“Master Khaltep,” said Corvalis, standing at Halfdan’s side, “strongly hinted that he would very much like Claudia to see his collection of Anshani tapestries.”
Claudia sniffed. “I do not enjoy the thought of enduring that…that preening huckster’s ungracious attentions.” She sighed and squared her shoulders. “Still, Father, if it will assist your…business efforts, I suppose I can survive one evening.”
“Thank you, daughter,” said Halfdan with grave dignity, though Caina saw the amused twinkle in his eye.
“I am affronted,” said Caina, hiding her smile. “One daughter, and not two? Am I so fat and ugly that I failed to catch his eye?”
“At least you wouldn’t have to endure his attempts at wit,” said Claudia. “I suppose you can take consolation from that.”
“And,” said Corvalis, “from other places.”
He winked, and Caina did her very best not to laugh.
Chapter 17 - Grinning Scars
That night Caina stood in her shift in Claudia’s room.
“Please,” she mumbled around the pins in her teeth, “hold still. I don’t want to draw blood.”
Claudia sighed and shifted on her stool. “I dislike the idea of being dangled as…as bait. I might as well dress up like an Istarish harem girl and parade myself in front of him.”
Caina, who had done that once, said, “It would be better if you stayed fully dressed.” She plucked a pin from her teeth and adjusted Claudia’s hair. “There. That’s better.”
Claudia peered in the mirror. “It…does look better, doesn’t it?” She raised a tentative hand to her hair. “I never thought of wearing it that way, I admit.”
Claudia knew virtually nothing about cosmetics, and had planned to wear the same gown from last night to Irzaris’s mansion. She had grown up as an initiate of the Magisterium, and had spent her time studying the use and history of sorcery. Details such as the use of cosmetics and the finer points of dressing had eluded her education.
So Caina had volunteered.
“How do you know all this?” said Claudia as Caina finished her hair. “I thought you would know about knives and daggers and poisons, not…well, not this sort of thing.”
“Who says I can’t know both?” said Caina. “Theodosia taught me when I was younger. The Ghosts are spies, Claudia, and we are most effective when we do not draw attention to ourselves. And that means knowing how to dress appropriately, whether at a noble’s ball or at a dockside tavern.”
“That makes sense,” said Claudia. “Still, I do not like using myself as bait. I am a magus of the Magisterium, not…”
“You’re not,” said Caina, her voice sharper than she intended. “Not any longer.” She forced her tone back to calm. “You’re a Ghost now, and that means doing what is necessary.”
Claudia swallowed. “As you say. Well, let’s get on with it.”
Caina helped Claudia into her gown, a pale green dress that left her shoulders and a portion of her chest bare.
“Isn’t that,” said Claudia, “rather, ah, low in the front?”
“That’s the point,” said Caina, reaching for the cosmetics. “You’re going to distract him while Corvalis and I do other things. And to distract him, you need to look distracting.”
“I cannot comprehend how the man can be attracted to me,” said Claudia, “when I so obviously despise him.”
“I suspect he does not care what you think of him,” said Caina.
She arranged Claudia’s jewelry and applied the cosmetics as Theodosia had taught her, reddening Claudia’s lips and cheeks, lining her green eyes with the faintest hint of black. When she finished, Caina stepped back to admire her handiwork. Claudia was a beautiful woman, and with the addition of a proper gown and makeup, she looked almost radiant.
“Yes,” said Caina, “I think you’ll distract Irzaris.”
“I do look nice, don’t I?” said Claudia, peering into the mirror. “Thank you.”
Caina inclined her head. “Just don’t let Irzaris get you alone.”
“Oh, gods, no,” said Claudia. “I doubt Basil will let it happen.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never looked this good…and I have to waste it on someone like Irzaris. His Anshani tapestries, indeed! I’ve never heard such a clumsy euphemism.”
Caina laughed, and Claudia looked at her with surprise. Then she, too, laughed.
“I admit,” said Caina, “I’ve never heard anyone call it an Anshani tapestry.”
“Not that I would know,” said Claudia. She gestured at herself. “Or how to seduce a man, for that matter.” Her face got a touch redder behind the makeup. “I’ve never, well…”
Caina nodded. “I understand.”
“Um,” said Claudia. “You and Corvalis. Have you…”
Caina could not decide whether to laugh or take offense at the question.
“We have,” said Caina.
“Oh,” said Claudia. “If you get with child, will you leave the Ghosts?”
“I can’t,” said Caina, feeling the familiar sadness. She hesitated, and then decided to tell Claudia the truth. “You may have noticed I…do not care for the magi very much. When I was a child, they murdered my father and left me unable to bear a child.”
“Oh!” Claudia’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, I had no idea. I’m sorry.” She hesitated, and then touched Caina’s shoulder. “I suppose…I thought…well, I am sorry. I see why you don’t like me very much.”
“I think,” said Caina, “I viewed you through the lens of my past experiences, not yours. I should not have done that.”
“Well, I am glad to have met you,” said Claudia. “And not just because you saved my life. You…make Corvalis happy. He’s never been happy for…if he’s told you anything about his past, you know why.”
Caina nodded. “He makes me happy, too.” She took a deep breath. “We’d best get moving. We have a lot of work to do.”
Claudia nodded, and Caina went to get dressed.
###
An hour later Caina stood with Corvalis in the shadows and looked at the mansion of Khaltep Irzaris.
The mansion stood in Catekharon’s richer western district, away from the gates and the noise of the main streets, surrounded by the homes of other wealthy merchants. Irzaris might have been born Catekhari, but he had built his mansion in the Anshani style. It stood four floors high, faced in gleaming white stone, its façade an arcade of slender columns with delicate columns. According to Annika, the house followed the design of most Anshani mansions and had been built around a central courtyard with a garden and a fountain.
“It seems,” muttered Corvalis, “that selling red iron to a Seeker pays quite well.” He wore chain mail and leather, a heavy shield slung over his back, sword and dagger ready at his belt.
“Aye,” said Caina. Like Corvalis, she wore leather and chain mail, though the unaccustomed weight of the mail made her shoulders ache. Still, the others wore mail, and it would look odd if she did not. “And gods know into what other pies he has thrust his sticky fingers.”
“But,” said Annika, “we shall find out tonight.” The Szaldic woman leaned upon her cane, draped in a heavy cloak.
Caina stood with Corvalis, Annika, Saddiq, and a dozen of Saddiq’s men in the alley across the street from Irzaris’s mansion, hidden in the shadows. Saddiq’s men had shed their desert robes and wore chain mail and leather, weapons bristling from their belts and harnesses. Without their robes, they looked like any other group of hardened mercenaries.
Which mean no one would blame the Sarbians or Basil Callenius for what happened next…which in turn meant no one would even begin to suspect the Ghosts.
“I hope,” said Corvalis, “that your slave knows what he is doing.”
“He is not my slave,” said Annika with a smile, “he is Master Khaltep’s slave. And he also happens to be my friend. Friendships are important, Master Cormark. Because he is my friend, I know that he works in Irzaris’s kitchens…and that he i
s not terribly fond of his master. He will be more than willing to do what I ask, in exchange for Basil arranging his freedom. And speaking of Basil, here he comes.”
A pair of sedan chairs carried by eight burly slaves strode into sight, flanked by four of Saddiq’s mercenaries still clad in their distinctive robes and turbans. The bearers squatted, and Halfdan and Claudia descended from the sedan chairs. Halfdan offered Claudia his arm, and they walked to the doors. A pair of slaves pulled them open, and Caina saw Irzaris stride out to greet his guests.
And then they vanished inside.
“Now we wait,” said Annika.
“How long?” said Corvalis.
“Perhaps an hour,” said Annika. “My friends in Irzaris’s house tell me the cook feeds the guards after the master sits down for dinner.”
Caina nodded. She saw several guards, two of them standing at the doors, and two more patrolling the mansion’s flat roof. No doubt others awaited within. Irzaris did not seem the sort of man to take chances with his personal security.
After an hour or so, a thin man in a slave’s tunic emerged from the mansion. He offered some bread and a skin of wine to the guards, who began to eat.
And a few moments later, the guards toppled over.
“Did you kill them?” said Saddiq, blinking in surprise.
“Of course not,” said Annika. “That would defeat the purpose of keeping this quiet, no? If we need to make Irzaris disappear…the guards will awaken and find their master missing. Whereas if they wake up and find their master lying a pool of blood, they will create more of a fuss than we want.”
“Though it would be ideal,” said Caina, “if they find their master safe and sound, after he’s told us everything we wish to know without making trouble.”
Corvalis nodded. “Now?”
“Wait,” said Caina, staring at the mansion’s roof. After a moment she saw the silhouettes of the guards topple. “Now. Don’t kill anyone unless it’s necessary.”
She tugged a black mask in place over her face, a tight hood that only left her eyes visible. Corvalis and Saddiq did the same, as did the other men.
“Well,” said Annika with a laugh. “Don’t you look like the perfect collection of thugs? I fear I shall be robbed.”
“You won’t,” said Caina. “Keep your shop ready. We might need a place to take Irzaris.” Annika nodded. “Let’s go. Corvalis, do the talking.”
“As you say,” said Corvalis, taking the lead. Caina followed, as did Saddiq and the other Sarbians. Corvalis threw open the doors and strode into the interior hall of Irzaris’s mansion, weapons ready. A glittering mosaic covered the floor, and elaborate Anshani tapestries hung from the walls. Apparently they had not been a euphemism after all.
They hurried into the dining hall. An elaborate chandelier hung overhead, studded with dozens of glowing, enspelled crystals. Beneath the chandelier stood a low table, and Halfdan, Claudia, and Irzaris sat on cushions in Anshani style. Irzaris shot to his feet, eyes wide. Halfdan’s mouth fell open in shock, while Claudia shrieked and lifted her hands to her throat.
They played their parts well. Theodosia would have been proud.
“What is the meaning of this?” thundered Irzaris. “How dare you invade my home! Guards! Kill them! Guards! Guards…”
His voice trailed off as no guards appeared. Annika’s friends had done their work well.
“I assure you,” said Halfdan, his voice quavering, “that I am worth more alive than dead, and that both my daughter and I, if we are left unharmed, will fetch a fine ransom from the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers…”
“Shut up, old man,” said Corvalis in growling Anshani. “We’re not here for you.”
“And you are here for me, hmm?” said Irzaris, his tone dripping contempt. “Do you have any idea who I am? I have the favor of the Scholae itself! Run while you still can, and…”
Corvalis punched him. Irzaris fell backwards across the table, sending both food and wine splattering everywhere. Caina had never seen a man look so astonished.
“Come along,” said Corvalis, “while you still have some teeth left.”
He seized Irzaris’s collar, hauled him to his feet, and dragged the merchant along. Caina followed, sword in hand. Corvalis pushed open a door and strode into the room beyond, still dragging Irzaris. The room looked like a study, a desk in one corner and shelves of curios lining the walls. A half-open door next to the desk led to the mansion’s central courtyard.
Corvalis dumped Irzaris on the floor and rested the tip of his sword against the merchant’s throat.
“And now,” said Corvalis, “you are going to tell us everything.”
Irzaris scowled and spat some blood upon the floor. “Everything about what?”
“How Mihaela creates the glypharmor,” said Corvalis.
Irzaris burst out laughing. “Oh, this is rich! Who hired you, hmm? Arsakan and his decrepit brother Yaramzod, I suppose, since you’re speaking Anshani. Or was it perhaps…”
Corvalis gave the merchant a gentle tap with his sword point. “That doesn’t answer the question.”
“You’re wasting your time,” said Irzaris. “I am just a merchant. I know nothing of sorcery, and I have no idea how Mihaela…”
“He’s lying,” growled Caina in Anshani, making sure to keep her voice disguised. Trying to sound like a normal man was harder than the rasping voice she used while wearing her shadow-cloak.
“No,” said Irzaris, “I am not. I…”
“Do not trifle with us,” said Caina. “We know you are closer to Mihaela than you claim. We know you have supplied her with counsel, in addition to red Nhabati iron.” She took a calculated guess. “And we know that you orchestrated those attacks outside Catekharon.”
Irzaris blinked in surprise. “How did you know…no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“A merchant paying mercenaries on the sly to attack his rivals is nothing new,” said Caina. “But the attacks had a second point, didn’t they? Mihaela used them to frighten Zalandris into supporting her work. She brought a little war to his doorstep, and convinced him that her glypharmor could end all war.”
Irzaris said nothing.
Caina nodded to Corvalis.
Corvalis kicked Irzaris in the gut. As the merchant doubled over, wheezing for breath, Corvalis stooped, seized Irzaris’s right hand, and broke his little finger.
Irzaris’s shriek of pain echoed off the ceiling.
“Please,” said Caina, leaning closer as Irzaris clutched his wounded hand, “tell us what you know. How does Mihaela create the glypharmor?”
“You’re dead,” spat Irzaris.
“I do not think,” said Caina, “you are in any position to make threats. Tell us how Mihaela makes the glypharmor while you can still feed yourself…”
“You don’t understand,” said Irzaris. “That’s not a threat. That’s a promise. You don’t know who you’re threatening.”
“A merchant?” said Caina.
“Mihaela,” said Irzaris. “I know what you think. She’s just a Seeker. Zalandris is the mind behind her skill. But you’re wrong. The glypharmor is her work, and Zalandris is a feeble old puppet. Who sent you, hmm? The First Magus? Callatas? It doesn’t matter. They’ll be dead, all of them, once Mihaela finishes her work.” He laughed. “And you’ll be dead, too, once…”
Caina felt a surge of arcane power, distinct against the tingling aura that hung over the entire city.
Someone was casting a spell nearby.
“Sorcerer!” said Caina, taking a sideways step. “It…”
The door to the courtyard exploded, shards raining across the floor. Irzaris sat up and grinned.
“Aid me!” he shouted. “I told them nothing! Kill them all, and…”
A cloaked and hooded man stepped through the door and lifted a hand. A bar of darkness wreathed in green flame burst from his fingers and slammed into Irzaris’s chest. Irzaris collapsed to the floor with a scream, the ghostl
y green flames dancing over his limbs. He twitched like a landed fish, screamed once more, and then went motionless.
Caina lifted her weapons, as did Corvalis. She could not see under the cloaked man’s hood, but she saw that he wore leather armor, a sheathed sword on his left hip and a dagger on his right.
Something about the shape of the dagger’s handle tugged at her memory.
“Well,” said the cloaked man, his voice rusty, “he always did like to talk too much.” He spat a laugh. “An unpleasant quality in a man.”
Caina knew that voice at once.
“No,” she said. “You’re dead. I saw you die.”
“Ah,” said the cloaked man. “Mistress. So good to see you again.”
He drew back his hood.
His bald head and hairless face were hideously scarred, and almost looked as if they had been stitched together out of pieces of old leather. His left eye was green, while the right was a sulfurous yellow-orange. Even from a distance, his stench filled Caina’s nostrils, a hideous mixture of rotting meat and clotting blood.
“Sicarion,” said Caina. “I saw you die.”
“I beg to differ,” said Sicarion. “You saw Ranarius throw me out of the Palace of Splendors with his spell. The landing hurt, but it didn’t kill me. Though I did have to replace one of my kidneys and both of my legs.” He grinned. “I would kill him for it, but I suppose you did it for me. Destroyed by his pet elemental? Appropriate. When he still served the mistress, I warned him that his pets would turn on him.”
Caina had seen Sicarion use his twisted necromancy before. With his spells, he harvested limbs and organs from living victims and grafted them onto his own flesh. It had transformed him into a grotesque, scarred monster…but it had also allowed him to live for centuries and survive multiple mortal wounds.
“That’s where Mihaela learned the necromancy for the glypharmor,” said Caina. “You taught her.”
“She is such a clever girl, mistress,” murmured Sicarion. “Give her a coin, and she’ll turn it into three. But tonight has been delightful. I’ve wanted to kill Irzaris ever since I met him.” His mismatched eyes shifted to Corvalis. “And I’ve wanted to kill you for years.”
Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge Page 19
