“Ah,” said Martin with a grim smile. “That sounds like Decius Aberon.”
Caina returned his smile with a chilly one of her own. “Then you see our interests are in alignment. You do not trust me, my lord, and you have no reason to do so. But we both wish Caeria Ulterior returned to peace and the secrets of Caer Magia to lie undisturbed. Will you cooperate with me?”
Martin stared at her, and Caina met his gaze without blinking. She was impressed. Not many lords would stand up to a magus of the Magisterium as he had. Of course, she was no magus, merely a woman in a black robe.
But he did not know that.
“Very well,” said Martin. “I have never found the magi to be trustworthy, and the magus assigned to advise the Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior, Oberon Ryther, is utterly useless. But the good of the Empire requires that we work together.”
“It does,” said Caina. “I have some questions for you, if you do not mind.”
“Ask,” said Martin. “I have no secrets.”
Caina doubted that. “The two camps outside of the Henge. Who are they?”
Martin scowled. “Our resident troublemakers. The camp to the west of town belongs to Anashir, an Anshani occultist.”
“What is an Anshani occultist doing inside the Empire?” said Caina. She remembered Yaramzod the Black from Catekharon. The man had been ruthless, brutal, and tremendously powerful. She shuddered to think of what he would do with a Dustblade.
“The occultist claims to seek Anshani relics from the Seventh Battle of Calvarium,” said Martin. “One of the Shahenshah’s armies penetrated this far north during the Third Empire, and was defeated here before Caer Magia was built. Anashir claims to have a license from the Emperor granting him permission to dig.”
“That license is forged,” said Caina. She doubted that the Emperor had been foolish enough to grant an Anshani occultist leave to search for ancient relics near Caer Magia, and even if he had, Halfdan would have told her. “Perhaps if we prove it we can force him to leave.”
“Perhaps,” said Martin, “but he may not wish to leave. I hope your skill in the arcane sciences are a match for his.”
“We may see,” said Caina. “What of the eastern camp?”
“That belongs to Lady Maena Tulvius,” said Martin, “and she, too, is searching for relics from the Seventh Battle of Calvarium. Apparently some of her ancestors perished during the battle, and she hopes to recover their relics.”
“That is easy enough,” said Caina. “Order her to stop with your authority as Lord Governor.”
Martin grimaced. “I have. She denied my authority, and appealed to the Lord Governor of Caeria Superior. We have not yet heard a reply from Caer Marist.”
“Can you force her to stop?” said Caina.
“I considered it,” said Martin, “but I have only five hundred militiamen to keep watch over the entire province. Lady Maena has three hundred mercenaries with her, all battle-hardened men.”
“Such mercenaries do not come cheaply,” said Caina. “It seems that Lady Maena is expending a great deal of coin simply to find some old relics.”
“That was my thought as well,” said Martin. “If I tried to force her from the Henge, she might well prevail in such a battle. If I lose too many men, I fear either Anashir or Lady Maena would seize control of Calvarium themselves. Or they might come to blows – there have been skirmishes between their men. Or, worse, the cultists of Anubankh might claim the town for themselves.”
“This cult,” said Caina, “when did it first emerge?”
“Perhaps nine or ten months ago,” said Martin, “shortly after I was sent to Calvarium. At first we thought it an oddity. A cult worshipping some long-forgotten Maatish god? It was hard to take seriously. But then the cult started attacking and murdering travelers, all the while proclaiming that the Kingdom of the Rising Sun will be reborn. I fear their prophet, whoever he is, will lead his followers in a revolt against the Emperor.”
“Either Anashir or Lady Maena,” said Caina. “Are they involved in the cult? Perhaps one of them is this mysterious prophet.”
“I doubt it,” said Martin. “I have met them both, and neither seems the sort to worship anything but their own power and prestige.”
“We need,” said Caina, “more information before we can decide upon a course of action.”
“Obviously,” said Martin. “I would welcome any suggestions on how to obtain it.”
Caina thought for a moment.
“Have a banquet,” said Caina.
Martin blinked. “A banquet?”
“To welcome me to Calvarium,” said Caina. “Invite Lady Maena and Anashir as well, as guests. We shall have an opportunity to speak with them, and perhaps we can learn something useful.”
“Or they’ll come to blows and kill each other,” said Martin.
Caina shrugged. “That would help resolve the problem, would it not?”
“I suppose it would. Very well,” said Martin. “I will send the invitations to Anashir and Lady Maena. We shall have a banquet in the magistrates’ hall tomorrow evening to welcome Rania Scorneus to the town.”
“Thank you,” said Caina. “I will begin my investigations, and let you know if I discover anything. What is Calvarium’s best inn? I have yet to secure lodgings for myself and my men.”
“The Inn of the Seven Skulls,” said Martin. “A grim name, but this is Calvarium. The inn is quite comfortable.”
“Thank you,” said Caina, heading towards the door. “Oh, one more thing. Is there a reputable physician in the town? One of my men is ill, and I would like a physician to look at him, or preferably a priestess of Minaerys.”
“We have no temple of Minaerys,” said Martin, “but we do have an excellent physician. Mistress Komnene, just off the northern gate. She is quite capable.”
“Thank you,” said Caina with a bow. Unlike Martin, she knew that Komnene was the Ghost circlemaster of Calvarium. Her question would mask her later visit.
And she was looking forward to seeing her old teacher again.
She was less excited about seeing Claudia Aberon, but Corvalis would be glad to see his sister.
###
The Inn of the Seven Skulls, true to its name, had been built around a set of standing stones, a monolithic stone arch serving as its entry hall. Seven ancient skulls sat in the stone lintel, gazing down at the street.
“Charming,” muttered Caina, exiting her coach.
Despite the grim entrance, the common room was warm and cheery. Corvalis haggled with the innkeeper, since it was beneath the dignity of a magus to address persons of such low station herself, and obtained a suite of rooms for her on the fourth floor.
The Magisterial Guards could pitch tents for themselves in the courtyard.
Caina let herself into the rooms. Comfortable chairs furnished the sitting room, and the bedroom featured a large and comfortable bed. No bathtub, alas, as Calvarium did not have the water supply to support one. Caina would visit the public bathhouse later, scrub the dust of the journey from her face and hair…
She heard a tentative knock at the door.
A Szaldic girl of about sixteen entered the sitting room, her expression nervous. She wore a simple green dress, her black hair hanging around her shoulders. The girl saw Caina looking, grabbed her skirts, and did a deep bow.
“Are…are you Mistress Rania?” said the girl.
“I am,” said Caina. “Do you have business with me, child?”
“I…I do,” said the girl. “My name is Alexandra, mistress. I serve in the magistrates’ hall. The Lord Governor noticed that you did not have a maid with you, and sent me to attend to your needs.” She swallowed. “If you do not mind.”
“I do not,” said Caina, considering. It might be a kindly gesture from Martin. Or the girl might be a spy. Either way, Caina could make use of her.
“The handsome captain told me to come up here,” said Alexandra.
Caina raised an eyebrow, and Alexan
dra flushed.
“I hope,” said Alexandra, “that I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, nothing wrong,” said Caina. She could hardly blame the girl for finding Corvalis handsome. He was, after all. “If you can put these rooms in order, I would be grateful. I have an errand to undertake.”
“Can I help?” said Alexandra.
“I am afraid not,” said Caina, heading for the door. “I need to see a physician.”
Chapter 8 - Brother and Sister
Claudia heard the rattle of wheels against the street.
That was not unusual. Komnene’s shop was not far from Calvarium’s northern gate, and wagons often rolled past. But the wheels were too quiet to belong to a merchant’s laden wagon.
Claudia looked up from the medicines she was preparing.
“Komnene,” said Claudia.
A dark shape halted outside the shop’s window.
“Yes?” said Komnene, paging through a book. She stood, as she usually did. Claudia suspected her hip troubled her when she sat.
“A carriage,” said Claudia, peering out the window. That was very odd. No one in Calvarium traveled in a carriage, not even Lord Martin. The carriage had been painted black, and upon its door Claudia saw a sigil of a book with an eye upon the pages.
Men in black armor moved around the carriage.
“Oh, gods,” said Claudia.
“What?” said Komnene. “What is it?”
“Those are Magisterial Guards,” said Claudia. “My father has found me, he’s going to…”
The door swung open, and a magus of the Imperial Magisterium stepped into the shop.
But the magus was not Claudia’s father.
It was a young woman, shorter than Claudia, with blond hair and eyes like chips of blue ice, hair pulled back to emphasize the hard lines of her face. She moved with a confident, arrogant assurance, and Claudia felt like a mouse trapped beneath the gaze of a hawk. The First Magus had not come himself, but he had sent one of his agents to kill her.
“Claudia, Komnene,” said the magus in High Nighmarian, her voice colored with the accent of Artifel.
Komnene laughed in delight and hobbled closer, her cane clicking against the floorboards. “It is good to see you again.”
“You…know each other?” said Claudia.
The magus titled her head to the side. “You know me as well, Claudia Aberon.”
Claudia frowned, and suddenly the recognition came, just as one of the Magisterial Guards stepped through the shop door.
“Caina?” said Claudia, stunned.
Caina nodded.
“I didn’t recognize you at all,” said Claudia.
Caina smiled. “Thank you. That is rather the point.”
“You dyed your hair,” said Claudia, unable to think of anything else to say.
“I did.” Caina sighed. “It was necessary for a disguise. But it worked, did it not? You didn’t recognize me.” She gestured at Claudia’s hair. “Yours is properly blond. Mine merely looks like I spent too much time in the sun.”
“Sister,” said the Magisterial Guard, pulling off his helmet. “It does me good to see that you are well.”
Claudia found herself looking into a hard face with green eyes beneath close-cropped blond hair.
“Corvalis!” she shouted, and she pushed past Caina and threw herself into her brother’s arms. He had been her only companion for years as a child. Later, after he had returned from the Kindred, he alone had been willing to follow her as she left the Magisterium. And after her father had ordered Ranarius to turn her to stone, Corvalis had undertaken the dangerous task of freeing her from the magus’s spell, at last returning her to living flesh with Caina’s aid.
There was no one she loved more in the world.
“It is good to see you again,” said Claudia. There were tears in her eyes, and she hated showing weakness in front of Caina, but she did not care.
“And you,” said Corvalis, smiling back.
“You are masquerading as a Magisterial Guard now?” said Claudia. “I suppose that is a step up from Master Basil’s caravan guard.”
He grinned. “Actually, I only started doing this two weeks ago. For the last year, instead of masquerading as a caravan guard I have been masquerading as Malarae’s only coffee merchant.”
“Quite a step up from a merchant’s guard, then,” said Claudia with a laugh. “Or from a Kindred assassin.”
“Well,” said Corvalis. “It’s not that different. I still have to listen to fat merchants talk about their mistresses and their warehouses for hours on end.”
“And then Caina kills them, I suppose?” said Claudia.
She regretted the words the instant they left her mouth.
“Only if they deserve it,” said Caina, her expression not even flickering.
“Claudia, dear,” said Komnene, tapping her cane against the floor. “Will you not introduce me to your friend?”
Claudia smiled at the older woman. “He’s not my friend, he’s my brother. Corvalis, this is Komnene.”
Corvalis kept one arm around Claudia’s shoulders, but made a courtly bow in Komnene’s direction. “A pleasure, madam.”
Komnene laughed. “So polite, and so handsome. Well, the most dangerous men I ever met were exquisitely polite. And I am sure you are most dangerous. But Claudia has told me all about you, and the daring things you have done.” She snorted. “You are lucky to be alive, both of you.”
“I will not argue,” said Corvalis.
“And this,” said Claudia, “is Caina Amalas.”
Komnene smiled. “Oh, we’ve met before, once or twice.”
“Komnene was one of my teachers when I first joined the Ghosts,” said Caina. “She taught me a great deal about medicines and herbs and poisons, knowledge that proved useful.”
“Knowledge, I hear,” said Komnene, “that you have put to good use.”
“And she taught me other things, as well,” said Caina, “lessons about the dangers of becoming a weapon.” She smiled at the older woman. “Lessons I have only just now begun to heed.”
“Wisdom, however late one comes to it, is still wisdom,” said Komnene.
“Mistress Komnene has many of those pithy proverbs,” said Claudia. She glanced at Caina. “Did she use them when she taught you?”
“Unceasingly,” said Caina, and they laughed.
“Ah, the ingratitude of the young,” said Komnene, but she smiled.
“As glad as I am to see you,” said Caina, “I fear I have not come for a social visit.”
Komnene’s smile faded. “No. No, you have not, have you? Halfdan must have received my letters.”
“He did,” said Caina, “and he sent us to help.”
The smile returned. “Well, I could not ask for more capable help. And I am glad you are here. The situation has become very serious, and I half-expect to see a battle outside the walls of Calvarium any day now.”
“I fear it is even more serious than that,” said Caina. “Komnene, someone got into Caer Magia and got out again.”
“And,” said Corvalis, “he brought something out with him.”
“But that’s impossible,” said Claudia. “Anyone who passes the Henge dies within seven hundred and seventy-seven heartbeats. That isn’t nearly enough time to reach the city and return.”
“And the undead within the walls would tear any intruders apart,” said Komnene.
“Nevertheless,” said Caina, and she told them about the attack in Malarae, about Jurius and his Dustblade.
Claudia stiffened at the mention of Jurius’s name.
“You know him?” said Caina. “He was here in Calvarium?”
“Aye, I know him,” said Claudia. “From Artifel. He was one of Father’s…agents, I suppose, the one who did the dirty jobs he didn’t contract out to the Kindred. Eventually he became too corrupt for even Father to overlook, and Rhazion expelled him from the Magisterium.”
“And he was living in Calvarium,
” said Komnene. “All sorts of exiles turn up in Calvarium.”
Caina nodded. “Do you have any idea what he did here?”
“He sold his spells to the highest bidder,” said Komnene, “and managed to eke out a living on the edge of the town. Once Lady Maena and Anashir arrived, my informants saw him going to their camps frequently. Then he disappeared about a month ago.” She shrugged. “Lord Martin is more vigorous than the previous Lord Governors, and my first thought was that Jurius had fled Calvarium. Or bandits or the worshippers of Anubankh had killed him.” She shook her head. “Had I known he would go berserk in Malarae, I would have kept a closer eye on him. Then we might have learned how he entered Caer Magia. Or the identity of this mysterious prophet of Anubankh.”
“Did he really believe in Anubankh?” said Claudia. “Or was that simply a pose, an excuse to justify the murder of Septimus Rhazion? It seems odd that even a former brother of the Magisterium would join such an outlandish cult.”
“The magi believe all sorts of foolish things,” said Caina. Claudia started to respond, then remembered that she was no longer a sister of the Magisterium. “But Jurius…he truly believed in Anubankh, truly believed that the Kingdom of the Rising Sun would return. You could see it in his eyes. He was convinced.”
“Jurius did not seem that sort of man,” said Komnene.
“Then something happened to change his mind,” said Corvalis. “Perhaps when he entered Caer Magia and returned.”
“He needn’t have entered Caer Magia himself,” said Claudia. “Maybe someone else did, and he simply stole the Dustblade.”
“That is a good point,” said Caina. Claudia felt a flicker of pride at the compliment, which annoyed her. “It is entirely possible someone else entered the city, and Jurius stole the Dustblade. Perhaps at the behest of the prophet of Anubankh.” She stared at the shelves for a moment. “Is it possible that either Anashir or Lady Maena are cultists of Anubankh? Lord Martin didn’t think so.”
Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask Page 9