Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  Then the unarmed forms. High punch, middle block, leg sweep, backward throw, all the moves she had practiced over and over again until they were imprinted upon her very muscles. When she finished, sweat soaked her shift, and her arms trembled just a bit, and she felt much better.

  Work was the only cure for dark feelings.

  Caina bathed, washing the sweat from her skin and black hair, and put on a green dress with black trim on the sleeves and hem. A curved dagger went in a sheath at her belt. Most of the women of Marsis wore a dagger, but Caina also hid a pair of daggers in her boots and strapped a set of throwing knives to her forearms.

  She would have felt naked without the weapons.

  After she dressed, Caina went to the common room for breakfast.

  Zorgi's Inn overlooked the Plaza of the Tower, the richest district of Marsis, and wealthy merchants and minor nobles preferred to stay at his inn when visiting the city. The common room had hearths crackling at either end, and guests broke their fast at long tables, while maids in livery brought out trays of food from the kitchen.

  A stout Szaldic man in his middle forties hurried over to Caina, smiling beneath an enormous bushy mustache. He smiled a lot, but when Caina had first met him, the smile never reached his eyes. But since his son had returned with the other slaves from the dungeons below Black Angel Tower, a new vigor had appeared in his step.

  And he would never know that Caina was the one responsible.

  "Anna Callenius!" boomed Zorgi, bowing over Caina's hand and planting a kiss upon it. "It is good you have awakened. Our humble inn is all the brighter for your beauty."

  Caina let herself smile. "Anna Callenius", her disguise in Marsis, was a flighty merchant's daughter. Anna appreciated compliments. Besides, Caina liked Zorgi.

  "How could I stay away?" said Caina. "All of Marsis knows the splendor of your table, Master Zorgi."

  "Ah," said Zorgi, taking her arm and steering her across the room, "your compliments bring to a tear to the eye of this weary old man."

  "I have seen many tears in your eyes," said Caina in a quiet voice, "since your son returned."

  Zorgi's face softened further. "Aye. Did I tell you? The Balarigar himself brought my son here, after he slew the dread Moroaica and freed the slaves."

  Caina kept her expression still. The Balarigar. The Demonslayer, in the Szaldic tongue. The freed slaves had given that name to the masked and hooded figure that defeated Jadriga, little dreaming that the Balarigar was in fact a woman.

  That Caina was a nightfighter of the Ghosts.

  "But enough of such talk!" said Zorgi. "Your father awaits you. Perhaps he has found you a rich husband, eh?"

  He led Caina to a table in the corner. Two men, a woman, and a boy sat there. One of the men was in his fifties, and wore the cap and furred robe of a prosperous merchant, his craggy face shaded with a gray beard. The second man was in his forties, with balding, close-crapped hair and the hard look of a former Legionary. His left hand rested atop the woman's right. She was no older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and looked a great deal like Caina, though taller.

  The boy had the Legionary's gray eyes and the woman's black hair.

  "Ah, daughter," said Halfdan, adjusting the sleeve of his robe. "You've joined us. Thank you, Zorgi."

  "My pleasure, Master Basil," said Zorgi, using Halfdan's false name. Just as he did not know that Caina was a Ghost nightfighter, he did not know "Basil Callenius" was a circlemaster of the Ghosts, the Emperor's spies and assassins. "I shall have tea brought for her at once."

  He bustled off, and Caina sat.

  "Still drinking tea, daughter?" said Halfdan, his gravelly voice amused. He spoke with a Nighmarian accent, though like Caina, he knew how to change his voice and accent as needed. "You'll never pass as a merchant's spoiled daughter. Spoiled daughters prefer to have mixed wine with breakfast."

  Caina lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps I'm hung over."

  The former Legionary snorted. "You? Doubtful." Unlike Zorgi, Ark had a hard, unsmiling face, with cold eyes the color of steel.

  Yet some of the hardness had vanished from his face since Caina had brought his wife and son out of the darkness below Black Angel Tower.

  "You've never been hung over," said Ark, "since you would never let yourself lose control enough to get drunk."

  "Or I simply do not care for the taste of wine," said Caina.

  "She may drink," said Tanya, Ark's wife, "whatever she wishes to drink. And I will bring it to her myself."

  "I like tea," announced the boy, with all the solemnity a six-year-old could manage.

  Ark snorted. "Wait until you're twelve, Nicolai, and you can have ale."

  "Fourteen," said Tanya.

  Caina grinned, and this time it was not feigned. She would never have a husband and children. Not after what Maglarion and her mother had done to her. Yet it pleased her to see Ark and Tanya happy together. She had seen the despair in Ark's eyes as he spoke of his lost wife and son, the horror on Tanya's face as she described Jadriga's plans for Nicolai.

  It pleased Caina very much to see them happy.

  "Will we depart soon, Father?" said Caina. "I had thought we would have left by now. You have pressing business in the Imperial capital."

  "Soon," said Halfdan, taking a bite of cheese and swallowing. "After we attend to a small business matter here."

  Caina frowned. "Business?"

  "I want to see the ships," said Nicolai.

  They all looked at him.

  "Ships?" said Caina. "There are hundreds of ships in the harbor."

  "But these are special ships," said Nicolai. "Master Basil said so, when he was talking to Father. I want to see them."

  "An embassy," said Halfdan. "The Padishah of Istarinmul is sending a new ambassador to our Emperor. A noble named Rezir Shahan, an emir from the Vale of Fallen Stars. He and his entourage are traveling to Malarae to present their gifts to the Emperor, but first he will stop to pay his respects to the Lord Governor of Marsis. He is due to arrive this morning."

  "I do not," said Tanya, voice quiet, "care for the Istarish." Little wonder. Most of the slavers in the Moroaica's and Lord Naelon Icaraeus's service had been Istarish.

  "The are an unpleasant folk," said Halfdan, cutting himself another slice of cheese. "The Istarish slavers' brotherhood dominates the Cyrican sea, selling slaves in the markets of New Kyre and Cyrica and the free cities. But war between the Empire and Istarinmul would profit no one, and both the Emperor and the Padishah know this. So Rezir Shahan comes to present himself to the Emperor as Lord Ambassador."

  "Rezir Shahan," said Caina, frowning. "I'm sure I've heard that name before."

  "I want to see the special ships," said Nicolai.

  "Perhaps later," said Tanya. "Soon we will go to Malarae with Master Basil. Then you will travel upon a ship."

  "I've never seen a ship," said Nicolai. "Mother would read about them in the Moroaica's books. But I've never seen a real ship."

  A shiver of agony went over Tanya's expression, and she looked from Nicolai to Ark and back again. It was not hard for Caina to decipher that glance.

  Tanya wanted Nicolai to have a younger brother or sister.

  "I'll take Nicolai to see the ships," said Caina.

  Tanya blinked. "You will?"

  "A walk would do me good," said Caina. "And Nicolai does want to see the harbor."

  "And I suspect Rezir Shahan's entry into the city will be quite splendid," said Halfdan. "The Istarish do love their pomp and ceremony."

  Ark snorted. "So does Lord Governor Corbould, to hear Hiram speak of him."

  "It will be no trouble," said Caina. "And you'd prefer some peace and quiet for a morning, no doubt."

  "A good idea," said Halfdan. "Come, daughter. Walk with me a moment. I have an errand you can do while you're out and about."

  Caina frowned, but followed Halfdan as he strolled to the hearth.

  "It's warmer here," said Halfdan. "And we are less likely to be
overheard."

  "What errand did you have in mind?" said Caina.

  "I want you to take a look at Rezir Shahan," said Halfdan.

  "That's it?" said Caina. "Just look at him?"

  "Just look at him," said Halfdan. "Our lord emir is not a good man. He ranks high among the slavers' brotherhood, and has many friends in Istarinmul's College of Alchemists. He..."

  Caina blinked. "That's why I remember his name. I saw him in Lord Haeron's ledgers."

  "Aye," said Halfdan. "Rezir sold slaves to Haeron Icaraeus, and bought slaves from Naelon Icaraeus. You remember those slavers we killed in the Vytaagi swamps? Those were Rezir's men. He is a powerful man in Istarinmul, and a cousin of the Padishah. So I wonder..."

  "Why he would serve as an ambassador," said Caina.

  Halfdan nodded. "He is up to something, I'm sure of it. Some plan, some stratagem. Else he would not have become the ambassador. Whether his plot is aimed at the Empire, or some enemy within Istarinmul, I know not. But I intend to find out."

  Caina frowned. "If there's any danger, I should go alone, and leave Nicolai here."

  "No, there's no danger," said Halfdan. "Rezir will have an honor guard of three hundred men with him. Not enough to make serious trouble. Lord Governor Corbould will meet him in the Great Market with his own honor guard, and they'll process to the Citadel. Crowds of commoners always gather to watch the pomp and pageantry of these ceremonies. No one will notice one woman and a small boy. You have a knack, my dear, for observation. So I'd like to see what you can observe about our new ambassador. Then you can walk to the harbor and let Nicolai see the ships." He snorted. "Though the boy will likely take it into his head that he wants to be a sailor, and break his poor mother's heart."

  Caina shrugged. "Why not? He spent most of his life locked away. Perhaps he wants to see the world."

  "For now," said Halfdan, "you can take him to see the ships, while you look at Rezir Shahan."

  "It will be done," said Caina.

  She crossed back to the table and sat across from Nicolai.

  "You want to see a real ship?" said Caina.

  Nicolai nodded, wide-eyed.

  Caina smiled. "Well, if your mother will allow it, I think I will take you to see a dozen ships."

  Ark smiled. "He could use a holiday."

  "And I think his mother and father could use some time to themselves," said Caina.

  A touch of color appeared in Tanya's cheeks.

  "All right," said Tanya. "Just be back by sundown."

  "I will," said Caina.

  She rose, as did Nicolai, a wide smile on his face, but Tanya started to reach for him.

  "You're not sure about this, are you?" said Ark.

  Nicolai turned an imploring look toward his mother.

  "No. You can go," said Tanya. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And if the Balarigar cannot keep you safe, then who can?"

  ###

  An hour later, Caina walked hand in hand with Nicolai along the Avenue of Governors, the main street connecting the Plaza of the Tower to the Great Market. Traffic flowed around them. Ox-drawn carts carried goods to the shops and merchants of the Plaza of the Tower. Hawkers cried out from the booths and workshops lining the street, selling their wares. Women hurried back and forth, carrying jars of water from Marsis's public aqueducts. Gulls wheeled overhead in the blue sky, and the air smelled of sweat and smoke and horse dung and salt.

  It was a beautiful day.

  Nicolai looked at everything. This was all new to him. He had been raised by his mother in the dungeons below Black Angel Tower, his death intended to fuel Jadriga's monstrous sorcery. Caina looked at the dark shape of Black Angel Tower, rising from the Citadel atop its crag, and her mouth tightened into a hard line. Well, Jadriga was dead, and Nicolai would live...

  "What's wrong?"

  Nicolai looked up at her, concerned.

  "Nothing," said Caina.

  "You were frowning," said Nicolai.

  "Well, I was upset," said Caina.

  "Did I do something wrong?" said Nicolai.

  "I was upset," said Caina, "because I haven't gotten you a piece of candy yet." That wiped the concern from Nicolai's face. "But don't tell your mother."

  They stopped at a confectioner's shop, not far from the Plaza of the Tower, and Caina bought a pair of hard candies. They were expensive, but Caina had the coin. Sweeter than she would have liked, but Caina preferred simpler food.

  Nicolai devoured his.

  "Can I have another?" said Nicolai as they returned to the Avenue of Governors.

  "No," said Caina, "you'll rot your teeth."

  "And Mother won't really get mad at you," said Nicolai.

  "Oh? Why is that?"

  "Because she says you are the Balarigar and you kept the Moroaica from hurting me," said Nicolai. "And Father says you are very clever and you stopped a bad man from burning thousands of people."

  "You shouldn't say such things," said Caina.

  "Why not?" said Nicolai. "They're true, aren't they?"

  They were. But Caina did not like this "Balarigar" business, this legend that had grown in the retelling. She was no demonslayer, only a woman of flesh and blood. Her victories had been such near things. Maglarion could have thrown her from that tower, rather than trying to kill her with plagueblood. Kalastus could have burned her to ashes. And if Jadriga could have twisted Caina into a monster.

  "Because," said Caina at last. She picked up Nicolai and whispered into his ear. "Because the Ghosts have to stay secret, so we can do good. Can you help keep my secret?"

  Nicolai smiled. "I'll keep your secret." He hesitated. "Since I'm keeping your secret, can I have another candy?"

  Caina rolled her eyes. "Maybe on the way back."

  ###

  Crowds packed the Great Market.

  Of course, the Great Market was always packed. The wealthy merchants and high nobles preferred to buy their goods from the shops of the Plaza of the Tower. But the commoners of Marsis shopped at the Great Market. Booths and stalls filled the vast square, and warehouses lined the nearby streets. Marsis was the Empire's chief port on the western sea, and items from half the civilized world found their way to the Great Market.

  But today, it was packed for a different reason.

  A century of Legionaries waited in the center of the Market, grim and solemn in plate armor and crimson cloaks. The banners of the Empire and House Maraeus flapped overhead. Corbould Maraeus, the Lord Governor of Marsis, sat upon his horse before the Legionaries, clad in black ceremonial armor. He was in his later fifties, lean and fit, with the arrogant expression of a lord of high Nighmarian birth.

  "Who's that?" said Nicolai.

  "The Lord Governor," said Caina. A ring of Legionaries kept the crowds at bay. She heard the roll of distant drums, and saw a mass of horsemen entering the Market.

  "I want to see the ships," said Nicolai.

  Caina looked around. The Legionaries had closed off the street to the docks, and crowds of people choked the Great Market. Yet many of the merchant booths and stalls had been closed for the day. And some of the booths had roofs of sturdy wood.

  "Here," said Caina, crossing to the nearest booth. She climbed upon a barrel, lifted Nicolai to the roof, and then pulled herself up after him. A few nearby men gawked at her, but most copied her idea and climbed onto booths themselves. From here Nicolai could see the ships, until she took him to the docks for a closer look.

  And from here Caina could take a good look at Rezir Shahan.

  "Are those the ships?" said Nicolai, peering at the forest of masts that filled the harbor.

  "Aye," said Caina, watching the horsemen enter the Great Market. They moved at a slow, steady pace, drummers beating out a solemn rhythm. Banners of crimson silk floated overhead, adorned with the sword-and-crown sigil of the Padishah of Istarinmul. Most of the horsemen wore elaborate coats of black chain mail and black cuirasses, faces hidden beneath helms wrought in the shape of human skulls. Curve
d swords and whips made of coiled chains hung from their belts.

  "Who are they?" said Nicolai.

  "Immortals," said Caina. "The bodyguards of the Padishah." Istarinmul's College of Alchemists fed the Immortals a steady diet of sorcerous elixirs, granting them superhuman strength and speed, though the elixirs tended to induce homicidal insanity after a few years of regular use. Yet the Immortals were among the finest soldiers in the world. With them came regular Istarish soldiers, infantry armed with spears and scimitars, clad in shirts of steel scales and spiked steel helmets.