“Charming,” muttered Caina, flipping the book shut. It sounded a great deal like Callatas’s vision for his damned Apotheosis, save with a more boastful bombast. There was something rotten in the human heart, Caina reflected, that found such visions compelling. Some dark and twisted part of the soul that reveled in the thought of becoming a god among lesser men, of ruling over other men as the farmer ruled over his beasts. The Brotherhood of Slavers of Istarinmul had been much the same way, though they had only used iron chains and whips to rule their slaves, rather than malevolent sorcery.
Was that something Caina lusted after herself? No, she already had more rank and fame than she had ever wanted. Anonymity was in many ways a better defense than any amount of power. No, she supposed her weakness was not a lust for power but a tendency towards vengeful wrath – as, she supposed, the Brotherhood of Slavers of Istarinmul had found out.
Well, the Slavers’ Brotherhood had been destroyed, first by Caina’s thievery and then by Cassander Nilas’s treachery, and perhaps the cult of Temnuzash might yet meet the same fate.
Caina picked up the book, intending to take it and the scroll to Basarab, and then a flicker of arcane power came to her sight.
She turned just as a hooded figure stepped into the eerie green glow of the symbol. Caina strode forward at once, calling her valikon to her right hand. Shards of white light assembled themselves in her fingers, and the valikon’s white glow threw back the harsh green gleam of the summoning circle. Caina kept moving forward, the valikon drawn back to strike.
She stopped as she saw the glint of the bronze staff in the cloaked figure’s hand, saw the gleam of the bronze teeth beneath the heavy cowl and behind the withered lips.
“You have,” said the Bronze Witch in her rasping voice, “your husband’s reflexes.”
“He’s a lot faster than I am. You really need to stop sneaking up on us,” said Caina in Caerish, stepping back and dismissing her valikon. “Sooner or later Kylon is going to chop off your head before he realizes who you are.”
“Lord Kylon is quite inflexible in his attitudes,” said the Bronze Witch in the same language.
“He has his reasons,” said Caina. “What are yours?”
“My reasons for what?” said the Bronze Witch.
“For helping us,” said Caina. “You warned us twice about the reveniri, and you warned us against the mavrokhi. I am grateful for your help…but why?”
“You have read the Prophecy of Temnuzash,” said the Bronze Witch.
“As much of it as I could,” said Caina. “I can barely manage contemporary Ulkaari, let alone archaic Ulkaari. But it talked about something called the Final Night.”
“The summoning of Temnuzash,” said the Bronze Witch. “That was what the Iron King sought to do. That is what drove Nadezhda to stop him. The fear of the Final Night compelled her to escape from slavery, to become a loremaster, to become the Warmaiden, to rally the armies of Ulkaar against him.”
“Sigilsoara,” said Caina. “That’s what happened at the Iron King’s castle. That’s why it was caught halfway between the netherworld and material world. Rasarion Yagar was the chosen one, and he tried to summon Temnuzash. Nadezhda stopped him, and the castle was caught halfway between the material world and the netherworld.”
“And the Temnoti think to find a new chosen one to bring their dark god to this world,” said the Bronze Witch.
“And do you want to stop the Temnoti?” said Caina. “Or do you want to help them?”
“A long time ago,” said the Bronze Witch, “when Nadezhda returned to Ulkaar from Iramis, she found a starving girl in the fields of a vyrkolak boyar. The girl had sorcerous talent, and she became the Warmaiden’s apprentice in the ways of the Words of Lore. She fought alongside the Warmaiden during the battle against the Iron King’s armies and stood at her side during the final fight in Sigilsoara. But the apprentice survived when Nadezhda was slain with the Iron King. She survived, and she endured, and she realized that the priests of the Temnoti had been made immortal in the backlash of Sigilsoara’s banishment. The apprentice realized that the Temnoti would try again, that they would find a new chosen one and try to work the Final Night once more. She had to remain on guard against that attempt.”
“And you are that apprentice,” said Caina.
“Yes,” said the Witch. “Over the centuries, the Ulkaari have come to know me as the Bronze Witch.” She tapped the end of the staff against the stone floor. “For this is my pyrikon, the pyrikon the Warmaiden taught me to forge. And I have fought the Temnoti for all these centuries, for I am the Bronze Witch.”
“I see,” said Caina.
Or, at least, the Bronze Witch wanted Caina to believe that she was that apprentice. Caina wasn’t so sure. The Witch used the Words of Lore, but there was no way for her to hide that from the vision of a valikarion. While Caina was no expert on the Words of Lore, she knew there was no way they could extend someone’s life for centuries.
Necromancy could, though. But Caina hadn’t seen the Witch use necromancy. Perhaps the Bronze Witch was an office that had been passed with the pyrikon staff from bearer to bearer over the centuries. Or maybe there were multiple Bronze Witches, using disguise and trickery to mask the fact that there were more than one of them.
“That is why I have been helping you,” said the Bronze Witch. “You are the first valikarion to come to Ulkaar since Callatas burned Iramis a century and a half past. What is more, you took the Ring of Rasarion Yagar from Sigilsoara.”
“Five relics,” said Caina. “The Ring, the Amulet that Talmania has, the Sword, the Dagger, and the Diadem. The Temnoti need all five of those relics to cast the Final Night, do they not?”
“You see correctly, Balarigar,” said the Bronze Witch. “If you can deny the Temnoti even one of the five relics, they cannot summon Temnuzash. If the Ring is taken to Iramis, they will never cast the Final Night. That is why I am helping you. For centuries, my task has been to continue the work of the Warmaiden, to defend the people of Ulkaar from the powers of the Temnoti and the creatures of the netherworld.”
“All right,” said Caina. “Then come with us. Show yourself openly, and help us get to Risiviri.”
“I cannot,” said the Bronze Witch. “For I have been one of the chief enemies of the Temnoti for a long time. If they knew where I was, they would come for me in haste. I can help you best from the shadows, Balarigar. A woman who was once a Ghost nightfighter and circlemaster can understand that well, no?”
“Fine,” said Caina. She was beginning to understand why Kylon found these games irritating, but she could not deny that the Witch had helped them several times in the past. “Any last advice?”
“Take the book and the scroll,” said the Bronze Witch. “Possession of the Prophecy of Temnuzash is proof enough for Basarab to act. The blood spell written on the scroll will only compound Libavya’s guilt. And when Basarab enters the sanitarium with his witchfinders, be ready to act. Libavya will not surrender without a fight, and your valikon shall be needed.”
“All right,” said Caina. “Thank you.”
“Go,” said the Bronze Witch, glancing toward the ceiling. “I suggest you make haste, Balarigar. I fear that one of your companions has done something rash.”
“What?” said Caina, but the Witch struck the end of the staff on the ground again. She seemed to ripple and twist and then vanished in a flash of white light. Caina frowned at the empty space the Witch had occupied. Several times before Caina had seen her use that strange power to travel away but never had there been that strange rippling effect. Had the power of the summoning circle somehow distorted the Witch’s spell?
Another memory tugged at Caina’s mind. When the reveniri had attacked the Szlacht’s Sword, the Bronze Witch had warned her and Kylon. Yet she hadn’t traveled away. Instead, the Witch had slipped through the door and vanished while Kylon had been distracted by the approach of the undead. That was hardly strange – perhaps she had gone somewhere o
ut of sight and traveled away. Yet she had never shown any hesitation about using her ability to travel in front of Caina before.
Something about it didn’t make sense, and it kept scratching at Caina’s thoughts.
She shook her head, dismissed her valikon, and picked up the book and the scroll. Caina could ponder the mystery of the Bronze Witch later. Right now, she needed to find the others and get out of the mansion before Libavya Jordizi realized that she had been robbed. With the book and the scroll, she had the proof that Basarab needed. Lady Libavya would pay for her crimes, and Caina and the others could continue to Risiviri without fear of reveniri chasing them.
She left the ossuary behind, returned to the gallery, and climbed the stairs back up to the wine cellar. The enspelled glass globe rested in her left hand, swinging back and forth, and Caina moved in silence up the stairs.
Then she heard someone moving in the wine cellar.
Caina froze, listening. She heard the noises of a cloak or a skirt rustling against the stone floor, heard the tap of boots. Given that the cellar stored nothing but dust, there was no reason for anyone to be there, which meant that someone had followed Caina. She considered her options, cursing herself for not thinking to bring a satchel with her. Right now, the book and the scroll occupied her left hand, and the glass globe her right, and she needed a free hand to hold her valikon.
Boots clicked on the floor. Whoever was in the wine cellar was heading for the stairs to the catacombs. That forced Caina’s hand. She set the book and the scroll and the globe upon one of the stairs, and Caina held out her right hand and called her valikon. It sprang into existence in her grasp, the white glow of the Iramisian glyphs upon the ghostsilver blade illuminating the stairs, and Caina went around the curve of the wall, the sword drawn back to strike.
She glimpsed a pale face with black eyes, a shimmering red dress cut low in front to reveal quite a lot of cleavage, a mouth falling open in alarm and surprise…
Caina froze. “Ilona?”
“Oh, thank the Divine I’ve found you,” said Ilona. She was breathing a little fast as if she had just run a long distance. “Something’s gone wrong.”
“What’s happened?” said Caina. She dismissed her valikon and retrieved the globe, the book, and the scroll. “You can tell me as we walk.”
“We need to get out of here right now,” said Ilona. “After our song, the Voivode was pleased, but Libavya was not. I suspect it was a bit too raunchy for her taste. While the Voivode was distracted with the next singer, she ordered us to leave. We didn’t have any choice but to go. Theodosia and Lord Kylon said we would wait for you at the Temple,” that had been the original plan if they had gotten separated, “but I feared you would be unable to escape. So, I came to look for you.”
“I see,” said Caina. The Bronze Witch had been right. Ilona’s decision had been rash. Caina’s more modest dress made her look like a serving maid, and the guests had brought enough of their own servants that one more maid would not stand out. Ilona’s dress was far more elaborate and would draw attention. “Let’s get out of here right now.”
“Agreed,” said Ilona. “That book. Did you find…”
“The Prophecy of Temnuzash,” said Caina.
“By the Divine,” said Ilona, swallowing. “Anyone caught with that book is going to face a great deal of trouble. Not even the Voivode will be able to protect Libavya from that.”
“Aye,” said Caina. She went around a final twist of the stairs, and the dim light from the wine cellar appeared before her eyes. “Let’s…”
She stepped into the cellar, Ilona right behind her, and a necromantic aura bloomed to life before Caina’s eyes.
The Temnoti priests were waiting for them.
An alarmed gasp came from Ilona.
There were three of them, clad in rough robes of brown belted with rope around the waists. The creatures looked like the Temnoti priests that Caina had seen in Sigilsoara. The faces of the creatures were like something from a nightmare. The Temnoti each had two human eyes, but their faces had turned a leprous gray, covered with throbbing black veins, and each priest had a huge black eye bulging out of the center of his forehead. Strange antennae jutted from their heads almost at random, twitching and jerking as they tasted the air. The right hands of the Temnoti were human-looking, though tipped with black claws.
From the left sleeves of their robes emerged a thick, greasy gray tentacle, one side lined with suckers. More tentacles twitched and darted beneath the hems of their robes, and Caina suspected that whatever the robes concealed looked far more twisted and alien.
As one, all three Temnoti priests cast a spell, and Caina’s valikarion sight saw the flows of sorcerous power. Before she could react, the Temnoti priests flung their spell at Caina and Ilona.
The currents of power wrapped around Ilona, and she went rigid, her eyes going wide, her back arching. Then she relaxed, her face settling into a blank mask, a glow of arcane power around her.
A mind-controlling spell. Caina had seen it used before. The spell would not let the Temnoti read Ilona’s thoughts, but they could give her orders and ask her questions, and she would obey the instructions and answer the questions as best as she could.
Mind-affecting spells, of course, did not work on a valikarion.
Which meant Caina had to make a decision right now.
If she summoned her valikon and attacked, she would be able to kill the Temnoti. At least, she would be able to kill one of the Temnoti. The other two priests would have time to cast necromantic spells, and Caina wouldn’t survive that. Her status as a valikarion meant that she was immune to divinatory and mind-affecting spells. It did not give her immunity to necromantic spells that would suck away her life, or psychokinetic spells that would crush her throat.
For that matter, it did not mean she was immune to the thick tentacle that could wrap around her neck and choke the life from her. She suspected that those tentacles were far stronger than normal human limbs.
Which meant that Caina had exactly one option left to her.
Lie.
She went rigid with a gasp, arching her back, and then relaxed in the same way that she had seen Ilona do.
One of the Temnoti glided forward, a strange reek of rotting flesh and chemical stink rolling off it. From the way it moved, Caina suspected that it was hovering a few inches above the ground. No – it was crawling along on the tentacles hidden beneath the rough brown robe.
“State your names,” said the Temnoti. The Ulkaari words were perfectly clear, but the voice was a hideous, bubbling thing. If a carrion beetle could speak as it gorged itself upon the flesh of a corpse, it would have a voice like that.
“Ilona, a maid of Mistress Theodosia,” said Ilona in a dull, toneless voice.
“Marina, a maid of Mistress Theodosia,” said Caina, mimicking Ilona’s tone.
“Theodosia,” said the first Temnoti.
“Likely one of the Ghosts,” said a second priest. “She seems to have some vendetta against Talmania Scorneus.”
Amusement entered the alien voice of the third priest. “The provost’s ability to gain enemies wherever she goes is no concern of the faithful of the Great Master.”
“No,” said the first Temnoti. “But her enemies often become our enemies. The holy Syvashar believes that the Balarigar has taken refuge with Theodosia of Malarae, and in all probability, the Balarigar has the Ring.”
Caina kept her face slack. If the three Temnoti realized who she really was and that she had the Ring, she would have no choice but to fight.
“Probably,” continued the first Temnoti, “these are low-ranking Ghost agents, sent by Theodosia to learn more about Lady Libavya’s activities.”
“They were successful,” said the second Temnoti, gesturing with a clawed hand at Caina. “Behold. She bears the Prophecy of the Great Master and the spell for summoning the carrion spirits.”
“I always knew Lady Libavya’s wasteful activities would draw far mo
re attention than was wise,” said the third Temnoti.
“I am in agreement, brother,” said the first Temnoti. “Nevertheless, the holy Syvashar has given us our instructions. The fate of Libavya Jordizi or even of Vagraastrad itself is of no concern. The Ring must be located. Marina. You will give me the book and the scroll.”
Caina stepped forward and handed over the book and the scroll. The first Temnoti’s fingers brushed hers as he took the items, and Caina did her very best not to cringe in revulsion. The Temnoti priest’s fingers felt icy cold and damp, as if covered in slime.
“What shall we do with these two, brother?” said the second Temnoti. “The best course would be to kill them.”
“Yes,” said the first Temnoti. “But their deaths need not be wasteful. Let us instead put them in the cells. Libavya can spend their lives in part of her futile effort to awaken the thing in the glass box.”
Glass box? Caina remembered the vision that her pyrikon had shown her, the vision of the glass coffin. Did Lady Libavya have a glass coffin somewhere in the catacombs?
The second and third Temnoti priests murmured their agreement.
“You will follow us,” said the first Temnoti, beckoning with its tentacle. Its huge third eye seemed to twitch and dart back and forth almost at random, glistening as it did.
The three Temnoti glided for the stairwell. Ilona walked after them, her movements stiff, her face blank.
Caina collected herself and followed Ilona, mimicking her movements.
Chapter 13: The Catacombs
The Temnoti made wet, squelching sounds as they descended the spiral stairs, likely from their tentacles sliding against the steps. Their stench was near-overpowering in the enclosed space, and it took all Caina’s self-control to keep from coughing. Ilona’s face remained a blank mask, the gray glow of the mind-controlling spell around her head visible to Caina’s valikarion senses.
Ghost in the Glass Page 20
