“Thank you, my lady,” said Caina. “I am honored.”
“Tell us,” said Agria, “have you found a husband yet?”
“No,” said Caina. She looked at the wine, wondered if it was drugged. “Not yet, I am afraid. My father has yet to find a fat old man with an adequate amount of money.”
“Well,” said Vorena, “when you do get married, do whatever you can not to have children.”
“I am sorry?” said Caina.
“Children,” said Vorena. “I have one son…and just between us, I regret it sorely.”
“You wanted more, my lady?” said Caina. “Or perhaps a daughter as well?”
“More?” said Vorena. “Don’t be ridiculous, child. I wish the little brat had never been born.”
Agria leaned forward, a predatory glint in her eye. “Go on.”
“I hate him,” said Vorena. She gestured at herself. “I used to be slender and pretty. And now look at me! Look at what giving birth has done to me. I used to draw the eye of every man in the room.” She shook her head. “I would take him back if I could. I look at him…and see that he has his whole life ahead of him, years of youth and vigor and strength. I gave that to him. I gave that to him! Why shouldn’t I take it back? It belonged to me, after all. He stole it from me.”
Caina was aghast. She hoped it didn’t show on her expression.
“Now, Vorena,” said Agria. She reached over and patted the other woman’s hand. “We all have those feelings sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” said Vorena. “I feel this way all the time. I used to feel guilty about it…but then I listened to you. I started to think about what you had to say. And it made sense to me. Why shouldn’t I be free? Why shouldn’t I be free of…of my son?”
“But,” said Caina, “I don’t want to marry a fat old man, of course, but…children were always the one bright spot.”
“Oh, my poor innocent child,” said Messana, smiling. “Tell me. Have you ever even shared a bed with a man?”
Caina had. Better that they didn’t know that. She shook her head.
“My dear,” said Agria, “I find that I like you, so please don’t take this too harshly. You are young, and I’m afraid your head has been filled with nonsense. A husband and children are not good things. They are curses, chains holding you back from your full potential. Husband and children and pregnancy and age…these things are the bane of women. But the blessings we have learned can drive these things back, can defeat them once and for all. We can be free…free of all constraint and law, free to do whatsoever we will.”
Agria went on for some time, describing the wonders of her mystic blessings. Caina listened, keeping an interested face, but her heart and mind roiled with rage. She wanted children of her own. The ability to bear them had been carved from her flesh by Maglarion's knife. And to sit here and listen to these women who murdered slaves and used their blood in arcane spells…
Yet she her mind still worked. It seemed that Agria and Messana had been trying to persuade Vorena Chlorus to do something…and that Vorena had just decided to do it. But what?
“It seems to me,” said Agria, “that the old Szaldic story of the Moroaica ought to be our guide.”
Caina blinked. “The…Moroaica? Forgive me, lady, but isn’t that just a fable?”
“And a grisly one, too,” said Messana with a smile. “A demon that snatches away the souls of newborn children? Only the Szalds could believe that sort of nonsense.”
“But instructive nonsense,” said Agria. “Think of it. A woman of power, bound to no laws save her own will, free to do as she pleases. That is what I desire for myself. That is what I desire for each of you. That glorious freedom.”
“I…fear I am far weaker than you, my lady,” said Caina. “I desire only a home of my own, and to live in peace and quiet.”
Agria laughed and shook her head. “Young women always think that way. If you gain those things you will find them stifling. I did, and…”
She stopped, her eyes going distant for a moment.
“Yes,” said Agria. “Yes, I think so.”
“Agria?” said Messana. “Is it…”
“Yes,” said Agria, rising from the table. “It is time.” She smiled at Caina. “Come with us, child. It is time for you to see something that will allay all your doubts, all your fears.”
Caina hesitated. She doubted that Agria had anything good in mind. Yet Caina could not back out now. If worse came to worse, she could overpower Agria and the others and escape. Only Agria had demonstrated any serious ability to wield arcane power, and Caina doubted that any of the noblewomen had much skill in hand-to-hand combat. Caina could escape, if it became necessary.
Assuming, of course, that she overpowered Agria before the older woman cast a spell.
Caina rose with the others. “Where are we going, my lady?”
“The gardens,” said Agria. “You’ll see when we get there.”
Caina followed Agria to the gardens, and then down a gravel path, trimmed bushes and rows of flowers on either side. Caina shivered in the nighttime chill, and then realized that she felt more than a chill. Her skin tingled with the faint presence of sorcerous power. She looked around, but neither Agria nor the others were casting a spell.
The path ended at a small pond, its rippling waters reflecting the moonlight. The Citadel and Black Angel Tower loomed in the background. A woman in a flowing crimson gown stood by the waters, gazing up at Black Angel Tower. The silvery light glimmered in her black hair, and a black veil hid her face.
She stood motionless as a statue, her attention fixed upon Black Angel Tower.
The tingle sharpened, and Caina’s skin crawled, her stomach twisting.
“You wondered,” said Agria, “how I learned my arts, how I learned the path of blessings. Didn’t you?”
“I did,” said Caina.
“This is the one who opened my eyes,” said Agria, voice reverent. “This is the one who showed me how the world could be.”
The veiled woman turned towards them.
“This is my teacher,” said Agria. “Her true title you cannot learn until you have become one of us. But for now, you may call her Jadriga.”
Jadriga. Caina remembered what Hiram had said about Agria’s mysterious teacher.
Agria gripped her skirts and did a deep curtsy, as did her friends. Caina followed suit, not wanting to draw suspicion. The veiled woman regarded them for a moment, neither moving nor speaking.
The sorcerous tingle sharpened, tightened.
“My daughters,” said Jadriga at last. Her voice was strong and rich. Caina could image it filling an amphitheater with song as the crowd roared its approval. She spoke High Nighmarian flawlessly, with an almost archaic formality. “It is good of you to come.”
“How could we refuse you?” said Agria. “You, who have given us so much.”
“And you has served me well,” said Jadriga. Caina felt the weight of the veiled woman’s gaze. “Is this the one you have told me of, my daughter?”
“She is,” said Agria.
“What is your name, child?” said Jadriga.
“Anna Callenius, daughter of Basil Callenius, a master of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers,” said Caina.
“And I have had many names, and I am of many places,” said Jadriga. “But as Agria said, you may simply call me Jadriga. Tell me. What is your purpose in coming to Marsis?”
“My father wishes me to find a husband,” said Caina.
“Ah,” said Jadriga. “So I see. Yes, Agria. You did well in bringing her to me.”
Agria beamed.
Jadriga reached to her face, drawing back the black veil, and despite herself, Caina gasped.
Jadriga was beautiful, radiant. Flawless. She looked like a Szaldic maiden of eighteen years or so. Except for her black eyes. They were ancient, heavy with the weight of knowledge and power and will. Caina had looked into the eyes of hardened killers, of power-mad magi, of men who could kill a
child and sleep dreamlessly afterwards.
None of them had eyes as cold or as hard as Jadriga’s.
“Agria,” said Jadriga, voice soft. “Leave us for a moment. I would like to speak with Anna.”
Agria did another curtsy, and she withdrew with the others, leaving Caina alone with Jadriga. Caina stared at the other woman, trying to keep her face calm. It was hard. Jadriga stepped closer, and the sorcerous tingle redoubled, became almost painful. Caina realized that Jadriga must have an active spell upon her person. Probably several of them, to judge from the strength of the tingle. Defensive wards, most likely.
“Pardon, my lady,” said Caina. “But…I am not very much older than you. How did you learn such tremendous knowledge?”
“I am…considerably…older than I look. You’re not like them,” said Jadriga.
“Who, my lady?” said Caina.
“Agria and her friends.”
“Of…of course not,” said Caina. “They are noble born, of high Imperial lineage, and I am only a merchant’s daughter.”
A flicker of a smile passed Jadriga’s red lips. “No. Titles mean nothing. I may look young, but I am not. I know how to use my eyes. I can see that you have known pain. Terrible pain. It almost destroyed you, didn’t it? Yet you endured. You have become strong.”
“Yes,” said Caina. “Yes, I have known pain. But all who live have known pain.” The memory of her torments with Maglarion and his students filled her, and she shoved it aside. “But pain is to be endured, nothing more.”
This time Jadriga did smile. “You remind me of myself, when I was still young.”
Caina could think of nothing to say to that.
“I knew pain,” said Jadriga. “But, like you, it made me strong. It made me stronger than my tormentors, and I destroyed them. Now I grow even stronger. And soon I shall become so strong than no one will ever have the power to harm me again. How has your pain made you strong, I wonder?”
“I…” said Caina. She knew a dozen different languages, how to throw knives and open locks, how to fight with her bare hands, how to move unseen, how to disguise herself so she could pass unnoticed. Yet she often wondered what her life would have been like if her mother had not sold her to Maglarion.
Again she shoved the thoughts aside. Whether though sorcery or simple cunning, Jadriga was far more observant than Caina liked. “I don’t understand what you mean, my lady. My father only made me come to Marsis to find a husband.”
“A husband,” said Jadriga. “Yes. Of course. Like the widows Agria and Messana and Vorena, perhaps?” She looked at the mansion, black hair and veil stirring in the breeze. “They have no vision, no ambition. They want only to live forever in luxury and carnality. They think they have known pain, but they have not. Their lives have been ones of comfort and ease. They are small-minded, enslaved to petty indulgences. They know little of real pain.” She looked back at Caina. “Unlike us.”
“Then why teach them?” said Caina.
Jadriga shrugged. “Because I teach any who come to grasp the truth. The only path to true strength is through power. And they gave away their power. They submitted to their husbands and to their children, to chains that held them back, made them into servants. I taught them to shatter those chains, to make themselves stronger.” She shook her head. “But they have never known pain, true pain, and if they know such pain now, it will destroy them. So they are limited.” Her black eyes, heavy and bottomless, bored into Caina. “But you…you could be so much more. Become my student, and I will share my teachings with you. I will make you stronger than any who walk the earth.”
Caina took a deep breath. “So you are a truly a sorceress?”
“That is only a word,” said Jadriga. “But, yes, I have power. And I can teach you. I can show you wonders that defy imagination, arcane secrets that the petty Magisterium cannot comprehend.”
“I…no,” said Caina. “I only wish…I only wish to find a husband.” She needed to get away from this woman. The tingling of Jadriga’s arcane strength was making her nauseous, light-headed. Sooner or later she would slip up, say something that she should not.
“A husband?” said Jadriga. “You lie well…but not well enough. Let me show you something.”
She stepped forward, crimson skirts rustling, her hand coming up. A single cool fingertip brushed Caina’s forehead, followed by a sharp, painful tingle. Caina’s hand snapped up, seizing Jadriga’s wrist, and she intended to sidestep, twisting Jadriga’s arm into a lock…
And then she gasped, releasing Jadriga’s wrist.
She had never felt so…peaceful.
A warm numbness filled her, like floating in a hot bath. Her muscles relaxed, and she let out a shuddering gasp. Her pain, she realized. It had been taken away.
“Oh,” said Jadriga. “Oh, you poor child. What pains you have known. What torments.”
“She killed my father,” breathed Caina. The words came bubbling out of her. “My mother. He disapproved of her arcane experiments. So she invaded his thoughts, tried to enslave him. Instead she broke his mind. He couldn’t even feed himself.”
“You were only eleven,” said Jadriga. Her hand came up, brushing Caina’s temple. Her fingers had become very cold. “Eleven, and you killed your mother. She was going to kill you, after she destroyed your father. So you seized the poker from the fireplace, and she lost her balance…ah.” Again her cool fingers brushed Caina’s temple. “But that’s not all she did to you, is it?”
“Maglarion,” said Caina, voice tight with pain. But Jadriga’s fingers brushed her cheek, and the pain faded away.
"Ah," said Jadriga. "So you were the one who killed him? Not surprising. He was a clever student, but a fool in the end. He thought the flesh could live forever, but only the spirit is immortal." She shook her head, as if dismissing a memory. "What did Maglarion do to you?"
“He demanded payment for his teachings. So my mother gave me to him. He chained me to a table. He cut me, draining my blood away, using it for the spells. He cut deeper and deeper, and I screamed and screamed. He cut too deep. I can’t have children. I want children so much.” She let out a shuddering sob, and again Jadriga’s fingers drained the pain away. “I can’t ever have children.”
Jadriga nodded to herself. “And that is why you became a Ghost, isn’t it?”
“Halfdan saved me,” said Caina. “I have to keep it from happening again. To others, I mean. I can’t let them hurt more people the way I was hurt. I won’t let them.”
“Strange,” murmured Jadriga. “I had a different reaction. Why should not others suffer, as I have suffered?”
“No,” said Caina. “No. I can’t let that happen..."
Caina felt Jadriga’s palm under her chin, and she looked up at the taller woman.
“Listen to me,” said Jadriga. “Your pain has made you strong…but you have squandered your strength in the service of those who do not deserve it. The Ghosts do not deserve you. Follow me, instead, and I will make you even stronger. I will teach you true power, power to make the Magisterium look like simpering children. Caina.” Her other hand cupped Caina’s cheek. “I can teach you to heal yourself, to smooth away the scars. You can bear children of your own. You can have many strong sons, Caina, sons who will grow up like trees around you, sons who will love you with all their hearts.”
Caina felt the tears trickling down her cheeks, falling on Jadriga’s fingers. “You…you can?”
“Yes,” whispered Jadriga. “All that you desire can be yours. Become my student, and you will have it.”
The wild dreams filled Caina’s mind. She saw herself cradling a son in her arms, her son. The image filled her with such longing that she almost groaned aloud. It could be hers. It could be hers. She need only…only…
A price. Something tugged at the back of her mind, some memory of sorcery and blood.
“No,” whispered Caina. “No. No sorcery. I won’t have anything to do with it.”
Jadriga sighed.
“Are you sure?”
“I hate sorcery,” said Caina. “Almost as much as I hate my mother.”
“Do as you will,” said Jadriga. “You are strong enough that I will respect your choice. Though you will regret it bitterly before you die.”
She pushed, and Caina stumbled away, blackness rushing up to envelop her.
###
Caina sat up with a gasp, her head spinning, her stomach churning.
The coach. She was in the coach. It was in motion, the rattle of the wheels and the clop of hooves audible through the walls. She looked around in wild panic. How had she gotten in her? Memories tumbled through in mind. There was dinner with Agria and the others, a walk in the garden, and then…and then…
She remembered a red gown, a black veil…
“Ark,” said Caina, almost screaming. “Ark. Ark!”
The coach stopped. A moment later the door opened, and Ark looked up at her.
“Ark,” said Caina. “What…what happened? I…I don’t…”
“Gods,” said Ark, climbing into the coach. “What's wrong?”
“I…don’t know,” said Caina. She pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead, trying to think. “I…how did I get in the coach?”
“You don’t remember?” said Ark.
“Just tell me!” said Caina.
“Lady Palaegus sent me to wait outside,” said Ark. “About an hour later you came back. You told me to get in the coach and take you back to Zorgi’s Inn.” He paused, frowning. “You don’t remember any of that?”
“No,” whispered Caina. “No. I…think someone got into my mind, Ark.”
“Lady Palaegus?’ said Ark, incredulous. “You didn’t think she was that strong. Were you wrong?”
“No,” said Caina, shaking her head. “She’s not that strong. It was someone else. I met…I met…I think I met her.”
“Her?”
“The one who’s been teaching sorcery to Agria and the others,” said Caina. The name refused to come to her jumbled mind. Then she remembered ambushing Hiram in that alley by the Dead Fish Tavern. “Jadriga. The woman Hiram mentioned.”
“Jadriga?” said Ark. “Hiram thought she was a charlatan.”
Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts) Page 15