said Theodosia. “You’d have to clean up the mess.”
Caina shrugged. “It’s just blood.”
She had seen blood before. More than she cared to remember.
Theodosia raised an eyebrow. “My dear, you have more ice in your veins than anyone I have ever met.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, make sure Master Gallus stays away from Lucinda,” said Theodosia. “And Tollard, too.”
Caina nodded. “Lord Arcus Hadrazon is in the audience.”
“Keep an eye on him,” said Theodosia.
Caina frowned. “I thought he supported the Emperor.”
“Oh, he does,” said Theodosia. “He is, however, fairly ruthless, and usually has twenty or thirty intrigues underway at the same time. If he decides to make trouble, I want to know about it first. Now go talk to Lucinda and make a fuss about wolf fur.”
Caina hurried back into the workshop. She wove her way through the stagehands and the chorus singers and tracked down Lucinda inside the costume room. Wooden racks stored hundreds of costumes, and a table held an array of tailors’ tools. Lucinda stood before one of the male singers, adjusting his costume. She was about twenty-five, with curly black hair and bright brown eyes, and the final month of pregnancy had not slowed her down.
“Do not touch those straps!” said Lucinda. “If that breastplate falls off while you are on stag
e, I swear I shall beat you over the head with it!”
Pregnancy had not slowed her down, but neither had it improved her temper.
She was the daughter of Gallus Tomerius, one of the Imperial collegium of goldsmiths’ more prosperous merchants, and her father had tried to marry her to an impoverished noble. Apparently the noble had been so repellent that she had fled to the Grand Imperial Opera, married one of the carpenters, and now ruled the costumers with an iron fist.
“Go!” The singer scurried off, and Lucinda glared at Caina. “Marina? What?”
“Theodosia wants wolf fur,” said Caina.
“Wolf fur!” said Lucinda. “Where am I supposed to get wolf fur?”
“Theodosia says a barbarian Caerish princess would wear wolf fur,” said Caina.
“Well, she can bloody well cope with deer fur,” said Lucinda. “Unless she wants to kill the wolf and skin it herself.”
“You could do,” said Caina.
Lucinda laughed. “I suppose I could, couldn’t I? Though I would be a sight, waddling after a wolf in this condition. Could you do me a favor?”
Caina nodded.
“Go find Murdock, the new footman,” said Lucinda, “and have him send some wine to Tollard. He was up all night repairing the battle set, and I know the fool man has forgotten to eat.” She smiled. “He always forgets to eat.”
Caina had first thought Lucinda married Tollard to spite her father, but the two seemed to love each other. She felt a stab of jealousy. Lucinda was healthy enough to bear many children, and Caina could not have even one.
Not after what had happened to her.
She pushed aside the thought. It wasn’t Lucinda’s fault, and she wasn’t sure what Lucinda saw in Tollard. But they were happy together.
“I will,” said Caina.
“Thank you,” said Lucinda. She smiled once more and began bellowing at the chorus singers.
Caina nodded and went about her business.
###
Theodosia’s voice filled the Grand Imperial Opera. She stood on stage, singing an elaborate aria in High Nighmarian as she agonized between making war on the Empire and her love for the Emperor.
The audience sat and listened to her. The wealthy nobles and merchants occupied the boxes ringing the balconies over the stage. Poorer nobles used the higher balconies, while commoners sat on the floor before the stage itself.
Caina hurried through the aisles between the boxes, carrying a tray of wine and sausages. The other maids did the same, while footmen stood ready in the entrances. Caina listened as the nobles and merchants spoke in low voices. One merchant plotted to undercut his rivals. Another offered a bribe to the magistrate who managed the harbor’s customs inspectors.
Theodosia would find that interesting.
Caina passed Lord Arcus Hadrazon’s box. Lord Arcus was a lean man in his middle thirties, cool and arrogant. A score of bodyguards in chain mail surrounded him, and one of them gave Caina a leering glance as she passed.
She ignored him and hurried up the aisle, passing Gallus Tomerius’s box. He was a stout, balding man who fortunately had not given his looks to Lucinda. He glared at the stage as if it had insulted him. At the end of the aisle waited a tall, handsome footman in the livery of the Grand Imperial Opera. He favored Caina with a smile. Murdock had tried to seduce her, more than once, but Caina knew he had carved a swathe of romantic conquest through the other maids and several of the singers.
“Dear little Marina,” he said in his deep voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Lucinda wants a favor,” she said. “Can you send some wine to Tollard?”
Murdock snorted. “Don’t be absurd. Do I look like a maid? Fetch it yourself, girl.”
“The Seneschal will be wroth,” said Caina, “if a maid takes wine to a carpenter…”
“That,” said Murdock, “is not my problem.” He grinned. “Though if you want to slip into a closet for a few moments, you could persuade…”
“Oh, for the gods’ sake,” said Caina. “Just say no, and save us both some time.”
She turned, ignoring Murdock’s laugh, and went back down the stairs. There were still one glass of wine and some sausages left on her tray, and she could slip to the workshop and return before the Seneschal noticed her absence. But only if she hurried.
“Here, girl,” said a growling voice.
Caina stopped beside Lord Arcus’s box. The guard who had leered at her stepped into the aisle. He was closer to sixty years than fifty, and his chain mail bulged against his paunch. His eyes flicked over her.
“You’re a pretty thing,” he rumbled.
“Thank you, sir,” said Caina, stepping around him.
“Why don’t you stay a while,” said the guard, “and keep me company?”
“I must go about my duties, sir,” said Caina. He was not in good shape, and if necessary one hard blow to the belly or throat might disable him long enough for Caina to get away. Though injuring a guard in front of the nobles would create a scene.
“A girl like you shouldn’t spend so much time on her feet,” said the guard. “Come sit with me. I’ll make you feel better.”
“Excuse me,” said Caina, walking away.
The guard reached for her, and Caina prepared herself to hit him with the tray, but he only snatched the glass of wine. He took a swig and turned his back on her. Caina rolled her eyes and kept walking.
“Girl!”
She turned and saw the guard staggering into the aisle after her, his face crimson, sweat glistening on his brow. He held the glass of wine in one hand, his other hand clutching his chest.
“Girl!” he bellowed, and a dozen nobles and merchants glared at him. “You…you…”
His eyes bulged, and he fell backwards with a thump.
Theodosia kept singing, accompanied by the chorus, and the audience turned their attention back to the stage. Murdock and three of the other footmen hurried forward. A thought struck Caina, and she put down the tray and knelt besides the guard.
He was dead. She leaned forward and sniffed his mouth.
“Oh, damn,” she muttered.
“Move, girl,” growled Murdock. “Can’t have the nobles tripping over their servants, can we?”
Murdock and the footmen carried the guard away.
###
After the performance, Caina returned to Theodosia’s room. The leading lady of the Grand Imperial Opera wiped away her makeup with a cloth and a bowl of water.
“Well,” she said. “How did I sound?”
“Magnificent,” said Caina.
“Of course I was! Did you hear the applause?” said Theodosia. Caina felt relief. Despite her ability to keep a level head in a crisis, Theodosia’s mood veered between elation and despondency once a performance was over.
And she needed Theodosia to keep a level head just now.
“What was that business with you and Lord Arcus’s guards?” said Theodosia. “The Seneschal said the old fellow’s heart gave out on him. And during one of my performances, no less.”
“Perhaps he was overawed,” said Caina, “by the splendor of your singing.”
“Don’t be snide,” said Theodosia. “And while he may indeed have been overawed, I doubt my singing made his heart stop.” She laughed. “That may have been your fault, my dear. He took one look at you, was overwhelmed by your beauty, and his heart gave out from the strain. Really, it’s the highest compliment a man can give a woman…”
“Neither your singing nor my beauty had a chance to stop his heart,” said Caina, “since the poison did it first.”
Theodosia put down her cloth. “Poison?” she said, all trace of her humor gone.
Caina nodded.
“You’re sure?” said Theodosia. “The Seneschal and the footmen believed that his heart gave out. Even Lord Arcus thought so.”
“I’m sure of it,” said Caina. “I smelled rotten apples on his lips after he collapsed. A priestess of Minaerys once taught me a
bout an Anshani poison called the harlot’s kiss. Whores in Anshan use it on unruly customers. It causes the heart to stop, and the death appears natural, save for the odor of rotten apples upon the breath, which soon dissipates.”
Theodosia sighed and drummed her fingers on the edge of the table.
“Well,” she said at last. “That is certainly more complicated.”
Caina nodded.
“So,” said Theodosia, “someone wants Lord Arcus Hadrazon dead.”
“We don’t know that,” said Caina.
Theodosia frowned. “This harlot’s kiss is expensive?”
“Extremely,” said Caina. “The Kindred use it, but only for clients who can afford it. The occasional independent assassin with a…taste for the dramatic employs the poison.”
Theodosia lifted a blond eyebrow. “By Minaerys and the Hearthmother, you’re only sixteen years old. How do you know all that?”
“Halfdan told me,” said Caina. “Riogan, too.”
“Ah,” said Theodosia. “But that proves my point. Harlot’s kiss is a rare and exotic poison, and utterly undetectable, unless you happen to have a maid clever enough to sniff a dead man’s lips before the smell dissipates. Someone must have intended it for Lord Arcus.”
“I doubt it,” said Caina. “That guard grabbed the glass of wine from my tray because I happened to be going past.”
Theodosia grunted. “At random? You mean you weren’t serving Lord Arcus?”
“No,” said Caina. “He didn’t ask for any wine. I went up the aisle, asked if Murdock would take some wine to Tollard as a favor to Lucinda, and then walked back down. The guard saw me, took the wine…and, well, you know the rest.”
“So the poison couldn’t have been intended for Lord Arcus,” said Theodosia.
“It seems unlikely,” said Caina. “But who else could have been the target? Harlot’s kiss is not cheap. For the cost of one dose you could pay the wages of the workmen at the Grand Imperial Opera for a year. I could see someone spending that kind of coin to kill Lord Arcus, yes. But no one else in the audience was powerful enough to merit that kind of death. Cheaper to pay a dockside thug to jam a knife into their ribs and have done with it.”
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