Tanzir opened his mouth, closed it again.
“You are,” he said, “a lot like my mother.”
“Here we are,” said Theodosia, pushing one of the bricks in the wall. There was a low grinding noise, and a portion of the wall slid aside to reveal a stone stairwell spiraling into darkness. “This leads to the old catacombs beneath the original city. The way is marked, and the exit opens near the Imperial Market. You can get the emir to safety from there. Don’t stray from the marked path. The magi buried their failed experiments in the catacombs, and some of them might still be down there.” She pushed aside some of the sacks and passed Caina a lantern. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” said Caina. “For everything. Make sure to stay out of sight. It will take the Bostaji and the Immortals some time to figure out that we’ve left. If you stay out of their way, they will likely ignore you.”
“I know,” said Theodosia. She smiled. “The civic militia is on its way to put out any fires, I’m sure, and the Bostaji won’t wait for them.” She turned to Corvalis. “Do take care of her, Master Anton. I will be most put out if anything happens to her.”
Corvalis gave her a mocking little bow. “Who could defeat the Balarigar? But as always, I shall heed your wisdom and experience.”
“Infuriating man,” said Theodosia. “Go.”
Caina lit the lantern and led the way into the darkness.
###
An hour later Corvalis heaved aside a rusted iron sewer grate, and Caina pulled herself up, looking around a narrow alley. Her gown had been thoroughly ruined by the trek through the catacombs and then Malarae’s sewers, the cloth stained with blood and dirt and worse things.
But she was still alive.
“It’s clear,” said Caina.
Corvalis pulled himself into the alley with a grunt, and then turned back towards the hole into the sewers. He squatted, as did Caina, and she grabbed Tanzir’s right arm and Corvalis grabbed his left.
“Jump on the count of three,” said Caina. “One, two, three!”
Tanzir jumped, and Caina pulled on his arm, as did Corvalis. They got the emir a few feet off the tunnel floor, and Tanzir grabbed the edge of the alley. With Caina’s and Corvalis’s help, the emir pulled himself up and flopped onto the ground, breathing hard.
“That,” wheezed Tanzir, “that was horrible. If I live through this, I am going to stay in bed for a week.”
Caina crept to the edge of the alley and peered into the street. They were not far from the Imperial Market, and the streets were deserted. Not surprising, since it was almost midnight by now. She saw no patrols of the civic militia, no doubt because most of them had gone to deal with the “fire” at the Grand Imperial Opera. Theodosia had a lot of clout with them, which was not surprising, since her eldest son Tomard had just been promoted to a tribune of the militia.
“It’s clear,” said Caina.
“Good,” said Corvalis. “So. What now?”
Caina looked at Tanzir, who sat sweating and trembling against the wall.
That was an excellent question.
“We have to keep him alive,” said Caina.
“Yes,” said Corvalis, “but that is your field of expertise, not mine. I’m good at killing people.” He grimaced. “Not so good at saving them.”
“You saved Claudia,” said Caina.
“With your help.”
“Any ideas?” said Caina.
Corvalis shrugged. “The best way to defend against a foe is to have no foes at all. If we sit back and keep reacting to the Bostaji, sooner or later we will make a mistake and they’ll kill the emir. Better to strike first and eliminate the Bostaji.”
“So we find the Bostaji,” said Caina, “and eliminate them. But that will take time, and they could use the time to kill Tanzir. Which means…”
She nodded and walked over to Tanzir.
“Get up, my lord emir,” said Caina. “You’re going to need to disappear for a few days.”
Chapter 12 - Safe House
Corvalis unlocked the House of Kularus’s narrow back door. The kitchens were dark and quiet. The servants had not yet arrived to begin baking the next day’s cakes and preparing the coffee. Caina beckoned Tanzir into the kitchens and closed the door behind him.
“This…this is Master Anton’s coffee house?” said Tanzir, blinking.
“It is,” said Caina.
“I’ll get Shaizid,” said Corvalis. “He’s usually up at this hour going over the books anyway.”
Caina nodded. “We’ll wait here.”
Corvalis strode into the main floor of the coffee house, leaving Caina alone with Tanzir. She leaned against one of the counters and closed her eyes. It had been close, very close, at the Grand Imperial Opera. If she had not remembered the trap door, if she had not cut the correct rope, they would all have died…
“Thank you.”
Caina opened her eyes. Tanzir stood nearby, his hands brushing the front of his robes.
“For saving my life, I mean,” said Tanzir. “I’m not…I’m not any good at this sort of thing. At the running and the fighting, I mean. Istarish nobles are supposed to be warriors and hunters…but I cried the first time I saw a horse, and I wouldn’t even try to get in the saddle until Rezir and Morazir beat me black and blue. I almost gutted myself the first time I held a scimitar. Eventually they left me alone, and I would hide in my father’s library.”
“Your father,” said Caina. “What was he like?”
“Just like Rezir,” said Tanzir. “He hated me. If he knew I was now the emir of the Vale of Fallen Stars, he would be furious.” He shook his head. “He was right to hate me.”
“Why?” said Caina.
“Because I am useless,” said Tanzir. “An emir of Istarinmul is supposed to be a bold hunter and a fearless warrior and a merciless ruler…and I am none of those things.”
“Perhaps you ought to take pride in that,” said Caina. “I have seen the Istarish slavers’ brotherhood kidnap men and women and children from their homes and drag them away in chains. The Istarish nobles could benefit from practicing a little mercy.”
“My father always said otherwise,” said Tanzir. “He kept trying to make me harder, to make me into a warrior.” His voice dropped. “When I was fifteen he sent a slave woman to my bed, in hopes that she would inspire me to manly lust. She did…but not in the way he hoped.” He looked away. “I told her I loved her…and my father had her strangled for it.”
“I’m sorry,” said Caina. It reminded her of the story Corvalis had told her, how his father had sent a woman to seduce and kill him. “I would not wish that on anyone.”
“Thank you,” said Tanzir. He sighed. “After that…after that, I confess I stopped caring. My father tried to turn me into a proper nobleman for a few more years, and then decided to ignore me. He died and Rezir became the new emir, and he also ignored me. I spent most of my time in the library at our palace…and eating, I fear.” He brushed his robe again. “And then Rezir got himself killed in Marsis…and now I am the new emir. And my mother is trying to kill me to spite her enemies.”
“We will keep you alive,” said Caina, “if we can.”
“Because you need me to have peace with Istarinmul,” said Tanzir.
“Obviously,” said Caina. “But…you are not a cruel man, Tanzir Shahan, from what I have seen of you. Not like your brother. I would not leave you to die at the hands of the Bostaji.”
“Thank you,” said Tanzir. “Though if I had known I would one day flee assassins in the streets of Malarae, I might have paid more attention to my father’s weapons masters.” Again he sighed. “Then perhaps I would not feel like dying after running a few yards.”
“The threat of death,” said Caina, “has a marvelous way of focusing the mind.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Mistress Sonya,” said Tanzir. “Might I…might I ask you something?”
“What is it?” said Caina.
“D
id you kill Rezir?”
Caina frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“Because Theodosia and Master Anton mentioned the Balarigar,” said Tanzir, “and I think they were talking about you.”
For all his timidity, Caina reminded herself, Tanzir was not stupid.
“I did,” said Caina.
“How did he die?” said Tanzir.
Caina remembered that awful night in the streets of Marsis, remembered fleeing from the Immortals and Rezir himself. She remembered Rezir lying stunned on the floor of that burned-out warehouse, his sword hand burned away, his eyes full of horror and agony as she approached. The chaos as she flung his head into the mob of his soldiers.
“Not well,” said Caina at last.
Tanzir looked away for a long moment.
“Good,” he whispered, his voice full of loathing. “He strangled her, you know. My father told him to do it.”
“I have done many things I regret,” said Caina, “but that wasn’t one of them.”
Again they fell silent. Caina wondered what was taking Corvalis so long. She wondered why Tanzir was pouring his heart out to her. Perhaps she was the first one to ever listen to him.
“The Balarigar,” said Tanzir, frowning. “If you are the Balarigar…”
“The Balarigar is a legend and nothing more,” said Caina. “It’s a Szaldic word. Means ‘demonslayer’, or ‘destroyer of darkness’, something like that. I happened to free some Szaldic slaves and kill a few sorcerers, and they decided the Balarigar walked among them once more. That’s all.”
“But if you’re the Balarigar,” said Tanzir, “does that mean the Moroaica is real?”
Caina felt a chill.
“How do you know that name?” she said.
“There was a book of Szaldic myths in my father’s library,” said Tanzir, “allegedly written by one of the solmonari, the old sorcerer-priests of the Szaldic nation. Many of the tales described the Moroaica.”
“What did they say?” said Caina, curious. She knew more about the Moroaica than any other living mortal, save perhaps Talekhris of the Sages. Not surprising, given that the Moroaica’s spirit had lurked within Caina’s body for almost a year and a half. But Caina hardly knew all of Jadriga’s secrets.
Tanzir shrugged. “The stories were…inconsistent. In some she was an old woman in the woods, a witch who lured the unwary with promises of power. In others she was a young woman of stunning beauty who promised to make the world anew, but her every effort always led to destruction. I assumed that was an allegory for hubris.”
“An allegory,” said Caina, recalling Jadriga’s promises to remake the world and make the gods pay for the suffering of mankind.
“But is she real?” said Tanzir. “I mean…not merely a story?” He frowned. “You look more disturbed by what I just said than anything else that has happened tonight.”
“She is real,” said Caina, “very real, and dangerous. Pray that you never meet her. She…”
The kitchen door opened, and Caina reached for her dagger. But it was only Corvalis, Shaizid following after him.
And after Shaizid came Halfdan.
“Master Basil,” said Tanzir, surprised. “You, too, are a Ghost?”
“Correct, Lord Ambassador,” said Halfdan. “I am pleased you are unharmed.”
“If I am,” said Tanzir, “it is because of the efforts of Master Anton and Mistress Sonya. Is Lord Titus unharmed? He was…well, he was kinder to me than I expected.”
“He is well,” said Halfdan, “though alarmed at the attack. Once I heard word of what had happened at the Grand Imperial Opera, I came immediately. After it became clear that you were no longer there, I suspected Anton and Sonya might have taken you here.”
“They did,” said Tanzir. “Ah…are you going to kill me now?”
Halfdan looked surprised. “Why would we do that? We’ve gone to extreme lengths to keep you alive.”
“Well…I know that you’re a Ghost,” said Tanzir. “And that Anton and Sonya are Ghosts, and I suspect your seneschal is as well. You might want to kill me to keep your secret.”
“We might,” said Halfdan, “but we won’t. You will simply owe us a favor or two. We won’t task you to betray the Padishah, or your family, but…well, a favor is often more valuable than a chest full of gold coins.”
“What will you do with me now?” said Tanzir.
“I think it is best,” said Halfdan, “if you disappear for a few days. It will throw the Bostaji off your trail.”
Tanzir frowned. “Won’t that…won’t that defeat the purpose? If people think I am dead?”
“Oh, they won’t think you’re dead,” said Halfdan. “We’ll spread the story that there was an accidental fire at the opera, and you were injured in the resultant panic. You’re simply resting to recover your strength before resuming negotiations with Lord Titus. That will keep the Immortals away from you while we seek the Bostaji.”
“Where shall I hide where the Bostaji cannot find me?” said Tanzir.
Caina looked at Corvalis.
“Oh,” said Corvalis, “I think we can accommodate you.”
“Shaizid?” said Caina.
“This way, please, my lord emir,” said Shaizid, beckoning. He led them down the stairs to the House of Kularus’s cellar, and then through the secret door to the armory. Muravin stood outside the door to the barracks, cleaning and sharpening the swords and daggers one by one. He did not seem to sleep very much. Caina suspected she knew why.
She knew all about nightmares.
“Master Basil,” said Muravin. “An eventful night, I trust?” He looked at Caina’s disheveled, stained gown and grunted. “A very eventful night.”
“Aye,” said Halfdan. “The Bostaji came in force for the emir. So the emir shall stay here for a few days, if it will not trouble your daughter.”
“It will not,” said Muravin, “though Mistress Tanya says her time is very near.”
“I will not trouble your daughter, I swear,” said Tanzir.
Muravin looked him up and down. “I suspect not.”
“I remember you!” said Tanzir. “You were…you were Master Anton’s mute bodyguard. But…you had a scar…”
“Makeup,” grunted Muravin. “Mistress Sonya insisted. I have learned to trust her judgment.”
“Muravin has the Kindred after him for some reason we haven’t been able to discern,” said Caina, “and he came to the Ghosts for aid.”
“Aye,” said Corvalis, “and we didn’t want that Master Alchemist of yours to recognize him, so…”
“Sinan?” said Tanzir. “He’s my mother’s creature. And he’s not a Master Alchemist. He hasn’t created an Elixir yet.”
“Anyway,” said Halfdan, “if we…”
“Wait,” said Caina. “Wait.” Something scratched at her mind. “Tanzir. Wait. What was that about an Elixir?”
Tanzir shrugged. “Well…it’s how an Alchemist becomes a Master Alchemist. It’s not widely known.”
“It’s not,” said Halfdan. “I would be grateful if you would share the details.”
“Oh,” said Tanzir, “well, the Alchemists study a branch of sorcery that deals with transmutation. Altering the base properties of substances.”
“Like lead into gold,” said Caina.
“True,” said Tanzir, “but from what I understand, the cost of the materials for the spell makes transmuting lead into gold financially prohibitive. So the Alchemists make elixirs to enhance strength and speed, like the ones they give the Immortals. Or they make cloth that is as strong as steel. Or they transmute flesh into crystal or stone, if you can believe such a thing.”
“I think I can,” said Corvalis.
Tanzir shuddered. “The College of Alchemists is filled with statues of people who offended the Alchemists. But I am rambling. To become a Master Alchemist, an Alchemist has to create and consume a vial of Elixir Rejuvenata.”
“Elixir Rejuvenata?” said Caina. “That’s how Master Alc
hemists live for centuries, isn’t it?”
Tanzir nodded. “It’s also a test. Apparently the formula for creating the Elixir is incredibly dangerous, and involves rare ingredients…ingredients obtained from powerful creatures that are not willing to give them up.”
“So if an Alchemist creates the Elixir, consumes it, and it doesn’t kill him,” said Caina, “then he’s a Master Alchemist?”
“He is,” said Tanzir. “Or if the Elixir doesn’t turn him into a monster. Even the slightest error in preparing the Elixir can cause…problems. There are not many Master Alchemists, I am afraid. Either the process of creating their first Elixir kills them, or they make an error and kill themselves later on. Or they kill each other. The Master Alchemists are as ruthless and competitive as the emirs.”
Caina looked at Muravin, a thought occurring to her. Three pregnant sisters, all attacked at the same time… “Do you know anything about the ingredients? What components go into the Elixir?”
“No,” said Tanzir. “The Master Alchemists guard the secret quite closely. Part of the test, I suspect.”
“Regardless of the vagaries of alchemy or sorcery, Lord Ambassador,” said Halfdan, “we will need to keep you here for a few days. Away from your Immortals, if you trust us that far.”
“Given that my Immortals tried to kill me a few hours ago at Sinan’s bidding,” said Tanzir, “I can live with that.”
“Good,” said Halfdan. “Shaizid, please see to the emir’s comfort.”
“Of course, Master Basil,” said Shaizid with a bow.
“The accommodations will be a little more…austere than you are accustomed to,” said Halfdan, “but you ought to be safe here.”
Tanzir shrugged. “Since an Immortal’s scimitar in my belly would be even more uncomfortable, it would be churlish to complain.”
“Excellent,” said Halfdan. “Sonya, Anton, a word, please.”
“Mistress Sonya,” said Tanzir as Caina turned to go.
She paused.
“Thank you,” said Tanzir. “For my life, I mean. And I shall think on what you said.”
“You are welcome,” said Caina, and followed Halfdan and Corvalis into the armory.
Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes Page 13