“How very pragmatic,” said Caina. She hesitated. “But…thank you. I would like to return to the Empire someday.”
“You are in the Empire,” said Ariadne. “Artifel has been part of the Empire since the time of the Emperor Cormarus and the Second Empire, and the Umbarians haven’t been able to take the city.”
“I’m only in the Empire because Talmania brought me to Ulkaar by accident,” said Caina.
“What was Talmania doing in Ulkaar, anyway?” said Ariadne. “She ought to be in Nova Nighmaria, helping Rania direct the war. Instead, she went to Ulkaar.”
“She was looking for relics of Rasarion Yagar,” said Caina. “It seems she has the idea of summoning the Iron King, binding him, and using him to create an invincible undead army.”
“Ah,” said Ariadne. “That sounds like Talmania. She did always enjoy her grandiose schemes.”
And, Ariadne thought, that explained why Caina never let that sheathed sword leave her possession. She could summon and dismiss her valikon at will. Why bother carrying another sword? The logical conclusion was that the sword was a relic of Rasarion Yagar. Ariadne had encountered Temnoti cultists a few times in her life, and she knew their catechism proclaimed that the Iron King had left behind five relics of power. If Talmania had been able to summon Sigilsoara, she had obviously found at least one and perhaps two of the relics. Caina had likely stolen another relic and was keeping the sword close so her valikarion nature would block the weapon’s powerful aura.
And she hadn’t mentioned that to Decius or the high magi.
Ariadne approved. Decius Aberon was the last man she would trust with an ancient necromantic relic, and few of the high magi could be trusted with such a potent weapon. The sooner Caina got the thing to Iramis, the better.
“She does,” said Caina. She looked away, seeming to wrestle with a thought, and glanced out the window.
Then her eyes widened.
“I need to stop the coach for a few moments,” said Caina.
“What’s wrong?” said Ariadne, but she banged the head of her staff against the ceiling a few times, the signal for her driver to stop.
“I need to do some shopping,” said Caina. “It won’t take long.”
“Shopping?” said Ariadne.
“We’ve finally reached civilization,” said Caina, “and there’s something I need to buy that I couldn’t find in Ulkaar.”
Markaine craned his head, looked out the window, and laughed. “Of course.”
Caina got to her feet, opened the door, and got out. Puzzled and a little annoyed at the delay, Ariadne followed her. They had left the Northern Quarter, circled around the inner city, and were in the Southern Quarter. Specifically, they were in the blacksmiths’ district, where smiths toiled night and day to help supply arms and armor for both the Legions and for the Magisterium. The coach had stopped on a street lined with smithies. The smithies had wide doors and windows, partly to accommodate horses, and partly to let the accumulated heat of their forges escape. Some of the smithies had tables in front of the doors where the smiths could show their wares.
Caina was already negotiating with a barrel-chested, gray-haired smith, holding a black leather belt in her hands. The smith looked at her askance, which Ariadne supposed made sense. With her leather coat, dusty trousers, heavy boots, blond hair, and cloak of wolf fur, Caina looked like some sort of barbarian queen out of the frozen wastelands beyond the Imperial Pale in the north. Though her roots were starting to turn black again. Ariadne looked at the leather belt, wondering why Caina had insisted on stopping to buy it…
“Throwing knives?” she said, incredulous. “You stopped to buy throwing knives?”
The smith glanced at her, saw her purple sash and black staff, and his eyes widened. “Pardon, high magus, but I did not know…”
“No, you’re not talking to her, you’re talking to me,” said Caina. “She’s not interested in buying throwing knives. I am.”
The smith hesitated and looked at Ariadne again.
Ariadne sighed. “Please continue.”
Caina and the smith continued their negotiation. The coach creaked as Markaine descended, and he looked at the smith, snorted, and produced a small notebook from a pocket of his coat. Ariadne glanced at the book and saw that Markaine was sketching a picture of the scene with sure, quick strokes. It seemed he really was a painter.
“Throwing knives?” she murmured.
“It’s for the best, really,” said Markaine. “If we’re going to wind up killing people, it will come in handy for her to have those.”
“Throwing knives are toys for circus performers, not serious weapons,” said Ariadne.
Markaine smirked at his notebook. “Funny you should say that. But she knows how to use them. She once convinced an Alqaarin corsair captain to take us as passengers by beating him in a contest of throwing knives.”
“Did she?” said Ariadne, nonplussed. Caina reminded her of Talmania…but she had never heard of Talmania doing anything like that. “How long have you known her?”
“About a year and a half,” said Markaine, still sketching out the scene. It was astonishing how he seemed able to create it with only a few pencil strokes. “Not all that long, I suppose. But it was a very busy year and a half. It is amusing that the two of you have met.”
“And just what is so amusing about that, painter?” said Ariadne, letting cool authority seep into her voice.
“She’s unsettled by you because you remind her of Talmania,” said Markaine, “and you’re unsettled by her because she reminds you of Talmania. Really, I ought to do a painting of the two of you glaring at each other, but it would be too implausible to sell.”
“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?” said Ariadne.
“I usually do, yes,” said Markaine.
On impulse, Ariadne tapped one of her rings, one that allowed her to sense the presence of arcane forces without the need for a spell. She didn’t detect anything from Caina, but that was expected. A faint arcane aura came from Sophia, who had the good sense to remain in the coach. Ariadne detected potent arcane auras around the sword and dagger at Markaine’s belt. He might actually have been a painter…but he wasn’t only just a painter.
Caina and the smith agreed on a price, and she handed over some money and took the belt. She slung it diagonally over her chest, the knives resting in their sheaths.
“Thank you for waiting,” said Caina. “We can go now.”
“Throwing knives,” said Ariadne with a shake of her head. She gestured, and Caina and Markaine got into the coach. Ariadne followed, closed the door, and rapped the ceiling with her staff. The coach rattled back into motion.
“Considering that I am being forced against my will to investigate a series of what are probably murders,” said Caina, “I think stopping so I could buy suitable weaponry is a reasonable request.” Buying the throwing knives seemed to have brightened her mood. “Just where are we going, anyway?”
“A place where we can talk comfortably,” said Ariadne. She gestured at the window. “Just on the other side of the Hippodrome of Artifel, actually.”
“Hippodrome?” said Caina, glancing out the window. Through it, Ariadne saw the tall mass of polished stone, columns, and statues that made up the outer wall of the Hippodrome of Artifel.
“You enjoy chariot racing?” said Ariadne. She did, and always had, much to her father’s horror.
“I don’t dislike it,” said Caina. “Though once I did have to break up a ring of criminals who had been fixing chariot games. A renegade magus was using them to raise funds for his experiment.”
“My lady,” said Sophia. “You always tell such…remarkable stories.” Truth be told, Ariadne would not have objected to accepting the girl into the Magisterium. The Magisterium had at times treated its initiates and novices horribly…but a great many of the bad elements of the Magisterium had left to join the Umbarians. If Sophia joined the Magisterium, Ariadne would have ensured that t
he girl had a good education and became a capable magus. But it wasn’t worth potentially alienating the Padishah.
Ariadne wondered what Caina had done to win such loyalty from the girl. But perhaps it was a religious matter. The Ulkaari held the valikarion in reverence to this day.
“Yes,” said Markaine. “And some of them are even true.”
Ariadne was spared the need to answer when the coach came to a stop.
“Here we are,” said Ariadne. She rose, opened the door, and stepped into the street, Caina, Markaine, and Sophia following her. This was one of the last streets before the warehouses that surrounded the Southern Harbor, and the coffee house rose on the far side of the street, across from…
“We’re going there?” said Caina, and her hand twitched towards the throwing knives.
Ariadne followed the younger woman’s gaze. “No.”
A dark tower rose across the street.
It was a slender, round tower, built from the spell-worked black stone the Magisterium used for its more impressive engineering projects. The tower rose nearly two hundred and fifty feet tall and was topped by a spire of blue crystal enclosed in a metal cage. At the foot of the tower was a small mansion which had fallen into crumbling ruin, and a patch of ancient trees surrounded both the tower and the mansion. A rusted iron fence encircled the grounds of the tower, the gate hanging open.
“An ominous-looking place,” said Markaine.
“The spells on it…” Caina gazed up at the tower. “They look potent. And warped, somehow.”
“I’m afraid this is a feature of life in Artifel,” said Ariadne. “Thousands of master magi have lived here over the centuries, and many of them built towers. Sometimes they carried out sorcerous experiments in their towers, and those experiments went horribly wrong. There are dozens of abandoned towers in Artifel that are too dangerous to enter. The Tower of the Cataphract is one of them.”
“Cataphract?” said Caina with a flinch. “Like an Umbarian cataphractus?”
“No, thankfully,” said Ariadne. “The Tower predates the Fourth Empire. It has nothing to do with the Umbarians.”
“Why is it called the Tower of the Cataphract?” said Caina.
“It was built by a master magus known only as the Cataphract during the final years of the Third Empire,” said Ariadne. She glanced at Sophia. “During the Warmaiden’s battle against the Iron King, come to think of it. The Cataphract disappeared, and the Magisterium assumed that he died inside his tower. As far as I know, no one who has ever entered the tower has come out again. Something in the warding spells seems to kill anyone who sets foot inside.”
“What is a…cataphract, my lady?” said Sophia, pronouncing the alien word with care.
“A kind of Anshani anjar,” said Caina.
“Anjar?” said Sophia, looking more confused.
“A low-ranking Anshani noble required to supply his own horse and arms in times of war,” said Caina. “A knight. Much like a Ulkaari szlacht, in fact. But an Anshani cataphract covers both himself and his horse in armor, and then charges into battle.”
“Damned things,” said Markaine. “Get them on their back, and they’re like flipped-over turtles. But massed together, they’ll punch through anything, even a shield wall of the Legions.”
“Why did they call this magus the Cataphract?” said Sophia.
Ariadne shrugged. “Apparently he constructed himself a suit of enspelled armor that was nearly immune to anything.”
“And you want us to speak inside his tower?” said Caina, frowning.
“What?” said Ariadne. “No, not at all. We’ll speak there, across the street.”
She pointed at the building on the other side of the street. It looked a great deal like the Inn of the Seal, with several floors of guest rooms rising over the large common room on the ground floor.
“Another inn?” said Caina.
“It’s a coffee house,” said Ariadne. “The first one in Artifel. It’s a drink favored by the Istarish, the Anshani, and the Cyricans, but it’s started coming north in the last few years, and…what?”
Markaine was laughing. Caina was smiling.
“You’ve heard of coffee before, I see,” said Ariadne.
“I rather enjoy it, in fact,” said Caina. “A coffee house is a good place for a conversation. Shall we?”
Chapter 6: Unconvincing Suicides
Caina had been in a black mood when she had left the Inn of the Seal with Ariadne, but she found her temper improving as she stepped through the door and the smell of coffee came to her.
The room looked like the common rooms of countless Nighmarian inns that Caina had visited over the years. Tables and chairs stood scattered around the floor, and booths lined the walls. Ariadne led the way to one of the booths, and before they had covered half the distance, two serving maids hurried to intercept them. Either Ariadne was well-known here, or they had spotted her staff and sash.
Ariadne smiled and ordered four cups of coffee and some bread, her voice polite and calm, and the maids scurried to obey. Caina had realized long ago that she could tell a great deal about a powerful man or woman by watching their interactions with people of lower rank, and she had met nobles who screamed and ranted at their servants over the slightest provocation.
Perhaps Ariadne was wise enough to know that and control herself in front of Caina.
They sat, and the maids returned with a tray holding four cups of coffee and a loaf of thick Disali bread. Caina had not eaten yet today, and her stomach rumbled at the sight.
“Thank you for the coffee, my lady,” said Sophia, taking the cup. She sat next to Caina, and Morgant sat next to Ariadne.
“That’s what I like about the Ulkaari,” said Ariadne with a smile. “They’re always so polite to their elders. Though if you keep being so polite, dear, I’m going to feel even older.”
“I’ve been looking forward to trying coffee,” said Sophia. “Lady Caina speaks so highly of it.”
She took a sip, and her eyes went wide. Caina hid her smile as Sophia struggled to conceal her dislike of the beverage.
“That…is different,” said Sophia at last, setting down the cup.
“I’m afraid it may be an acquired taste,” said Caina.
“You must have encountered coffee for the first time in Istarinmul,” said Ariadne.
“No,” murmured Caina. “Catekharon.” Kylon had introduced it to her, actually, the day that Torius Aberon had tried to kill her and Corvalis. Corvalis had wound up killing Torius. Caina wondered if Decius had cared about his son’s death at all.
She wished Kylon were here with her now.
Caina took a long sip of the coffee, appreciating its strong taste. It wasn’t quite as good as the coffee Damla served at the House of Agabyzus, but not everything could be the best. And it had been so long since Caina had coffee that she appreciated it all the more.
She cut a slice of the bread, took a bite, and swallowed.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s talk about the suicides.”
Ariadne inclined her head. “What do you want to know?”
“The four high magi who killed themselves,” said Caina.
“Hiram Nilas, Secundus Camwallen, Kalin Nicephorus, and Livia Iconias,” said Ariadne.
“The first and most obvious question,” said Caina. “Were they supporters of Decius Aberon?”
“Hiram Nilas and Secundus Camwallen were,” said Ariadne. “Kalin Nicephorus and Livia Iconias were not. They were never friendly with Decius, but after his failures over the last two years, they withdrew their support from the First Magus. If an election were called tomorrow, they would vote to remove him from office.”
Caina frowned. “He’s obviously an incapable leader during a time of war. Why haven’t you voted him out already?”
“Because,” said Ariadne, “the laws of the Magisterium state that the First Magus can only be removed from office by a vote of three-quarters of the high magi. If the vote were hel
d right now, only two-thirds of the high magi would vote to remove him.”
Morgant snorted. “You’ve given this some thought.”
“A great deal of thought,” said Ariadne. “Valron and I are not the only ones who realize the time has come for new leadership. Decius’s failures since the civil war began have made that obvious.”
Caina frowned. “But not obvious enough. Why are a third of the high magi still supporting the fool?”
“Because they want things to go back to the way they were before the civil war started,” said Ariadne. “The magi ruled the Empire during the Fourth Empire, you know that. Decius wanted to become the magus-emperor of Nighmar, but he favored a subtle approach, suborning lords and governors and Legions to his cause. The Umbarian Order settled for the more direct method of violence and conquest.” Ariadne shrugged. “Those who support Decius want to defend the Magisterium’s independence. They’re afraid that without Decius, the Magisterium will lose much of its authority and become simply another arm of the Emperor’s government.”
Caina started to say that would hardly be a tragedy but stopped herself. If she was going to get out of this mess, she needed Ariadne’s help. Best not to alienate the woman unless necessary. And she had been helpful so far.
“Based on what you’ve said, I think we can rule out the Umbarians as the cause of these murders,” said Caina.
“Why do you say that?” said Ariadne.
“The most logical reason for the Umbarians to assassinate high magi would be to either weaken the Magisterium or to cause chaos in preparation for an assault on the city,” said Caina. “The best way to do that would be to assassinate Decius’s supporters to force the election of a new First Magus, or to assassinate his enemies and make sure the Magisterium still has an inept leader.”
Ghost in the Tower Page 8