Months passed, and Caina attended more balls with Julia. On other nights she went to the Grand Imperial Opera, heard Theodosia sing, and flirted and chatted and gossiped with the nobles. Sometimes she attended chariot races at the Imperial Hippodrome, placing wagers on the charioteers and listening to the nobles discuss business.
She grew adept at charming lords and merchants and magi, gleaning secrets that they did not wish her to know. From time to time she donned a plain wool dress and masqueraded as Julia’s serving maid. As her experiences with Theodosia had taught her, nobles never noticed servants, after all.
And sometimes Julia had her break into a mansion in the dead of night, clad all in black, to plant a letter or to steal one, or to dose a noble's wine with an aphrodisiac or a sleeping draught. Caina came to think of Julia as a spider sitting in a vast web of intrigue.
And Caina helped her spin that web.
###
One day a liveried messenger, solemn in a silver-trimmed black coat, arrived at Julia’s townhouse bearing a scroll sealed with Lord Haeron Icaraeus's personal sigil.
It was an invitation. Lord Haeron would celebrate his fiftieth birthday with a grand ball, and he requested the honor of Lady Julia's and Countess Marianna's presences.
“Interesting,” murmured Julia, as she and Caina sat over tea. “Interesting, indeed. I have been trying for years to get an informant into Icaraeus’s mansion. The man is simply too paranoid, and his security too rigid. If Lord Haeron knows that someone has betrayed him, or if he even suspects betrayal, he unleashes the Kindred.”
“Do you think he knows that we are Ghosts?” said Caina. “That you are a circlemaster?”
Julia took a moment to sip her tea. “Possibly. But I doubt it. Lady Julia Morenna, as you know, is a meddling old busybody with no interest in politics. Besides, I am not wealthy enough or powerful enough for Lord Haeron to take an interest in me.”
“Then why send you an invitation?” said Caina.
“To show his power, of course, and his wealth,” said Julia. “It would not surprise me if he sent an invitation to every noble, every magus, and every sufficiently wealthy merchant in the city.”
“What about me?’ said Caina.
“I doubt he’s thought about you at all. ‘House Nereide’ has even less power and influence than House Morenna,” Julia smiled for a moment, “and Countess Marianna Nereide, my dear, has established a reputation as an empty-headed flirt.”
“Thank you,” said Caina. She had worked hard at that, after all.
“If he does think about you,” said Julia, “it’s no doubt as a potential sexual conquest. But I doubt he’s even aware of you.”
“Charming. So,” said Caina, “what shall we do about this invitation?”
“Why, we shall accept,” said Julia. “It would be terribly rude to ignore it, would it not?” She smiled. “Besides, I’ve wanted to look around the Icaraeus mansion for quite some time. Wasn’t it thoughtful of Haeron to give me the chance?”
She rang a bell, summoning her servants to fetch pen and paper so she could write a response.
###
A week later, Julia’s coach rattled to a stop outside the sprawling grounds of Haeron Icaraeus’s mansion.
Caina descended from the coach, her blue skirts gathered in one hand. The mansion was enormous, ten stories of gleaming marble fronted with ornate columns, intricate bas-reliefs, and hundreds of statues in heroic poses. A colossal tower rose four hundred feet from its core, no doubt built with the aid of the magi. The gardens ringing the mansion almost seemed like a forest in themselves. Hundreds of coaches surrounded the mansion, and Caina saw throngs of people, clad in their most ornate finery, making their way across the gardens.
“I think Haeron invited half the city,” murmured Julia.
Caina looked down the streets. “He even has tents set up, to give free food and wine to the commoners.”
“Of course,” said Julia. “Haeron would like the commoners to toast his health…so long as they do not get too close to him.”
They walked through the crowds of nobles, towards the mansion’s grand doors. Caina saw armed men strolling through the crowds, wearing the livery of House Icaraeus, swords and daggers in their belts and crossbows cradled in their arms.
“Kindred assassins,” she murmured to Julia.
“You’re certain?”
She watched one of the assassins adjust a dagger. “Yes.”
There were another group of armed men. They wore black, segmented armor, like Legion armor but far more ornate. Each man wore a purple cloak, and bore a black shield embossed with the eagle of the Empire.
“The Imperial Guard,” said Julia. “The Emperor himself will make an appearance tonight.”
“Why?” said Caina. “I thought Emperor Alexius and Lord Haeron hated each other.”
“They do,” said Julia, “but Lord Haeron is still one of the most powerful lords of the Empire. Courtesy requires that the Emperor put in an appearance. So they will exchange polite compliments while smiling, even though they detest each other.”
“Which is what you’ve been teaching me to do,” said Caina.
Julia laughed. “Quite right. Come. Let’s exchange polite compliments of our own with Lord Haeron.”
As they drew closer to the crowd at the mansion doors, Caina’s skin began to crawl, and she felt…something in the air, a faint electric tingle that made her stomach twist.
Sorcery.
“There’s…a lot of sorcerous power here,” said Caina.
Julia glanced around the crowd. “Someone’s casting a spell? There are at least a score of master magi here.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” said Caina. “It feels like…someone’s cast a lot of very powerful spells here, and recently.”
“Maglarion?” said Julia.
“It could be,” said Caina. “I don’t know.”
“Keep your eyes open,” murmured Julia.
And then they stood before Haeron Icaraeus.
“My lord Haeron,” said Julia, performing a deep curtsy, and Caina followed suit. “Honor to you on this felicitous day.”
“Thank you, my lady,” said Haeron, his voice a deep rumble as he sketched a shallow bow in return and kissed Julia’s ring.
“I must say,” said Julia, “you are looking quite well.”
He did. The ball was in celebration of his fiftieth birthday, but Haeron Icaraeus could have passed for thirty-five. He was slimmer than Caina remembered, more vigorous, more energetic.
“Clean living,” said Haeron, smiling. His dark eyes flicked to Caina. “And this is…”
Caina did another curtsy.
“Countess Marianna, of House Nereide,” said Julia.
“A pleasure, my dear,” said Haeron, kissing Caina’s ring again. “Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to speak with you later.”
But he turned away, dismissing her presence. No doubt he had already forgotten her.
Good.
She followed Julia into the mansion’s ballroom. It was an vast space, large enough to hold Julia’s entire townhouse, four stories high with elaborate marble-railed balconies ringing the walls. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, holding hundreds of the Magisterium's glowing glass spheres. It must have cost an unspeakable amount of money.
“What now?” said Caina.
“We mingle,” said Julia. “And look around. We’ve never had a chance to get into Icaraeus’s mansion before. See if you can find anything interesting.”
Caina nodded and began wandering across the ballroom floor. Nobles, merchants, and magi stood in small knots, talking and drinking wine. Musicians played soft music from the corners, and servants hurried back and forth. The tingling sensation against her skin got worse, and the scars on her belly tightened.
That hadn’t happened for a long time.
Was Maglarion himself here?
She shivered at the thought.
“Your expression, my lad
y, is positively baleful.”
Alastair Corus stopped before her, stark in his black coat and boots, sword hanging at his belt. He passed her a silver flute of wine, and Caina took it.
“It is rather colder in here than I expected,” said Caina, sipping at the wine. “That’s all.”
“Ah,” said Alastair. “Is that it? I’ve been in many battles, my lady, and I’ve seen the faces of the men as they charge the enemy. I daresay you could put a fright into them.”
Caina raised an eyebrow. “You are saying, sir, that I look like a charging Legionary? How terribly flattering.”
Alastair laughed. “I made a botch of that, didn’t I?” He hooked his elbow through her arm. “Come, let us walk together. That will help keep you warm.”
Caina pulled free from him. “Perhaps you should walk with your wife, instead.”
A grimace flickered over his face. “I would be delighted to walk with my wife, if she did not hate me so much.”
Caina blinked. “Your wife hates you?”
He had never mentioned that before.
“The soldiers under my command,” said Alastair, “they are not supposed to marry. But many of them have women in the camps and the garrison towns. They have something to look forward to, when they return from the field.” His mouth twisted. “But not me. My wife has always hated me. Our fathers forced us to marry, and she has never forgiven me. She thinks that I’m beneath her, you see.”
“My…mother,” said Caina. “My mother treated my father in much the same way. I’m sorry.”
Alastair shrugged. “Well, what’s done is done. So you can hardly blame me if I decide to attend balls and walk with lovely women instead of going home to listen to my wife complain that I will not give her more money for shoes.”
Caina thought for a moment, and then smiled.
“You know,” she said, “I think a walk would warm me up.”
And it would give her an excuse to look around the mansion.
Alastair laughed. “Perhaps I cannot fit you into my schedule.”
“So you’d rather go home to your wife?” said Caina.
Alastair sighed. “You make an excellent point.”
He extended his arm, and Caina grinned and put hers through it.
“Well,” she said, “where shall we walk? Lord Haeron’s mansion is so grand. I should really like to see more of it.”
Alastair snorted. “Grand? Gaudy and tasteless is more like it. A giant marble monument to the tiresome old blowhard’s vanity. But if you want to see more of it, see more of it you shall. I could never refuse a pretty woman anything.”
Caina laughed and turned her head.
Maglarion was staring at her
She froze in sudden terror.
He stood on the highest balcony, arms clasped behind his back, gazing down at the ball. And like Haeron Icaraeus and Lord Corthios, he looked younger. Much younger, in fact. His hair was black and thick, his arms and chest heavy with muscle beneath his coat. Yet she recognized his face, his expression, the black patch covering his left eye.
She would recognize him anywhere.
He stared at her, and Caina was a child again, chained to that cold metal table as Maglarion raised his glittering dagger to her father’s throat…
“Countess?” said Alastair. “Marianna? Are you all right?”
And then Caina realized that Maglarion was not staring at her. He was simply looking over the ballroom. Even if he had noticed her, no doubt he only saw yet another noblewoman in a silk gown. If he remembered her at all, he would remember a terrified girl in ragged, bloodstained clothing.
Alastair frowned at her. Caina chastised herself for losing control.
“That man,” she said, recovering her poise, “that fellow on the balcony, the one with the patch over his eye. Who is that?”
“That charlatan?” said Alastair with a laugh. “He’s one of Lord Haeron’s pets. An outlaw magus, or a renegade sorcerer. The man claims to have all sorts of mystical powers to roll back death and aging. His hair was white at first, but now he’s dyed it black.” He laughed. “The more foolish noblewomen take that as proof that he has power over death.”
“A charlatan,” murmured Caina. “Of course.”
Charming Alastair might have been, but he was not very observant.
Then Caina saw Julia walking along the balcony, speaking to another noblewoman. Maglarion’s head turned, and he stared at them for a moment. A smile spread over his face, and he started after Julia.
He walked without a limp and a cane now, Caina noticed.
Dread rose in her throat. Julia had never seen Maglarion, had only heard him described as an old man with a cane. She would never recognize him, not until it was too late, and if Maglarion decided to harm her…
“Excuse me for a moment,” said Caina. “I will return quickly.”
Alastair frowned. “Does my company displease you so, Countess?”
“Not at all,” said Caina.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to go talk to that old charlatan,” said Alastair. “He’ll fill your head with nonsense.”
“Of course not,” said Caina. “But my dear friend Lady Julia is very vain, and she is susceptible to such charlatans. If I leave her alone with him, he’ll have her spending a fortune on potions and other nonsense.”
Alastair titled his head. “You…have more grit to you than I expected, my lady.”
“Perhaps you’ll see more of my grit yet, my lord,” said Caina, and she slipped his grasp.
She hurried up the stairs to the fourth-story balcony. The gallery beyond was deserted, save for a lone Kindred assassin, keeping watch on the guests below. Caina looked back and forth, her heart racing. Perhaps Maglarion had moved on. But she still had to warn Julia against him…
A voice came to her ears, kindly and wise, and she shivered in recognition.
It was Maglarion.
“You are more prominent than you think, Lady Julia of House Morenna,” he said. “Your web of social influence extends throughout the capital and beyond.”
“You are too kind, sir,” said Julia, her voice smooth as glass. “I am only a poor widow who enjoys the company of a few friends. Nothing more.”
Caina ducked behind a pillar and peered around it.
She saw Julia standing near the ornate marble railing, Maglarion a few paces away. Julia wore her polite smile, the one she used when dealing with lords she found offensive. Maglarion’s expression was predatory. He looked like a wolf cornering a sheep.
Looking at him made Caina’s skin crawl. She felt the arcane power rolling off him, like waves of heat rising from an inferno. He seemed stronger, so much stronger, than he had seven years ago. Had he always been this powerful, and she had never realized it? Or had he indeed gotten stronger?
“A poor widow,” said Maglarion, touching her wrist. “It need not be so.”
Julia’s smile thinned. “You are too forward, sir. Too forward by far.”
“Not at all,” said Maglarion. “I propose not a crude liaison, but something better.” His voice dropped. “You can be young again, Lady Julia.”
Julia gave a mocking little laugh. “You can roll back age, then? Time itself?”
“I can,” said Maglarion. “I have mastered the arcane sciences to a degree not seen since the Fourth Empire. The magi of the modern Magisterium are as children next to my power. And I can make you a young woman once again.”
Julia said nothing.
“You’ve seen what I’ve done for Lord Haeron, Lord Corthios, Lady Aureon, and the others,” said Maglarion. “Do they not look younger, the years wiped from their faces? Join us. I can do the same for you. I will make you young again. You are a widow, you say? You can find a new husband, one worthy of you, can bear sons and daughters again. All this I will give you if you follow me.”
Julia shivered. “I…I…”
Caina had never seen her so flustered.
“Do your scruples stop you?” said Mag
larion. “Cast them aside. They are only chains that hold you back. I can give you immortality. Surely that is worth any price.”
“Immortality?” said Julia. “The nature of man is mortal. His fate is to die. At what price comes your immortality? I have heard that Haeron Icaraeus buys vast quantities of slaves…slaves that always seem to disappear. What use do you find for them, I wonder?”
“It is the natural order of things,” said Maglarion, his smile hardening. “The weak prey upon the strong. And with the aid of arcane science, the strong can use the weak to live forever. So, Lady Julia Morenna? Are you weak or strong?”
“Your definition of strength is flawed,” said Julia, lifting her chin. “To accept one’s fate with courage…that is strength. Slaughtering innocents to stave off inevitable death, that is weakness. And cowardice.”
“Or blind folly,” said Maglarion. “I have conquered death itself. What matter the price?”
“No,” said Julia, her voice and face cold. “Thank you, sir, for your most generous offer. But I am afraid that I must decline.”
She turned to go.
“I think not,” said Maglarion.
He gestured, and Caina felt a surge of arcane power.
And Julia froze in place.
“I’m afraid you know too much now, my lady,” said Maglarion. “More than is…healthy, shall we say? You claim to have no political interests, but I suspect you are friendly with the Loyalists. Which means you’ll run and tell your little tale to the Ghosts. And the Ghosts are an annoyance that I can do without.”
Caina’s heart pounded with terror. Maglarion was going to kill Julia.
Or do worse things to her.
“So I’m going to have to silence you, I’m afraid,” said Maglarion, stroking her cheek. Julia trembled, but did not move, caught in the power of his spell.
Caina had to act.
She ripped the left sleeve from her gown and wound it around her head, forming a makeshift mask. Then she kicked off her heeled boots, the marble floor cold against her bare feet.
Then she glided forward without a sound.
She didn’t dare get too close to Maglarion. She suspected his powers would make it difficult, if not impossible, to catch him unawares. And her only chance was to catch him by surprise. Her terror remained, but her mind became cold, focused, clear. Akragas and Sandros and Halfdan and Riogan had trained her well.
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