Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask

by Jonathan Moeller

  “I agree with the Lord Governor,” said Komnene. “Anashir seems like a typical Anshani occultist, obsessed with his own pride and honor. And Lady Maena…she is ruthless and ambitious, I think. She might join the cult of Anubankh to serve her own ends, but never out of conviction.”

  “If she is so ruthless and ambitious,” said Caina, “then why is she digging for ancient artifacts from a long-forgotten battle?”

  “As a mask,” said Komnene, “to hide something else.”

  “That was my thought,” said Caina. “It seems likely that either Anashir or Maena Tulvius found a way into Caer Magia and retrieved a Dustblade, only to have Jurius abscond with it.”

  “Then,” said Corvalis, “our best course of action is to locate whoever knows how to enter Caer Magia, kill them, and make sure their knowledge dies with them.”

  Claudia felt a chill at the hardness in his voice. Corvalis was her brother, but he had been a Kindred assassin for years, a trained and proficient killer. He might have left the Kindred, but the skills the Kindred had taught had not left him.

  Komnene frowned. “Is it necessary to kill so quickly?”

  “It may be, yes,” said Caina. “The things inside Caer Magia should never see the light of day, and Jurius’s Dust Shadows killed dozens of people. A lot more might die if anyone else finds their way into Caer Magia. If we can stop it here, we should.”

  “Very well,” said Komnene. “You are better at this sort of thing than I am. How should we proceed?”

  “Do you know where Jurius lived?” said Caina.

  “In rooms over a tavern near the southern gate,” said Komnene.

  Caina nodded. “I’ll start by looking over his possessions. Perhaps they will tell us something. I have persuaded Lord Martin to hold a banquet in my honor tomorrow night. He’ll invite Lady Maena and Anashir, and perhaps we can learn more from them.”

  “You want to look at the rooms right away?” said Komnene.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “We’ll keep the carriage here, and I’ll sneak out back in disguise. If anyone asks, we’ll say you are treating Rania Scorneus for a woman’s ailment.”

  “Rania Scorneus?” said Claudia, surprised. “You are disguised as Rania Scorneus?”

  “You know her?” said Caina.

  “I do,” said Claudia. “House Scorneus is powerful in Artifel, and many of its sons and daughters are members of the Magisterium. Rania…Rania even looks a great deal like you. Though her hair is black, not blond.”

  “A pity I didn’t know that,” said Caina. “I could have dispensed with the dye. Corvalis. Have Muravin bring the chest into the back room. I’ll need a place to change, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” said Komnene.

  Corvalis disappeared into the street, and returned with a villainous-looking Istarish man in black armor of a Magisterial Guard. Together they wrestled a heavy wooden chest into the back room, and Caina followed them.

  A moment later a ragged caravan guard emerged from the back room, clad in studded leather armor, worn trousers, dusty boots, and a threadbare brown cloak. Blond hair hung in greasy curtains over the guard’s face, and stubble shaded his jaw. Had Claudia not known better, she would have sworn a caravan guard stood before her, not Caina Amalas.

  “I’ll be back before dark,” said Caina.

  “Should you go alone?” said Corvalis.

  “I can move quicker,” said Caina, “and Rania would keep all her guards nearby. And I think you’d like to catch up.”

  She winked at Claudia and disappeared through the back door.

  ###

  Claudia laughed. “He fell?”

  Corvalis grinned and took another drink of beer. “Right down the ramp and into the crowd. Lord Titus was there, along with half of the chief nobles and merchants of Malarae. Tanzir Shahan looked like a boulder rolling down the hill.”

  Claudia shook her head. “I cannot imagine that strengthened his negotiating position.”

  “Well,” said Corvalis, “he had come to obtain peace with the Emperor. It wasn’t as if his negotiating position was that strong.”

  They sat in the shop’s back room, a cramped chamber that served as both storeroom and kitchen. Claudia had helped Komnene prepare food and drink for Caina’s fake Magisterial Guards, and now they ate bread and cheese and beer. The Guards filled the main room, while Claudia sat with Corvalis, Komnene, and Muravin in the kitchen. At first she worried that she had offended the Istarish Ghost in some fashion, but soon realized a scowl was simply his normal expression.

  Muravin grunted. “Heavy.”

  “I’m sorry?” said Claudia.

  “Heavy. Tanzir Shahan was heavy,” said Muravin in accented Caerish. “Helped him up the stairs when we fled through the catacombs. Still. Kind to Mahdriva when we hid together below the coffeehouse. For that, I did not kill him.” He shrugged. “Plus, Sonya Tornesti wished him kept alive…and I am not fool enough to cross her!”

  “I suppose not,” said Claudia. She looked at Corvalis. “So you are the famous Anton Kularus? Even here in Calvarium, we have heard how Kularus brought coffee to the Empire.”

  “I am,” said Corvalis. “Though all the credit belongs to Caina and that slave she brought back from Catekharon. You remember Shaizid? She decides what to do, and then he does it…and between the two of them they have made a fortune.”

  “Yet she wants you to take the credit for it,” said Claudia.

  Corvalis shrugged. “Why not? We’re spies, dear sister, not coffee merchants. She prefers to remain in the shadows. She says that if everyone underestimates her, it will make her more effective in an hour of crisis.” He took another drink of beer. “And she’s right! You should have seen the look on Tanzir’s face when he realized that Anton Kularus’s mistress had just saved his life.”

  Muravin chuckled.

  “But you are happy, living like that?” said Claudia. “Pretending to be something you are not?”

  Corvalis thought for a moment. “I am. Certainly it is better than killing Father’s enemies, or running from his enforcers. I am an assassin, sister, and I am good at it. With the Ghosts, at least, I have a chance to do good work. And if I can do that by pretending to be a coffee merchant, so be it.”

  “And you are in love,” said Claudia.

  He smiled. “I am. That…rather helps.”

  “You smile more than you once did,” said Claudia.

  “If I may say so,” said Komnene, “I am glad that you are with Caina. She, too, seems happier. When she was younger, she sought to spend her life as a sacrifice to her wrath. Now, perhaps, she has found that life can have some joy to it.”

  “You knew her when she was a child?” said Claudia. “What was she like?”

  “Angry,” said Komnene. “She was angry. Halfdan and Riogan and I found her soon after her father had been murdered. I thought such a blow might break her…but we turned her into a weapon instead. An effective one.” She took a deep breath. “I regret it, sometimes, but if we had not, there would be no Empire, would there? Millions of people would be dead, if not for her.” She smiled. “I am so proud of her. And I am glad you found each other, Corvalis. I think she is less angry now.”

  “Maybe,” rumbled Muravin, “but I still would not cross the Balarigar.”

  “What of you, sister?” said Corvalis. “Are you happy here?”

  “I am,” said Claudia. “It…I did not think I would be. I thought Halfdan sent me here as a punishment for what happened in Catekharon. But I enjoy medicine, and hope I have not made too many mistakes.”

  “Not at all,” said Komnene. “You have been an excellent apprentice, and in a few years you shall be a superb physician.”

  “I wanted to save the world,” said Claudia, “to use my powers for good. But now I realize that I really wanted to rule over people for their own good. This is different. I never thought my hands and my brain could be as useful as sorcery, but they are.”

  “Good,” said Corv
alis. “I thought you wouldn’t be happy as anything other than a sister of the Magisterium or a noblewoman of the Empire, but I am glad I was wrong.” He reached for another slice of cheese. “Any suitors I need to kill?”

  Claudia blinked. “What?”

  Komnene laughed. “I fear he is jesting with you.”

  “I am, mostly,” said Corvalis. “But not entirely. I’m surprised the physician’s pretty apprentice hasn’t drawn admirers, unwanted or otherwise.”

  “There have been a few,” admitted Claudia.

  “Any you preferred?” said Corvalis.

  For some reason, she found herself thinking of Lord Martin, and pushed the thought aside. She was beneath his notice.

  “None,” she said.

  “Just as well,” said Corvalis. “I would hate to have to kill the man if he was unworthy of you.”

  Muravin laughed.

  “You are joking,” said Claudia, “aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “Mostly.”

  Claudia decided to change the subject. “Do you think this banquet is a good idea?”

  “Most likely,” said Corvalis. “I suppose it’s possible that Anashir might go berserk and summon shadows to kill us all, or Lady Maena will take her soldiers and storm the town. But it’s in everyone’s best interests to play along nicely. For Anashir and Lady Maena, so they can keep looking for whatever it is they want to find. For Lord Martin, so he can keep the peace. And for us, so we can find out what Maena and Anashir are doing.”

  “Actually,” said Komnene, “you and I can go as well, Claudia. I cured one of Lord Martin’s men of a snakebite before you arrived, and in gratitude I have a standing invitation to any events he holds in his capacity as Lord Governor.”

  Claudia frowned. “Do you think Caina wants us to come?”

  “I do. The more eyes we have, the better.”

  Claudia almost jumped out of her seat, and Corvalis reached for his sword. A man leaned against the door, a man with leather armor and ragged blond hair, his eyes cold and blue in his pale face…

  Then Claudia recognized Caina. “Oh.”

  Corvalis barked his harsh laugh and released his sword. “How did you do that?”

  “Sorry,” said Caina, seating herself next to Claudia. “Stealth is a difficult habit to unlearn.”

  “Did you find anything useful in Jurius’s rooms?” said Komnene.

  “Not particularly,” said Caina, taking a cup of beer for herself. “Rotting food, and clothing that has never been washed. He did have a shrine to Anubankh in the closet. The same sort of Maatish hieroglyphs we saw on the bandits.”

  “Then he truly believed,” said Komnene, “else he would not have a hidden shrine to a forgotten god.”

  “I agree,” said Caina. “I searched every inch of the place. No papers, no hidden compartments, no secret journals detailing his plans. Whatever else he might have been, he was smart enough not to write anything down. Tomorrow night, we’ll have the chance to learn more.”

  Chapter 9 - The Exile

  The next evening, Caina prepared for Lord Martin’s banquet.

  It did not take long. Her black magus’s robe was unflattering, and Rania Scorneus would not wear jewelry. Nor would she trouble herself with makeup. The end result made Caina look stark and forbidding, a woman of ice robed in black.

  Though Caina found she missed the gowns and jewels she wore as Sonya Tornesti. She liked wearing them…and, more, she liked wearing them when Corvalis could see her.

  What was she doing, masquerading as a magus in Calvarium? She had a life that suited her in Malarae, and…

  But she remembered Jurius laughing as Dust Shadows rose from the corpses of his victims. That was reason enough.

  Caina nodded to herself, pushed aside her doubts, and went to join Corvalis and Muravin.

  ###

  The carriage came to a stop in the central square of Calvarium, and Caina climbed out and looked at the magistrates’ hall.

  It resembled an ancient Caerish chieftain’s hall, likely because it had once actually been a Caerish chieftain’s hall. In most towns of the Empire, the local magistrates conducted business in basilicas built in the Imperial style. The magistrates’ hall of Calvarium had been constructed of towering stone slabs, its roof fashioned from wooden beams and thatch. Dozens of skulls grinned down from the archway over the doors, explaining why the Lord Governors had not torn the thing down and built a proper basilica. The hall looked wild and barbaric, and Caina half-expected to see ancient Caerish warriors standing along the walls, chests marked with blue war paint, the skulls of their enemies dangling from their belts.

  “Ugly place,” muttered Corvalis.

  Caina drew herself up, settled her face in its haughty mask, and strode towards the hall. Komnene and Claudia awaited them near the doors. The physician wore her usual blue robe, while Claudia had changed her blue dress for one of green wool that matched her eyes. She had done up her hair, and had even put on makeup.

  Caina wondered who she intended to impress.

  “Mistress Rania,” said Komnene with a bow. “I trust you are feeling better.”

  “I am, physician,” said Caina. “I thank you again for your services. I am surprised that the Lord Governor would invite you. Such gatherings are usually only for the influential.”

  Komnene shrugged, the tip of her cane rattling against the flagstones. “Alas, I fear Calvarium lacks the sophistication of Artifel or Malarae. We are simple, modest folk here, and thrill to see a visitor as illustrious as a magus of the Magisterium.”

  “Indeed,” said Caina. “Well, I have no wish to keep the Lord Governor waiting.”

  Both Komnene and Claudia offered tiny nods. They would keep watch while Caina spoke to Anashir and Lady Maena.

  She took a deep breath and entered the magistrates’ hall.

  The interior looked like the grand hall of some barbarian king. A firepit crackled in the center of the hall, smoke rising through a square hole in the ceiling. A high table stood on a dais at the far end of the room, before the Lord Governor’s ornate chair of office. Merchants stood in knots around the hall, speaking in low voices. Servants circulated with trays of food and drink.

  Lord Martin stood near the firepit, speaking with a man and a woman.

  The woman was about eighteen, and stunningly beautiful, with long red hair, bright green eyes, and flawless skin. She wore a rich, gold-trimmed green gown that accentuated the curves of hip and bosom, cut low to the point of immodesty in front. The woman looked at Caina, and for just a moment, hatred flashed across her face.

  The woman knew Caina.

  But Caina had never seen her before.

  The man was middle-aged, tall and proud with dark eyes and a hooked nose, his black beard lined with gray. He wore an elaborate robe of red and black, a jeweled turban resting upon his head. Behind him waited a giant of a man, nearly seven feet tall, naked save for a white linen kilt, sash, and leather sandals. A maze of vicious scars crisscrossed the skin of his chest and arms. A khopesh, a hooked Anshani sword, hung from his sash, and a strange bronze mask and helmet covered his face. The mask showed a serene, emotionless face, and Caina found it disquieting.

  She felt the faint tingle of active spells surrounding both the robed man and the masked man.

  “Ah,” said Lord Martin. “Our guest has arrived. Lady Maena Tulvius, Master Anashir, may I present Rania of House Scorneus, a sister of the Imperial Magisterium.”

  “Oh, indeed?” said Maena, her voice throaty. “A magus? Why, how impressive! I am certainly honored.” She fanned a hand in front of her face. “I am so honored I may simply faint.” She gave a small, tittering laugh.

  She looked at Corvalis for a moment, her lip twisting with contempt, and she did an elaborate bow.

  “A pleasure, my lady,” said Caina, keeping her tone curt.

  “And this,” said Martin, “is Master Anashir of Anshan.”

  The man in the ornate robe bowed, the jewels in his tur
ban flashing in the firelight. “A pleasure, Mistress Rania, to meet you at last. I have heard a great deal about you.” His voice was deep and resonant. Had Theodosia met him, she would have tried to recruit him as a baritone into the Grand Imperial Opera.

  “Indeed?” said Caina. “I am curious. I did not know anyone had advance warning of my arrival.”

  Anashir smiled, white teeth flashing in his dark face. “We did not. But it became plain the Magisterium would send someone to investigate the disturbances from the cultists. Despicable rabble, the lot of them. No doubt their prophet is some failed novice of your Magisterium, impressing the vermin with a few minor spells and the name of a long-dead god. I pray that the Living Flame grants swift success to your efforts, Mistress Rania.”

  Maena laughed, her eyes flashing. “That would not be a problem, if Lord Martin were a competent Lord Governor.”

  Martin offered a thin smile.

  “Thank you, Master Anashir,” said Caina, ignoring Lady Maena. “I confess, it is curious to find you both here, especially during such unsettled times. The lands around Caer Magia do not have a good reputation.”

  “Even before the arrival of those cultists,” said Maena with another titter.

  “True. But the risk is warranted, I deem,” said Anashir. “I trust you have heard of the Seventh Battle of Calvarium?”

  “Of course I have,” said Caina. “All magi are conversant with the history of our Empire.” Again Maena snickered. “It was during the Third Empire, when the Emperor warred against Old Kyrace. The Shahenshah sent a great army into the Empire, hoping to seize Malarae while the Legions were occupied against the Kyracians. But the Emperor won a great victory below the walls of Calvarium, the Shahenshah himself was killed, and the remnants of the Anshani host fled south.”

  “An admirable summary,” said Anashir. “The Shahenshah’s body was never recovered, and his regalia was lost, jewels and armor and scepter sacred to the Living Flame. Replacements were made, of course, but they have not the great antiquity of the originals. If I found them and laid them before the Shahenshah’s throne, my prestige would be great…perhaps even enough to challenge Yaramzod the Black himself.”