Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Why don’t you help the Ghosts, then?” said Caina. “The Ghosts oppose renegade sorcerers.”

  “We do aid the Ghosts from time to time,” said Harkus. “But the Ghosts are servants of your Emperor and his Empire. The Order holds itself aloof from any one nation. We hunt sorcerous evil wherever it manifests.”

  “I see,” said Caina. “Then are you here because Talekhris thinks the Moroaica is in Calvarium…or because of what Anashir of Anshan and Maena Tulvius are doing outside the Henge?”

  “Both,” said Harkus.

  “My spells detected the Moroaica within Calvarium,” said Talekhris, “so I traveled to Caeria Ulterior. I arrived at the town to find Harkus and the men of the Order already investigating.”

  “It seems,” said Harkus, “that both Maena and Anashir are trying to enter Caer Magia.”

  “Actually,” said Caina, “at least one of them already has entered the ruins. Two weeks ago a renegade magus claiming to be a follower of Anubankh tried to assassinate the preceptor of Malarae with a Dustblade, and an exiled Kyracian noble wounded a woman with a Dustblade at the Assembly of New Kyre. He, too, claimed to be a follower of Anubankh.”

  Harkus and Talekhris shared a look.

  “This cult,” said Caina. “What is it? A rogue sorcerer stirring up a revolt against the Empire? A front for something else?”

  “As far as we can tell,” said Harkus, “it is genuine. The cultists truly believe that Anubankh will grant them immortality, that the Kingdom of the Rising Sun will return and enslave all other nations.”

  “Anubankh was essentially the Maatish god of necromancy,” said Talekhris, “but that is not quite right. The Maatish thought of the undead as the ‘Undying’, and the arcane science of necromancy as the means of achieving that immortality.” He shrugged. “Of course, it destroyed them in the end. When a pharaoh was buried, a few thousand slaves and concubines were converted to the Undying and buried with him. One of them proved strong enough to master Maatish necromancy to its highest degree, and used that knowledge to destroy the Kingdom of the Rising Sun.”

  “The Moroaica,” said Caina, recalling the vision she had seen of the death of Jadriga’s father, slain by the orders of the priest Rhames.

  Talekhris nodded. “You are correct.”

  “So,” said Caina. “We have Anashir. We have Maena Tulvius. We have two assassins with Dustblades, and a cult in the hills worshipping an ancient Maatish god. How do they all fit together?”

  “I do not know,” said Talekhris.

  “But I suspect,” said Harkus, “that both Anashir and Maena are disciples of the Moroaica.”

  “That would explain a great deal,” said Caina. Jadriga usually took young women as her disciples, so she could possess their bodies if she was killed. She did not usually take men as disciples, but it did happen. Ranarius in Cyrioch had been her student because she found his skill at binding elementals useful…and to escape her, he had almost awakened the Stone and killed everyone in Cyrioch.

  And Sicarion, of course. The hideously scarred assassin was her rabid dog, killing for the sheer love of killing.

  “I received letters from other members of the Order in both Artifel and Anshan,” said Harkus. “Until a year ago, Lady Maena was an unremarkable noblewoman of Artifel, notable only for her beauty and her vapid disposition. Then she developed sorcerous power, and disappeared before the Magisterium could take her as an initiate. As for Anashir…he claims to be an occultist of Anshan, but the men of the Order in Anshan can find no record of him there. It as if he appeared out of thin air.” He paused. “And some of my men believe they have seen Sicarion in Calvarium.”

  “What?” said Caina, Corvalis, and Kylon in unison. They all had history with Sicarion. He had deceived Andromache, luring her into the tomb of Scorikhon. He had a murderous grudge against Corvalis, and he had tried to kill Caina more than once.

  “You should have warned us,” said Corvalis. “Or at the very least, you should have warned Lord Martin. That man is dangerous.”

  “Truly,” said Harkus, “but we thought your mistress was the Moroaica.”

  “Enough,” said Caina. “We can blame each other until the oceans turn to dust, but that will accomplish nothing.” She thought for a moment. “Where did your men see Sicarion?”

  “Entering Lady Maena’s camp,” said Harkus.

  “That settles it,” said Caina. “We’ll start with Lady Maena. We need to find a way to enter her camp, and discover if she has a method of entering Caer Magia. And perhaps we shall learn if the Moroaica and her disciples have anything to do with the cult of Anubankh.” Though Caina could not imagine that Jadriga would countenance the worship of an old Maatish god. She hated the Kingdom of the Rising Sun.

  She hated it so much that she had destroyed it utterly.

  “There may be an answer to that,” said Talekhris. “I believe the sorcery that destroyed Caer Magia was Maatish in origin.”

  “How is that possible?” said Caina. “Old Maat fell thousands of years before Caer Magia was even built. Did some of the Maatish priests survive?” The Red Circle in Marsis had been founded by escaped necromancers from Maat, until Old Kyrace destroyed them. The Scholae of Catekharon and the College of Alchemists of Istarinmul had once been part of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, though they had escaped its destruction. Then she remembered Maglarion and his damned Maatish scroll. “No. No, that’s not it, is it? They must have found some relics of Maat, some spells, the way that Maglarion did. And it destroyed them when they tried to use it.”

  “That is likely what happened,” said Talekhris. “The Scholae, as I’m sure you recall, once served the Great Necromancers of Maat, and created enspelled objects for them. Therefore we know more about Maatish sorcery than anyone else, save the Moroaica herself. The Great Necromancers wielded weapons of tremendous sorcery, weapons that could kill every living thing within a hundred miles. I suspect the high magi of the Fourth Empire tried to recreate the weapons of the Great Necromancers.”

  “Only to destroy themselves in the process,” said Caina. “Or they created such a weapon, and accidentally activated it. Which means that Anashir and Maena are both trying to claim this weapon for themselves.”

  “That’s much worse,” said Corvalis.

  Muravin grunted. “If Anashir and Maena are both disciples of the Moroaica, would they not work together?”

  Caina shrugged. “The emirs of Istarinmul are all servants of the Padishah, but they compete bitterly among each other. It is the same with the Moroaica’s disciples.”

  “Indeed,” said Harkus. “Our histories record that her disciplines have often killed each other. Others rebel and set out on their own, like Maglarion did.”

  “Then this is what I think happened,” said Caina. “The Moroaica wants something from inside Caer Magia, some old weapon of Maatish sorcery. She sent Anashir and Maena to claim it, and commanded Sicarion to keep an eye on them. Either Anashir or Maena managed to find a way into Caer Magia, hence the Dustblades, but they haven’t found what the Moroaica wants yet.”

  Harkus nodded. “That seems probable.”

  “Or,” said Talekhris, “they know where the weapon is, but it is behind potent wards they cannot pass or defended by a powerful guardian they cannot defeat.”

  “It seems,” said Caina, “we have two goals. We must find how the Moroaica’s disciples entered the city, and we must destroy the weapon of sorcery.”

  “I agree,” said Talekhris, “and I am willing to follow your counsel.”

  “Pardon, Sage,” said Harkus with a frown. “While I do not question your wisdom, I must ask why we will follow the lead of a woman outside the Order.”

  “Because,” said Talekhris, “she knows what she is doing. Mihaela would have destroyed Catekharon, if not for her.”

  “Is she that clever?” said Harkus.

  Caina looked at Harkus for a moment.

  “I know,” she said, “that you are right-handed.”
/>   “Because I wear my sword on my left hip,” said Harkus. “Elementary.”

  “That,” said Caina, “and the calluses on your right hand. Also, you prefer to thrust your blade, rather than swing.”

  Harkus blinked. “That is true.”

  “Also, you were in the Legions,” said Caina, “you were married, but your wife is dead, and at some point you were badly wounded in the right knee.”

  Harkus was silent for a long moment. “Sage, are you sure she is not a sorceress?”

  Corvalis laughed. “No, just observant.”

  “You carry your sword like a man trained in the Legions, which means you were taught to thrust through a shield wall,” said Caina, “and you don’t wear a wedding ring, but I can see the mark from it upon your left hand, which makes me believe that the ring is hanging from that cord around your neck. If your wife had left you or you had left her, obviously you would not have kept the ring. And you never put your weight upon your right leg unless you can help it, and you wince when you do. You took a wound there, years ago, and it healed…but it still pains you.”

  Harkus stared at her for a moment. “Ten years ago, when the Seventh Legion campaigned against the Arthagi barbarians beyond the Imperial Pale.” Then he offered a deep bow to Caina. “How shall we proceed?”

  “We’ll start,” said Caina, “by finding a way into Lady Maena’s camp. If your men saw Sicarion heading into her camp, then she is most likely working with the Moroaica, and probably has a way to survive the effects of Caer Magia. If she has such a way, we’ll take it for ourselves, and enter the city and destroy the weapon of sorcery.”

  And find Kylon a blue bloodcrystal. But Talekhris and the Order did not need to know that.

  “Very well,” said Talekhris. “I assume you have an idea on how to enter her camp?”

  “I do,” said Caina, “but we can’t do anything about it until tomorrow.” Hopefully it would work. She was sure Claudia would cooperate, but less certain about Lord Martin.

  But given the way Martin Dorius looked at Claudia, Caina thought he would listen to any idea coming from Komnene’s apprentice.

  “Good,” said Talekhris. “Harkus will stay at the Inn of the Seven Skulls, along with several of his men. Should you require the assistance of the Order or my aid, contact him.”

  “What are you going to do?” said Caina.

  “I will do what I have always done,” said Talekhris. “I will seek out the Moroaica. She is here in Calvarium, I am sure of it…and I will find her, and put an end to her evil at last.”

  ###

  An hour later, Caina and Corvalis returned to their bedroom at the Inn of the Seven Skulls. Alexandra had been relieved to see them, almost to the point of tears, and Caina had calmed the girl and sent her to bed.

  “Do you trust them?” said Corvalis, closing the shutters and barring them.

  “Not particularly,” said Caina. She pulled off her boots, her leggings, and her robe, dumping them in a corner. She knew she ought to hang the robe up, but she was too tired to care. “This Order of his could be as extensive as he claims…or it might just be his bodyguards.”

  “It may be real,” said Corvalis. He removed his gambeson and tunic, revealing the spiraling black tattoos that swirled over the muscles of his torso. An Ulkaari witchfinder had given him those tattoos, and they granted a measure of resistance to sorcery. “When I was among the witchfinders, they spoke of an order that hunted demons and renegade sorcerers. I thought they were exaggerating their own prowess, but perhaps they were speaking of this secret Order of the Venatorii.”

  “Perhaps,” said Caina. Her shift was damp with sweat, and she tugged it off, ignoring the chill of the room. Gods, but she wished the Inn of the Seven Skulls had a proper bath. Still, Komnene had said that Calvarium had a decent enough bathhouse. Perhaps Caina could pay it a visit.

  Assuming, of course, that her plan did not get her killed.

  She climbed into bed, and Corvalis joined her.

  “I’m sure Harkus has his own agenda,” said Caina, “but Talekhris blames himself for the Moroaica. He will oppose to her to the death.”

  “It sounds like he already has,” said Corvalis. “Repeatedly.”

  Caina nodded, her eyelids heavy. “So long as we remember that, we can use aid from Talekhris and the Order. Thank you.”

  Corvalis blinked. “For what?”

  “For helping me,” said Caina. “For snapping at Harkus when he questioned me. I used to do this kind of thing alone. It is…it is good to have someone with me.”

  She had been with Corvalis for only a year, but it was harder and harder to imagine a life without him.

  “You’re welcome,” he said with a laugh. “Just tell me who you want killed, and I’ll have their head on your plate for breakfast.”

  She smiled. “Please don’t. It would spoil my appetite. I love you.”

  He smiled back. “I love you, too.”

  Caina drifted to sleep.

  ###

  Again the strange dream came to her, the storm-tossed sea, the furious sky, her mother in a gold gown standing at the edge of cliff.

  But this time her mother’s eyes blazed with emerald fire.

  “This isn’t just a dream, is it?” said Caina.

  Laeria Amalas grinned, the glow from her eyes sheathing her pale skin in an eerie glow. “Perhaps you begin to understand.”

  “You’re the Moroaica?” said Caina. “This is one of your games?”

  Her mother laughed. “Hardly.” She pointed at the sea. “Look. See for yourself.”

  A green glow rose from the depths of the water, the light rippling across the violent waves. It looked as if an inferno of emerald flame blazed below the sea, an inferno that was rising to the surface.

  “Who are you?” said Caina.

  “I am,” said Laeria Amalas, “going to fulfill my purpose.”

  “And what purpose is that?” said Caina.

  Her mother grinned. “I am going to kill the world.”

  The dream dissolved, and Caina sank into a black sleep.

  Chapter 13 - Failures

  Caina’s eyes opened.

  She lifted her head from the pillow. Corvalis lay next to her, his eyes closed. A few faint rays of gray light leaked through the shutters. It was a little past dawn, and they would soon depart to visit Komnene and Claudia.

  She stood, bare feet making no sound against the floorboards. Caina stooped, picked up a shift and a loose robe, and pulled on the garments, watching Corvalis as he breathed. He rarely slept deeply and awoke at the drop of a pin, thanks to his brutal training at the hands of the Kindred. For all her skill at stealth, Caina could rarely get out of bed without waking him, and she felt a brief flush of pride at managing it.

  Then he cracked a single eye and smiled at her.

  “Sleep for a while yet,” said Caina. “I’m going to have breakfast.”

  Corvalis smiled again and closed his eyes.

  She slipped into the sitting room and closed the door behind her, draping the robe over a chair.

  Then she started to work through her unarmed forms. Her arms and legs moved through the motions she had learned as a child in the Vineyard. Kicks and punches, blocks and holds. A high leg sweep, a middle block, and a low kick. She went through the forms over and over again, the motions imprinted upon her very muscles. Time and time again the knowledge and skill had saved her life. She practiced until her breath came hard and fast, a sheen of sweat beading her forehead.

  Perhaps an hour later she finished, sweat dripping down her neck, heart hammering against her ribs.

  There as a timid knock against the door.

  Caina raised a hand, ready to reach for a weapon. But it was only Alexandra, carrying a tray in her hands, and the girl’s blue eyes widened when she saw Caina sweating in her shift.

  “Mistress Rania,” said Alexandra. “I’m…I’m sorry…I…”

  “No, no, come in,” said Caina. “I don’t mind. A bi
t of exercise always helps loosen the limbs in the morning.”

  She spoke in the cold voice of Rania Scorneus, but smiled as she did. Alexandra’s warning had saved her life last night.

  Alexandra managed a tremulous smile. “My father said much the same thing.” She set the tray upon the table. “I brought you breakfast, some sausage and biscuits and hot tea.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina. She sat and took a sip of the tea. “This is excellent. And thank you for shouting the warning last night.”

  Alexandra looked at her hands. “All those men came into the common room, demanding to know where you were…I feared you would die, mistress. How did you escape them?”

  “As it happens,” said Caina, “it was a case of mistaken identity. They thought I was someone else. Once I convinced them of the truth, they apologized, and now we are the best of friends.”

  “Truly?” said Alexandra. “It was that easy?”

  “Not really,” said Caina, “but that sums it up.” She gestured at the tray. “This is more food than I can eat. Why don’t you have breakfast at me?”

  The prospect of eating with a magus seemed to terrify the girl. “But, mistress, the food is for your captain. I thought he would be with you this morning, since…since…”

  Her face turned scarlet.

  Caina raised an eyebrow. “Since we are sharing a bed?”

  “Forgive me, mistress,” said Alexandra, staring at her hands. “I…I misspoke, forgive me, I…”

  Caina stifled an impulse to laugh. “You didn’t upset me. Why should speaking the truth anger me? Yes, I am sharing a bed with him, and intend to do so for a long time.”

  Alexandra managed a jerky nod. “I…yes, forgive me. Oh, I feel like such an ass. It’s just…your captain is very handsome, and all my wits abandon me when I look at him. Please don’t have me killed for it.”