Ghost Dagger

by Jonathan Moeller

  She was still in the storeroom. Caina tried to stand, but felt rough, scratchy rope around her wrists. Looking down, she saw rope tied around her boots, binding her ankles together. She remembered searching for the dagger, remembered Helena slamming that pad over her face...

  Helena.

  Caina twisted around, saw the noblewoman staring at her.

  Helena held that strange silver dagger in her right hand.

  "You're awake," said Helena. She smiled. "That potion I stole from Tormalus’s baggage proved effective, didn’t it? Though now I have to decide what to do with you."

  Caina licked her dry lips. Helena hadn't gagged at her. If she shouted...

  "If you want to scream, do it," said Helena, pointing at the door. "That's two inches thick, and all the servants fled, remember? Scream all you want, but no one will hear."

  "So you're going to kill me," said Caina, "the way you killed Tormalus and Maelana."

  She needed to dig for information. And though her ankles were bound, she could still swing her legs. If she lured Helena close enough…

  Helena scowled. "Those were accidents!"

  "So you accidentally made the blood pour out their ears?" said Caina.

  "Yes," muttered Helena, staring at the silver dagger. "I was justified, though. I thought it would work the way that Tormalus said it would."

  "And how did Tormalus say it would work?" said Caina.

  "He thought our workmen had found the tomb of the Master of Dreams," said Helena. "The Saddai Ashbringers practiced pyromancy, but some of them indulged in...other arcane sciences. Specifically, oneiromancy. Sorcery to manipulate dreams."

  "And what good would that do you?" said Caina. "You wanted to give Reorn bad dreams?"

  Helena gave her a chilly smile. "Of a sort. A skilled oneiromancer could use dreams to plant commands in the mind of a victim. A way to control a man without him ever realizing it."

  "So you were trying to control Tormalus and Maelana?" said Caina. "Why? What would you...ah, I understand."

  "You understand nothing," said Helena.

  "You were going to use the dagger to make them kill Reorn," said Caina. "To command them to murder your husband."

  "I just want to go home!" said Helena, face flushed with rage. "I hate this place! I hate Reorn. I hate this leaky, drafty ruin of a hall. And I hate the Disali. I cannot stand the jabbering of their stupid language, their uncouth customs, their vile bitter wine. And they stink! Gods, they all stink!"

  "If Reorn is murdered," said Caina, "do you really think your father will take you back? You're his sixth daughter. You're no good to him, save as a bargaining chip in a business negotiation."

  "If Reorn dies, my dowry reverts to me," said Helena. "And I never bore the panting brute a son, I made sure of that. When he dies, all his property will go to me as well. Then I can live in the Imperial capital. I could only afford a modest household, to be sure, but better to live on the periphery of Malarae than among the barbarous Disali."

  "That's a good plan," said Caina.

  Helena's lip curled in a sneer. "Your approval means so very much to me."

  "Except," said Caina, "you can't figure out how to make the dagger work properly. Can you?"

  Helena said nothing.

  The pieces fell into place in Caina's mind. "You stole it out of Tormalus's room as he slept. You were going to use it to make him kill Reorn. No one would blame the poor grieving widow." Helena's sneer deepened. "Except you made a botch of it and killed Tormalus."

  Helena shrugged. "The dagger is harder to use than it looks. And it may not work properly at all. From what Tormalus said, the Master of Dreams was insane even by the standards of the Saddai Ashbringers."

  "When that failed, you tried to use it on me," said Caina. "That would have made another good story. The lecherous donnarch tries to ravish the merchant's daughter, she panics and kills him, and the poor widow inherits his money. But the dagger didn't work on me." Her eyes narrowed. "That silver door in my dreams. That's what it was, wasn't it? If I had gone through it, you would have been able to control me."

  "Or you would have died like Tormalus," said Helen with a shrug. "It probably would have been easier if you had died."

  "Since you didn't kill me or control me," said Caina, "you tried to take over Maelana instead."

  Helena grinned. "You are correct, Ghost. That would have been sweet. Reorn murdered by his own whore. I could have played the wronged woman at every ball in Malarae, and used his money to attract a husband of noble Nighmarian lineage. Not some Disali thug."

  "After that," said Caina, "I figured out the truth. And here we are."

  Helena nodded, tapping the flat of the blade against her palm. "And here we are."

  "Are you going to kill me?" If Helena attacked, and Caina reacted fast enough, she might be able to land a disabling kick.

  Or Helena would cut her throat.

  "Of course I'm going to kill you," said Helena, brow furrowed. "You've figured out everything, and I've told you the rest. I can't have you running to Reorn. Or, worse, the other Ghosts. I doubt they'll be kinder to me than Reorn. The fool still has a soft spot for me."

  "Then why didn't you do it already?" said Caina. "While I was unconscious?"

  "Perhaps I decided to be merciful," said Helena.

  "Or," said Caina, "you knew that cutting my throat would be suspicious. The townsmen think a curse has fallen on Reorn's hall, some supernatural killer. Having a merchant's daughter die of something as mundane as a slit throat would put the lie to that."

  "Damn it!" hissed Helena. "Why did you have to interfere? I was so close. A little more practice with the dagger, and I could have mastered it. Then I could have forced someone to kill Reorn, and I would have gotten everything I wanted. "

  "You could throw down that dagger and run," said Caina. "If you move quickly, you might be able to get away."

  "Or I could cut out your damned heart with this," said Helena, taking a step closer.

  Another few inches, and Caina could hit her.

  "A bad idea," said Caina. "If you kill me, it will look suspicious. And my father is a clever man, and he knows most of what I know. If I disappear, or he finds my corpse, he will know what happened. And then you will pay for the innocent lives you have taken."

  "Maelana was hardly innocent," muttered Helena, her voice sullen. Caina saw the growing fear on the other woman's face. Any moment now, Helena would panic and do something rash. And Caina would have her chance...

  Then Helena grinned.

  "If you disappear," said Helena, "or if Master Antali finds your corpse, he will figure out that I killed you, yes. But if he finds you lying on the floor with your blood dripping from your ears...he will assume you are another victim of the sorcerous relic."

  Caina said nothing.

  "Oh, I should have thought of this sooner!" said Helena, gesturing with the dagger. "You'll die, and I'll kill your father with the dagger's power, as well. Then I'll kill my husband and flee to Malarae. Reorn will be remembered as on object lesson against the dangers of meddling in ancient sorcery. I will live in comfort in the Imperial capital. And no one will remember you at all."

  "That's assuming you can figure how to use the dagger," said Caina. "You haven't done very well."

  Helena shrugged. "I'll have plenty of time to practice with you, my dear." Her smile was cold. "And I don't need to use the dagger well enough to control your mind. I only need to kill you."

  Caina tensed, ready to strike as soon as Helena drew close enough.

  But Helena was clever enough to see the danger. She put down the dagger, took a massive sack of flour from the shelves, and dropped it one Caina. It slammed into her legs, pinning them to the ground, and a shock of pain went up her hips. Helena stooped, the cloth pad in her hands, and slapped it against Caina's face.

  Again that chemical smell flooded her nostrils.

  "Sleep well, Ghost," said Helena, smiling. "Because when you wake up, you'll be
in a lot of pain. Though not for very long."

  Caina tried to stay awake, but everything went black.

  Chapter 8 - Never Have Been

  Caina spun over the gleaming marble floor, skirt flaring around her.

  Alastair Corus's free hand caught her, and they whirled around each other, moving with speed and grace through the ballroom. Alastair danced just as well as she did, and together their performance drew scattered applause from the other nobles. Caina loved to dance, found it as relaxing as performing the unarmed forms Akragas had taught her. Yet there had not been much time for dancing, not with...with...

  Memories of blood and fire flickered across her mind.

  Then Alastair spun her again, and Caina laughed, her doubts disappearing into giddy delight.

  "You dance well, my lord Alastair," said Caina, trying to catch her breath.

  Alastair grinned. "And you as well, my lady."

  The music ended, and Alastair bent over her hand and planted a kiss upon her fingers.

  "Another dance?" said Alastair.

  Caina laughed. "And shall I monopolize your time, my lord? There are other ladies here."

  "But none," said Alastair, taking her hand in both of his and lifting it to his lips, "so lovely as you."

  "You flatter me," said Caina.

  "Since when," said Alastair, "is telling the truth flattery?"

  He smiled at her, and Caina felt a wave of warmth flow through her skin. It had been such a long time since someone had touched her, and she had forgotten how much she enjoyed it.

  How much she needed it.

  "Do you have the boldness, my lord," said Caina, grinning at him, "to back up your words with deeds?"

  His hands slid down her sides to rest upon her hips.

  "You tell me," murmured Alastair, and he tugged her close and kissed her upon the lips, long and hard.

  The warmth in her skin flushed through her entire body.

  Her breathing came hard and fast when he released her.

  "Another dance?" said Alastair, stroking her cheek.

  "Yes," whispered Caina.

  "Come with me," said Alastair, taking her hand.

  He led her through the gleaming ballroom, past the crowds of nobles in their finery. High balconies ringed the ballroom, and lords and ladies chatted upon them, while servants circulated with trays of delicacies. Suddenly Caina remembered this place. It was the ballroom of Lord Haeron Icaraeus, a powerful and cruel lord who had made his fortune in slave trading.

  He had also supported Maglarion's work. Caina had tried to kill Maglarion here, and Maglarion’s sorcery had leveled the ballroom in the resultant confrontation. Had Lord Haeron rebuilt it?

  No. That was impossible.

  Maglarion had killed Lord Haeron. Caina had seen the corpse lying in the shadow of Maglarion's terrible bloodcrystal.

  "Alastair," said Caina, hesitating. "Something's wrong."

  "Yes," said Alastair. "We're still here. Come with me, and we'll go somewhere quiet."

  Caina wanted to do that. To slip away with Alastair, to lose herself in his arms. All those strange memories that flittered through her mind were only bad dreams. Surely all those images of blood and death could not have happened to her.

  She pushed aside her doubts and followed Alastair.

  They slipped up a narrow flight of stairs and into another wing of Haeron Icaraeus's mansion. A rich green carpet rolled down the center of the corridor, and doors lined both walls. Doors to guest rooms, Caina supposed, and her heart quickened as she thought of what she and Alastair would do in one of those rooms.

  "Here we are," said Alastair.

  Caina froze.

  A door of peculiar silvery metal stood at the end of the corridor, and the sight of it gave her a splitting headache. A yellow-orange glow leaked through the gap between the door and the frame. Was there a furnace raging on the other side of that door?

  "Here, my love," said Alastair. "Through here."

  "That door?" said Caina, shivering. "Why that door? There are dozens of other rooms, Alastair. Let's use one of those."

  Alastair shook his head. "It has to be this door." He smiled. "We won't have to worry about anyone spying on us in there."

  "But there are so many rooms," said Caina, "and all the guests are in the ballroom. Surely we won't be disturbed."

  Alastair gestured at the odd silver door. "We won't be disturbed in there."

  "Alastair," said Caina, arms wrapped around herself. "I don't want to go through that door."

  For an instant, annoyed exasperation flashed over Alastair's face, and then he calmed himself.

  "Caina," he said, cupping her chin in his right hand. "You've been so lonely. You can't hide that from me, not here. Come with me, and you will have no more pain. Through that door. Come with me," he kissed her, "and let me show you how much I love you."

  Caina trembled in his arms. She wanted to go with him, wanted it more than anything. Yet something about that door repulsed her. The mere sight of it brought of memories of power-mad sorcerers and cruel lords and desperate fights to save the lives of uncounted thousands.

  And the memory of a murderous noblewoman holding a silver dagger...

  "You open it," said Caina, a solution occurring to her. "Is not a true noble supposed to open doors for his lady?"

  Alastair laughed. "You're about to fall into bed with me, and you trifle at doors?"

  "Open it," said Caina. Something scratched at the back of her mind.

  "It is only a small matter," said Alastair. "Just reach out and open the door, and I am all yours."

  "Do it," said Caina, voice harder. "Open that door."

  "I...I can't," said Alastair. "The door will open only at your touch, and..."

  "Wait," said Caina. Something clicked in her thoughts. "You called me by my name."

  A look of irritated chagrin flashed over Alastair's face.

  "Of course I called you by your name," said Alastair. "Countess Marianna Nereide, that is your name."

  "No, it's not," said Caina, voice quiet. "My name is Caina Amalas. But I told you that my name was Marianna, a Countess of House Nereide. That's how you knew me. And you never learned my real name, because Maglarion killed you before you could learn otherwise."

  Alastair's lips peeled back in fury.

  "You miserable peasant wretch!" he spat. "I offer you bliss beyond anything you could hope to find in your pathetic life of shadows and steel, and you throw it back in my face?"

  "I don't know who you are," said Caina, "but you're not Alastair Corus."

  Alastair reached for her, and Caina moved. She sidestepped, seized Alastair's wrist, and spun past him. Her heel slammed into his right knee, and his leg folded beneath him. Alastair fell with a grunt of pain, and Caina yanked the hidden dagger from her boot.

  He would tell her who he really was, or he would regret it.

  Alastair snarled, and the world dissolved into silver light.

  ###

  "You found her," said a man's voice, deep and rough with a thick Caerish accent. "Gods of the Legion, I cannot believe it. You found her!"

  Caina turned.

  She was disguised as a man, wearing the leather armor and rough trousers of a common caravan guard, and she was standing outside a worn brick warehouse in the docks of Malarae, its doors ripped open. Hundreds of rag-clad children ran out of the warehouse, laughing and weeping as they sprinted to their mothers. The children still bore the marks of chains upon their wrists and the cruel welts of whips upon their backs.

  Slaves.

  And Caina had freed them all.

  "You actually found them," said the man's voice again.

  Caina tore her gaze away from the laughing children and looked at the man. He was about forty, built like a boulder, his balding hair close-cropped. He had hard gray eyes, and wore chain mail and a sheathed broadsword at his belt.

  And he looked happy, happier than she had ever seen him.

  "Ark," said Caina
.

  Ark grinned. "Tanya!"

  His wife Tanya and infant son Nicolai had been taken prisoner by slave traders five years past, and the slavers’ ship had vanished. Ark had joined the Ghosts to find them, and had spent every waking moment since looking for them.

  And now Tanya ran to him.

  She looked a great deal like Caina, with long black hair and blue eyes, though she was taller and not quite so lean. She threw herself into Ark's arms, weeping.

  "Thank you," whispered Tanya, staring at Caina over Ark's shoulder. "Oh, gods, thank you. I never thought I would be free again. But you found us."

  "I did?" said Caina, trying to remember. The memories flashed through her mind. Ark had left Rasadda with her, following the trail of the slave traders to the tenements of Malarae. Caina had infiltrated the slavers, located the captives, and arranged for the city's militia to attack. The slavers had been defeated, and hundreds of captives freed, including Tanya and Nicolai.

  Hadn't they?

  "Thank you," said Ark, gripping Caina's shoulder, his other arm around his wife. "I had given up hope. But you were able to find them."

  "Yes," said Caina, voice distant. Another set of memories warred with the first. She remembered leaving Ark in Rasadda as the new circlemaster of the city's Ghosts. He hadn't accompanied her to Malarae. And then she had gone to the Vineyard in the Disali hills without Ark.

  "Are you all right?" said Ark.

  "I...am tired, that is all," said Caina, managing a ragged smile. "It has been an exhausting few months. But worth the effort, if we have found your family." She blinked in confusion. "Wait. Nicolai. Where is Nicolai? Where is your baby?"

  Tanya smiled. "He hasn't been a baby for some time now. He's almost six. Would you like to meet him?"

  "Yes," said Caina. She had seen the pain in Ark's eyes has he spoke of his lost son. "I do."

  "This way," said Tanya, taking Ark's hand.

  Tanya led them through the empty warehouse, past the stalls where the captives had been chained.

  "The slavers realized that I was married to a Ghost,” said Tanya, “so they put Nicolai in a special cell, away from the others. Here it is."