Ghost in the Seal (Ghost Exile #6)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “See them?” said Caina.

  “Observe,” said Annarah, lifting her hand. Caina felt the surge of force as Annarah summoned power for a spell. She did not cast the spell…yet Caina saw the glow of power around the loremaster, even as she felt it against her skin like a wave of needles. “You can see the light, yes? I have not cast a spell yet. Anyone else looking at me would see nothing. Yet you can sense the power…and now you can see it as well.”

  Caina stared at Annarah for a moment, watching the threads of power twine and dance over her fingers. She saw how Annarah’s own will fed the spell, how the pyrikon added its strength the spell. The sight started to make her dizzy, and Caina squeezed her eyes closed and looked away.

  “How did this happen to me?” said Caina.

  “You underwent a great ordeal of both mind and body,” said Annarah. “You survived, yes…but such an experience would not leave you unchanged.”

  “No,” murmured Caina. The light vanished from Annarah’s hands as she released her power. “No, I suppose not.” Now that the shock had worn off, the confusion came flooding back. “I should be dead. The last thing I remember is Kalgri stabbing me. And then…” She shook her head. She could only remember bits and pieces.

  “Lord Kylon saved you,” said Annarah. “He took one of your vials of Elixir Restorata and poured it down your throat.”

  “That should have killed me,” said Caina. “And everyone else for a considerable distance.”

  “It would have,” said Annarah, “but he also put Morgant’s wedjet-dahn upon your arm.”

  “That should have killed me, too,” said Caina.

  “There was a possibility I did not foresee,” said Annarah. “The wedjet-dahn was damaged. Your aura has been damaged as well, likely since childhood. Consequently it did not work as I thought it would. It amplified the power of the Elixir to an exponential degree, which meant enough of that power entered you to heal the wound. Unfortunately, it also strengthened the necromantic poison in your blood. It attacked your mind and would have killed you, but Lord Kylon bade me to use the Words of Lore so he could enter your mind. Together you expelled the poison.”

  “Kylon was inside my mind?” said Caina. “Gods. He probably saw some disturbing things in there.”

  “He…would not speak of it,” said Annarah. “Only that the will of Kharnaces himself tried to kill you through the poison.”

  “And Kalgri?” said Caina, trying to remember. “Cassander Nilas was there, wasn’t he? What happened to them?”

  “Kalgri escaped,” said Annarah. “It seems she saw the danger and fled. Morgant said she took your shadow-cloak and ghostsilver dagger for some reason when she fled. Cassander was killed in the explosion, along with most of his Adamant Guards.”

  “Good,” said Caina with some heat. Cassander had arranged for the murder of Kylon’s wife, had tried to kill Martin and Claudia, and had unleashed the Sifter upon Istarinmul. There were people she regretted having killed…but Cassander Nilas would never be one of them.

  “I wish it had not been necessary to kill him,” said Annarah. “I wish he would have repented.” Caina gave her a look. “But I suspect he never would have.”

  Caina nodded, and a dark thought came to her. Kylon had given her the Elixir Restorata. Kylon had fought the dark thing in her head. What had that done to him? If he had been killed saving her life…

  Some of her dread must have shown on her face, because Annarah guessed her next question. “Kylon is alive. We all are. The explosion killed most of the Umbarians, and we were able to escape Rumarah without incident. I believe Lord Kylon is discussing matters with the Prince and the headman of this village.”

  “Headman?” said Caina, and she noticed that the architecture of the room did not look Istarish. “We’re not in Rumarah, are we? Where are we?”

  “A village in the Kaltari Highlands,” said Annarah. “Named Drynemet. It seems both you and the Prince have friends here. The Prince believed the regalia would be safe in Drynemet until we can return to Istarinmul and undertake the journey to Catekharon.”

  “Drynemet?” said Caina, astonished. She had fought the Huntress here with Nasser and Claudia. Yet Drynemet and the Kaltari Highlands were a long way from Rumarah. “How long was I unconscious? Twelve days?”

  “Twenty-two, actually,” said Annarah, and Caina’s eyes widened. “The journey to Drynemet took two weeks, and you have been resting here ever since.”

  “Twenty-two days?” said Caina, shocked. She had lost nearly a month. “Then…why don’t I feel worse? I shouldn’t be able to sit up. I feel…a lot better than I should.”

  “I tended to you,” said Annarah, “and made sure you drank. And the Elixir’s aura took a long time to depart from you, and only vanished a few days past. I believe it took that long to fully repair all the injuries you suffered.”

  “I see,” said Caina. “Thank you for looking after me. That must have been a great deal of work.”

  Annarah smiled. “After all you have done for me, how could I not? You brought Morgant to the Sanctuary to rescue me. You were the reason we escaped alive from the Inferno. You brought the regalia out of the Tomb of Kharnaces after I was foolish enough to place them there.” She hesitated. “I could never repay all that you have done for me, Balarigar.”

  Caina took a deep breath. “If you really want to repay me, there is one thing you can do for me.”

  “Of course,” said Annarah.

  “Never call me that again,” said Caina.

  Annarah laughed. “As you wish.”

  “Actually,” said Caina. “There is something else you can do for me.” She lifted the blanket. “Could you find me some clothing?”

  “Of course,” said Annarah. “Laertes took your pack and satchel when we fled the Corsair’s Rest, so some of your equipment survived the explosion. The headman of this village…”

  “His name is Strabane,” said Caina.

  “The headman said you could use whatever you wished,” said Annarah. “For some reason, he seemed amused that you were a woman.”

  Caina sighed. “I can imagine.”

  ###

  Caina’s room, as it happened, had been off the headman’s hall. She walked through the cavernous, gloomy hall, past the firepit that smoldered with the coals of last night’s fire, tugging at her new cloak. Annarah had located clothes in the Kaltari style – a sleeveless dress of green with a broad belt, and a long cloak pinned with a brooch over her right shoulder. One of the daggers from her pack went on her belt, and two more in her boots. Even here, she would not go unarmed.

  Caina and Annarah walked from the front doors of the hall and into the village’s square. Drynemet had not changed much from her last visit, and the damage from the Huntress’s attack had been rebuilt. The Kaltari built their houses in the style of their ancient Caerish ancestors, with round walls of stone and domed roofs made of thatch. Their tastes included the skulls of their enemies, and every house had at least one skull mounted over its door, some of them dating back to battles hundreds of years past. A strong wall surrounded the village, and from the vantage point of the headman’s hall, Caina saw the Kaltari hills stretching away in all directions, craggy and cloaked in tough little pine trees. It was a warm day, but far less humid than Pyramid Isle, which was pleasant.

  A sense of dislocation swept through Caina. When she had closed her eyes, she had been in Rumarah…and she had awakened hundreds of miles away.

  But nearly a month had passed while she was unconscious.

  “Are you all right?” said Annarah.

  Caina considered her answer. “I…think I am better than I have any right to be.”

  She walked around the headman’s hall, to the terrace overlooking the steep valley below. It was a fall over several hundred feet to the valley floor, and Claudia had thrown a Silent Hunter from the edge of the terrace during the Huntress’s attack. Strabane, the headman of Drynemet, stood there, a towering giant of a man in leather and ma
il, the hilt of an enormous greatsword rising over his right shoulder. Two skulls of vanquished enemies swung from his belt, and scars marked his face and hands. Nasser, Laertes, and Morgant stood speaking with him, and all four men turned as Caina and Annarah approached.

  She stopped, a flicker of self-consciousness going through her. She had never worn a dress in front of them before.

  She also saw the aura of power around Nasser’s gloved left hand, the potent spells around Morgant’s dagger and scimitar. Usually she had to get closer before she sensed the sorcery within Nasser’s hand. It seemed this peculiar vision, the sight of a valikarion, was far more powerful.

  Morgant smiled and held out a hand. Strabane spat a rumbling curse, Laertes sighed, and Nasser showed no reaction. All three men dropped coins into Morgant’s hand, who made them disappear into a pocket of his black coat.

  “What was that about?” said Annarah.

  “A little wager,” said Morgant. “Our friends thought she would continue her ruse as a man. I knew better, and am now therefore a few bezants richer.’”

  “I’ll be damned,” said Strabane, shaking his head. “You had me completely fooled, Ciaran. Never once crossed my mind that you were a woman. Bloody hell. Looking at you now, it seems obvious. I must be losing my wits.”

  “You are, of course,” said Laertes, “but you are not the only one. I kept trying to get this man to marry one of my daughters, but he wasn’t a man at all.”

  “What about you, Glasshand?” said Strabane.

  “I suspected Ciaran was not all that he seemed to be,” said Nasser. “There were moments. Sometimes your voice became much higher in moments of stress, your accent more Nighmarian. Lord Kylon seemed quite fond of you, but I simply thought you were comrades in battle. Yet you never gave me enough pieces to assemble the whole.” He flashed his white smile and offered a bow. “Truly, you are one of the most gifted liars I’ve ever met.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina. “I did tell you some of the truth. Remember the story I told you about Sonya Tornesti in the Vale of Fallen Stars? It was mostly true. I just happened to be Sonya Tornesti.”

  Nasser threw back his head and laughed. “Indeed? Well-played.”

  Caina looked at Strabane. “There’s a two million bezant bounty on my head. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Strabane snorted. “The Grand Wazir and the Grand Master posted that bounty, and we are actively plotting to overthrow them.”

  “True enough,” said Caina, and then asked the question that had been on her mind. “Where is Kylon?”

  “The Kyracian?” said Strabane. “He went out with one of my patrols. Looked restless. They’ll be back by sundown.” Caina felt a surge of relief. “I’ve been keeping tight watch on the hills. The demon-worshippers have been stirring up trouble for their gods, and Teskilati spies keep trying to slip into the village.”

  “Teskilati?” said Caina, and her brain caught up to the conversation. “They only care about the Kaltari Highlands because you’ve allied with Tanzir Shahan and the other southern emirs. Which means…the emirs are marching on Istarinmul, aren’t they?”

  “Very soon, now,” said Nasser. “Now that we have accomplished our objective, the time is ripe to strike. If we can defeat the Grand Wazir and overthrow Callatas, we can prevent him from ever finishing his Apotheosis.”

  “We should talk about that,” said Caina.

  “A moment, please,” said Nasser to the others, “if you do not object.”

  Strabane snorted. “When the two of you go off together to plot, the next thing I know I’m running through the netherworld with a horde of demons on my heels.”

  “The netherworld?” said Annarah, blinking. “How many times have you been to the netherworld?”

  “Four. Which is four more times than I ever wanted,” said Caina. She looked up at Strabane. She had to crane her neck a bit to do it. “Why don’t you tell her the story, headman? Since we all escaped alive, if barely, it counts as a happy story, mostly.”

  “Very well,” said Strabane. His voice rumbled in Caina’s ears as she walked with Nasser to the edge of the terrace.

  “Thank you,” said Nasser.

  Caina blinked. “For what? What did I do?”

  For a moment Nasser looked almost incredulous. “You truly don’t know? You brought the Staff and the Seal out of the Tomb. You sacrificed yourself to save us at the Corsair’s Rest, and you knew that you were going to your death.”

  “I don’t remember it clearly,” said Caina. “Just bits and pieces.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Nasser, “Cassander would have killed us all and taken the Staff and the Seal if not for your intervention.”

  “You should thank Kylon,” said Caina. “I would never have thought to drink the Elixir. Or use the wedjet-dahn. Apparently that was why Samnirdamnus wanted Morgant to take the damned thing.”

  “And apparently,” said Nasser, “you are going to save the world.”

  Caina felt a chill. “What?”

  “The Knight of Wind and Air told Morgant he would choose whether the world lived or died,” said Nasser. “If he had chosen to allow the world to die, he would have left the wedjet-dahn in the Inferno. Kalgri would have killed you, Cassander would have claimed the regalia, and in time Callatas would have killed him and used the relics to work the Apotheosis.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to save the world,” said Caina.

  “Doesn’t it?” said Nasser. “For Callatas has not yet been defeated.”

  “Let us not grow complacent because of prophecies,” said Caina. By all the gods, she was sick to death of prophets, oracles, and riddling spirits. And she had made the mistake of assuming Sulaman’s prophecy had meant her death. “Where are the Staff and Seal now?”

  “Within Strabane’s strong room,” said Nasser. “It’s the most secure place in Drynemet, and only the six of us who were at Rumarah know it is here.”

  “Seven of us,” said Caina. “Kalgri escaped Rumarah. She’s almost certainly told Callatas where the relics are by now. He’s going to come after them as quickly as he can.”

  “I agree,” said Nasser. “Which is why as soon as you feel well enough to travel, we are leaving Drynemet for Istarinmul.”

  “Callatas is in Istarinmul,” said Caina.

  “So are ships that can carry us swiftly to Catekharon,” said Nasser. “Istarinmul’s navy is weak, and even though the Empire’s western fleet is still rebuilding after the Kyracian war, the Emperor has more than enough ships to safeguard the sea lanes. Once we get on a ship, neither Callatas nor Kalgri will be able to stop us. And Callatas will soon have a new problem that will occupy his full attention.”

  “The rebel emirs,” said Caina.

  “They prefer to think of themselves as the emirs who shall restore sound governance to Istarinmul,” said Nasser. “Tanzir Shahan will soon march from the Vale of Fallen Stars, and the Kaltari clans will move to join him. Grand Wazir Erghulan has very little support left, and even many of the northern emirs would like to see him gone. Istarinmul may well fall to the southern emirs, and if it does, we shall have a chance to kill Callatas and put an end to his evil. At the very least, he will be forced to abandon Istarinmul, and shall have to start his Apotheosis over from scratch.”

  Caina said nothing, staring over the edge of the terrace to the stream bubbling through the valley. Once, she knew, she would have felt terrible guilt, blaming herself for the impending civil war. That guilt seemed like a distant thing now. She had died and come back, but if she had died and stayed dead…the civil war would have started anyway. If she had never come to Istarinmul, Callatas might have well have continued his evil unopposed, seeking fruitlessly for the Staff and the Seal as he slaughtered thousands to continue producing wraithblood.

  She had not started Istarinmul on its path to bloodshed, she now realized…but she would see it through to the end.

  “Sorry I lied to you,” she said at last, “about who I really am
.”

  Nasser offered a lazy shrug. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth about who I am, either. That you figured it out first…well, I have no one to blame but myself.” He hesitated. “It may be a peculiar thing to say…but you remind me of my daughter.”

  “Truly?” said Caina. Nasser never spoke of his lost family, the wife and children that had burned with Iramis.

  “She, too, sacrificed herself to save others,” said Nasser in a quiet voice.

  They stood in silence for a while.

  “I’m sorry,” said Caina.

  Nasser smiled. “Do you know I had already heard of you? Your true name, I mean. I had heard rumors that a woman named Caina Amalas had been banished from the Empire. But you so convincingly presented yourself as a man that I never made the connection.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina. “Do you know how exhausting it was to pretend to be a man all the time? We’ve traveled together for weeks. I had to control my voice, my stance, my stride, my mannerisms…everything.”

  “Well,” said Nasser, “I am pleased you are relieved of that burden, at least. How do you change your voice so convincingly, by the way?”

  Caina shrugged, the memory of Halfdan flickering through her thoughts. “I had good teachers.”

  Chapter 24: Stop Talking

  That night Caina sat alone in her room, drinking a cup of tea as she sharpened her knives and daggers. The Kaltari did not much care for coffee, and Caina really wanted a cup of Damla’s coffee. Nonetheless, she had to admit that the Kaltari brewed good tea. She had started drinking tea years ago at the Vineyard, when she had trained as a Ghost nightfighter, and it had been her drink of choice for years. Later, though, she had discovered coffee. It had been in Catekharon, and in fact Kylon had taken her to a coffee house for the first time…

  She lifted a throwing knife, checking the edge, and nodded to herself and set it back down on the table.

  There was a tight nervousness in her gut, a tremor of excitement that went up her limbs. Caina knew what she had to do. They would go to Istarinmul, conceal the Staff and Seal in Catekharon, and return to stop Callatas. That was clear.