Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Perhaps you could become the court sword master of Iramis,” said Caina, grinning. “I’m sure that Nasser would…”

  Morgant shook his head and walked away.

  “I think you irritated him,” said Kylon.

  “Good,” said Caina. “He deserved both thanks and irritation.” She squeezed his hand again and looked up at him. “And maybe he will paint that second painting. Because it is the truth.”

  He stared back at her and gave her a soft kiss.

  “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” said Caina.

  “What do you mean?” said Kylon.

  “Here, in Istarinmul,” said Caina. “I can’t leave now. This business about being an amirja and the Padishah’s sister…I don’t know how to do it, Kylon. I’m a spy and an assassin. Not a noblewoman…”

  “Technically, you are a noblewoman,” said Kylon. “Your father was a lord of the Empire. You’ve pretended to be a noblewoman countless times.”

  “I’ve pretended to be a man, too,” said Caina. “That doesn’t make it so.”

  He nodded. “Of course I’ll help you.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina. “I…”

  “Ah…Lord Kylon?”

  Caina blinked and turned.

  The Kyracian embassy approached, Lord Ramphias at its head.

  ###

  Kylon gazed at the man who had succeeded him as High Seat of House Kardamnos.

  Rhamphias had always been a blustering, arrogant braggart, full of confidence and self-assurance, and utterly convinced that he should have been the High Seat of House Kardamnos instead of Kylon. After Kylon had saved Rhamphias from a nagataaru in New Kyre, that bluster had vanished, at least around Kylon, and now his cousin regarded him with a mixture of respect, uneasiness, and a hint of fear.

  A tangle of dark emotion went through Kylon at the sight of Rhamphias. Oddly, little enough of it had to do with Rhamphias himself. The Surge had given Kylon the ability to sense nagataaru, and that had allowed him to save Rhamphias’s life. Of course, that same ability had given him no warning of the Huntress’s attack, had not permitted him to save Thalastre.

  “Cousin,” said Kylon. He ought to have addressed Rhamphias as the Lord High Seat of House Kardamnos, but he could not bring himself to care, and he was curious to see how Rhamphias would react.

  Rhamphias’s lip twitched a little. “Cousin. I…confess that I am surprised to see you here. I was not expecting it.” He glanced at Caina. “Or in the company of…that woman.”

  “She does have a name,” said Kylon. Caina smiled a little.

  “Indeed,” said Rhamphias. “She…is the one, Kylon? The Balarigar? The one who was in New Kyre on the day of the golden dead? She stopped that scarred assassin?”

  Caina gripped her Iramisian skirts and offered a bow. “Caina Amalas, at your service, Lord Rhamphias.”

  Rhamphias was too wedded to the traditions of a Kyracian nobleman to do anything but bow in answer. “Rhamphias Kardamnos, High Seat of House Kardamnos. Though I suppose you are properly the amirja Caina Amalas Tarshahzon now. It was Lord Corbould Maraeus who pushed for your banishment, was it not? I imagine he would be most vexed to find out that you are now the Padishah’s adoptive sister.”

  Caina smiled again. “Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to see his vexation in person.”

  “Yes, undoubtedly,” said Rhamphias, looking back and forth between Kylon and Caina, and Kylon sensed his cousin’s discomfort grow. “I…had not realized that you two were…ah…”

  “Cousin,” said Kylon. “What do you want?”

  Rhamphias shrugged, the discomfort sharpening. “To greet you, that’s all.”

  “No,” said Caina, in the quiet voice that meant she was thinking. “You were sent as the Kyracian Assembly’s ambassador to the court of the new Padishah. You ought to be following the Padishah, or the new Grand Wazir, attempting to get into their good graces. Instead, you have come to speak with a man the Assembly banished from New Kyre, a man who once was the High Seat of the House you now rule. That means you have a reason rather more pressing than mere greetings.”

  Rhamphias sighed. “Clever. I never liked clever women. Andromache was clever, and look what it brought her.”

  “How fares House Kardamnos?” said Kylon, wondering if Rhamphias had steered the House to ruin.

  “Well,” said Rhamphias. “I…admit that the business of High Seat is harder than I anticipated. Certainly you and Andromache made it look easier than it really is.”

  “High praise,” said Caina.

  Rhamphias gave her an annoyed glance and then looked back at Kylon. “But the House is not in dire straits. Granted, our standing was not as high as it was under you or your sister, but our finances are sound, and our properties are profitable.”

  “Good,” said Kylon. “I haven’t been to New Kyre in two years, so you can take credit for that, not me.”

  “I agree,” said Rhamphias, “but I haven’t come to speak of the business of House Kardamnos. I have a message for you.”

  Kylon felt something cold close around his heart. “From whom?”

  “The Surge, the oracle of the Kyracian people,” said Rhamphias.

  The ice flickered into anger, and he felt Caina’s concerned glance.

  “What the hell does she want?” said Kylon.

  “She commands you to return to New Kyre at once, in our company,” said Rhamphias.

  “Why?” said Kylon. The word snapped out harder than he anticipated.

  “She did not say,” said Rhamphias. “One of the other nobles in our party will remain behind to serve as the Assembly’s ambassador to the Padishah. The rest of us shall return to New Kyre tomorrow, and the Surge wishes that you sail with us to speak with her.”

  “I see,” said Kylon.

  For a moment he knew a wild, mad hope. He had spent the last two years in Anshan and Istarinmul, conscious for every moment that he was an exile. No one spoke Kyracian here, save traders and mercenaries, and the foods and the customs were foreign and strange. The longing to see New Kyre again washed over him as strong as the desire for water in the desert.

  “The Surge also thought the Balarigar might be with you,” said Rhamphias. He hesitated again. “She…commands you to come to New Kyre alone.”

  Caina’s face went very still.

  ###

  “You have to go,” said Caina, trying to keep the words from sticking in her throat.

  She and Kylon had moved to the corner of the Court of Justice, not far from where the Mirror of Worlds had once stood. Here they could converse without being overheard.

  Caina gripped both of Kylon’s hands with hers. She knew he could feel her emotions when she did that, and she wanted him to know that she was telling the truth, that she wasn’t lying for his sake.

  No matter how much it hurt.

  “No,” said Kylon, shaking his head. “To hell with the Surge. I am finished with oracles, with…”

  “She wouldn’t summon you if she didn’t have a reason,” said Caina. “I’m not fond of prophecies either…but they did help us. The Emissary gave me the valikon. The Emissary told you how to defeat Rhataban and the Huntress, even if you had to do all the work. If the Surge is summoning you to New Kyre, then perhaps you should go.”

  “If I do go,” said Kylon, “then I will finish whatever damnable task she has for me, and return here as fast as I can.”

  Caina hesitated, trying to find a way to phrase her thoughts.

  “What is it?” said Kylon.

  “Maybe,” said Caina, remembering Kalgri’s mockery, the mockery that had nonetheless held truth, “maybe…while you are in New Kyre, maybe you should consider finding a Kyracian wife who can bear you Kyracian children…”

  Kylon’s fingers tightened against her hands. “What? Are you…leaving me?”

  Caina shook her head. “No.”

  “Are you telling me to leave you, then?”

  “No, not at all,” said Caina.
>
  “Then what are you saying?” said Kylon, half-angry, half-hurt.

  “I am saying,” said Caina, “that you are Kyracian, that you wanted Kyracian children…and that’s not something you and I can have. Not ever. It…we were both exiles, Kylon. Neither of us wanted to come here. Neither of us thought to ever see the other again. Now here we are, thrown together by common enemies, and all of those enemies are dead.”

  “Caina,” said Kylon. “That…”

  “Is that enough?” said Caina. “Will that be enough for you in five years? In ten years? Once you do whatever the Surge wants of you, do you really think the Assembly will refuse to allow you to return to New Kyre? You want to go home, Kylon, I know you do, just as I want to return to Malarae and the Empire. You have a chance to go home. I can’t deny you that.”

  The words hurt to say, but she knew that Kalgri had told more of the truth than she had intended.

  “Caina,” he said again. “You…”

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too,” said Kylon. “And…I don’t want to leave you behind.”

  “I know you don’t,” said Caina. “But I know you want to go home, and…I don’t want to stop you from that.”

  “You really mean that,” said Kylon.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “As much as it hurts, yes.”

  “I’ll come back,” said Kylon. “Once I have finished whatever the Surge wants. I will come back to Istarinmul and to you.”

  “I hope so,” said Caina. She leaned up, kissed him, and stepped back, releasing his hands. “I hope so. If you don’t…I understand, Kylon. I know what it is to want a home. To want children of your own.” She took one more step back. “Farewell.”

  Kylon stared at her, regret and pain and hope warring on his face.

  She smiled at him, turned, and made herself walk away before he could see the pain in her eyes.

  ###

  “You have made the right choice, cousin,” said Rhamphias, clapping Kylon on the shoulder.

  “Perhaps,” said Kylon, staring at the archway where Caina had disappeared.

  “I am baffled why you were with her,” said Rhamphias. “A Nighmarian noblewoman? And more, a spy? The Balarigar? Have you even heard the tales about her in the Empire? They say…”

  “Stop talking, Rhamphias,” said Kylon, his voice flat.

  He was angry, and he wanted to hit someone. The Surge, perhaps. Though Rhamphias would serve just as well. But Kylon was indeed Kyracian, and he could not refuse the call of the Surge, even if he hated her.

  “Ah…of course,” said Rhamphias, and he felt a flicker of genuine sympathy in the man’s aura. “We shall leave with the tide tomorrow. I shall have your baggage carried to our trireme.” He clapped his hands.

  “There isn’t much,” said Kylon, turning, “just some…”

  He fell silent.

  For burly porters in the gray tunics of slaves approached Rhamphias.

  Slaves. Slaves would carry Kylon’s baggage to the ship. Slaves would attend to him on the trireme. Slaves would wait upon him in New Kyre.

  Slaves just like the ones Kylon had seen dead in the wraithblood laboratories.

  Slaves just like the ones the Brotherhood had kidnapped.

  Kylon wanted to go home.

  Except…he had changed. New Kyre hadn’t changed.

  Thalastre had once said that Caina had changed Kylon, and she had been right. And now Caina had changed him even further. Or perhaps the horrors he had seen in Istarinmul had changed him. More likely it was both.

  Kylon only knew that he found the thought of slaves waiting upon him revolting beyond measure.

  “We should attend the banquet first, cousin,” said Rhamphias. “Then we should…cousin? Cousin?”

  Kylon of House Kardamnos strode from the Court of Justice and did not look back.

  Chapter 33: The Last Answer

  The next day, Caina walked with Nasser through the Cyrican Bazaar.

  The Bazaar had come to life once more, the merchants reopening and rebuilding their stalls, calling out of their prices. It reminded Caina of the months she had spent waging her campaign of theft against the cowled masters, of the long talks she had shared with Nasser as they plotted the downfall of their enemies.

  Of course, things were a little different now.

  A dozen men of the Prince’s Guard trailed them, spears in hand and shields upon their arms. The metal of their cuirasses and weapons looked like bronze, but it was actually a high-quality steel. Caina herself wore the bright dress of an Iramisian noblewoman, her pyrikon shifted to its diadem form and resting upon her brow.

  And she had walked unseen through the Bazaar a thousand times, but now the merchants bowed as she passed, while a few simply stared with wide eyes. She was now the Liberator of Iramis and an amirja of House Tarshahzon, the Balarigar, and the Padishah’s adopted sister, and some of them had even seen her fight Callatas in the sky over the city. Their bows were discomforting.

  At least, they should have been discomforting. They didn’t disturb her, but neither did they bring her any pleasure.

  Instead, she simply felt…gray. Numb. A little tired.

  She had felt that way after she had killed Maglarion, after she had avenged her father at last. Caina knew that she and her allies had saved Istarinmul and countless millions of lives. A lot of people had been killed, but far, far more had been saved. She should have taken joy in that, she knew.

  But she felt nothing, save weariness.

  “Lord Rhamphias departed this morning,” observed Nasser.

  “I know,” said Caina. She sighed. “Do you see right through me now, Prince Nasser?”

  He smiled that white smile at her. “We have been through some very dangerous times together, have we not?”

  They walked in silence for a moment.

  “I couldn’t have kept Kylon here,” said Caina. “It wouldn’t have been fair. If I had insisted, he would have stayed. But I couldn’t have done that to him. Not when he had a chance to go home. Not…when he could have a family, a real family of his own.”

  “You loved him,” said Nasser, “and so you let him go.”

  “Yes,” said Caina.

  “A noble thing to do,” said Nasser.

  Caina let out a humorless laugh. “Why does the noble thing always bring pain?”

  “Alas, my dear Balarigar,” said Nasser, “the men of Iramis have been asking that question ever since our city was built. Thousands of years later, we still do not know the answer.”

  “I suppose not,” said Caina.

  “Lord Kylon went home,” said Nasser. “You could go home as well. You might be banished from the Empire, but both Istarinmul and Iramis will aid the Emperor in his war against the Umbarian Order. If the Padishah and the Prince of Iramis insist that Caina Amalas Tarshahzon is allowed to return home, the Emperor will relent.”

  “I know,” said Caina. “Perhaps I will ask that of you. Malarae is the home of my heart. But…I’ve done too much here, Nasser. I have too many friends here now. Malarae might be the home of my heart…but so are Istarinmul and Iramis.”

  “If you wish to reside in Iramis,” said Nasser, “you will be more than welcome to do so. You are a Liberator and a valikarion, and you will always have a place among us. More, the valikarion and the loremasters are preparing to aid the Emperor against the Umbarians. The Umbarian Order is a cancer that has spread out of control, and the Emperor will need the aid of the valikarion and the loremasters to bring the Umbarians to bay.”

  “I know,” said Caina. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do now.”

  “Well. Perhaps it is best to start simply. A cup of coffee, perhaps,” said Nasser, nodding towards the House of Agabyzus. “That always assists clear thought. And Mistress Damla has the finest coffee in Istarinmul…and surely a visit from the Liberator would greatly increase the popularity of the House of Agabyzus.”

  “Is that why we walked here?” said Caina.
“So you could buy me a cup of coffee?”

  Nasser smiled. “Would I do something so duplicitous?”

  Caina snorted. “Certainly not. Lead on.”

  They crossed the rest of the Cyrican Bazaar and went into the House of Agabyzus. Caina looked around the familiar common room, at the low tables and the booths, and she took a deep breath, the smell of coffee filling her nostrils. She did feel better here. It had all begun in the House of Agabyzus, hadn’t it? It had all begun here, and unlike so many things in life, it had ended well. Callatas had been defeated, his monstrous plots undone, and countless lives had been saved.

  Countless lives, and if Caina was as alone as she had been when she had come to Istarinmul…well, that was a small price to pay, was it not? At least Kylon was still alive. At least he had not died as Corvalis and Halfdan had.

  She hoped that he would find peace in New Kyre with his Kyracian wife and children.

  Damla hurried over, wearing her widow’s black, but there was a sparkle in her dark eyes. Caina spotted Tomazain walking into the kitchen, and she thought a baker’s apron suited him better than chain mail.

  “Please don’t bow,” said Caina.

  Damla laughed. “I shouldn’t dream of it.” That smile widened. She looked almost giddy with…anticipation, was it? Did she have a surprise? Caina hoped not. She wasn’t in the mood. “I’m glad you’re here. Lord Prince, all is in readiness.”

  “Capital,” said Nasser. “Capital, indeed.”

  Damla turned as the kitchen door opened again, and a bolt of sheer surprise went through Caina.

  Kylon of House Kardamnos walked into the common room.

  ###

  Caina’s face had gone white, her blue eyes wide with surprise. A small part of Kylon felt some satisfaction at that. She was so observant that it was almost impossible for him to surprise her. Then her cool mask fell back into place once more.

  “Rhamphias’s ship left a few hours ago,” said Caina. He couldn’t sense her emotions without touching her, but he knew her well enough to detect the faintest quaver in her voice, the tiniest twitch of a muscle below her eye.