Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7)

by Jonathan Moeller

  Then the rift shrank, collapsing into itself with a sound like a rushing river. There was a brilliant flash of golden light and a thunderclap, and the rift vanished as if it had never existed. A moment later the great golden circle shimmered and vanished from sight, leaving only rubble and flames where it had marked the city. Caina watched as the mighty web of spells that Cassander and the Umbarians had woven faded away.

  Caina let out a long breath.

  It was over.

  “That city,” said Kylon. “That…city in the sky. Did you see it, or was I imagining things?”

  “Iramis,” said Caina in a soft voice. “When Callatas destroyed Iramis, the spell was so powerful that it left an echo of Iramis in the netherworld. If you enter the netherworld near Istarinmul, you can still see the echo.”

  “A fate,” said Kylon, “that Istarinmul will not share this day.”

  Caina looked at the city, a city she had expected to see in flames before the dawn, and a surge of emotion went through her. Satisfaction? Relief? Joy? Terror that it had so nearly ended in disaster?

  Mostly, she felt very, very tired.

  “That’s two of three,” she said.

  “Of what?” said Kylon, blinking.

  “Cassander Nilas,” said Caina. “Malik Rolukhan. Kill the Huntress, and you’ll have avenged Thalastre.”

  Kylon snorted. “Aye. Well…that’s why I came here. And if I wished to make myself feel noble, I would tell myself that I killed Cassander to save Istarinmul.” His eyes met hers. “I killed him to save you.”

  Caina smiled. “I think that sounds plenty noble. Though it is selfish of me, I know.”

  “We should go,” said Kylon as a crackling sound came from the mansion beneath them, “before you finish burning down yet another building.”

  Caina blinked, but unhooked the rope from her belt. “What does that mean?”

  “The Craven’s Tower,” said Kylon as Caina hooked the grapnel to the edge of the roof, “the Inferno, the Corsair’s Rest…”

  “That one was your fault,” said Caina. “You made me drink the Elixir.”

  “Before Istarinmul,” said Kylon, “there was that warehouse in Marsis, that carpenter’s shop in Catekharon…a lot of buildings burn down when you are nearby.”

  “This one,” said Caina, letting the rope drop to the courtyard below, “was Cassander’s fault.”

  “As you like,” said Kylon, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eye as he said.

  “And I can think of no better fate for the Brotherhood’s private dock,” said Caina. “We can continue this conversation when we’re not in danger of burning alive.”

  They descended the rope. Her muscles were tired, and her shoulders and arms screamed with the effort, but she made the descent. Then Caina and Kylon fled the courtyard. The Adamant Guards had not yet returned from their wild chase of the false Balarigars. Likely most of them would not survive the night. The Umbarian Lord Ambassador was dead, and Caina had no doubt the people of Istarinmul would turn against the Order and its servants.

  She and Kylon vanished into the night as the Brotherhood’s mansion collapsed into flaming rubble.

  Chapter 26: Generations

  As the sun rose in the east, Caina approached the gate of the Imperial embassy’s mansion with Kylon. A sort of stunned stupor had fallen over Istarinmul as people gazed suspiciously at the sky, or started picking through the rubble or the burned-out buildings left by the golden circle and the riots. Caina knew that would not last. The rage would come once the shock had worn off. Cassander had claimed that Erghulan and Callatas had defected to the Umbarian Order out of sheer spite, and once the people recovered from their shock, their rage would focus upon the Grand Wazir and the Grand Master.

  Caina didn’t know what would happen then, not with Tanzir Shahan’s army marching up from the south. Cassander Nilas had failed, but in a single night he had brought catastrophic change to Istarinmul. The Grand Wazir’s political power had been crippled. The Grand Master had been widely feared, but now he would be hated as well. Tanzir might have been a rebel, but Cassander’s pronouncement had created a hundred thousand willing allies for the rebels. The Slavers’ Brotherhood, the financial backbone of Istarinmul, had been annihilated.

  Istarinmul had been heading for an explosion before last night. And now…

  Caina didn’t know what would happen next.

  Four Imperial Guards stood watch at the gate, swords and shields ready. In their midst stood a tall, dark-skinned man in black clothing, his head shaved, his lips framed by a trimmed beard, a leather-wrapped spear in his hand. Nasser Glasshand stared at Caina and Kylon, and then his white smile flashed across his dark face.

  Then he started to laugh.

  “By the Divine,” said Nasser. “By the Divine!”

  To Caina’s utter and lasting astonishment, he caught her in a tight hug, and did the same to Kylon, who looked nonplussed. Laertes came out after his employer,

  “I was utterly certain that you were dead,” said Nasser. “The destruction of the Brotherhood’s dock was visible from half the city. Then the rift collapsed and the circle vanished, and it was over. I feared Istarinmul would burn as Iramis had…but that was not to be.”

  “Cassander’s dead,” said Caina, “and the Throne destroyed. That was the explosion.”

  “Well done,” said Nasser. “Well done, indeed. A deed worthy of the great valikarion of old in ancient days.”

  Valikarion.

  Caina shivered a little at the word. That was what she was now, like it or not. And like it or not…the abilities of a valikarion had helped her to find Cassander Nilas, had helped Kylon to kill him. And if she had not…

  If she had not, everything around her would be ashes now.

  “It was a very close thing,” said Caina. “Very, very close.”

  “I never doubted you would prevail,” said Nasser.

  Caina smiled. “Liar.”

  “And you, Laertes?” said Kylon.

  Laertes snorted and raked a hand over his close-cropped gray hair. “I thought we were dead.”

  Caina laughed. “Spoken like a true centurion.” Her laughter faded. “Claudia. Is she…”

  “Inside,” said Nasser, urging her forward. “Lord Martin seized the Umbarian embassy without incident and set it ablaze. Finding it empty, he returned to the shop and took Lady Claudia and the child back to the mansion for their safety.”

  “Child?” said Caina. “And then…”

  “Annarah tells me it was a very quick birth,” said Nasser. “Especially for a first child. Lady Claudia is quite tired, but will wish to speak with you at once.”

  They went into the mansion’s entry hall, past more Imperial Guards standing watch. Nerina, Malcolm, Azaces and Nerina stood facing Kirzi and her daughter. Nerina was talking and gesturing, while Kirzi looked dubious.

  “It is not surprising,” said Nerina. “Based on my calculations, Lady Claudia’s hips possessed the optimal angle and width to ensure a speedy delivery.”

  Malcolm snorted. “Sometimes, wife, you think too much.”

  “I am certain the correlation can be charted mathematically,” said Nerina. “If you were to measure pregnant women, and then time their births, allowing for factors such as health, weather, and emotional distress, I am certain a statistical correlation could be discovered…”

  “If you say so, noble mistress,” said Kirzi, blinking.

  “Ciara!” said Nerina, smiling. “I mean, Caina. I shall never be able to remember your proper name, which is a peril of using aliases, I suspect.”

  “Sometimes I can’t even remember who I’m pretending to be,” said Caina.

  Using aliases would be harder now. There had been hundreds of people in the Circus, and she had announced herself before all of them. Certainly some of them would talk. Once Callatas realized that she was still alive, once he figured out that Nasser and Annarah had the Staff and the Seal, he would come for them.

 
; “It is easier not to lie,” said Malcolm. “Though often inconvenient. We are very glad you are not dead.”

  Caina laughed. “And I know you’re not lying.”

  A narrow door near the stairs opened, and Annarah stepped into the hall, her silver hair tied back, her green eyes bloodshot. She seemed tired, but otherwise unharmed, and she smiled when she saw Caina.

  “I knew you would return,” said Annarah.

  “You may have been the only one,” said Caina. “I certainly did not.”

  “Lady Claudia will want to see you,” said Annarah. “Just you, though. No one else. Both she and the child are tired and must rest.”

  Caina nodded and followed Claudia into the room. It had been set up as a delivery room, no doubt at Lord Martin’s command, but it had been converted into a nursery. Claudia sat in the bed, propped up by pillows, wearing a loose robe. Caina had heard poets and singers describe new mothers as radiating and glowing, but Claudia only looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and a touch of pallor to her face. She looked the way the Imperial Guards did after battle.

  In her arms rested a small, red-faced infant, his eyes closed, his hands pulled into little fists as he slept.

  Claudia looked up at Caina and let out a tired little snort.

  “You’re alive,” she said. “Well, none of the rest of us are dead, so I suppose you were victorious. Cassander is dead?”

  “I broke his gauntlet,” said Caina. “The pyromancy burned away his mind, and Kylon cut off his head. The spells on the Throne broke down and it exploded.”

  “Oh, good.” Claudia closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillow, letting out a long breath. “I suppose I should say something more profound, but…I really am very tired. And very glad that Martin and my son are not dead. Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina. “I think…I think you told me what I needed to hear.”

  Claudia blinked. “I did?”

  “In the shop, when you slapped me,” said Caina.

  “Oh, right,” said Claudia. “I remember. Forgive me. It was a very long night.”

  “What was it like?” said Caina.

  “Painful,” said Claudia. “And messy. Not just the blood and everything else. I swear I have never sweated so much in my life, not even when we crossed the Sarbian Desert on our way to Catekharon. And it hurt. Oh, dear gods, did it hurt. I don’t ever want to do it again.” She looked down at the child and smiled. “But I’m going to.”

  “Annarah and Kirzi were a great help, then?” said Caina.

  “They were,” said Claudia. “We found Kirzi’s husband, by the way, on our way back to the embassy. I think we will take them into our household as free servants. Their owner might well be dead anyway.”

  “Good,” said Caina.

  Claudia smiled. “Would you like to hold him?”

  A dozen emotions burned through Caina’s mind all at once. There was jealousy that she would never know what Claudia was experiencing right now. Shame that she was jealous. And mostly just an overwhelming relief that both Claudia and child were safe and well.

  “Yes,” said Caina.

  She stooped, and Claudia passed the child to her. Caina cradled the baby, his head resting against her aching left arm. His eyes blinked open, the vivid blue of a newborn, and for a moment she was sure he would start to wail. Instead he regarded her calmly, his expression puzzled.

  “I think he likes you,” said Claudia.

  “My natural charm, no doubt,” said Caina. There was a faint glow around him, similar to one of Annarah’s spells, now that she looked closely.

  “Well, you did save his life even before he was born,” said Claudia.

  “Annarah put a spell on him,” said Caina.

  “She did,” said Claudia, a little fear in her voice. “There are so many diseases that can carry off a child before the second year. The Iramisian loremasters have a ward against at least some of them.”

  “Good,” said Caina. Damla had told her once how a pox had nearly taken Bayram before his second birthday, and the shadow of the old fear had been visible upon her face. “It is good he will be kept safe.”

  “You did it first,” said Claudia. “So we named him after you.”

  Caina’s gaze snapped to Claudia. “What?”

  “I’m joking,” said Claudia. “Caina would be an odd name for a boy, wouldn’t it? No. We named him Corvalis.”

  “Oh,” said Caina. Suddenly her eyes were very hot. “That’s…a good name. A very good name.” She blinked for a few times until her voice was controlled. “I’m surprised Martin approved.”

  “Well, it is traditional for a Nighmarian lord to name his firstborn son after his father,” said Claudia. “But Martin and Lord Dorius haven’t been on speaking terms for years. And Martin met Corvalis at Caer Magia and on the day of the golden dead in New Kyre, you remember. He knows my brother helped save the world. What better name for his first son?”

  “What better name, indeed,” said Caina, watching as the infant’s eyes darted back and forth.

  “You should give him to me,” said Claudia. “I want to feed him. Then maybe he’ll fall asleep, and I can get some sleep.”

  “Of course,” said Caina, and she handed Corvalis back to Claudia. “I suppose I should get you a gift. I understand that is traditional.”

  Claudia took her son and smiled at him. “You did kill the man who tried to kidnap me to use as leverage against my husband. That seems a splendid enough gift. You could bring me his head, though no doubt it burned to ashes with the rest of the dock.”

  Caina frowned. “How did you know we burned down the dock?”

  Claudia paused. “You did?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Claudia laughed. “That was a joke. I didn’t know! You really burned down the Brotherhood’s dock?”

  “Martin must have told you,” said Caina.

  “He didn’t,” said Claudia, grinning. “I just assumed that you burned the building down. It’s what you do.”

  “For the gods’ sake,” said Caina, rolling her eyes. “If you keep that up I’m going to have to slap you.”

  “A nursing mother?” said Claudia. “So much for the legend of the Balarigar.”

  “And the sooner we are rid of it, the better,” said Caina, turning for the door.

  “Caina,” said Claudia.

  She stopped, glanced back at Claudia and her son.

  “It’s not over, is it,” said Claudia.

  “No,” said Caina. “We saved Istarinmul today, Claudia. Hundreds of thousands of people, all of them alive because of what we did. But I think Cassander might have taken Istarinmul with him in death. Or, at least, the old order of things in Istarinmul. Istarinmul’s about to explode, and I don’t know what will happen next.”

  Claudia nodded. “We shall be ready.”

  Caina considered her. In Caina’s time with the Ghosts, she had done some hard things. Yet in that moment, looking at Corvalis cradled in Claudia’s arms, she had no doubt that Claudia could match each and every one of those harsh acts upon anyone who threatened her son.

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Caina, and she stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.

  She found Lord Martin standing next to Kylon. The Lord Ambassador turned as Caina approached, smiling with relief.

  “Well done,” said Martin, “Well done, indeed.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina. “I must offer you twofold congratulations, my lord. First upon the birth of Corvalis Dorius.”

  Kylon lifted his eyebrows, and then smiled.

  “Thank you,” said Martin. “Mistress Annarah assures me the birth went well, though there was a great deal of screaming.”

  “Oh, that’s quite normal,” said Annarah, Kirzi nodding her agreement.

  “We slew the Adamant Guards left at the Umbarian mansion, but it was deserted, so we set it aflame,” said Martin. “At that point, we knew our fate was in your hands, so I ret
urned to the ruined shop. As we did, we saw the explosion in the Cyrican harbor, and then retreated to our embassy. Lord Cassander is indeed dead?”

  “Kylon cut his head off,” said Caina. “Then the Throne blew up next to his corpse. Sicarion couldn’t have recovered from that, and neither would Cassander.”

  “Good,” said Martin with some heat. “The orphans and widows he left in his wake throughout the provinces of the eastern Empire will rejoice at the news.” He hesitated. “You said you had more congratulations?”

  “On the success of your embassy,” said Caina.

  Martin snorted. “How were we possibly successful?”

  “Because,” said Caina, “there is absolutely no chance that Istarinmul will ally with the Umbarian Order now.”

  Martin blinked, and then he burst out laughing, along with Nasser and Laertes. Morgant leaned against the wall nearby, scribbling in his notebook. He glanced at them, snorted once, and returned his attention to the notebook.

  “No,” said Martin. “No, I suppose it will not.”

  “Cassander might have done us a favor with his spite,” said Caina. “I think he hated Erghulan Amirasku and Callatas so much that he wanted to twist the knife once more. Hence that little speech he made to the city about letting the Grand Wazir and the Grand Master join the Umbarians.”

  “Behold, it seems the ancient proverb is correct,” said Nasser. “The scoundrel may do good that he does not plan.”

  “Istarinmul will not ally with the Umbarians,” said Martin in a quiet voice. “But Istarinmul is about to rip itself apart, isn’t it?”

  “I fear so,” said Caina. “After last night…Erghulan’s reputation will be destroyed. When Tanzir Shahan arrives, he’ll have thousands of people eager to help him within the walls. Callatas will know that. There’s no telling what he might do.”