Morgant said nothing, but he did nod.
“However,” said Caina, looking back at Decius. “They are not prisoners here, but guests.”
“I suggest,” said Valron, “that we lodge them at the Inn of the Seal near the Northern Harbor. Visiting nobles and wealthy merchants often lodge there.”
“Seal?” said Caina with a surge of alarm, thinking of the Seal of Iramis that Callatas had almost used to summon the nagataaru and destroy the world.
Ariadne gave her a frown. “Seal. You know, the animals that live near the shore. Flippers, whiskers, enjoy eating fish.”
“Oh,” said Caina. “Yes, I knew that.” She glared at Decius. “The Magisterium will pay for their stay at the Inn.”
“Yes, yes,” said Decius. “The rules of courtesy must be observed.”
“I’m sure that’s an overriding concern of yours,” said Caina.
“Well,” said Ariadne, “if this must be done, let’s get on with it.”
“Our baggage is still aboard our ship,” said Caina. She needed some things from it. Her shadow-cloak, for one. As a valikarion, Caina no longer needed the cloak’s ability to block mind-spells and divinatory sorcery. That said, the cloak’s ability to blend with the shadows would prove useful.
Her two remaining vials of Elixir Restorata she kept with her at all times.
“Yes,” said Ariadne. “We will get Lord Kylon, Seb, and Ilona settled at the Inn of the Seal…and then, I think, you and I should talk at length.”
“That would be wise,” said Caina.
“Look after her, will you?” said Kylon to Morgant.
Morgant grinned that skull-like grin of his. “I keep my word, do I not?”
“Splendid,” said Decius. “The bargain has been made. Perhaps this matter can be resolved soon, and we can turn our attention to more important matters…”
“First Magus,” said Kylon.
His voice cut through the flow of words from Decius.
“What?” said Decius.
“When this is over, if my wife does not return to me alive and unharmed,” said Kylon, “then I will hold you personally responsible for whatever happens to her.”
“And are the promises of an exiled Kyracian noble supposed to alarm me?” said Decius. “You have no land, no allies, no money, no armies, and only a little sorcery.”
“You’ve seen what a Kyracian stormdancer can do in a battle,” said Kylon. He nodded towards the valikon in Caina’s hand. “Now consider what a stormdancer could do with an Iramisian valikon.”
“You don’t have one,” said Decius.
He had walked into that one.
In answer, Kylon lifted his hand and summoned his valikon. The weapon was longer than Caina’s, and freezing mist sheathed the ghostsilver blade. Decius took a step back in alarm before he mastered himself.
“Think of that, First Magus,” said Kylon, and his valikon vanished back into nothingness.
“Now that we’ve all finished threatening each other,” said Ariadne, “perhaps we can get on with things?”
Chapter 5: Civilization
Caina watched Ariadne Scorneus with a wary eye.
Or Ariadne Scorneus Hegemonar Ildimer Maraeus, if she was to use the woman’s full name. Imperial noblewomen generally added names when they wed, which could become ridiculously long if a widowed woman remarried after her husband died. Though given that Caina’s full name was now Caina Amalas Tarshahzon Kardamnos, she could hardly complain. But Maraeus? Had Ariadne married one of Lord Corbould’s sons? Caina had met Lord Corbould, and she could not imagine the powerful lord permitting any of his sons to marry a twice-widowed high magus like Ariadne.
Maybe Ariadne had married one of the cousins from a lesser branch of House Maraeus.
Caina watched the older woman, uncertain of what to make of her. Ariadne reminded Caina a great deal of Talmania, to the point where Ariadne had some of Talmania’s mannerisms and patterns of speech. Though given that Ariadne was a few years older than Talmania, maybe it was more accurate to say that Talmania had some of Ariadne’s mannerisms and patterns of speech. Certainly, Ariadne seemed to possess the same cold intelligence and charisma as her younger sister.
Though Caina would say this for her aunt.
When she gave orders, things happened.
They left the Motherhouse accompanied by a guard of militiamen. In short order, they returned to the Harpoon, reclaimed their possessions from a relieved Captain Karzov, and came to the Inn of the Seal. It was more comfortable than Caina had expected, a four-story building of whitewashed stone with a roof of clay tiles. It was also warm and dry, and Kylon, Ilona, and Seb would be safe enough here until Caina returned.
She hoped it would not be too long.
“Look after Ilona and Seb,” said Caina. She had a moment alone with Kylon in his room, before she had to leave with Ariadne, Morgant, and Sophia.
“I would rather look after you,” said Kylon, and he gave her a kiss.
“I know,” said Caina, taking his hands. “Keep a watchful eye. I have no doubt Decius will try to kill you if he can get away with it.”
“We will be careful,” said Kylon. “I remember the First Magus from Catekharon. Seb and I will take turns keeping watch.” He paused. “Seb says you can trust Ariadne.”
“He does say that,” agreed Caina. “I…will wait and see. She’s clearly not Talmania, I’ll say that much for her.”
“High praise,” said Kylon.
“Not really,” said Caina. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Hopefully, I can get this cleared up soon.”
“Do you think the Umbarians forced those high magi to commit suicide?” said Kylon.
“Probably,” said Caina. “Or it was some damned sorcerous experiment they were all working on together. Maybe forbidden research with oneiromancy. Perhaps they accidentally implanted the idea to kill themselves inside their heads. Either way, I want to find the truth as soon as possible, and then get the hell out of Artifel.”
Kylon hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “The Sword. Do they…”
“No,” said Caina. “They don’t have any idea. At least that idiot Oromaris possessed enough wit to keep that out of his report. They’ll just think I’m well-armed.” She smiled. “A Ghost nightfighter who goes everywhere with as many swords and knives as she can carry.”
Kylon snorted. “Not far from the truth.”
“It isn’t,” said Caina. She took a deep breath. “I have to go.”
“Be careful,” said Kylon.
“You, too,” said Caina.
She kissed him again and went outside to join Morgant and Sophia. They waited in the inn’s courtyard, Sophia looking nervous, Morgant unconcerned. Actually, Morgant was talking to Ariadne, who looked at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.
“So you’re really Markaine of Caer Marist, then?” said Ariadne.
“That I am,” said Morgant.
“Now that’s interesting,” said Ariadne. “I’ve seen several of your works. Not really to my taste, I admit.”
“Well,” said Morgant. “No one’s perfect.”
“That said,” said Ariadne, her smile showing white teeth, “I saw one of your paintings, I think it was called ‘The Dying Assassin,’ in the Motherhouse.”
“I can’t recall it,” said Morgant. “I’ve done so many of them.”
“One of Decius’s predecessors as First Magus purchased it,” said Ariadne. “Seventy-eight years ago. You’re looking remarkably well-preserved for a man of your age.”
“Clean living,” said Morgant. “And your nephew said you just got married. My state of preservation is an inappropriate sort of thing for you to notice.”
Ariadne blinked and then burst out laughing. “A good response.” She looked at Caina. “Here you are. And here’s my coach.”
A carriage rolled into the courtyard, pulled by a pair of heavy draft horses. Four Magisterial Guards in black armor accompanied the carriage. One of the Guards
stepped forward. He had the dark eyes and pale skin common to men of Saddaic birth.
“High magus,” said the Guard.
“Varzain,” Ariadne said. “The captain of my guards. Come along, Lady Kardamnos. It’s time we got started.”
“Where are we going?” said Caina.
“To a place where we can discuss our current problems with a relative degree of comfort,” said Ariadne.
###
A few moments later the coach rolled out of the courtyard and into the street, the vehicle swaying, and Ariadne considered her niece and her two companions.
The interior of the coach had four seats, and Ariadne sat facing Caina and Sophia. Markaine (she suspected that was not his real name) sat next to her with a notable lack of concern. He looked like an eccentric old man, but she saw how his hands were never far from the hilts of his sword and dagger, how his pale blue eyes were ever watchful. Markaine reminded her of a Kindred assassin, truth be told.
The girl Sophia Zomanek was less alarming. One of Ariadne’s rings alerted her whenever someone used sorcery nearby, and it detected an aura of water sorcery around Sophia. Undoubtedly the girl used water sorcery to sense emotions. Probably she had started manifesting it unconsciously, and Ariadne suspected that Seb and likely Lord Kylon had given her some training on the journey from Ulkaar. Enough to improve her control, at any rate.
But neither Markaine nor Sophia alarmed Ariadne quite as much as the woman sitting across from her.
Laeria’s daughter.
Gods of the Empire, Caina looked so much like Talmania and Laeria that it made Ariadne’s skin crawl with revulsion.
Ariadne had heard the stories about the Balarigar, of course, ever since the war with Istarinmul and New Kyre had started. The Balarigar had slain Rezir Shahan in Marsis. The Balarigar had saved the Emperor and the Kyracian Archons in New Kyre on the day of the golden dead. The Balarigar had destroyed the Slavers’ Brotherhood of Istarinmul and brought Iramis out of the shadows of the past. Ariadne had assumed some of the rumors were true, some were distorted in the retelling, and others were deliberate misinformation from the Ghosts. The Ghosts were good at that sort of thing.
But in all that time, Ariadne had never imagined that the Balarigar would be Laeria’s daughter. Laeria had seduced that poor fool Sebastian Amalas and disappeared. Given that Laeria had abandoned both her children from her previous marriage, Ariadne doubted that Laeria would have more offspring.
It seemed that Ariadne had been wrong. Well, she had been wrong many times in her life. What was one more?
She felt Caina staring back at her, measuring, analyzing, deducing, just as Ariadne was doing with her. All Hyraekon Scorneus’s daughters had been clever, and it seemed that his grandchildren shared that trait.
Ariadne and Caina stared at each other for about three minutes as the carriage rattled and jounced. Sophia looked increasingly uncomfortable. Markaine seemed amused.
“I suppose,” said Ariadne at last, “we really ought to talk.” She leaned forward a little. “I was just thinking how much you look like Talmania.”
“Strange,” said Caina, her voice cold and smooth. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Ariadne blinked and then smiled. “Ah, now, that’s an insult. Or it would be if it wasn’t true.”
“You said you had gotten married,” said Caina.
“Yes,” said Ariadne. “For the third time, as it happens. I rather got tired of being called the Widow.”
“One of Lord Corbould’s sons?” said Caina.
“Conn Maraeus,” said Ariadne. “Or, more properly, Lord Conn Maraeus, the Lord Commander of the Eighteenth Legion and the Lieutenant Marshal of the eastern Empire.”
That surprised Caina. “Lord Corbould let you marry his heir?”
“Well,” said Ariadne. She fiddled with her wedding ring for a moment, the only ring she wore that was not enspelled. “I’m afraid Lord Conn was widowed before the war with Istarinmul began. He was lonely, and so was I. Additionally, he already has five children, and I am afraid I am unlikely to have any more. Our union will not produce any children to threaten the inheritance of my stepchildren. Lord Corbould raised no objection.” She smiled. “Likely the first time the old man has failed to object to anything in his life.”
“Is Lord Conn in Artifel with you?” said Caina.
“No, he’s in Arzaxia with Lord Hadrazon and some of the Imperial Guard,” said Ariadne.
“Why is he in Arzaxia? I thought the Umbarians controlled that city.”
“They do.” Ariadne forced down the flicker of fear that went through her. “The city is ruled by Maxentius Traegast, one of the five Provosts of the Umbarian Order. After the siege of Artifel failed, I’m afraid Traegast and my sisters Rania and Talmania had something of a drastic falling out. They tried to kill Traegast, and he fled to Arzaxia and fortified himself there. He’s terrified of Talmania, so he’s willing to make a deal. In exchange for a full pardon and a title of nobility, he will surrender Arzaxia to the Empire.”
Caina blinked. “If he does…that could change the war. The Empire would have a naval base on the Alqaarin Sea, and the Emperor could finally send warships to reinforce Artifel. Or the Legions could invade the Saddaic provinces from the sea.”
“You understand,” said Ariadne. Whatever else could be said about Caina Kardamnos, she was indeed clever. “My husband and Lord Hadrazon thought it worth the risk, even though they are both sorely needed at the front in Nova Nighmaria. Hopefully, they shall return soon with good news. Now it is my turn for a question. Doesn’t Lord Corbould have a bounty on your head?”
“He does,” said Caina.
“Might I ask why?” said Ariadne, though she already knew the reason.
“I killed his son Aiodan,” said Caina.
“Why?” said Ariadne, curious. Corbould had been furious when he had learned that Caina Amalas, the woman who killed his son, had become the Liberator of Iramis. Granted, Corbould hadn’t liked Aiodan all that much and hadn’t been upset at his death. The young man had been something of a wastrel. Yet Corbould was the sort of man to whom family honor meant much more than the actual members of his family.
It was one of the reasons Ariadne did not unduly trouble herself over the opinions of her new father-in-law.
“He wasn’t himself,” said Caina. “Did you ever meet a magus named Ranarius?”
Ariadne blinked in surprise. “He was a high magus, one of Decius’s supporters. A thoroughly unpleasant man, if I am to be honest. Decius used him to remove his opponents. We could never prove anything, but we think Ranarius summoned an earth elemental and bound it in the body of a child. He used the elemental to turn his enemies to stone.”
“He was even worse than that,” said Caina. “He was actually a disciple of the Moroaica.”
“What happened to him?” said Ariadne. “He disappeared in Cyrioch during the war with Istarinmul. We assumed he was killed during the civil unrest in that city. But he had something to do with Aiodan’s death, didn’t he? Else you would not have mentioned him.”
“That child you mentioned? She broke free from Ranarius’s control, turned him to stone, and shattered him,” said Caina.
“A bad way to die,” said Ariadne.
“Yes,” said Caina. “It didn’t do anything for his sanity, especially after the Moroaica put his spirit into the body of a woman.”
Ariadne blinked. “She reincarnated him?”
“Yes,” said Caina, her eyes growing distant, almost haunted. “I killed Ranarius again during that disturbance in Caeria Ulterior with the cult of Anubankh. You might have heard of that.”
“Some rumors, yes,” said Ariadne.
“I killed him again in Varia Province,” said Caina, “and then I came to Marsis…”
“Where his spirit possessed Aiodan Maraeus and attacked you,” said Ariadne, “forcing you to kill him in self-defense. No doubt Ranarius arranged for there to be witnesses so everyone would see you kill the Lo
rd Governor of Marsis.”
“Yes,” said Caina. The haunted look in her eyes grew sharper. “That was a very bad day. I dealt with Ranarius, though. His spirit had been anchored to a canopic jar, a sorcerous device of Maatish origin. We found it and destroyed it, and that was the end of Ranarius.”
“We?” said Ariadne.
“Corvalis Aberon,” said Caina. “You might have heard Decius mention him when he was shouting.”
“The man you were with before Lord Kylon,” said Ariadne.
“Yes,” said Caina. She didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.
“My condolences for his loss,” said Ariadne. “I’ve been widowed twice, so I understand.”
“Do you?” said Caina. “Did you love your husbands?”
Ariadne smiled. “Is a Scorneus woman capable of love, is that what you mean? Well, it is rare among us, I will admit. I didn’t love my first husband. I liked him well enough, and he was an acceptably competent lover,” Sophia reddened a little at that, “but I didn’t love him. I did love my second husband, though. A great deal. But they both died in the end. The first of illness, the second in a shipwreck.”
“And Lord Conn?” said Caina.
“Yes,” said Ariadne. “There are different kinds of love. When Lord Conn and I met, we could barely keep our hands off each other, and…”
“For the gods’ sake,” said Markaine. “Matters of life and death are at hand, and yet women will still pause to gossip about their husbands.”
Ariadne frowned at him. “That’s rather impertinent.”
“You’ll get used to it,” said Caina. “He’s incapable of any other manner of speech.”
“But he does have a point,” said Ariadne. “To return to the discussion at hand. It seems that Ranarius was responsible for Aiodan’s death, not you. The next time I see Lord Corbould, I shall convince him of that and urge him to lift your bounty.”
The haunted look vanished from Caina’s eyes, replaced by suspicion. “Why would you do that? We’ve only just met.”
“It’s not for you, dear,” said Ariadne. “Valron is correct. The alliance with Istarinmul and Iramis is vital for the Empire if we’re to have any hope of overcoming the Umbarians. For that matter, Lord Corbould is the most powerful noble in the Empire, and his unwavering support has helped keep Emperor Alexius on the throne. A few of our more spineless lords want to accommodate the Umbarians, perhaps make a treaty with them, but Corbould will not hear of it. It would be a disaster for the Empire on every level if he wasted his time pursuing vengeance on you for something that wasn’t even your fault.”
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