Ghost in the Maze

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “Are we ready?” said Nasser.

  “As close to it as we ever shall be,” said Anaxander.

  “Capital,” said Nasser. “Then let us haggle with an immortal spirit.”

  Chapter 11 - A Knight of Wind and Air

  Nasser led them to a room in the cellar of the Shahenshah’s Seat.

  The cellar was as dilapidated as the rest of the inn. Heavy brick columns supported the ceiling overhead, and sand covered the floor. Nasser walked past stacked barrels of beer and sacks of wheat, and came at last to an iron-bound door in the far wall of the cellar. He unlocked it, the heavy iron hinges squealing, and revealed a room beyond.

  At once Caina felt the faint tingle of waiting sorcery.

  The room was a square brick vault about fifteen feet across. Unlike the rest of the cellar, the floor had been swept clean of dust and sand. An elaborate design of arcane sigils had been carved into the center of the floor and glowed with a pale gray light, similar to the light of the netherworld, the light that came from an opened Mirror of Worlds.

  Anaxander pushed past them, strode to the sigil, and began muttering spells. Caina felt the pulse of sorcery, and resisted the urge to draw a weapon. Anaxander was on their side.

  At least, she thought so.

  Azaces and Nerina stepped into the vault, and Nasser locked the door behind them. Nerina looked around at everything with curiosity, while Azaces’s perpetual scowl deepened when he saw the sigil.

  Caina understood his reaction.

  “While Anaxander makes his preparations,” said Nasser in a low voice, “I wish to offer a few points of warning.”

  Azaces nodded, and Nerina looked up from the glowing design.

  “First,” said Nasser, “let me do the talking. I have dealt with such spirits before. I know you have as well, Master Ciaran, but have you ever had to negotiate with one?”

  “No,” said Caina. “I did talk one out of killing me, though I am not sure if that counts.”

  “Hopefully it will not come to that,” said Nasser. “Second, if the djinni asks you a question, answer it honestly. Conceal your words if at all possible, but direct lies will enrage it.”

  “Will the spirit communicate in mathematical equations?” said Nerina. “That seems more efficient.”

  “No,” said Nasser, “but assume it is just as clever as you are, Mistress Strake. Finally, you need to count your heartbeats.”

  “You mean…” said Caina.

  “I am afraid so,” said Nasser. “Samnirdamnus’s aura will manifest after Anaxander summons him. We shall have one thousand and one heartbeats to make an agreement with him before we are killed. Mistress Strake, I shall need you to count.”

  “On average, one thousand and one heartbeats comes to approximately…one quarter of an hour,” said Nerina. “Most likely less, since the stress of the situation will cause our hearts to beat faster.” To Caina’s astonishment, she smiled. “What a delightful puzzle!”

  Azaces shook his head in dismay.

  “One final matter,” said Nasser. “The djinni can skim the surface of your thoughts, and may take the forms of people you know from your past. Likely he will do this in an attempt to unnerve you or shake your control.”

  “Or to make our heartbeats speed up,” said Nerina brightly.

  “That as well,” said Nasser.

  Anaxander straightened up with a grunt, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “We are ready. After I begin the spell, do not step over the lines of the sigil for any reason. To do so would be tremendously dangerous. Additionally, I shall be in a trance for the duration of the spell, and will have no awareness of my surroundings. You shall have to protect me.”

  “How long will the spell last?” said Caina.

  “Until the next sunrise,” said Anaxander, “or until you dismiss the djinni and revoke the spell.”

  Caina nodded. That, at least, gave them a way out. If too much time passed, Nasser could dismiss the djinni and they could escape the spirit’s killing spell. Of course, if they did that, they would have no way of getting into the Maze, no way of bypassing the djinni’s power.

  “I will give the revocation authority to you, Nasser,” said Anaxander.

  “No,” said Nasser. “Give it to Ciaran.” He smiled. “I shall be busy talking.”

  Caina blinked. Did he trust her that much already? Or perhaps it was a test, to see how she would react. Or maybe he would have all his attention focused upon Samnirdamnus and could not spare enough thought to count his heartbeats.

  “May we proceed?” said Anaxander.

  “Begin,” said Nasser.

  Anaxander nodded, sat crossed-legged before the sigil, closed his eyes, and began to mutter under his breath. Caina felt the surge of arcane power in the air. The light of the sigil began to grow brighter, and a cold wind sprang up from nowhere, tugging at her ragged cloak and at Nerina’s stringy red hair.

  “Fascinating,” murmured Nerina. “The angles of the sigil correspond to the geometric values of…”

  Azaces gave her shoulder a gentle touch, and Nerina fell silent.

  Anaxander shouted and clapped his hands together. The light from the sigil turned from gray to blazing white, and Caina squinted into the glare. The light faded away, the glow of the sigil pulsing with a throb like a heartbeat, and a shadowy shape appeared within the sigil. The magus shuddered, his eyes darting back and forth behind closed lids, his mouth moving in soundless syllables.

  Caina started counting her heartbeats.

  The shadowy shape resolved and hardened, forming the image of a man cloaked in darkness. Caina saw no distinct shapes within the shadowy form, save for the figure’s eyes…

  A sudden chill rolled through her.

  Eyes that burned with smokeless flame.

  Eyes of smokeless flame that were identical to the ones she had seen in her dreams, to the ones she had seen in the Widow’s Tower.

  “Well,” said the djinni in the sigil, using the same whispery, sardonic voice Caina remembered, “what do we have here?”

  Nasser drew himself up. “Greetings, noble Samnirdamnus. We welcome…”

  “You,” whispered Caina.

  She felt the djinni’s gaze shift toward her.

  Nasser scowled, and then the scowl vanished with a hint of alarm. “You know each other?”

  “We have met, haven’t we, my little child of the shadows, my darling demonslayer,” said the djinni.

  “Yes,” said Caina.

  Maybe thirty heartbeats had passed since the djinni had appeared.

  “Well,” said Nasser, “you do have secrets, don’t you?”

  “I saw him in my dreams,” said Caina. “My sensitivity to sorcery…sometimes sorcerous presences can impact my thoughts. He spoke to me then, warned me against danger in the Widow’s Tower.” She disliked speaking so openly in front of both Nerina and Nasser. But they were in terrible danger. Samnirdamnus already knew her, and there was no telling how the djinni would react.

  Of course, he had aided her twice before, once in the Widow’s Tower and again in Vaysaal’s palace.

  “Yes,” said Samnirdamnus. “Our little demonslayer is cleverer than you ever were, Nasser.”

  Now it was Caina’s turn to frown. “You know him, too?”

  Nasser frowned. “I told you I have opposed Callatas for a long time. This is not the first time Samnirdamnus and I have spoken.”

  “So you do remember?” said Samnirdamnus. “I thought you had forgotten, my bold captain of men. A pity. If you were a little smarter, perhaps you would not be reduced to such desperate straits! Such allies you have found. The little demonslayer and the broken woman with a mind of metal and gears.”

  Sixty-seven heartbeats.

  “I do not believe we have met, sir,” said Nerina, her voice cold.

  “I am Samnirdamnus,” said the djinni, “knight and vassal of the Court of Wind and Air, in service to the Azure Sovereign. And you are Nerina Strake, your blood spiked with sorcerous
poison, your mind a torment of numbers, your heart shaped by the cruelty of your dead father and the love of your lost husband.”

  “A simple introduction would have been more efficient,” said Nerina.

  “Do you want to know me better?” said Samnirdamnus. The burning eyes turned towards Caina. “I know you do, my child of the shadows. Shall I wear a form that is familiar to you?”

  The shadows blurred and tightened…and suddenly Corvalis Aberon stood upon the sigil.

  A shivering bolt of pain shot through Caina’s heart, and for a moment she forgot the urgency of the task at hand, forgot to mask her gestures and posture and voice, forgot even to count her heartbeats. Samnirdamnus had taken Corvalis’s form in her dreams, but she had never seen him in the waking world. A torrent of memories swept through Caina, and she remembered the day they had met in Cyrioch, remembered the glint of his green eyes and the way his hard, sword-callused hands had felt, the touch of his lips against hers…

  Grief and rage shivered through her, freezing her mind for an instant.

  But this was not Corvalis, only a spirit wearing his guise.

  And ninety-two heartbeats had passed.

  “If this is a joke,” said Caina, remembering to use her disguised voice, “it is in very poor taste.”

  “A joke? I never joke,” said Samnirdamnus. “You mortals are enslaved to your flesh, bound to your corporeality. Even the illusion of a memory is enough to flood your mind with emotion and shut down your thinking. Is that not so, my dear demonslayer?”

  “Demonslayer?” said Nerina. “Why does he keeping calling you that?”

  “You do not know?” said Samnirdamnus. “Your friend is the one they call the Balarigar. No sorcery, no spells, no aid, just a cunning mind filled with trickery. Yet with smoke and mirrors the Balarigar has terrorized the cowled masters, and even annoyed Callatas.”

  Nerina looked at Caina, her eyes wide.

  One hundred and eleven heartbeats.

  “But what of you, my dear locksmith?” said Samnirdamnus. It was disturbing to hear that sardonic voice coming from Corvalis’s mouth. “The broken child, your mind a calculating engine that never ceases! How you yearn for peace, for rest. Perhaps this will help.”

  He blurred, and Corvalis disappeared. In his place appeared a tall Caerish man with a chest like a barrel, his arms and neck thick with muscle, his receding red hair and beard close-cropped. Nerina gasped and took a step back, and Azaces growled and drew his scimitar with a rasp of steel.

  “Father?” whispered Nerina.

  Nerina took a step forward, eyes wide with terror and wonder, and Azaces grabbed her arm.

  “It is an illusion,” said Caina, “a guise he is wearing to fool you.”

  Nerina shook her head. “Yes…yes, you must be right. Death is the conclusion of the equation. It…”

  “Enough of this,” said Nasser. “These games are of course amusing, noble Samnirdamnus, but we have summoned you for another reason.”

  One hundred and forty-seven heartbeats.

  “Oh?” said Samnirdamnus. “You wish to negotiate, survivor? To perhaps achieve victory with your cunning speech? Tell me, what have all your words accomplished? Nothing at all. You have lost everything – your title, your home, your wealth, your people, your family…even those you love the most.”

  Ragodan Strake blurred and disappeared, and in his place appeared a regal-looking woman in her late thirties or early forties. She looked beautiful, even queenly, and wore a rich purple gown that offered a stark contrast to her brown skin. A golden diadem adorned with glowing blue gems sat upon her black hair.

  Nasser laughed, but the fingers of his gloved left hand tightened further.

  “Do you think to rattle me with these petty games?” said Nasser. “You cannot tell me any truth that I have not already spoken to myself a thousand times. No, I wish to negotiate with you…”

  “No,” said Samnirdamnus. “I will not haggle with you.”

  Nasser frowned. “Then why did you answer the summons?”

  “But I will negotiate,” said the djinni, pointing at Caina, “with the Balarigar.”

  “Me?” said Caina. “Why?”

  One hundred and ninety-two heartbeats.

  “Because,” said Samnirdamnus, and his form blurred and shifted to that of Alexius Naerius, the Emperor of Nighmar, an old, white-bearded man in a purple-trimmed black robe. “I have been looking for you for a long time. For decades before you were even born. I do not yet know if you were the one I sought.” The burning eyes flashed brighter. “But if you are…then you will have no trouble overcoming this challenge, will you? But you will want to overcome it quickly. You do not have very much time left.”

  Two hundred and thirty-four heartbeats.

  “Proceed,” said Nasser.

  Caina took a deep breath. “Very well. We want…”

  “I know what you want,” said Samnirdamnus. “You wish to break into Callatas’s sanctum and steal his secrets to use as weapons against him. A clever strategy, and one that I applaud. But you cannot do it unless I first relax my vigilance. My pact with Callatas obliges me to report any trespass upon the Maze until I am defeated or my power kills the intruders.”

  “But we are not trespassing upon the Maze right now, are we?” said Caina as her two hundred and fifty-first heartbeat passed. “So you have not yet reported this to Callatas.”

  “I have not,” said Samnirdamnus.

  “Then if we defeat you here,” said Caina, “before you kill us…then you would not be obliged to report our presence when we enter the Maze?”

  Samnirdamnus smiled. “I believe my pact with Callatas can be interpreted that way.”

  “Fine,” said Caina. “So if we defeat you right now, we can enter the Maze and you will neither report us nor harm us?”

  “Your logic is sound,” said Samnirdamnus.

  “How shall we fight?” said Caina. “You are a spirit. It is not as if we could have a contest of throwing knives.”

  “No,” said Samnirdamnus. “Nor are you capable of a challenge of sorcery. Instead, let us fight over the one attribute both immortal spirits and fleshly mortals share – knowledge. Though I rather possess more of it than you.”

  “What sort of knowledge?” said Caina.

  Three hundred heartbeats.

  “I shall present you with a puzzle,” said Samnirdamnus, “and if you solve it, I agree to your terms. I will permit you to enter the Maze without harming you or your companions or notifying Callatas of the intrusion.”

  “And if I fail?” said Caina.

  “Why, you will all die once you reach your one thousandth and first heartbeat since you summoned me,” said Samnirdamnus. “Which, my child of the shadows, I imagine approaches quickly.”

  “I could just banish you before that happens,” said Caina.

  “This is very true,” said Samnirdamnus. “Alas, you have already announced your intention to enter the Maze and rob Callatas. Therefore if you banish me…”

  “You are obliged to report to Callatas,” said Caina.

  “That would be unfortunate,” said Nasser.

  “As ever, my lord of glass,” said Samnirdamnus, “your penchant for noticing the obvious amazes me.”

  Three hundred and thirty-seven heartbeats.

  “The puzzle, now,” said Caina.

  “As you wish, dear demonslayer,” said Samnirdamnus, smiling.

  He waved his right hand, and sorcery pulsed around Caina’s skin. The air along the wall to Caina’s left rippled, and she tensed, wondering if the powerful spirit had unleashed a spell upon them. But instead letters of fire appeared upon the bricks of the wall. No, not letters. Symbols. Mathematical symbols, the sort Anshani occultists used to precisely track the movement of the stars and planets.

  And numbers.

  It was a mathematical equation, massive and intricate beyond Caina’s ability to solve. She knew sums and multiplication and division, and could keep count well eno
ugh in her head, which was how she knew her three hundred and eighty-fifth heartbeat had just passed. But this was far beyond her ability to solve.

  Nerina stepped forward, her pale eyes bright with sudden interest.

  “There you are, child of the shadows,” said Samnirdamnus. “Your puzzle. I suggest you solve it at once.” He smiled. “You only have the rest of your life.”

  “Just as Nasser delegated his authority to banish you to me,” said Caina, “so I delegate the solving of this riddle to Nerina Strake.”

  “Very well,” said Samnirdamnus.

  Nerina darted forward, producing a notebook and a stub of a pencil from one deep pocket, and began scribbling notes as she stared at the numbers of fire.

  “I hope, Mistress Strake,” said Nasser, stepping closer to Caina, “that you are up to the challenge.”

  “Can’t talk,” barked Nerina. “Numbers. Easier. Language too much work.”

  She resumed scribbling.

  Azaces planted himself between Nerina and Samnirdamnus, scowling at the djinni.

  “And what of you, loyal dog?” said Samnirdamnus. “Shall we discuss your crimes before the world, perhaps?”

  He blurred, and took a different form, a lean, fit man in his twenties, clad in chain mail, with thick brown hair and bright gray eyes. Azaces stiffened, but Nerina, occupied with her notebook, did not notice. Caina’s four hundred and fiftieth heartbeat passed. To her annoyance, fear was making her heart faster.

  “Do you think you can ever atone for it?” said Samnirdamnus. “You have seen the harm you have wrought, silent one. No matter how loyal your service, no matter how selfless your duty, you will never redeem yourself. Never.”

  Azaces withdrew one hand from the hilt of his massive weapon to offer a rude gesture to the djinni.

  To her surprise Samnirdamnus laughed. “Brevity is its own eloquence.” His burning eyes turned toward Caina and Nasser. “But he is not so different from you two, is he not? The homeless man and the demonslayer, both seeking something lost forever. You will never find it, not if you seek for a thousand years.”

  Nasser shrugged. “I know exactly where to find it, do I not?”