Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “There isn’t time, is there?” said Martin. “To get the Imperial Guards across the city to the Cyrican harbor.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Caina.

  Kylon looked at the sky. The rift had doubled in width since they had left the smoldering wreckage of Fariz’s palace, covering the city in its eerie, flickering glow. It did not quite look like the rift the Moroaica had opened in New Kyre, not quite yet. But it was still growing, and Kylon did not know how much larger the rift had to grow before Cassander could summon the ifriti.

  “So be it,” said Martin. “Go. My men will attack at once. May we meet again on a field of victory.”

  “I hope so,” said Caina. Martin gave orders to his men, who formed up and started for the far end of the Bazaar. Caina hurried back towards the ruined shop to where Nasser, Morgant, and Laertes waited.

  “I assume we are headed for the Brotherhood’s dock?” said Nasser.

  “Where else?” said Caina. “The five of us can cross the city far more quickly than Lord Martin’s Imperial Guards. We can sneak into the dock, ambush Cassander, and kill him.”

  “Once again,” said Morgant, “I seem to be following you into certain death. The Craven’s Tower, the Inferno, the Tomb of Kharnaces…this is getting to be an appalling habit.”

  “I’m the madwoman who keeps going to these places,” said Caina. “You’re the one who keeps following me. What does that say about you?” She took a deep breath, adjusting the shadow-cloak that now streamed from her shoulders. She had missed the thing more than she cared to admit, along with the ghostsilver dagger at her belt. “Let’s go.”

  ###

  Caina turned and ran from the Bazaar, the others following. They raced through the streets, keeping close to the line of the circle and its blazing wall of golden fire. The panic did not subside as they passed through the city. If anything, it seemed to have gotten worse, and Caina heard the sounds of fighting and shouting. She hoped Damla and her sons and Agabyzus were safe. The House of Agabyzus should have been far enough from the circle to avoid destruction, and she hoped the looters stayed away. There was no way to know, and Caina did not dare stop, not with the rift crawling its way through the night sky.

  Fortunately, the streets near the burning circle itself were deserted, and Caina and the others made good time, following its curve from the Alqaarin Quarter, through the Tower Quarter and the Old Quarter, across the northern edge of the Anshani Quarter, and then to the Cyrican Quarter and the Cyrican harbor. Caina hurried down the streets sloping to the harbor proper, past the rows of brick warehouses. Wraithblood addicts cowered in the alleys and against the walls, staring at the fire in the sky, though some of them paused to gape in terror at Caina, likely seeing the darker shadow that Nerina had mentioned. She remembered walking through these streets on her first day in Istarinmul, exhausted and full of despair, looking with loathing at the miserable city around her.

  She had never dreamed that two years later she would be sprinting along these streets, desperate to save that same city.

  They dodged into an alley between two warehouses, making their way through the gloom, and stopped to look at the fortified dock of the Slavers’ Brotherhood of Istarinmul. Kylon used a burst of the sorcery of wind and air to scramble up the wall of the warehouse, likely to examine the dock from a higher vantage point.

  Laertes grunted. “Doesn’t look good.”

  Caina nodded.

  She had contemplated breaking into the dock several times over the last few years, but had always discarded the plan simply because the Brotherhood’s private dock and mansion were simply too well fortified. A tall stone wall encircled the mansion, crowned with spikes, and a fortified tower rose from the center of the mansion. Fiery light flickered and danced from the windows of the solar atop the tower, likely from whatever spells Cassander worked within.

  That was something, at least. Kalgri had not lied to them.

  Yet Caina glimpsed the dark forms of men upon the roof of the mansion’s wings, likely Adamant Guards. Four men stood guard at the gates, swathed in heavy robes, but she caught the glint of metal at their collars. More Adamant Guards, likely.

  “Can you see anything?” murmured Nasser.

  “No,” said Caina. “The whole place is wrapped in concealment spells.” She saw them shimmering over the entire dock like a veil of gray mist. “The sight of the valikarion can’t penetrate them. Likely Cassander wanted to keep his plans secret until it was too late to stop them.”

  Kylon landed again with a grunt, a bit of icy mist swirling around his hands from his climb.

  “There are at least a hundred Adamant Guards in the courtyard,” said Kylon. “Maybe more. Some sort of spell to block divinations is over the entire compound. I couldn’t sense anything.”

  “It appears our best course of action,” said Nasser, “is to use the harbor. We can swim to the dock and enter through stealth.”

  Kylon shook his head. “There are Adamant Guards at the piers. They must have anticipated the danger. And do any of you know how to swim quietly?”

  “No,” said Caina. She knew how to swim, though she hadn’t practiced much. Certainly she could not swim in silence, not while carrying her weapons.

  “We’ll have to fight,” said Laertes.

  “A hundred Adamant Guards?” said Morgant. “And Silent Hunters? And maybe a few more of those bear creatures? If you want to kill yourself, there are far less painful ways to do it.”

  “We need a distraction,” said Nasser. “Something to hold their attention while we enter.”

  “A splendid idea,” said Morgant. “That means we just need to find something more distracting than a giant glowing crack in the sky.”

  “Perhaps you could try offering a useful suggestion,” said Nasser with genial calm. “My heart might stop from sheer shock if you did not have a smart remark ready at hand.”

  Caina ignored them, staring at the darkened mass of the Brotherhood’s mansion, at the fiery light in the top level of the tower.

  “A distraction,” she muttered. “Something to hold their attention. Something they don’t expect.”

  The others fell silent, looking at her.

  “They think I’m dead,” said Caina.

  “No,” said Kylon at once. “You’re not distracting them so the rest of us can get to Cassander.”

  “They would kill me on sight and then overwhelm you,” said Caina. “That wouldn’t be much of a distraction.”

  She thought for a moment, an idea coming together in her thoughts.

  “Do we have anything that might serve?” said Laertes.

  “We don’t,” said Caina. “But I know where we can hire one hell of a distraction. Come on!”

  She led the way, running down the alley away from the dock.

  ###

  Kylon vaulted over the low wall and landed in the courtyard of the Inn of the Crescent Moon.

  Chaos ruled in the inn’s courtyard, but it was controlled chaos. Cronmer, Tiri, and Tozun stood near the stables, directing traffic as the carpenters and the laborers toiled to load the wagons. The Circus Of Wonders And Marvels was preparing to flee the city. They would not get away before the ifriti descended from the sky to set Istarinmul ablaze, but Kylon could not help but admire their determination.

  “The circus?” said Morgant, incredulous. “We’re going to the damned circus?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Caina.

  Kylon had seen that look on her face at the Craven’s Tower, at the Inferno, at the spell-cursed ruins of Caer Magia. She had that look when her brilliant, buzzing mind had seen a path to victory.

  Caina Amalas had an idea.

  She ran across the courtyard, Kylon and the others following.

  “Go!” yelled Cronmer, shaking a fist. “If the sets won’t fit, leave them. We can build new ones. Wood’s cheaper than our lives.” He turned, and his eyes widened as he saw Caina. “Ciara? Milartes? What the devil are you doing here?”

  �
��Ciara?” said Tiri. “If you wish to travel with us you are welcome, but you must flee at once. You heard what that vile sorcerer said. He claimed the city was about to burn,” she shot a quick look at the pulsing rift, “and I feared he told the truth. He…”

  She fell silent as she saw Caina’s shadow-cloak, and Kylon felt the puzzlement and alarm spread through her sense.

  “What are you wearing?” said Tiri.

  “I lied to you,” said Caina. “I’m sorry. My name’s not Ciara. It’s Caina Amalas. I’m the Balarigar.”

  Cronmer’s jaw fell open. “What? No, that’s not possible…”

  “It is,” said Caina. “That’s how I got into Ulvan’s palace. That’s why I joined the Circus.”

  “You used us,” said Tiri, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “I’m sorry. But it saved a lot of lives…and we can save more yet.”

  “What on earth are you talking about, girl?” said Cronmer.

  “Why are you here?” said Tiri.

  “To hire you,” said Caina, “to save Istarinmul.”

  “What?” said Cronmer, puzzled. Kylon understood how he felt.

  Before anyone else could speak, Caina sprang onto the back of a wagon, the shadow-cloak billowing behind her in the torchlight. It made for a dramatic sight.

  “Hear me!” roared Caina at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking through the courtyard like a whip.

  Every eye in the courtyard turned towards her. Kylon glimpsed Vardo, blinking in astonishment.

  “You know me as Natalia of the Nine Knives,” said Caina, “but my true name is Caina Amalas, the Balarigar.”

  A ripple of annoyance and scattered laughter went through the crowd.

  “Impossible,” said a burly carpenter. “You…”

  Caina flung a knife. It landed quivering between his feet, and carpenter fell silent.

  “You’ve seen the proclamations!” said Caina. “You know what the Balarigar has done. The night I joined the circus, I humiliated Ulvan and freed his slaves. I terrorized the cowled masters, and they could not lay a hand upon me. I burned the Craven’s Tower and the Widow’s Tower, I brought the Inferno crashing down upon Rolukhan’s head, and I robbed Callatas’s palace itself.”

  Stark silence answered her. She had their attention, at least.

  “And do you know why I am telling you this?” she said. “There’s a bounty of two million bezants upon my head? Any one of you could be rich if you killed me right now. So why am I speaking my mind to you?”

  No answered her.

  “Because,” said Caina, “Cassander Nilas is about to kill you all anyway.”

  Another rumble went up from the men and women of the circus.

  “It is too late!” said Caina. “The spell is nearly finished. Even if you abandon all your possessions now and sprint for the gates, you won’t get away in time. The city is going to burn. Cassander is going to kill you, your wives, and your children, all for his own glory. He is going to kill every last man, woman, and child in Istarinmul, and you cannot escape him.”

  “Is that it, then?” shouted the carpenter, eyeing the knife between his boots. “You came here to tell us we’re going to die?”

  “You can’t escape Cassander,” said Caina, “but we can kill him.”

  “How?” said Cronmer.

  “By the Living Flame, girl!” said Tiri, her emotional sense veering between terror, confusion, and sheer exasperation. “We are not assassins. We are not even soldiers. We are circus performers!”

  Caina grinned at her, a wild, mad grin.

  “Cassander Nilas said he killed me,” said Caina. “I thought he lied, but he didn’t. He wasn’t lying. He was mistaken! He thinks the Balarigar is dead at his hand. So what do you think he’ll do if at the very threshold of his triumph the Balarigar returns? If five Balarigars return? If twenty Balarigars come to taunt him?”

  The Circus Of Wonders And Marvels gaped at her in silence, and Kylon felt the shift in their mood. He had seen it happen before on the eve of battle, when a charismatic commander had convinced troops to follow him into desperate odds. Caina Amalas was not a sorceress, but she was casting a spell on them. No, it was far more profound than that.

  She was making them believe.

  Well. She had made Kylon believe, hadn’t she?

  “That’s why I’m here,” said Caina. “Cassander is going to kill you and your families. You cannot run from him…but we can save your lives. We can save your wives and children. We can save everyone in Istarinmul!”

  “Dear gods,” muttered Morgant. “She went mad. The Elixir drove her mad, and it is contagious, for we are following her into his madness.”

  “Do you have a better plan?” said Laertes.

  Morgant just sighed.

  “Master Cronmer!” said Caina. “I have come to hire the circus. A hundred thousand bezants I will pay you!”

  “A…hundred thousand?” said Cronmer.

  “One hundred thousand for the greatest performance of your lives,” said Caina. “We’re going to save the city! One hundred thousand for the performance that is going to save your lives, your families, and all of Istarinmul!”

  And to Kylon’s lasting amazement, the Circus Of Wonders And Marvels burst into cheers.

  Chapter 24: I Am The Balarigar

  Cassander gazed into the sky, watching the rift swell and feeling the titanic currents of power flowing through it.

  At last, the moment had come.

  The rift was ready. It blazed across the sky like a second sun, the flickering golden light illuminating Istarinmul. The spell would not last for much longer. Already the flows of power from the rift echoes grew unstable and erratic. The rift was like a massive boulder perched upon the edge of a precipice, just beginning to tip forward as gravity took hold.

  That didn’t matter. Cassander only needed a few moments with the Throne…and then that boulder would land upon Istarinmul.

  He turned to face the Throne of Corazain, gathering the summoning spell in his thoughts. The ancient relic glowed with pulsing light, an inferno dancing within the dark crystal. A colossal amount of sorcerous force surged through the Throne, drawn from the rift overhead. Cassander need only work the spell to summon an ifrit to the material world. The Throne would augment the spell a thousand times and feed it into the rift, which would itself augment the spell a thousand times…

  Oh, he looked forward to seeing that, and at last the moment was at hand.

  Cassander raised his right hand, focusing power upon the gauntlet, and as he did, a flash of light caught his eye.

  A flash of light from outside the tower.

  ###

  “Ready?” said Caina.

  Cronmer let out an amused grunt. “Girl, you might be the Balarigar, but I have been giving performances since before you were born. If your performance displeases an Anshani satrap, there’s always the chance he will cut off your head.”

  Caina nodded. She stood in one of the narrow dockside alleys, Kylon on her left and Cronmer on her right. Behind them waited a half-dozen of the circus’s acrobats. Nasser, Morgant, and Laertes had each taken charge of a group of acrobats, leading them to different alleys in the maze of warehouses surrounding the Brotherhood’s dock.

  “Remember,” said Caina. “Don’t try to fight them. Once the Adamant Guards come out, run as fast as you can. You…”

  Again Cronmer snorted. “I’m not stupid. I’m not even going to try to fight an Adamant Guard. I might be old and fat, but I can still run like hell.”

  “You can?” said Caina.

  Cronmer grinned behind his bushy mustache. “Well, sooner or later you do offend the Anshani satrap, you know…and I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

  Kylon laughed at that.

  “Ready?” said Caina.

  Cronmer drew himself up, adjusting the long black cloak he wore. “The circus is always ready to perform.”

  Caina looked at the acrobats waiting near
by. They too wore long black cloaks with deep cowls. The circus’s clowns had worn those cloaks during their pantomime of an army of Balarigars terrorizing the cowled masters of the Brotherhood.

  Caina hated clowns, but she could put their costumes to good use.

  There was a flash of light from the roof of a nearby warehouse. The others were in place.

  “Then let the show begin,” said Caina.

  Cronmer nodded, stepped forward, and started to declaim in his booming voice, the echoes ringing over the street. “Men of the Umbarian Order, hear me! For I am the Balarigar, the slayer of demons, the liberator of slaves, the bane of sorcerers! Cassander Nilas has deceived you, and I have returned at last to take my terrible vengeance of righteousness upon you! Weep and despair, for stern justice has overcome you at last, and your many crimes and iniquities shall at last meet…”

  It was a little overdone, but it worked.

  The Adamant Guards at the compound’s gate spun, drawing broadswords. As they did, Caina reached into the satchel she had taken from the circus, her hand brushing against the metallic thing she had taken from Kalgri, and her fingers closed around the small glass vial of a smoke bomb.

  Caina flung the bomb, and it landed halfway between the warehouse and the dock’s outer wall. The vial shattered with a bright flash, shooting a plume of brilliant green smoke into the street. Kylon took another bomb from the satchel and threw it with a surge of the sorcery of water to enhance his strength, and the vial soared through the air, over the wall, and burst in the courtyard, another flash throwing stark shadows against the mansion and the tower.

  “Go!” said Caina.

  The acrobats sprinted past her, black cloaks flaring around them, faces hidden beneath black masks, and they started to flip and tumble through the street, the flickering light of the rift and the haze from the smoke bomb transforming them into strange, shadowy figures. Cronmer kept shouting threats and challenges to Cassander, and then Caina heard Vardo’s voice ring out from another alley, announcing that the Balarigar had arrived to kill Cassander.