Theodosia blinked, several times...and then a pleased smiled spread over her face.
"That's...that's good?" said Otton, hovering in the doorway. Caina might have frightened him, but he seemed downright terrified of Theodosia.
"My dear fellow," said Theodosia, "that's very good. Everyone knows that Lord Macrinius dabbles in slave trading, but there's never been any proof. But if we find a score of slaves chained in his cellar, then there's no hiding it. No amount of bribery or political influence will save him then. He'll be finished, and if he's lucky he'll flee the Empire before the Emperor has him beheaded for slave trading and treason."
"So...you're going to catch him in the act?" said Otton.
"Precisely," said Theodosia.
"How?" said Caina.
"We're going to give him some bait that he cannot resist," said Theodosia. Her smile widened. "Me."
###
Riogan arrived the next morning.
Caina saw him as she practiced her unarmed forms alone in the deserted workshop. She finished an unarmed throw, and she turned, she saw Riogan leaning against a pillar, watching her. He looked much as she remembered; the same close-cropped blond hair, the same cold eyes, the same dark clothing and weapons ready at hand.
For a moment they stared at each other.
Then Riogan stepped forward, his hand blurring. His arm shot forward and sent a throwing knife hurtling for her face. But Caina saw the movement coming, and she sidestepped, the knife whirring past her. Her hand dipped into her sleeve, drawing a throwing knife of her own.
But Riogan did not move, save to laugh.
"You've gotten better, girl," he said, his eyes bright with mockery. "A few years ago, that knife would have torn your throat open."
"I've been practicing," said Caina, watching him for any threatening movements. "What are you doing here?"
"Killing people who need killing," said Riogan. "And carrying messages for Halfdan. Though I came at the right time. You could use my help."
Caina nodded. Riogan did not like her, but that was unimportant. He was very good at what he did. And if Theodosia's plan was going to work, they would need all the help they could get.
"Probably," she said at last.
"A shot at Lord Macrinius," said Riogan. "An idea to warm the heart, it is."
"I suppose you have a grudge against him?" said Caina.
Riogan laughed. "Hardly. But he's one of Haeron Icaraeus's strongest lieutenants. And anything that discomforts Haeron Icaraeus is a fine thing."
###
Three nights later, Theodosia sang upon the Grand Imperial Opera's stage, singing the lead of "The Hunter's Marriage", a romantic story full of bawdy songs and innuendos, and it seemed to Caina that Theodosia sang her arias of passion and lust right into Lord Macrinius's box.
Macrinius watched her, enraptured. For once he did not plot and scheme. Instead he simply sat and watched Theodosia sing. He accepted the trays of delicacies that Caina brought him, and the glasses of wine, but he never took his eyes from Theodosia.
And he kept drinking the wine. Specifically, the wine laced with a powder Komnene had taught Caina to prepare, a powder that inflamed the passions of anyone who consumed it. It had a bitter taste, but the wine masked it, and Macrinius was so enraptured by Theodosia's performance that Caina supposed she could have given him a glass of vinegar and he would not have noticed.
The opera concluded, and Macrinius surged to his feet, applauding.
"You," he said after a moment, pointing at Caina. "Girl. Come here, now."
Caina did a curtsy and approached, head bowed. "Yes, my lord?" she said, speaking with a thick Caerish accent. "Do you wish something?"
"Theodosia of Malarae," he said, sweat standing out on his forehead. "Do you know her?" He began scribbling onto a piece of paper.
"Why, of course, my lord," said Caina. "She's the finest singer in all of Malarae, all the Empire, and the jewel of the Opera, so she is."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Macrinius, folding the paper and shoving it into Caina's hand. "Give her that note. If you bring back a message from her, you'll get a denarius. Go!"
Caina did another curtsy and ran.
###
She returned with Theodosia herself, still clad in her stage costume.
Macrinius gave Caina a denarius and promptly forgot about her.
"My lord Macrinius," said Theodosia.
Macrinius rose to his feet, smiling. "You came yourself?"
"Of course," said Theodosia. "How could I ignore a message from so noble a lord? And your letter was so...fervent."
"How could it not be?" said Macrinius. "Your performance was magnificent. Splendid beyond words. I simply cannot describe it."
Theodosia laughed and did a polite little curtsy, one that gave Macrinius a look down the front of her costume.
Macrinius started to sweat some more.
"My lord is too kind," said Theodosia.
"I hope you will not think me too forward," said Macrinius, "but would you care to accompany me to my townhouse for some...refreshment? That performance, that magnificent performance, must have been most draining."
"Oh, it was, my lord, it was," said Theodosia. "I shall be most happy to tell you about it, in private."
Macrinius took her hand. "My coach awaits us, my dear." His voice was almost a purr.
"Oh, but let me change first," said Theodosia. "And let me take two of my servants. The girl," she fluttered a hand at Caina, "and my footman."
Macrinius frowned.
Theodosia laughed. "I may not be a lady, my lord, but surely you cannot expect a woman to travel without her servants?"
Macrinius blinked. "Well...that seems reasonable. Do not take too long, my dear."
"I shouldn't dream of it," said Theodosia, beckoning to Caina. "Come along, Marina. I want to change clothes, and quickly."
"Yes, madam," said Caina, following Theodosia from Lord Macrinius's box.
Riogan leaned against the wall outside the box, clad in the livery of a footman.
"It's time?" said Riogan, falling in step alongside Caina.
She nodded.
A cold smile spread over Riogan's face.
###
So Caina and Riogan hung on the outside of Macrinius's elaborate coach as it rattled through Malarae's streets. The coach rolled through Macrinius's gates, past well-armed and vigilant guards, and stopped at the foot of Macrinius's ornate mansion, its walls studded with reliefs and statuary.
Theodosia let Macrinius guide her from the coach and into the mansion's opulent entrance hall, Caina and Riogan trailing after them, along with Macrinius's own servants and bodyguards.
"Such a large house you have, my lord," said Theodosia, looking around with wide eyes.
"Why, this modest little hovel?" said Macrinius with a disparaging gesture. Caina took Theodosia's cloak, folded it over her arm. "It is nothing. Merely a place to sleep when I have business in the Imperial capital. You should see my villa in Cyrica. In summer, when the crops are ripe, and the fields are like seas of gold. Ah, now that is a magnificent sight." He smiled, took her hand, and kissed it. "Though not so much as you, my dear."
Theodosia gave a little laugh. "You flatter me, my lord."
"Why, it hardly counts as flattery if it's the truth," said Macrinius.
Theodosia kept smiling as Macrinius led them through the mansion, pointing out statues and armor and various historical relics from House Macrinius's history. Soon Lord Macrinius had one arm around Theodosia's shoulder, and she leaned against him, laughing at his jokes.
Finally they reached Macrinius's bedroom.
"Leave us," said Macrinius, looking at his bodyguards. "All of you. Now."
The bodyguards bowed and escorted Caina and Macrinius down the stairs, to a small room near the kitchens. The room had some cots, and a small fireplace, but was otherwise bare.
"You two will stay here tonight," said one of the bodyguards. "His lordship will probably be fi
nished with your mistress by tomorrow morning. One of us will come for you then. Don't leave, and don't wander about the mansion. We catch you outside this room, you'll get a beating. If you're lucky."
"Yes, sir," mumbled Riogan, not meeting the man's eyes. "You won't have any trouble from us, sir."
"See that we don't," said the bodyguard.
He left, locking the door behind him.
Caina's lip twitched in amusement.
"Now?" she said.
"Not yet," said Riogan. "They'll check on us at least once. Count to a thousand."
Caina nodded and started counting in her head.
She had gotten to six hundred and ninety-four when she heard the rasp of a footstep outside the door.
"Do you think his lordship will marry our mistress?" said Caina in her thick Caerish accent. "That would be ever so grand, aye? Our mistress would become a lady, and wear silks and jewels and furs, and we would get to live in this fine house..."
"Shut your yap, girl," said Riogan in the same accent, "and let me get some sleep, or you'll feel the back of my hand."
The footsteps faded away.
"I have to say," murmured Riogan in his usual cold voice, "you are the most annoying serving girl I have ever met."
"Thank you," said Caina. "Shall we get on with it?"
Riogan nodded.
Caina climbed to her feet and stripped off her serving maid's dress. Beneath she wore loose-fitting black pants, a long sleeved black shirt, and black boots. A belt around her waist held throwing knives, a coil of rope, a collapsible grapnel, and a few other useful tools. From her belt she drew out a black mask, tugged it over her face, and a pair of black leather gloves. Riogan tossed aside his servant's livery, revealing similar clothing.
"This way," said Riogan, crossing to the window. He raised a dagger, lifted the latch on the shutters, and pushed them open. He had prowled around Macrinius's mansion last night, scouting out the grounds and the buildings, and knew where the slaves were held.
Or so he claimed.
Riogan jumped out the window, and Caina followed. It was a short drop to the ground, only seven or eight feet, and Caina landed besides him, her legs buckling to absorb the force of the fall. Riogan led her around the mansion's bulk, their boots making no sound against the earth. From time to time a patrolling guard came into sight, and they ducked into concealment until the guard passed.
Then they came to the cellar doors.
Gardens ringed Macrinius's mansion, dotted with bushes and trees and statues and small bubbling fountains. In the middle of a garden lay a pair of doors, no doubt leading down to a cellar. Nobles often built such cellars on their grounds to keep wine and cheese and meat cool in the heat of summer.
But to judge from the two guards keeping watch over the doors, Lord Macrinius stored something other than cheese in his cellar.
Slaves, most likely.
Caina crouched behind a bush, Riogan waiting besides her. The guards stood talking with each other, making no effort to keep watch on their surroundings. Obviously, they did not expect trouble.
Riogan watched them for a moment longer. Then he gestured, pointing at the man on the left, and made a slashing motion with his other hand.
Caina understood.
Riogan circled around the cellar doors, moving like a shadow. Caina did the same, keeping herself behind the guards. She remembered training with Halfdan at the Vineyard, remembered creeping up to touch the other Ghosts on the shoulder before they noticed her presence. It was just like that.
Except Macrinius's guards noticed her, they would kill her.
Best not to think about that.
Caina stopped behind the guard, drawing a dagger from her boot.
In one smooth motion she straightened up, clamped one hand over the guard's mouth, and ripped the dagger across his throat. Blood spurted across her gloved fingers. He screamed into her hand, but she sawed the blade back and forth, and soon he choked on his own blood. Caina eased him to the ground, so his fall would not make any undue noise.
She shivered. She had killed before. The thugs at the tavern in Kaunauth. The Kindred assassin in the street. Her mother. But never before had she killed in cold blood.
She didn't like the feeling, not at all.
But she could worry about it later.
She heard a faint thump as Riogan levered his own guard to the ground. He rummaged through the dead man's belt for a moment, then pulled free a long iron key. A moment later he undid the lock on the cellar doors. The door swung upward to reveal a dark staircase descending into the earth.
Torchlight glimmered in the depths.
"Pull the corpses onto the stairs," murmured Riogan into her ear. "Less chance someone will stumble across them."
Caina nodded, dragged her dead guard onto the stairs as Riogan did the same. Then Riogan closed the cellar doors behind them, and they descended, boots making no sound against the cold stone.
The stairs ended in a gloomy, vaulted cellar, similar to the place where Maglarion had held Caina captive years ago. Half the chamber had been cordoned off with iron bars, and behind those bars huddled fifty or sixty naked women and children.
The slaves. Kidnapped from their homes, no doubt.
Suddenly Caina did not feel so bad about killing the guard.
Five of Macrinius's men kept watch. Three sat at a wooden table, laughing and playing cards by the light of a lantern. A fourth man leaned against a pillar, watching the game, and a fifth walked back and forth before the iron bars.
The three men playing cards drank from a barrel of wine sitting against one pillar, from time to time filling their clay cups with it.
Riogan caught Caina's eye, gestured at the barrel. She nodded and crept towards it, taking care to remain silent. The thick pillars holding up the roof provided plenty of cover, along with the tangled black shadows thrown by the lanterns. Step by step she drew closer to the barrel.
At last she reached it, and her hand dipped into her belt, drawing out a small pouch. It held another of the powders that Komnene had taught her to make. Caina opened the pouch and dumped the entire contents into the barrel.
Then she settled against a pillar to wait.
The men kept playing cards, laughing and drinking, and soon refilled their cups. Yawns replaced laughter, and their speech grew slurred and slow. Then one man fell face-first onto the table, wine spilling across the floor.
The man pacing before the iron bars turned. "What's this? Bad enough you're drinking on watch. Now you're sleeping?"
"Marl," said one of the seated guards, his eyes heavy. "I think...I think there's something wrong with the wine..."
Then he, too, passed out.
Marl scowled, and the man leaning against the pillar straightened up. "Bah! They drank themselves senseless. Lord Macrinius will have our..."
Then Riogan exploded out of the darkness, a dagger in either hand, and killed the man against the pillar in a single smooth motion. But Marl leapt forward and drew his sword, his blade flying for Riogan's head. Riogan backed away, dodging and blocking with his daggers, but Marl kept at him, face grim and focused.
Until Caina's throwing knife landed in Marl's thigh. He staggered a step, and that was all the opening Riogan needed. One blade plunged into Marl's throat, another into his chest, and he went down.
The slaves began to shout, some of the children crying.
"Good throw," said Riogan.
"Thanks," said Caina, wrenching her knife free from Marl's calf.
"Calm the slaves down," he said, crossing to the table. "I'll find the keys."
Caina crossed to the iron bars, and the slaves drew back in fear. She couldn't blame them. They looked half-starved.
Not surprising, given what Maglarion probably had planned for them.
"We are here to rescue you!" she said, speaking Caerish in her disguised voice. "The Emperor will not let his people suffer, and Lord Macrinius shall answer for his crimes. Those of you who have children
, make certain they are ready to travel. Help those too weak to stand!"
"But..." began one of the women, clutching a boy of seven or eight.
"Do as I command!" roared Caina, and the slaves complied.
She turned just in time to see Riogan finish cutting the unconscious guards' throats.
The Ghosts Omnibus One Page 19