The Ghosts Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  Julia reminded Caina of Laeria Amalas a great deal. Julia's appearance, her perfectly arranged hair and gown, her jewelry, everything reminded Caina of her mother, of how Laeria used to obsess over every last detail of her appearance.

  "Ah," said Julia. "You and your mother are not on speaking terms, I take it?"

  "She's dead," said Caina. "I killed her."

  Julia's face went still. "May I ask why?"

  "She was a novice of the Magisterium," said Caina, "but they put her out because she was too weak. So she sold me to Maglarion, in hopes that he would teach her the arcane science that the Magisterium never would."

  "I see," said Julia. "Your mother...she was Lady Laeria, was she not? Laeria, who married Sebastian Amalas?"

  Caina blinked. "How did you know that? Did you know them?"

  "I did, years ago," said Julia. "I used to live in Artifel, before my husband and son died. I knew your mother, when she was a novice in the Magisterium motherhouse. She was smart and ambitious, but eaten up with pride. Your father once served a term as Lord Governor of Outer Ulkaaria. Did you know that?"

  Caina shook her head.

  "That was when your mother met your father," said Julia. "I had hoped that he would be good for her, that he would temper her arrogance." She sighed. "Instead, she saw your father as a means to advancement. But he was not interested in further Imperial magistracies, and wanted to return home to Aretia."

  "He did," said Caina. "My mother...used to berate him for not seeking an Imperial magistracy."

  "I had heard that slavers killed Sebastian and Laeria six or seven years ago," said Julia. "I had no idea that they had a daughter. You look just like Laeria, you know."

  "I do not!" said Caina, her hands curling into fists. At once she berated herself for the outburst. Halfdan and Theodosia had taught her better than that, and she forced herself back to calm.

  "You do," said Julia. "It was not an insult. Laeria was quite a lovely young woman, even if her heart was rotten."

  "What...what was my father like, when you knew him?" said Caina.

  "Diligent," said Julia. "But distracted. I suspect he became Lord Governor of Outer Ulkaaria because it was expected of him, but he wanted nothing more than to return to Aretia and live in peace and quiet with his books. A wise young man, really. Our Empire would be better for it if more men desired to live in peace and quiet, rather than seeking honor and power."

  "Perhaps he was not so wise," said Caina, "if he was fooled by my mother."

  Julia almost smiled. "Your mother could be very charming, when she put her mind to it." She rose, setting aside the cup of tea. "And so can you. Maglarion and your mother hurt you, and you desire revenge."

  Caina said nothing.

  "But you are only one girl," said Julia, "and you cannot defeat your enemies with knives and fists. No. You must use a softer way. A subtler way. If you can charm them, convince them that you are in fact their friend...then they will never see the knife coming, will they? Not until it is too late. The nobility of the Empire is a nest of serpents behind smiling masks, child. And I can teach you to move among them."

  Caina remembered how her mother had become so charming whenever someone of sufficient rank or wealth visited Aretia.

  An ability that Caina might find useful herself.

  "All right," she said at last.

  ###

  So Lady Julia Morenna taught her the arts of a noblewoman.

  There was more to it than Caina expected.

  Some of it she had learned from Theodosia already. All the little tricks of cosmetics to make herself look more beautiful. How to make her eyes look larger, her cheekbones sharper, her lips redder. How to pick gowns that flattered her form without revealing too much...unless the time was right to reveal more, of course.

  Quite a bit of it Caina did not know.

  When to wear silk, or linen, or velvet, or damask, depending upon the weather and the formality of the occasion. What sort of jewelry to wear. Theodosia had worn very little jewelry. Most of it had been costume jewelry, glass gems set in cheap metal, and she had worn it only while on stage. But Julia had a vast store of jewelry, and she explained its uses to Caina.

  "Men, by and large," she said, "do not care about jewels. They will see that you are wearing them, which means you are a woman of station, and that is enough. Women, however, wear jewelry the way that peacocks wear feathers. Especially noblewomen, and wealthier commoners. The wife or daughters of a prosperous merchant will very often wear silver, with amethysts and sapphires. Nobles wear gold, with rubies and diamonds and emeralds. Unless, of course, you are simply wearing jewelry to enhance your appearance." She held up a silver chain adorned with sapphires. "This would work marvelously for you, I think. The silver, a contrast with your black hair. And the sapphires, to match those lovely blue eyes of yours."

  They spent a great deal of time going over etiquette. Caina already knew the history behind some of it. The Empire was old, and some of the noble Houses traced their lineage back for thousands of years. Older Houses had more prestige than younger ones, and the oldest Houses of all, the eight First Houses that traced their descent back to the founding of the Empire - only members of their blood could sit upon the Imperial throne.

  "House Amalas was founded in the Third Empire," said Julia, "by a valiant Legionary the Emperor raised to the nobility. But we cannot have you going about under your real name, can we? You shall be...Marianna, of House Nereide, I think. Yes. House Nereide went extinct during the War of the Fourth Empire, so that should be a suitable identity for you."

  She taught Caina the elaborate rules of etiquette surrounding the balls and feasts of the nobility. The rules of precedence, how the older Houses always went first...unless the lord of a younger House had been made a Count or held an Imperial magistracy. How to address a lord, a lady, a master magus, a high priest, a merchant. How to command servants with suitable dignity - firm enough that they did not think you weak, yet not harshly enough to make them spit in the wine.

  One of Julia's servants, an old man with a prissy demeanor, spent several days teaching her to dance as the nobles did, slowly and with stately dignity. Caina found she rather enjoyed it. It was not all that different, really, from the unarmed forms she practiced every morning until her heart raced.

  ###

  Three weeks later, Julia declared that Caina was ready for her first ball.

  She spent the better part of the day getting ready, with the assistance of no fewer than three maids. She bathed, perfumed, shaved, coiffed, and finally got dressed in a flowing gown of blue silk with black slashes on the hanging sleeves, and intricate black embroidery across the bodice. It dipped lower in front than Caina would have expected, but that left room for a delicate silver necklace, a sapphire hanging from the chain. Silver earrings with sapphires went in her ears, and Julia had found a ring with the sigil of House Nereide, which Caina put on the third finger of her right hand.

  Her father's ring she kept with her, tied to a leather cord around her left wrist, hidden beneath her sleeve.

  After they finished, Caina gazed at herself in the mirror. The blue gown fit well, and the sapphires sparked in their silver settings. Her black hair had been piled in an elaborate braided crown, the current fashion among Malarae's nobility, and makeup made her eyes look larger.

  Julia had been right. Caina looked almost exactly like her mother.

  She shivered in disgust, and resisted an urge to smash the mirror.

  But if gowns and jewels and cosmetics were weapons she could use against the magi, against Maglarion...then she would use them, and use them well.

  ###

  That night they took Julia’s coach to the mansion of Lord Corthios, a Restorationist noble and one of Lord Haeron’s supporters.

  “So what are we looking for here?” said Caina, smoothing the blue silk of her skirt.

  She did rather like the way it looked on her.

  “Anything interesting, of course,�
� said Lady Julia, peering out the coach’s windows at the dark streets of Malarae. “The nobles socialize at these balls. So naturally there’s a great deal of scheming and plotting that the Ghosts want to overhear. Lord Corthion is one of Haeron Icaraeus’s chief supporters among the Restorationists, so Lord Haeron himself will probably put in a brief appearance. Especially after poor Macrinius’s unfortunate tragedy, alas.” She smiled, briefly. “Though not all nobles come to scheme. Some attend to get drunk and eat too much food, or to seek out new companions in the bedchamber. And some simply enjoy dancing.”

  “Are you a Restorationist?” said Caina.

  Julia laughed. “Of course not, child. I am a Ghost circlemaster. My sympathies lie with the Loyalists. But Lady Julia Morenna pays no attention to politics. Lady Julia Morenna is a meddling busybody of a widow who delights in playing matchmaker.”

  Which was part of Caina’s disguise. “Countess Marianna Nereide” was a rural noblewoman who had come to the Imperial capital seeking a wealthy husband. And naturally, Countess Marianna had sought the aid of Lady Julia Morenna, well-known for her ability to play matchmaker.

  “I think,” said Caina, “that your public face is as much a disguise on you as this gown is on me.”

  Julia lifted her eyebrows. “Of course it is. Ah, here we are.”

  The coach came to a stop and the footman opened the door. Lord Corthios’s mansion was smaller than Macrinius’s, but not by much. Every window shone the enspelled glass spheres the novices of the Magisterium churned out and sold by the thousands. Liveried servants hastened back and forth, bearing trays of delicacies. Nobles stood in small groups in the gardens, chatting.

  Lord Corthios greeted his guests at the door, one by one. Caina had seen him several times at the Grand Imperial Opera in Lord Haeron’s box, and she knew what he looked like. An old man, balding, thin and hard as an old root.

  She stopped to do a curtsy before him, and only long practice kept the surprise from her face.

  Lord Corthios looked younger.

  Not very much younger. But there was more muscle on his frame than Caina remembered, she could swear it. His hairline had moved closer to his forehead. and his white hair had turned iron gray. He must have dyed it.

  But why would he have dyed it gray?

  Julia’s voice cut into her thoughts. “My lord, it pleases me to introduce Marianna, a Countess of House Nereide.”

  “An honor,” said Corthios, bowing over her hand and planting a dry kiss upon her fingers. He stared down the front of Caina’s gown as he straightened up, and his smile widened. “I do hope we shall have some time together later in the evening. The duties of a host can be so burdensome.”

  Caina smiled at him. “I hope so as well, my lord.”

  She followed Julia into the ballroom.

  “Boor,” muttered Julia.

  “Does he look younger to you?” said Caina.

  “Younger?” said Julia. “Now that you mention it, yes. I thought that he had dyed his hair. But he almost looks…almost looks as if he put on some muscle, as well. Perhaps he’s started training. Almost certainly that is it.”

  But it still bothered Caina.

  ###

  She spent the rest of the night circulating with Julia. A score of different noblemen asked Caina to dance, and to her very great surprise, she found that she enjoyed dancing with them.

  And she learned things, too. The noblemen wanted to impress her, the pretty young Countess from the rural provinces, and so told her things. About their wealth, their power, their connections. About the high offices and honors they held. About the powerful lords – like Haeron Icaraeus – they counted as friends.

  She saw Haeron Icaraeus himself later that night, standing with his usual cluster of bodyguards and followers.

  With the notable exception of Lord Macrinius, of course.

  But Haeron himself looked younger. His hair and beard were thicker, and he looked as if he had lost weight.

  Perhaps Julia was right, and he had been taking better care of himself.

  But she remembered listening to Maglarion lecture as she lay chained upon that metal table, telling his students that necromancy could bring renewed youth and everlasting life…

  Then a hand closed about hers, and Caina found herself face to face with a lord. A man in his late twenties or early thirties, she thought, with close-cropped blond hair and blue eyes. The hand that gripped hers was hard and strong, and he looked as if he knew how to use the ornate sword that hung at his belt.

  “Let’s dance,” he said, and pulled her along. Caina had no choice but to follow, unless she wanted to fall on her face.

  “It is customary, my lord,” she said, voice icy, “to ask first.”

  He smiled and lifted his eyebrows. “Well, you obviously wanted to dance. So it was only polite to dispense with the pleasantries and get right to the point. Besides, you were looking at fat old Haeron with such a baleful expression. It is the duty of a lord to rescue a lady from such dark thoughts.”

  “I most certainly was not!” said Caina. “I would never be so rude as to stare.” At least she hoped not. Haeron Icaraeus was paranoid, and if he realized that she had been looking at him…he might start to draw conclusions.

  The lord laughed. “Or he’ll think that you want him, the randy old goat.”

  Caina blinked, and realized that he was teasing her. Which was a relief. She hadn’t been staring at Haeron after all.

  Though this lout was still teasing her.

  She opened her mouth to reply, and he spun her around, arm coiling about her waist.

  A lout who happened to dance very well.

  He spun her into the first steps of the “Tiger and the Gazelle”, a complicated, intricate dance, and Caina answered in kind. She expected him to stumble, to miss a step, but he never did, and his confident smile never wavered. Caina wished that her skirt did not hinder her movements, but the unarmed forms had made her legs strong, and she kept pace with him.

  When they finished, they bowed to each other, as the dance required. Caina was surprised to hear a smattering of applause from the surrounding nobles. Apparently they had made something of a spectacle.

  “You dance very well, my lady,” said the lord. “You must be new to the capital. I am sure so skillful a dancer could not have escaped my notice for long.”

  “Tell me your name,” said Caina, “and perhaps I will tell you mine, my lord.”

  A lie. She would not tell him her real name, after all.

  He smirked, bowed over her hand, and planted a kiss on her signet ring. “Alastair, Lord of House Corus, at your service, my lady.”

  “Marianna, Countess of House Nereide,” said Caina.

  “Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to dance again,” said Alastair.

  He bowed once more, and left.

  ###

  “You two made quite the stir,” said Julia.

  Caina felt her face redden, much to her annoyance. “Tell me about him.”

  “He’s married, for one,” said Julia.

  Caina was surprised to find herself disappointed.

  “Beyond that, he’s a tribune in the Eighteenth Legion,” said Julia. “He spends half his time in the field with the Legion, and the rest of it here in the capital. He’s a notorious womanizer. And a Militarist lord; he probably owns a few slaves in the Imperial Pale, off the records. He's friendly with Haeron Icaraeus, but not closely allied with him.”

  “Oh,” said Caina, even more disappointed. A good dancer he might have been, but if he was a friend of Haeron Icaraeus, and a slaveholder, she wanted nothing to do with him. “What does he do for Lord Haeron?”

  “Carry messages, mostly,” said Julia. “Haeron has friends among the officers of the Legions. Lord Alastair brings them messages when he travels north to the Pale and his Legion. And sometimes the Legions take slaves from the barbarian tribes outside the Pale. Alastair arranges to have them smuggled back to Malarae. Exotic barbarian slaves often
fetch high prices.”

  “I see,” said Caina.

  “If you want to be his mistress,” said Julia, “that’s your decision, of course, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Granted, he is quite charming. But he doesn’t know anything useful enough to justify the bother of seducing him. What else did you learn?”

  “Lord Basilikos,” said Caina, “has made an agreement with Lord Haeron…”

  She launched in a concise description of everything she had learned that night of the nobility's endless jockeying for status and power.

  “Good,” said Julia. “You see? These balls are not such a waste of time after all.”

  “No,” said Caina. “They’re not. And the dancing is really rather enjoyable.”

  Her eyes strayed back to Alastair Corus as she spoke, and she made herself look away.

  ###

  So Caina attended balls under Julia Morenna’s watchful eye, sometimes as many as three or four a week. She danced with lords, and spoke with ladies, and made friends with powerful and wealthy merchants.

  Very often she danced with Alastair Corus, even if he was a slave trader. And married. It was not as if his wife ever came to the balls.

  And she soon noticed something disturbing.

  “All of them,” she murmured to Julia one night, standing in the corner of a noble’s ballroom. “All the Restorationist lords who follow Haeron. They all look younger.”

  Julia said nothing.

  “It’s Maglarion’s necromancy,” said Caina. “He said he could make people younger. That’s why Haeron and the others are working with Maglarion. He’s promised to make them immortal. And that’s why Haeron is buying so many slaves. Maglarion’s killing them, using their blood to make his followers younger.”

  “And what does Maglarion get out of it?” said Julia.

  “I don’t know,” said Caina.

  But they had to find out. Before it was too late.

  Chapter 20 - Mortal Wounds