“There are any number of people who would pay a large sum of money for my death,” said Caina.
“Then all the more reason to leave early tomorrow,” said Seb.
“Agreed,” said Kylon.
They had reached the doors to the barn-like theater. The crowds had thinned, and Kylon heard a woman singing inside the building. It was in Ulkaari, and he could only pick out every other word. Yet it seemed to be a song of sorrow and loss, and the singer was excellent. Too good for a theater in a provincial town in Ulkaar, in fact.
“My lady?” said Sophia, coming to a stop.
Kylon frowned, turned, and saw that Caina had gone motionless.
Her blue eyes were wide, and she had turned a little paler.
“Caina?” said Kylon, stepping closer.
She didn’t respond. She looked…stunned, almost shocked.
“Caina?” said Kylon again, his alarm growing.
He touched her hand, and her emotional sense flooded over him.
Astonishment. Pure astonishment flooded her sense and mixed with a sudden hope.
“It can’t be,” said Caina. “She can’t be here.”
“Who?” said Kylon.
Caina blinked and recovered herself, her eyes turning towards him. She was smiling.
“Is Teodor still calm?” said Caina.
Kylon glanced at the old man. Teodor remained staring off into space, obediently following wherever Sophia led him. His emotional sense remained placid and unfocused.
“Yes,” said Kylon. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” said Caina. “Let’s find out. I want to meet that singer.”
Caina headed towards the theater doors. Kylon looked at the others, shrugged, and they followed her.
###
Caina stepped into the theater and looked around.
The interior did indeed resemble a barn. Rows of benches stood facing a wooden stage at the far wall. A small crowd of people moved around the stage, packing up sets and musical instruments. A weedy-looking bald man directed the work, assisted by a young woman with dark hair in a Ulkaari dress of black and red and white. Caina had spent enough time around the Grand Imperial Opera and Cronmer’s Circus of Marvels and Wonders to recognize stagehands at work, preparing for tomorrow’s performances.
She glimpsed a woman in a red dress vanishing through a door behind the dais.
Caina headed for the door, and the young woman in the Ulkaari dress intercepted her. She looked about twenty-five, with black eyes, black hair, and a pale face. She wore a long-sleeved white shirt, a red vest, and a flowing black skirt. Caina had the odd sensation that they had met somewhere before, but she could not place the recognition.
“Pardon, madam,” said the woman in Caerish. “My name is Ilona, and I help Master Vespius run the theater company.” She nodded at the weedy man overseeing the stagehands. “Can I ask your business here? The day’s performance has concluded.”
“I was wondering if I could have a word with the singer,” said Caina.
Ilona offered an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid she isn’t seeing visitors, madam.”
“I’m an old friend of hers,” said Caina. “Tell her that Marina wants to know if she needs a maid.”
“A maid, madam?” said Ilona. “Very well. Wait here, please.”
Ilona bowed, turned, and disappeared into the door behind the stage.
“A maid, my lady?” said Sophia, blinking. “Why would you serve as a maid?”
“I assume, sister,” said Seb, “that this is some clever riddle to which we must guess the answer.”
“The answer, brother,” said Caina in a quiet voice, memories blurring through her mind, “is that I wasn’t always the Balarigar, or the Padishah’s sister, or the Shipbreaker’s wife. I used to be a girl younger than Sophia, and much, much angrier.” It had not been all that long ago, not objectively. Ten years ago, was that it? But it felt so much longer. “And people helped me along the way.”
Ilona returned through the door, a bemused look on her face, and Theodosia of Malarae, Ghost circlemaster and the leading lady of the Grand Imperial Opera, stepped after her.
Caina had last seen Theodosia nearly three years ago, on one of the worst days of her life, the day that the Emperor had banished her from the Empire and sent her to Istarinmul. Theodosia had lost weight since then, and her face seemed somehow grimmer, with fresh shadows under her pale gray eyes. With her long blond hair bound into a braid, something about her appearance put Caina in mind of a shieldmaiden of Szaldic legend, a warrior intent upon avenging wrongs done to her kin.
Yet Theodosia blinked when she saw Caina, and the grimness faded as a wide smile went over her face.
“The day we met,” said Theodosia, “all those years ago in Malarae, I asked you to do things.” She spoke in Caerish, her voice rich and melodic, the voice of a master singer. “What was the one thing you couldn’t do?”
“I couldn’t sing,” said Caina, unable to stop herself from smiling. “I still can’t.”
“No, you couldn’t,” said Theodosia. “Yet you are quite good at other things, my dear. I had thought I had gotten too old to feel surprised any more…and then you stroll through the door bright as brass.”
She laughed, and Caina hugged the taller woman.
More memories flashed through Caina’s mind. She had spent nearly a year at the Grand Imperial Opera. Theodosia had been the leading lady of the opera, but as Theodosia had said, Caina had no talent for music. Instead, she had learned other things. Tricks of makeup and disguise and costume – if Caina could disguise herself as a man well enough to fool half of Istarinmul, she had learned it from Theodosia. Caina had also learned how to disguise her voice, make it deeper and raspier. And while she had no gift for music, she did have a knack for languages, which translated into an ability to feign accents quite well.
Those lessons had saved her life countless times, had allowed her to walk unnoticed among enemies who wanted her dead.
“Then I take it you know her, mistress?” said Ilona.
“Oh, yes,” said Theodosia, stepping back from Caina. “For quite a long time now. She used to have your job, I’m afraid.” Ilona blinked in alarm at that. “Then…well, some rather dire things happened, and I was quite sure that I would never see Marina alive again. Of all the things that I thought might happen today, seeing you walk into the theater was most certainly not one of them.”
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” said Caina. “I thought you would be in Malarae.”
Theodosia’s smile faded a little. “Truth be told, I thought I would still be in Malarae as well. But…well, like I said, some things happened.” Her gray eyes shifted to Kylon. Did she know him? Yes, she would have met him when Kylon was still one of the nine Archons of the Assembly of New Kyre. “As I imagine you can understand.”
Kylon inclined his head. “We are a long way from New Kyre, mistress Theodosia.”
Theodosia snorted. “At least it was warmer in New Kyre.” She looked back to Caina. “I think we should talk alone. Ilona can look after your friends.”
“Of course, mistress,” said Ilona.
Seb smiled at her. “I’m sure we’ll have a great deal to talk about, madam.”
Ilona gave him a nervous smile.
“This way,” said Theodosia.
“I will come with you,” said Kylon.
Caina blinked at him and then nodded. Yes, that made sense. Caina was carrying the Ring of the Iron King, and both the Temnoti and the Umbarians were looking for the thing. Until they were safe in Iramis once more, it would be dangerous to go anywhere alone.
An uneasy thought occurred to her.
Why was Theodosia here?
Vagraastrad was a long, long way from Malarae.
“Of course,” said Theodosia. “This way, my friends. I suspect we have a great deal to discuss.”
###
Theodosia of Malarae felt old.
She was forty-six,
and she had seen a great many twists and turns over those years. Many of the years had been good ones, but there had been dark times as well. The death of her husband, for one. The dangers that had driven her to join Halfdan and the Ghosts of the Emperor.
And the last three years had been grim.
Ever since Halfdan had been killed in Marsis and the civil war had begun, the days had gotten darker. Theodosia felt old, and in that weariness, she felt as if nothing could surprise her any longer.
And then Caina Amalas and Kylon of House Kardamnos walked with a Scorneus battle magus into the theater of Vagraastrad.
Theodosia laughed at herself.
Life could still surprise her. How arrogant to think otherwise!
She led Caina and Kylon into her dressing room behind the stage. It was smaller than the one she had enjoyed at the Grand Imperial Opera and colder, but there was enough room for her mirrors, her vast collection of makeup, and her wigs. There was also a small fireplace, which put out a blessed amount of heat. Theodosia seated herself on a stool in front of the mirrors, and Caina sat on the second stool, just as they had all those years ago in Malarae.
Kylon closed the door and leaned against it, his eyes watchful.
Well, that was one thing that was different. When Theodosia had taught Caina the tricks of makeup and disguise and accents, there hadn’t been an exiled Kyracian noble watching them.
That was not the only thing that had changed.
Theodosia considered her friend and former student. When she had seen Caina at the piers of New Kyre nearly three years ago, Caina Amalas had been a broken woman.
Now she looked…
Theodosia could not quite put it into words.
Certainly, Caina had the same cold blue eyes, the thick black hair hanging to her shoulders, the sharp cheekbones, and the thin mouth. Yet there was an almost…fey quality about her now, something eldritch, even. Yes, that was word. Eldritch. Like those cold eyes had seen wonders and horrors in the last three years.
Perhaps the Arvaltyri of legend had eyes like that.
If even half the rumors were true about Caina, then she had done some tremendous things since that grim day in New Kyre.
Theodosia felt a surge of pride. The angry young girl Halfdan had brought her ten years ago had become the Balarigar and the Liberator of Iramis. How could Theodosia have known? How could any of them have known where the path would lead?
But that was far too vast a topic to open a conversation. Especially given some of the grim things they would have to discuss. But best to start with a happier subject.
“How long have you and Lord Kylon been lovers?” said Theodosia.
Kylon snorted, but Caina only smiled. “What makes you say that?”
“Dear girl,” said Theodosia, “I may only be a vain old woman and the finest singer in the Empire, but I do have occasional flashes of insight.”
“Well,” said Caina, “it’s a long story. We…”
“Since about five months before we married,” said Kylon.
Theodosia smiled. “Then my congratulations to you both. Caina Kardamnos, eh? It does roll off the tongue.”
Caina grinned at Kylon. “I like the sound of it, anyway.”
“It is surprising news,” said Theodosia, “but not all that surprising. She used to talk about you, Lord Kylon.”
“Oh?” said Kylon.
“I did not,” said Caina.
“You did?” said Kylon.
“I told her what happened in Marsis, yes,” said Caina. “And in Catekharon and Caer Magia.”
“She always did speak most highly of you, Lord Kylon,” said Theodosia, “and apparently she meant it. The Kyracian stormdancer and the Ghost nightfighter. It would make a marvelous opera.”
“Don’t you dare,” said Caina, though she smiled as she said it.
Theodosia felt her own smile fade. “But…I know what tragedies must have befallen you. It must have been a very long story to bring you two together.”
“It was,” said Caina, and she began to speak.
Theodosia listened with amazement to one of the most astonishing stories she had ever heard in her life. Caina told her about the wraithblood and Grand Master Callatas, about the Red Huntress and the nagataaru, about Iramis rising from the ashes of the past. She told Theodosia about Elixir Restorata, how Kylon had saved her as Cassander Nilas and the Red Huntress came for her. It took Caina nearly an hour to get through it all, with occasional interjections from Kylon. If she had written it all down, it would have filled eight or nine books.
“Caina,” said Theodosia at last, “when you were a child, when Halfdan found you, he once told me he regretted what he had done to you.”
Caina blinked. “What did he mean? If he hadn’t found me, gods know what would have happened to me. I would have been sold into slavery, or I’d be a prostitute in Malarae now.”
“That’s not what he meant,” said Theodosia. “He regretted taking a wounded girl and turning her into a weapon. But he knew that if he had not, Maglarion would have killed everyone in Malarae, and the Empire would have fallen, to say nothing of the foes you defeated since. And now this! I’ve heard the rumors about the Balarigar, but it seems they’re true. Cassander Nilas is dead and Istarinmul and Iramis have been brought to the Emperor’s side in the war against the Order.”
Caina shrugged. “Exaggerations. I was lucky to survive most of the time.”
“If Halfdan were here, he would be proud of you,” said Theodosia. “Proud of what you have done.”
That got to her.
Caina blinked a few times and looked away, and Kylon put a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and grasped it, still blinking. The gesture pleased Theodosia. She had feared for Caina that day in New Kyre, feared that she was going to her death in Istarinmul. Theodosia was glad that Caina had wed Kylon. Caina didn’t need a rich man to provide for her, or a powerful man to shield her, or a clever man to tell her what to do.
No, what she needed was a warrior.
Though she did wonder how Kylon felt about the whole arrangement. Did he want to spend the rest of his life in exile with Caina?
“That is kind,” said Caina, mastering herself.
“You both have valikons?” said Theodosia.
“Aye,” said Caina. “Kylon has the one the Emissary of the Living Flame gave me at Silent Ash Temple.” Kylon’s mouth thinned a little at that. He did not seem to recall the Emissary with any fondness. “And I have the one I found in the Tomb of Kharnaces.”
“This is perhaps a silly question,” said Theodosia, “but could I…see one of the valikons?” She smiled. “As a child I quite liked all the stories of the Arvaltyri of old that my mother told me.”
Caina blinked. “You grew up in Ulkaar?”
“In Risiviri, for part of my childhood,” said Theodosia, “until my father moved to Malarae to seek work. Risiviri is the most Imperial part of Ulkaar, so I grew up speaking both Ulkaari and High Nighmarian. Which turned out to be useful later in life.”
“You’ll have to help me learn Ulkaari, then,” said Caina, “and help teach Sophia to speak High Nighmarian. But a valikon.”
Theodosia expected her to reach under her coat or her heavy cloak of wolf fur. Instead, Caina held out her right hand, her expression going distant.
That seemed pointless.
Then shards of silver light appeared out of nowhere and leaped into Caina’s hand, assembling themselves in a curved sword of ghostsilver that flickered with white flames.
“Gods of the Empire!” said Theodosia. She hadn’t been expecting that, which seemed to be the theme for the day.
“It bonded to me after Callatas died,” said Caina. “I can call and dismiss it at will. Which was a little unsettling, yes, but it’s useful.”
“I should say so,” said Theodosia. She leaned forward, peering at the strange sword. Glyphs had been carved down the center of the blade, glowing with their own inner light. “Gods. An actual Arvaltyr, sittin
g in my dressing room holding a valikon. If you showed that to any native-born Ulkaari, they would likely drop to their knees and do whatever you told them.”
Caina grimaced. “It has come up a few times.” She gestured, and the valikon dismantled itself into shards of silver light and vanished.
“It is staggering to think,” said Theodosia. “In the old tales, magi and sorcerers always feared the Arvaltyri – the valikarion, I suppose that’s their proper name. But think of how things might have been different if you had carried that valikon when we hunted Maglarion and Haeron Icaraeus.” She shook her head. “I heard the rumors that Iramis had returned, that the valikarion had risen out of the dust of the past. I thought that just the usual exaggerated rumors of war. In the past three years, I’ve heard that the First Emperor has risen from the dead to lead the Legions to victory, or that the barbarian hordes are pouring down from the Imperial Pale, or that the Kagari had built a great fleet and are planning to attack Istarinmul. All of it was rubbish. I thought the tale of the return of Iramis was another such exaggeration.”
“It wasn’t,” said Caina.
“I was there,” said Kylon.
“Istarinmul is in no shape to help anyone at the moment,” said Caina, “but Prince Nasser was going to send loremasters and valikarion to the Emperor, to offer their aid against the Umbarians. Cassander Nilas almost destroyed Istarinmul, and so both the new Padishah and the Prince of Iramis are enemies of the Order.”
“Since you are the Padishah’s adopted sister,” said Theodosia, “I think you would know.”
“Ah,” said Caina. She looked embarrassed. “When I met the Padishah, I thought he was a poet. I suppose he still is.” She let out a long breath. “But, well…I might be an amirja of Istarinmul now, but that didn’t keep me from ending up in Sigilsoara, did it?”
Theodosia hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. That letter had waited in her trunk for three years. “Then…you suspect Talmania Skull-speaker brought you here?”
“Based on what I’ve learned, that seems the logical conclusion,” said Caina. She frowned. “Why do they call her Skull-speaker? I’ve heard a few other people use that title. I cannot imagine it is a good thing.”
Ghost in the Glass Page 8
