“Shut up,” said Basil, his tone hard. “We have to go now.”
Corvalis turned his head.
A jolt of alarm went through him.
“Go,” he said. “I’ll come back later for…”
“Too late,” said Basil, straightening up.
“What is it?” said Claudia, and her eyes grew wide.
Decius Aberon strolled towards them, a wide smile on his ruddy face. Corvalis had not seen his father for years, not since Claudia had convinced him to flee the Kindred. The First Magus had not changed. His green eyes still glittered with cold arrogance, and his plump face was hard with contempt and pride.
“Oh, gods,” whispered Claudia. “He’ll kill us”
“The Sages won’t allow it,” said Basil. “He won’t start a fight here and risk losing his chance at the glypharmor.”
“No,” said Corvalis. His heart sped up at the memory of a thousand punishments, a thousand petty cruelties. “He won’t bother to kill us himself. He’ll hire assassins to make it look like an accident.”
“That’s not funny,” said Claudia.
“I wasn’t joking,” said Corvalis.
Then his father stood before them. Decius’s cold eyes swept over them, glittering like a Sage’s jade mask. Corvalis suddenly felt like he was twelve years old again, enduring his father’s disappointment that he had no arcane talent.
And then his father had sold him to the Kindred for years of torment.
“Well, well,” said Decius. “Basil Callenius of the Imperial Collegium of jewelers. It has been far too long.”
Basil made a polite bow. “First Magus. You do me honor. Do you require jewelry? I can make a brooch wrought in the shape of the Magisterium’s sigil. I think it would go nicely with your ceremonial robes.”
“It would,” said Decius. “And such a generous offer. But, alas, I think your other employer might take offense.”
“My other employer, First Magus?” said Basil. “I am a merchant, and naturally I wish to have as many customers as possible.”
“But your chief customer,” said Decius, “is doddering old Alexius Naerius.”
“I believe you are referring to His Imperial Majesty,” said Basil, “the Emperor of Nighmar.”
“A man who has no business ruling,” said Decius. “The Empire is in a state of chaos, Master Basil. The disorderly and slovenly commoners do not show proper respect to the nobles. The nobles and magistrates waste their time scheming and plotting rather than contributing to the greater glory of the Empire.”
“How positively dreadful,” said Basil. “I assume, of course, that the magi would make for better rulers.”
“Indeed they would,” said Decius. “With the strong hand of the magi overseeing the Empire, we would enter a new golden age.”
His eyes turned towards Corvalis and Claudia.
“And children,” he said, “would no longer be so disrespectful of their parents.”
Claudia tensed, and Corvalis put his hand on her shoulder.
“Nothing to say?” said Decius. “No matter.” He turned his attention back to Basil. “Are you aware of your two new hirelings’ sordid history? They have quite the dark past.”
“It was my understanding,” said Basil, “that they were your bastard children. I suppose that is a sordid enough past for any man or woman.”
Decius laughed. “Basil, Basil. Insulting the First Magus of the Magisterium is hardly the path to a long and profitable career. Did you know that Claudia betrayed me, forsook her oaths to the Magisterium, and fled the Empire? And did you know that Corvalis here was once an assassin of the Kindred? I thought that all brothers and sisters of the Kindred had the death sentence upon them.”
“A man can change,” said Basil.
“He cannot,” said Decius, lip curling with contempt. “Corvalis was broken and remade into a weapon. He was once my weapon, and then my foolish daughter convinced him to betray me. Now he is your weapon. He cannot even speak for himself.”
“I can speak,” said Corvalis, “just fine.”
Decius’s smirk was indulgent. “A dog can be taught to bark on command, but still has nothing useful to say.”
“I am not,” said Corvalis, “your dog.”
“You were my dog,” said Decius. “Now you are the Ghosts’ dog. That is the only difference. You are still who I molded you to be, Corvalis.”
“A killer,” said Corvalis, his free hand tightening into a fist.
“A killer,” agreed Decius. “You ought to thank me, really.”
“For what?” snarled Corvalis. “Selling me to the Kindred? All the people you had me kill? All the blood on my hands? I should thank you for that?”
“For every bit of it,” said Decius. “I made you exceptional, Corvalis. You’re not particularly intelligent, and you have no arcane talent. The Kindred took you and made you into a killer without peer. Without them, you would be another useless bastard child of a nobleman, a wastrel squandering his life with wine and prostitutes. Rather than a man who will help build the new order.”
“Truly,” said Basil, “he was fortunate to have such a wise and prudent father.”
“Mockery, Basil?” said Decius. “Let me share one of Corvalis’s lessons with you. You know the Kindred reward successful assassins with gold and wine and comely slaves to warm their bed. Young Corvalis grew rather taken with one of his bed slaves. Attached, even.” He smiled. “A folly. So I hired the slave to kill him in his bed. If she succeeded, I would free her.”
Corvalis said nothing. He did not want to remember this.
“She surprised him and almost killed him…but he was faster and killed her first,” said Decius. “The Elder of Artifel told me that he wept like a child.”
“Corvalis,” whispered Claudia, looking at him with wide eyes.
He had never told her about that.
“You were right about one thing, Father,” said Corvalis. “I do owe you. I owe you so much. And by all the gods, I will repay it.”
“You won’t,” said Decius. “A dog might wish to bite his master’s hand…but the master is still the master.”
“You are a monster,” said Claudia, her voice tight. “I thought…I thought being a magus would be a wonderful thing. That we would serve the people of the Empire, that we would protect and defend them. Instead we are tyrants, and you would make us into crueler tyrants yet.”
“I would,” said Decius. “The common mass of men are nothing more than dumb animals, more interested in rutting and their next meal than higher matters. Those of us with arcane talent have a duty and a right to govern mankind. An Empire ruled by the Magisterium will be a better Empire, and will lead the way to a better world.”
“You would bring back slavery to the entire Empire,” said Claudia.
“And I would be right to do so,” said Decius. “For the great mass of men is fit for nothing but the collar. It is for their own good, Claudia. As you will learn, once you return to us.”
“What do you mean?” said Claudia.
“Ranarius turned you to stone with that pet elemental of his,” said Decius. “But he failed, and paid the price for his failure. You have been chastised enough, I think. Return to the Magisterium, and all shall be forgiven. Great days lie ahead of us, and you can be a partner in the new order to come.”
Claudia said nothing, and for an awful moment Corvalis wondered if she would accept the First Magus’s offer. She had loved their father until Corvalis’s return had shown her the awful truth of what the Magisterium really was.
“No,” said Claudia. “No, Father. I have seen you for what you really are. I will not help you torture and murder innocents in pursuit of your own power, and will not help you enslave the Empire.”
Decius smiled, but Corvalis saw the rage in his eyes.
“Pity,” said the First Magus. “But there is one thing you don’t understand. You belong to me. You both belong to me. And I will make you suffer for your betrayal. You’ll scre
am, Claudia, and you’ll beg for mercy. You’ll wish you were one of the slaves toiling in the fields of Cyrica before I’m done with you.” The green eyes shifted to Corvalis. “And you, my wayward dog…why, a dog must be beaten for disobedience, no? You loved that pretty little slave of yours. A weakling like you will fall for another woman sooner or later. And when you do, I’ll take her from you and make her suffer for your disobedience.”
An image of Caina at the First Magus’s mercy flashed through Corvalis’s mind. He knew what kind of tortures Decius Aberon enjoyed inflicting upon his prisoners.
“Decius,” said Basil, still pleasant, but this time his voice carried an edge, “while this show of bluster is amusing, it has grown tiresome.”
“Indeed?” said Decius. “You doubt my ability to carry out my promises?”
“Not at all,” said Basil. “But if you do, I suspect Zalandris will be disinclined to sell you the glypharmor. The honored Sage has the idea that the wielder of the glypharmor will bring peace to the world…and I doubt he will choose a man who murdered his own son and daughter.”
“Perhaps not,” said the First Magus. He turned his head. “Torius!”
Corvalis knew that name.
One of the battle magi strode over, the black plate armor clanking. The man was about thirty-five, with a hard, lean face and harsh green eyes. His blond hair and beard had been cut to stubble, and a sneer spread over his lips as he looked them over.
“Well, Father,” said Torius. “It seems your favored pet and wayward dog have returned. Shall I kill them?”
Corvalis watched his older half-brother. Torius was a strong magus and the oldest of Decius Aberon’s bastard children. He had served as the First Magus’s strong right hand for years, dispatching Decius’s enemies and enforcing the will of the Magisterium.
And he was at least as cruel as Decius. As a child Corvalis had suffered his attentions more than once.
“Torius,” said Corvalis. “Somehow you get uglier every time we meet.”
Torius laughed. “Little Corvalis. Skulk back into the shadows where assassins belong. Or would you rather face me in open combat?” His armored hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “I would enjoy that. Let us see if the miserable tricks of the Kindred allow you to stand against a battle magus of the Magisterium.”
“Now, now,” said Decius. “Our hosts would take it amiss if we spilled blood in their Hall. This is merely a friendly conversation.” His smile did not touch the green ice of his eyes. “Until we meet again.”
Decius turned his back and strolled away. Torius smirked, and then rejoined his father.
They stood in silence.
“Well,” said Basil at last. “That was certainly pleasant.”
“Then you have a twisted understanding of pleasure,” said Corvalis. “We may as well wait for Anna now.”
After some time Caina returned to the Hall, her blue skirts whispering against the white stone of the floor. Her expression was calm as ever, but Corvalis knew her well enough by now to see the hints of strain around her mouth and eyes.
“You are feeling better, daughter?” said Basil. “The Sage found no damage from your…episode?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” said Caina, looking back and forth between them. “Did I miss something?”
###
Later that night Corvalis leaned upon the railing of his room’s balcony, looking at the reflection of the glowing steel upon the smooth waters of the crater lake.
He thought of his father’s threats.
He thought of Claudia’s hesitation when the First Magus had asked if she wished to return.
And he remembered the slave woman who had tried to kill him. He had thought Nairia had loved him, but he had been a fool.
Was he a fool now?
He heard the faint whisper as his door slid open and reached for his sword hilt.
But it was Caina. She wore only a robe, her hair down and her makeup scrubbed away.
“What did Basil say?” said Corvalis.
“Tomorrow we’re going to speak with Annika,” said Caina. “All of us. She has contacts throughout the city. If Mihaela used necromancy to create the glypharmor, she might have built the armor at a location outside the Tower of Study, away from the Sages’ notice. One of Irzaris’s warehouses, maybe. Annika might know where to find it.”
Corvalis nodded. “You should go back to your room and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
She blinked, and it was as if a mask fell away. She looked younger, somehow, and tired, so very tired.
Corvalis held out a hand, and she crossed to him and rested her head against his chest.
“I have nightmares, sometimes,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Such terrible nightmares.”
“As do I,” said Corvalis.
“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Caina said. “Let the slaves gossip. I don’t care.”
Corvalis nodded. “It would make sense for your masquerade. A merchant’s daughter would seek the arms of her illicit lover after episode trying day.”
Strengthening her disguise. Was she wearing a disguise with him, even now? Would she one day try to cut his throat, as Nairia had done?
She slumped against him a little more.
“I don’t want to sleep alone,” she whispered. “Please.”
Corvalis nodded and led her to bed.
Chapter 13 - A Weeping Slave
The next morning, Caina dressed for the desert.
She pulled on a robe of sand-colored cloth and a heavy turban. Around her waist went a belt of worn leather holding a dagger and a sheathed scimitar. She kept her hair concealed beneath the turban, and shaded her jaw and cheeks with makeup to create the illusion of stubble. Caina was too pale and too short to look properly Sarbian. But few enough Sarbians ever came to Catekharon, and her disguise would fool casual observers.
Especially in the midst of Saddiq’s men.
“Gods,” said Corvalis, adjusting his own robe. “How do the Sarbians fight in these? Don’t they trip over the hems?”
“They’re divided front and back,” said Caina. “But they prefer to fight on horseback. Shoot their enemies full of arrows, ride away, and then hit them again a few hours later. It works. Both the Empire and Anshan have lost armies in the Sarbian deserts. Ready?”
Corvalis nodded, and followed her into the hallway. Halfdan and Claudia awaited them there, both clad in Sarbian robes. Halfdan, as always, melded into his disguise, while Claudia seemed anxious and ill at ease.
“You look,” said Halfdan, “positively disreputable. Like you’d cut my purse and my throat and dump my corpse into the lake.”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Corvalis. “You see how still those waters are? I dump you in the lake, everyone in the city and the Tower of Study will see it. Much more sensible to dump you in the aqueduct. All the molten metal would burn away the evidence.”
Caina laughed.
“That’s not funny,” said Claudia. There were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. The encounter with her father had done little to help her get a good night’s sleep. “I’m sure our father and Torius will do that to us, if they get the chance.”
“Let us laugh while we can,” said Halfdan. “Matters will become grim soon enough. In the meantime, we shall find Saddiq and carry out that tyrant Master Basil’s errands.”
###
The ambassadors, and the ambassadors’ guests, had been lodged in the various palaces ringing the Tower of Study, but the Masked Ones had housed the ambassadors’ various guards in a Redhelm barracks near the causeway to the city proper. Caina was surprised there hadn’t been a riot. Saddiq and six of his men waited outside the barracks, and straightened up at Halfdan’s approach.
“Aye?” said Saddiq.
“Master Basil has given us instructions,” said Halfdan in Cyrican with a Sarbian accent. “We are to go into the city and purchase supplies. Some cloth, some silk from the Anshani factors. And so
me silver candlesticks. Apparently the master’s daughters have taken a shine to them.”
“Indeed,” said Saddiq. “One must be attentive to the whims of one’s womenfolk.”
He grinned at Caina, and she grinned back.
“Come,” said Saddiq. “The sooner we return, the sooner the master will be pleased.”
###
“We’ll stop here,” said Halfdan as Annika’s pawnshop came into sight. “We will meet you back at the Tower of Study.”
“As you say,” said Saddiq. “We shall make haste. I do not like this half-empty city. Why would anyone want to live near this coven of unnatural sorcerers?”
Caina understood.
Saddiq and his men went about their errands, while Caina, Corvalis, and Claudia followed Halfdan into the pawnshop. The interior remained as gloomy and dusty as Caina remembered. This time Annika sat upon a stool, her cane propped against the counter, making notes in a ledger. She wore a green Anshani-style robe, and would have looked pretty if not for the scar marring the left side of her face.
“Well,” Annika said, looking up. “Sarbians from the great desert of the north. One sees many strange things living in the City of the Artificers, but Sarbians are rare indeed. How may I serve you?”
Halfdan pulled off his turban. “Annika. You are looking well.”
Annika blinked and set aside the ledger. “Marcus Antali?” That was another of Halfdan’s aliases. “Ah, you clever scoundrel! I never thought to see you again.”
She heaved to her feet, grabbed her cane, and to Caina’s surprise, hobbled across the room and gave Halfdan a hug.
“It seems you have come to some prosperity,” said Halfdan.
Annika snorted. “Of a sort. Still, it is good to be a big fish in a small pond, no?” Her smile faded. “I thought this business with the Scholae was already serious when Anna and Cormark came to visit.” She shot a glance at Caina and Corvalis. “But for you to come in person from the Empire…the Emperor takes this very seriously, does he not?”
“As he should,” said Halfdan. “Mihaela demonstrated her weapon last night.”
Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge Page 14
