The neighborhood changed from the sturdy houses of prosperous merchants to the tall, blocky squares of the apartment towers that housed Malarae's poor. The air stank of smoke and soot, rising from the foundries and charcoal burners dotted among the apartments.
And Rekan walked into Graywater Square. A half-dozen apartment towers encircled the broad plaza, their lower levels occupied with shops and taverns. Merchant stalls and peddlers' booths, closed for the night, stood in rows. A massive fountain of carved stone adorned the plaza's center, decorated with statues, water falling from their arms to splash in shallow pool. In the distance, Caina saw the tall stone arches of the Naerian Aqueduct.
Rekan stopped, and Caina hesitated. Maybe she had been wrong about him. Perhaps he had only been playing along with Maglarion. Had Halfdan had ordered him to uncover Maglarion’s secrets?
Then Rekan smirked, drew the plagueblood vial from his robe, and walked towards the fountain.
Caina made up her mind.
She broke into a run. Rekan froze, turning as he heard her footsteps, but he was too late. Caina sprang upon his back, arm wrapping about his throat, dagger angled to slide between his ribs and into his heart.
She stabbed, all her strength and momentum behind the blow.
But the blade rebounded as if it had struck a stone wall.
Caina blinked in astonishment, felt the tingle against her arm.
Sorcery. Evidently Rekan had had the foresight to ward himself against steel weapons.
He bellowed, and Caina felt another surge of power as his will lashed out. Invisible force struck her, ripped her from his back, sent her flying. He didn't hit nearly as hard as Maglarion, but hard enough. Caina struck the ground, rolling to absorb the momentum, and scrambled back to her feet, dagger ready.
Rekan stared at her, eyes wary. Her skin crawled as he gathered arcane power for another spell.
“So,” said Rekan. “Halfdan finally figured out that I played him false, did he? Is that you, Riogan?”
Caina said nothing.
“Turn around and run,” said Rekan, “and I might let you live.”
Still Caina said nothing.
“You can’t stop Maglarion,” said Rekan. “You can’t even kill him. I heard how the Ghosts tried to assassinate him. A crossbow bolt through the chest and a fall from the balcony, and he survived.” He smirked. “Run along, or I’ll hand you over to Maglarion…and you wouldn’t like that at all.”
“You betrayed the Ghosts,” said Caina, speaking in her rasping, disguised voice. She stepped to the side. Steel couldn’t touch him, but flesh could; she had gotten an arm around his neck, after all. If she could get close enough, find something else to use as a weapon… “Why?”
Rekan laughed. “You actually ask why?” Caina took another step to the side. “The Ghosts paid me in mere gold. Maglarion will pay me with immortality. Can you match that price, Ghost?” He flexed his fingers, and Caina felt the tingle sharpen against her skin. “One last chance, Ghost. Leave, and I’ll let you live.”
“No,” said Caina, taking one more step to the side. Empty clay pots and jars stood on the counter of a nearby booth.
Rekan blinked in surprise. “No? You dare to challenge my power…”
“If you were going to kill me,” said Caina, “you would have done it already. You wouldn’t have wasted time with that idiotic speech about immortality.”
Rekan’s eyes narrowed. “Let us see about that.”
He thrust out his hand.
But Caina was already in motion. She seized one of the jars and flung it. The jar struck Rekan in the face and shattered, and he stumbled back with a scream, blood flying from his mouth. Invisible force lashed at Caina, but his aim was off, and she spun past the spell.
She grabbed another pair of jars and ran at him. Rekan staggered, leaning against the fountain as he recovered his balance, and she flung another jar at him. He tried to dodge, but Caina anticipated it, and the jar bounced off his chin. Rekan stumbled and Caina crashed into him, smashing the final jar across his face. The magus slumped back against the edge of the fountain, stunned, and Caina grabbed his collar, intending to shove his head under the water until he stopped breathing.
Even a master magus would have trouble casting spells then.
Rekan screamed and flung out a hand. Invisible force erupted in all directions, making the fountain's water erupt. The blast knocked Caina backwards, sent her sprawling to the ground, her mask knocked askew, her cowl falling back. She scrambled to her feet, but Rekan lifted his hand and pointed.
His will hammered into her mind like a thunderbolt.
Caina fell to one knee before him, grimacing. She felt his mind rummaging through her thoughts like a groping hand, and without her cowl, she was not protected from his mental attacks.
“Lie down,” growled Rekan, blood dripping from his lips. “I order you to lie down.”
Caina fought back, as she’d fought against her mother, as she’d fought against Rekan himself in the Vineyard. She rallied her rage, pushing Rekan’s will further and further back. Rekan’s eyes bulged with strain, sweat dripping down his face to mingle with the blood.
Caina shuddered, and her mask slipped all the way off.
Rekan’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“Marianna!”
His will wavered.
Caina leapt forward, all her anger pushing aside Rekan's mental attack, and seized one of the pottery shards from the ground. She crashed into Rekan, burying the broken shard in his throat. Rekan fell besides the fountain, choking on his own blood, and Caina stared into his terrified eyes.
“My name,” she hissed, “is Caina.”
She pushed the pottery shard into his throat until he stopped thrashing.
Then Caina climbed off Rekan and looked around, tugging her mask and cowl back into place. No one had noticed their fight. Or if anyone had, they knew better than to interfere in a fight between a magus and a shadow-cloaked figure.
She dug through Rekan’s sash. If the vial of plagueblood had shattered during their fight…
Her fingers closed about something icy cold.
It hadn’t.
Caina lifted the vial, staring at it. She felt its necromantic power, the concentrated death gathered within the glass. It should have repulsed her.
And yet…and yet it did not.
She felt drawn to the plagueblood. As if it were a missing part of her that she had only now rediscovered. For a moment she felt an overwhelming urge to remove the cork and drink.
Remembering what had happened to Alastair and the fat noble made the urge easy to resist.
She tucked the vial into her belt. Leaving Rekan's corpse in the open would warn Maglarion that something had gone amiss, so she looked around for a wagon to steal.
###
Later that night she sat in one of the rooms below the Grand Imperial Opera. Halfdan, Riogan, Theodosia, and Julia stood nearby, while Rekan's corpse lay sprawled upon a table. The great theater had been rebuilt and renovated a dozen times over its history, creating a maze of forgotten rooms and corridors below the workshops.
Theodosia knew them all, of course. Including the best place to hide the body of a slain magus
“That was,” said Halfdan, when Caina had finished telling her story, “a very foolish risk you took.”
Caina nodded. “I know.” She leaned against the wall. Rekan’s spells had given her more bruises than she had thought, and the cool stone felt good against her back. “But I did it anyway.”
“And well you did,” said Julia, while Riogan scoffed. “He would have murdered all those people, otherwise.” She shivered. “All those children.”
"You could very easily have been killed," said Halfdan.
"I know," said Caina, again. "But I wasn't. And if I could have stopped him at the cost of my life...for three thousand people, that would have been a fair bargain, I think."
"The Ghosts defend the Empire's commoners," said Halfdan, f
ace grave. Then he smiled. "You did well, Caina. A risk...but it paid off."
Riogan grunted, but said nothing.
"I lived in Graywater Square when I was a child," said Theodosia, voice quiet. "I drank from that fountain every day." She shivered. "That Maglarion wanted to poison that water and kill so many people...gods, but I should not be surprised at the depth of his evil, not any longer."
"But why?" said Julia. "What could he possibly gain from it?"
Riogan shrugged. "He's a magus, a necromancer. Why not?"
"No," murmured Caina, staring at Rekan's corpse. "That's not it."
"What, then?" said Riogan. "Have you figured it out?"
Caina took a deep breath, thoughts tumbling through her mind.
"Power," she said. "It's about power. Power is the only thing Maglarion cares about. I remember...I remember him talking about bloodcrystals."
"What exactly is a bloodcrystal?" said Julia.
"A product of necromantic science," said Halfdan. "A necromancer can use blood to create a kind of crystal, when then can store stolen life energy. Sort of like a...reservoir of power the necromancer can tap at will."
"Or a drain," murmured Caina. "A sponge."
All those people drinking from the fountain. So much death, all at once...
"A drain?" said Halfdan. "What do you mean?"
"Maglarion made bloodcrystals that absorbed the power from any death within a certain radius," said Caina. "I watched him demonstrate." She remembered her father, sagging in the slavers' grip as Maglarion buried the dagger in his chest. "He killed my...he killed a man ten paces from a bloodcrystal, but the power released from his death drained into the crystal. Made it larger, made it start to glow. It astonished his students. They had never seen anything like it." Thoughts clicked together in her head. "He must have learned how to do it from my father's Maatish scroll, from the necromancers of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun. And he must have spent the last seven years learning how to make plagueblood. And...and..."
And just like that, the answer came to her.
It was so simple.
So simple, and so horrifying.
"I know what Maglarion wants," she said.
They stared at her.
"Power," said Caina. "He's going to use the plagueblood to poison Malarae's aqueducts, to kill thousands of people at once. He'll use his bloodcrystals to trap the sorcerous power released by their deaths, to make himself stronger. That's why he allied himself with Haeron Icaraeus. He doesn't care about Lord Haeron, he doesn't care about the Empire, and he doesn't care about anything except arcane power. But allying with Lord Haeron gave him access to all the slaves he needed for his experiments."
Halfdan swore. "And it put him in the largest city in the Empire. Where he could poison thousands of people at once, absorb the most power. You said that Maglarion claimed he could make the plagueblood contagious?" Caina nodded. "The vial he gave to Rekan was probably contagious. Gods, if that had gotten into the fountain, if the victims had spread the plague...he could have killed tens of thousands."
"That storm," said Riogan. "That's why he ordered the magi to conjure that storm tomorrow night. He's going to use it as a distraction while he poisons the aqueducts."
"The Naerian Aqueduct," said Halfdan. "You said he mentioned that to Rekan. The Naerian Aqueduct feeds the most populous districts of Malarae. If he pours the plagueblood into the aqueduct...he could kill half of the population."
"No," said Caina, shaking her head. It made perfect sense, but...she was sure they were missing something.
Only she couldn't see what.
“Tomorrow, then,” said Halfdan. “We’ll take Tomard’s company of Civic Militia, set a trap for Maglarion where the Naerian Aqueduct enters the city. If we ambush him, Riogan can kill him with the ghostsilver spear before he poisons the aqueduct or bring his powers to bear against us.”
Theodosia nodded. “I will let Tomard know. You’ll put in a good word for him with the Lord Commander of the Civic Militia, won’t you? He’s still in trouble over that watchtower Caina burned down.”
“It was necessary,” said Caina, still staring at Rekan’s corpse.
What was she missing?
“I shall,” said Halfdan. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow night's going to be busy.”
Caina nodded and got to her feet.
Everything they said made perfect sense. The bloodcrystals fed on the power of death, and the quickest way for Maglarion to kill a great number of people was to upend a vial of plagueblood into the Naerian Aqueduct.
Yet why did she feel as if she had overlooked something of grave importance?
She did not sleep well that night.
***
Chapter 31 - The Storm Comes
The Naerian Aqueduct surged down the foothills.
It was an astonishing feat of engineering. One of Emperor Alexius Naerius’s distant ancestors had redirected one of the mountain streams, the Legion's engineers carving a fresh channel down the foothills. A great stone conduit had been built to carry the water into Malarae, rising ever higher on stone arches as the hills descended. At its highest point, the aqueduct rose a hundred and fifty feet on its arches.
The Ghosts waited in the foothills, overlooking the conduit.
“Why here?” Caina had asked Halfdan.
“The Naerian Aqueduct feeds a lot of fountains,” said Halfdan. “If Maglarion dumps the plagueblood into the water here, it will reach every last one of them.”
Caina hoped Halfdan was right. If he was not, a lot of people were going to die.
Fifty militiamen from Tomard’s company waited on the rocky hillside, concealed behind boulders. They would deal with any slavers Maglarion brought as bodyguards.
And hopefully they would distract Maglarion long enough for Riogan to use the ghostsilver spear. He waited besides Caina, motionless as death itself, the spear ready in his hand. Caina stood besides him, wrapped in her shadow-cloak, flexing the muscles in her arms and legs to keep them from stiffening.
A boot scraped against stone. Caina turned, reaching for a throwing knife, and saw Tomard crouching behind Halfdan.
“The lookouts say someone’s coming,” said Tomard. “About thirty men. Istarish slavers, by the look of them. And a tall fellow in a hooded cloak.”
Caina’s gloved hands curled into fists.
Maglarion.
Riogan shifted his grip on the ghostsilver spear.
“Surround the slavers,” said Halfdan, voice low. “Give them once chance to surrender, and if they don’t, kill them all. And the man in the cloak…our nightfighters will deal with him.” He gestured at Caina and Riogan. “Don't fight him unless absolutely necessary. He’s a necromancer, and extremely dangerous.”
“First demon-infested corpses, and now necromancers,” muttered Tomard. “I should have listened to Mother and become a carpenter.”
He hurried off to join his men.
A short time later the slavers arrived. Thirty of them, as Tomard had said, armored in steel-studded leather, swords and daggers in their belts. A tall, cloaked figure led them, one hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed dagger. Caina frowned. That didn’t look at all like Maglarion. In fact, it looked like...
The figure pulled back the hood, revealing long white hair and pale, lifeless eyes.
Ikhana.
Tomard’s men surged to their feet, weapons in hand. The slavers yelled in alarm and drew their swords. Ikhana looked back and forth, her empty expression never changing.
“We’ve got you surrounded!” Tomard’s voice rang out. “Throw down your weapons and surrender! You’ll only get one chance!”
Ikhana shivered, her eyes going wide, a strange look coming over her face.
Lust.
“Kill them!” she screamed, ripping the black dagger from its sheath at her belt. “Kill them, kill them all in the name of the Master!”
The slavers yelled and charged the militiamen, brandishing their weapons. Tomard bellowed
a command, and the militiamen stood their ground, lifting their shields to form a solid wall of oak. The slavers crashed into them, swords clanging against armor and shields, and militiamen and slavers alike fell to the rocky ground. But the shield wall held, and more slavers died than militiamen.
And then Ikhana joined the battle.
She leapt forward with terrifying speed, moving with a grace and power that made Riogan look clumsy by comparison. The black dagger blurred in her hand, its edges burning with green fire. She struck left and right with the weapon, the glowing edges only scratching two of the militiamen.
Yet both men fell, screaming, and shriveled before Caina's eyes. One moment they were vigorous men in their thirties. A heartbeat later they were fifty, and then twice that. And then only bones and dust remained in their armor.
Ikhana's dagger did, indeed, steal life.
Ikhana screamed in ecstasy, her eyes alight with wild glee, the dagger blazing with ghostly fire. She wheeled and killed another militiaman with a slash, laughing, and sprang at Halfdan. Halfdan backed away, sword held in guard, and Caina raced towards them, dagger ready.
But he would be too slow, Caina saw. Halfdan was a competent fighter, but Ikhana moved like lightning.
And she could kill with a single scratch from that dagger.
Ikhana danced past Halfdan's guard, dagger raised for the kill...
Then Riogan was there, the ghostsilver spear stabbing and thrusting. Burning dagger met ghostsilver blade a dozen times in half as many heartbeats. Riogan whirled the spear, the butt swinging for Ikhana's head, but she glided backwards, and stabbed for Riogan's belly. He dodged backwards, completing the spear's spin in time for the blade to deflect the black dagger.
Ikhana glided back, her face alight with glee, laughing all the while.
It gave Caina all the opening she needed to throw a knife.
Ikhana staggered as the blade buried itself in her shoulder. Caina flung another, and another, knives striking Ikhana's chest and throat. Ikhana staggered, pale eyes blazing with fury, and went to one knee.
Then a slaver stumbled past her, sword raised to block a militiaman's blows, and Ikhana buried her dagger in his hip.
The man screamed, but not for long, as green fire flashed through his veins and crumbled his flesh and bone to dust. The knives fell from Ikhana's flesh as the ghostly flame flashed through her, healing her wounds. Riogan raced at her, spear gripped in both hands for a deadly thrust, but Ikhana leapt to her feet and stabbed for his face. Riogan twisted aside, the blade missing his jaw by inches.
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