“We will need to be prepared,” said Martin.
“Yes,” said Caina. She looked at Nasser. “I have to leave as soon as possible. You know why.” Martin nodded. “The sooner we can get those objects out of the city and out of the Grand Master’s reach, the better.”
“Unfortunately, every ship in both harbors fled at Lord Cassander’s announcement,” said Nasser. “They will return when word spreads that Cassander failed to destroy the city, but that will take some time. For now, both harbors are empty.”
“Empty?” said Caina, astonished. Both the Cyrican harbor and the Alqaarin harbor handled hundreds of ships a day, sometimes thousands when the harvest came in Akasar or Istarish Cyrica and the farmers sent their crop to market.
“Let us say that the captains and masters of the vessels displayed excellent prudence,” said Nasser. “Perhaps we ought to follow the Circus to Cyrioch.”
“Cronmer and the others left?” said Caina.
“I paid them the money you promised,” said Nasser, “and a handsome bonus besides for their excellent performance. Cronmer seemed keen to leave Istarinmul behind as soon as possible, which seemed the path of wisdom. He planned to lead the Circus to Cyrica Urbana, and then to charter a vessel to Malarae.”
“The Empire would be safer for his company,” said Martin. “I shall send letters to the Emperor asking that he be welcomed in Malarae.” He scowled. “When we can find ships to carry the letters, of course.”
“Perhaps it would be best,” said Nasser, “if we followed his example and hired a ship from Cyrioch.”
“Maybe,” said Caina. “There are smaller ports along the way. We could hire a ship there.” She shook her head. “Kalgri used us to get Cassander out of the way, and now that he’s dead, there’s no reason for her not to tell Callatas what we found.”
“Let her try,” said Kylon, his voice hard.
“I’d rather she not get the opportunity,” said Caina. “We…”
She blinked. The room had started to wobble a little around her, and Caina realized that she was exhausted.
“We should make arrangements to depart as soon as possible,” said Nasser, “but we must rest first.”
Caina sighed. “You’re right.”
“You are all welcome to stay here,” said Martin. “And if the Grand Wazir wishes to attack…well, I suspect not even Callatas wants to gain the enmity of both the Empire and the Order in a single day.”
###
Caina dreamed as she slept, and in her dream she heard the knocking again.
She turned, the skirt of her black-trimmed green dress swirling around her. She stood again upon the main floor of the House of Kularus, the balcony lined with the shelves of books from her father’s study. As before the coffee house was deserted, but through the windows she saw the bleak, dead plains of the Desert of Candles, the crystalline pillars shining with their eerie azure glow.
The knock came once more.
Caina sighed, crossed the floor, and threw open the double doors.
Samnirdamnus, the Knight of Wind and Air, stood outside the doors, this time wearing the form of the Emperor Alexius Naerius, the smokeless fire of the djinni glinting in the Emperor’s white beard.
For a moment they stared at each other, the cold wind of the Desert stirring Caina’s skirts and blowing the dust into the coffee house.
“My darling demonslayer,” said Samnirdamnus in his sardonic drawl. “I am very pleased to see you alive and unburnt. May I enter? Though I do not require material sustenance, I do enjoy drinking your coffee.”
“Beware the fire?” said Caina.
“And you did,” said Samnirdamnus. “You did quite excellently. I can tell, on account of how you are still alive.”
“You could have just warned me,” said Caina.
“I did, didn’t I?” said Samnirdamnus, putting on an affronted air. “Beware the fire. And you did.”
“A little more detail would have been nice,” said Caina. “A lot of people died.”
“And far more people didn’t,” said Samnirdamnus. “You know the rules, my daring Ghost. I am limited in how I can act…and I have given you quite a lot of aid, haven’t I?”
Caina sighed. “Fine. Come in.”
Samnirdamnus offered a crooked smile and followed Caina into the House of Kularus. A pair of coffee cups had appeared on one of the tables, and Samnirdamnus drew out a chair for Caina, offering a mocking little bow as he did it. Caina gave him a look, but she sat in the offered chair, and Samnirdamnus seated himself across from her, lifting one of the cups and taking a sip.
“Given that the beverage is not real,” said Samnirdamnus, “it is quite pleasant. I can see why you enjoy it so much.”
“Apparently I can imagine a good cup of coffee,” said Caina, taking a sip of her own cup. “Damla’s. The best in Istarinmul, if you are curious.”
“Oh, I am curious about many things,” said Samnirdamnus. “About you, especially.”
“Because I might be the one you have been looking for?” said Caina.
“I grow more certain of that by the day,” said Samnirdamnus.
“To do what?” said Caina. “Why have you been looking for me?”
“It is interesting,” said Samnirdamnus. “You recall how the Sifter saw the world?”
“Like a tapestry,” said Caina. “Every mortal wove his own thread into the tapestry of the world. The Sifter called them destiny threads.”
“Sometimes they pull upon each other,” said Samnirdamnus, “and you have pulled many threads around yourself by your choices. The threads of everyone in Istarinmul, for instance, and perhaps the threads of everyone in your world.” He let out a mocking laugh. “It is causing much distress among those with skill in divinatory sorcery.”
“How?” said Caina.
“Because they cannot see you,” said Samnirdamnus. The eyes of smokeless flame flashed. “You are valikarion, so no divinatory spell can find you. Callatas, for instance, still believes that you are dead, for his divinations cannot discern whether you yet live or you have perished.”
“Then Kalgri hasn’t told him yet,” said Caina. “She will, though.”
“You hardly need me to give you warnings,” said Samnirdamnus, “when you can see the truth for yourself. You will likely need to act very quickly.”
“I know,” said Caina. “You’re a spy, aren’t you? You told me as much during our last meeting. You’re the Azure Sovereign’s…quiet left hand, I suppose. Making things happen that need to happen when the Sovereign cannot act himself.”
“That is a close enough metaphor for our purposes,” said Samnirdamnus. “After all, the Emperor did not command Lord Martin to kill Cassander Nilas. No, he merely commanded Lord Martin to ensure that Istarinmul would not ally with the Order. Yet I suspect your Emperor would not punish you for Cassander’s death.”
“So,” said Caina. “The Azure Sovereign uses you to do things quietly.” She leaned forward. “Why do you need me for that? You said were looking for someone like me, that I might become the one you had been looking for. Did you arrange all this in order for me to become a valikarion?”
“It is just as well that you became a valikarion, is it not?” said Samnirdamnus.
Caina frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Of old, the valikarion were guardians,” said Samnirdamnus. “Their task was to guard the loremasters of Iramis from assault, but that was not their sole duty. They were also to serve a shield, to defend from the misuse of sorcery. Sorcery puts great power into the hands of an individual mortal…yet mortals so swiftly abuse their power. You know this well.”
“Yes,” said Caina.
“A man’s conscience may check the abuse of his power,” said Samnirdamnus, “but fear serves just as effectively. And the sorcerers of the ancient world feared the valikarion. Consider your victory over Cassander. Would it not have been more difficult without your newfound vision?”
“It…would have been,” con
ceded Caina. It would have been far harder. She had been able to see through the spells of the Silent Hunters. She had been able to see the web of spells around the rift echoes, and move unseen through the undead Legionaries. “That doesn’t answer the question, though.”
“What question is that?”
“If you arranged for me to become a valikarion to help with your task,” said Caina.
“Alas, if I could exert that degree of influence over events in the material world,” said Samnirdamnus, “I should need no help at all.”
“Then if the whole point of this wasn’t to give me the abilities of a valikarion,” said Caina, “then what is it? Why were you looking for me?”
“I think,” said Samnirdamnus, “that you may be the one who will allow me to fulfill my purpose. I am not yet certain. But I grow more confident of that.”
Caina sat in silence for a moment.
“The shadow,” said Caina.
“The one wraithblood addicts can see around you,” said Samnirdamnus.
“It became sharper and darker after Rumarah,” said Caina.
“Of that,” said Samnirdamnus, taking another sip of his imaginary coffee, “I am entirely unsurprised.”
“What is it?” said Caina.
“A shadow cast by a fire,” said Samnirdamnus.
“I don’t understand,” said Caina.
“A fire awaits in your future,” said Samnirdamnus, “and the shadow has been cast backwards in time by that fire. That is the shadow that the wraithblood addicts see around you. And you may discover what that fire is very soon.”
It should have been hard to sleep after that, but Caina was so tired that she sank into a dreamless sleep nonetheless.
###
The next day Kylon and Caina went to the House of Agabyzus while Nasser and Laertes sought a ship. Kylon kept the valikon loose in its scabbard, his eyes and arcane senses roving over the streets as they walked. Large portions of the city had been damaged, and bands of watchmen stood here and there, keeping an eye on traffic. Yet Kylon saw no trace of the Grand Wazir’s soldiers, no sign that Erghulan Amirasku had taken any interest at all in what had happened in his city. Kylon wondered if the Grand Wazir had been killed in the circle of golden light. Maybe even Callatas himself had been slain.
Though Kylon doubted they would be that lucky.
Annarah and Morgant accompanied them, and Caina stopped long enough to see Nerina, Malcolm, and Azaces back to their shop. The shop had expanded since the last time Kylon had visited, with Malcolm adding a blacksmith’s forge in the next building. It looked as if someone had attempted to break into the shop, repeatedly, but Nerina’s locks had withstood the assault with ease.
Then they headed into the Cyrican Bazaar.
It was more subdued than Kylon remembered. A few of the braver, more enterprising, or more reckless merchants had opened their stalls, but not many. Merchants and their apprentices and slaves stood guard over their shops with clubs and staffs and knives, watching each other with suspicious eyes. Even without using the sorcery of water, Kylon sensed the tension in the air.
The House of Agabyzus, however, was open. A pair of mercenaries in chain mail and spiked helmets stood guards, crossbows in hand. Within Kylon saw customers seated at the low tables, talking to each other in quiet voices.
“I wonder if they seized the building,” said Morgant, flexing his fingers.
“No,” said Caina. She had changed to her caravan guard disguise again, leather armor and rough cloak and dusty boots. The mercenaries gave her blank looks as she approached. “You’re friends with Agabyzus, aren’t you?”
One of the mercenaries nodded. “You can go in. He said someone like you might stop by.”
Caina grinned. “He was ever the optimist.”
Inside the House of Agabyzus seemed no different than Kylon remembered, though he sensed the dull shock from the patrons drinking coffee and exchanging news. He had felt the same sort of thing from men on the aftermath of battle, in New Kyre after the day of the golden dead. Damla and Agabyzus stood near the dais, talking to each other, while Damla’s sons waited near the kitchen.
All four of them, Kylon noted, were armed.
Damla brightened as she saw Caina, and hurried over and caught the younger woman in a hug.
“By the Living Flame,” she murmured. “It is good to see you. I thought the world was about to end. I thought the day of the golden dead was about to repeat itself.”
“The world didn’t end,” said Caina, “but Istarinmul very nearly did.” She turned towards Agabyzus. “Agabyzus, my friend, thank you.”
The gaunt, gray-bearded man blinked. “For what?”
“You saw the truth,” said Caina. “Before any of us did, when the Umbarians started buying all those houses, and you warned us. If you had not seen the truth, if you had not warned us, when Cassander cast his spell we would have been taken off guard. He would have destroyed Istarinmul and the Empire would have fallen to the Order. And all of that evil has been averted because you did your duty magnificently.”
Agabyzus offered her a deep bow. “For all that you have done for my family, the mere fulfillment of my duty is an insufficient payment. I have additional news that you shall wish to hear.”
Caina nodded. “Go on.”
“I believe the Teskilati have been crippled,” said Agabyzus.
Caina blinked. “How?” Kylon wondered if Cassander had wiped them out as he had butchered the cowled masters.
“It was commonly known that the masters of the Teskilati met regularly in the Crows’ Tower,” said Agabyzus. “They were meeting there last night, and Cassander’s circle of golden fire cut the Crows’ Tower in half. The entire citadel collapsed on itself, killing hundreds of watchmen…and every single master of the Teskilati. Many of their informants have fled the city.”
“Gods,” said Caina. “What about the Grand Wazir?”
“He has shut himself up in the Golden Palace and has not come out,” said Agabyzus. “One rumor claims that he is preparing to flee the city for the sultanates of Alqaarin as soon as a ship can be found. Istarinmul is in utter disarray…and Tanzir Shahan will never have a better chance to seize the city and put an end to the Grand Master’s wicked plans.”
Caina nodded. “I have to leave the city for very good reasons as soon as possible, but I will return once my errand is done. Perhaps Lord Martin can send a message to Lord Tanzir, telling him to hasten. Or…Nasser will know how to contact him. Sulaman the poet would, certainly.”
“The poet?” said Morgant.
“I have not seen him at the House of Agabyzus since you departed for Rumarah, I fear,” said Damla.
“Well, Nasser will know how to contact Tanzir,” said Caina. “I will have a few instructions for you both before I depart.”
“Of course,” said Damla. She turned to Kylon and Morgant and Annarah. “Would you care for some coffee while you wait?”
“Of course, madam,” said Morgant. Damla smiled at him. The old assassin could be charming when he felt like it. Annarah sat in a booth with view of the door, and Morgant sat next to her, reaching into his coat. Kylon sat across from them, laying the valikon across his knees so he could draw it quickly.
“A good woman,” said Annarah, watching as Damla disappeared into the kitchens with Caina and Agabyzus.
“Mmm,” said Morgant, drawing out his notebook. He started to scribble in it with a stub of pencil. “There’s no such thing.”
Annarah raised her silver eyebrows. “She fights to defend her children.”
“Everyone does that,” said Morgant. “It’s the most common thing in the world.” He grinned at Kylon. “Except for the Balarigar, eh? Can’t have her own brats, so she goes forth to save everyone else’s, is…”
Kylon’s constant irritation with the man’s glib tongue reached a breaking point, and he badly wanted to punch him.
“For the gods’ sake,” he said instead, “what are you always drawing in that d
amned book?”
Before Morgant could react, Kylon drew upon the sorcery of air for speed, reached out, and plucked the notebook from Morgant’s hands. The book landed on the table between them, and Kylon found himself looking at…
“Kyracian,” said Morgant, a bit of a rasp in his voice.
Kylon was looking at himself.
One page held a drawing of a fat man in turban and robes that Kylon did not recognize. The other page showed a drawing of Kylon, valikon in hand, the flames of the sword throwing stark shadows across his face. It was so lifelike it was almost eerie. Stunned, Kylon started flipping through the notebook. One page showed Caina kneeling over Kylon as he lay dying in the Craven’s Tower. Another showed Annarah confronting Malik Rolukhan in the Inferno, the power of the Words of Lore blazing around her pyrikon staff. Another showed Caina in the Inferno, wreathed in her shadow-cloak, the Subjugant Bloodcrystal burning in her fist.
“Gods,” muttered Kylon.
“Yes, I know, you’re in awe of my skill,” said Morgant. “I’ve had a very long time to practice. But you really should give me that back now.”
Kylon turned one more page and froze.
He saw himself in the drawing, standing next to Caina. She looked up at him, smiling as she rarely smiled. Most of the time she wore her expressions like masks, concealing her feelings beneath them. Yet sometimes she smiled in truth, a deep smile that seemed to reach all the way down to her bones.
Morgant had captured that look. Somehow Morgant the Razor, the ancient, cynical, sneering unrepentant old murderer, had captured that rare expression on Caina’s face.
“If you’re curious,” said Morgant, “that really happened.”
Annarah looked at Morgant, her expression wondering.
“When?” said Kylon.
“Right before we left for the Inferno,” said Morgant. “I watched you and Caina for a little while outside of this very coffeehouse.”
“Why did you draw it?” said Kylon.
Morgant shrugged. “I don’t know. Why do I draw anything? Because I was bored. Because I liked the way the light and shadow hit Caina’s face. Because…it seemed significant.”
Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) Page 38