The Ghosts Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  "What more do you want from me, Nerina?" Alastair's voice lacked its usual casual insouciance. "I've already given you all the money I have, and then some. You spent it all. There's no more, not until I finish some more...business with Lord Haeron."

  "Then I suggest you find some more, fool," said Nerina. "I expect to be supported in the manner that I deserve."

  "That you deserve?" said Alastair, his voice incredulous. "You have a wardrobe full of gowns and boxes full of jewels. You have a dozen maids waiting on your every whim...at least, you did, until you dismissed them all without cause. You can eat the finest foods whenever you wish. All of this, I might add, I paid for. How have I failed to support you in the manner you deserve?"

  "If you were a man," said Nerina, "a strong man, then you would have the money. You find a way to get the money, to get what I deserve." She scoffed. "Enough! I cannot bear to look at you for another second! I am going to visit my sister."

  "Nerina," began Alastair.

  Caina heard heavy footsteps. A few moments later she saw a coach with the sigil of House Corus drive past the house, the shape of a woman visible through the windows.

  She turned, and saw Alastair standing on the stairs, looking at her.

  "You look," he said with a smile, "as if you're going to use that sword on me."

  Caina blinked, looked at the heavy sword, and felt her face redden. "It...well, I heard shouting."

  "Alas," said Alastair. He took the sword and returned it to the hooks on the wall. "One of the maids neglected to polish my boots. I don't care, of course, but I have a reputation for fearsome cruelty to maintain, so I had to shout at her. Merely a formality, you understand."

  "It sounded like you were fighting with your wife," said Caina.

  Alastair sighed, and the smile drained from his face. "Nerina is...difficult. My father arranged the marriage. It hasn't gone very well, I'm afraid."

  "My mother used to talk like her," said Caina, voice quiet.

  Alastair scowled. "And you approve, do you?"

  "I hated my mother."

  His scowl turned to a surprised smile. "Really? Well. I knew there was a reason I liked you," he looked her up and down, "asides from the obvious, of course. But it's terrible gauche to point out the obvious."

  "Terribly," said Caina.

  He took her hand and kissed it. "Shall we eat?"

  ###

  Dinner was indeed excellent. Caina even liked the wine.

  And bit by bit, she worked her way past Alastair's glib charm.

  All he had ever wanted, he told her, was to be a soldier, a Lord Commander of a Legion. To serve and defend the Empire has his fathers had done before him. He wanted, Caina realized, to be like one of the noble lords of old, to go out on campaign to defend the Empire, and then return home to his wife and sons and daughters.

  Caina blinked in surprise. "So you wish children, then?"

  "Of course!" said Alastair. "What man could say otherwise?"

  "Sometimes we want things we cannot have," said Caina.

  Alastair sighed. "True enough. Still, better to strive for them than to sit forever yearning and moping, no?"

  "Spoken like a true soldier of the Empire," said Caina.

  "And now you flatter me, my lady," said Alastair.

  ###

  After dinner they walked on the townhouse's flat roof. It was a small townhouse, by the standards of Malarae's nobility, but it still stood five stories high, and had a large roof. There was ample room to walk, to look at the towers and domes of Malarae, to gaze up at the stars.

  Alastair took Caina's hand in his as they walked, and to her surprise she did not pull away.

  "So what do you want, my lady?" said Alastair.

  "Oh, merely the world, I suppose," said Caina, "and everything in it."

  Alastair winced. "Now you sound like Nerina."

  "Which means you think I sound like my mother," said Caina. "A cruel thing to say, my lord."

  He tugged her hand, spun her around to face him.

  "Then what," he said, "do you want?"

  Caina blinked, caught off guard, and for a moment her poise wavered.

  "Children," she said at last, voice quiet. "I...want children."

  "That's rather easy to arrange," said Alastair.

  "Not for me, it isn't," said Caina. She cursed herself for a fool, but told him anyway. "I had a...a carriage accident, when I was a girl. I was stabbed through the belly by a...a broken axle. I can't have children. Not now, not ever."

  "Oh," said Alastair. "I'm sorry."

  She had miscalculated. A barren woman was an object of pity and scorn. Her goal had been to get closer to him, to find his letters and his ledgers...

  He touched her cheek, and she looked up at him. "What a pair we must make. You want children, but cannot bear them. I want children, but my wife refuses to have anything to do with me."

  Caina tried to smile. "It's like an opera."

  "A bad opera," said Alastair. "Sometimes I think that life is a cruel farce, a joke played upon us by malevolent or indifferent gods. Perhaps they take pleasure in watching us suffer."

  "There is so much suffering in the world," said Caina, "but I will fight against it."

  "How?" said Alastair.

  She hesitated, realizing that she had said too much, been too honest. "There...are ways. I...will feed the poor, I will find them shoes and clothing, and..."

  "You surprise me," said Alastair. "I...never would have expected such things from you."

  "And you are repulsed?" said Caina.

  "Not at all," said Alastair. "Perhaps...someday, when I have more money, I can assist you. I...have been forced to do many things that I am not proud of. To hear you talk this way, it gives me comfort."

  "It is a cruel world," said Caina. "I suppose we must take what comfort we can."

  "You're right," said Alastair, leaning forward.

  He was going to kiss her, she realized.

  A dozen thoughts flashed through her mind. He was married. His wife seemed like a pettier version of Laeria Amalas. This was only a delusion, a fantasy. He wanted children, and she could never have them. And undoubtedly there had been other mistresses before her, and he would certainly take more after she left Malarae.

  But he was different than what Caina had expected. Maybe Theodosia had been right. Maybe she should take what comfort she could. And she could do this without consequence, could she not? She could not become pregnant, could not bear a bastard child.

  And there was one other thought.

  A virgin's blood, Maglarion had said, as he cut into her belly. A virgin's blood could fuel all manner of useful necromancy. She still had nightmares about lying on that metal table.

  And perhaps if she were no longer a virgin...perhaps that would never happen to her again...

  So when he kissed her, she kissed him back.

  ###

  A short time later they ended up in Alastair's bedroom, still kissing. Caina started pulling off her gown, her hands trembling with excitement and a little fear.

  She stopped.

  Alastair was staring her exposed stomach.

  At her scars.

  Heat flooded into her face.

  "Don't," she said, half-turning away, "don't...don't stare at me like that, I..."

  "Shh," said Alastair, putting his fingers over her lips. "Do you think they make you ugly? They do not."

  He took her face in both hands and kissed her again.

  Eventually, she got out of the gown, and he carried her to the bed.

  ###

  Later Caina lay entwined with Alastair as he slept, her head pillowed on his chest. He had scars, as well, old wounds across his arms and shoulders and ribs. She had seen enough violence in her life to recognize the scars from a sword. Whatever his wife thought of him, Alastair was a brave man, brave enough to lead his Legionaries from the front.

  His wife.

  Caina's mouth twisted. Nerina was unworthy of him. And ye
t she was still his wife, which made Caina an adulteress. Her mother, she was sure, had seduced married men, more than once. Was Caina any better than her?

  She did not like the thought.

  And Alastair was a slave trader, little better than the Istarish slavers who worked for Maglarion.

  She liked that thought even less.

  But she did like the way Alastair felt, lying against her, liked it very much indeed. Little wonder Theodosia had encouraged her to do this. And she had his trust now. It would be easy to find his letters and his ledger.

  And perhaps she could encourage him to stop trading slaves, even to join forces with the Ghosts.

  That hopeful thought filled her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

  ###

  The next few days settled into a pleasant routine. She and Alastair had dinner together, or they danced at one of the balls. Once they simply went for a long coach ride north of the city, along the river, taking in the view of the mountains and the Imperial Citadel.

  And at night, they returned to his bedroom.

  Four nights later, Caina saw her chance.

  She woke up, blinking, and found herself alone in Alastair's bed. She rolled over and saw Alastair writing at a desk against the far wall, a stack of letters spread across its surface. An annoyed frown covered his face, but he kept writing.

  His correspondence.

  "What is it?" murmured Caina as she sat up, holding the blanket to herself.

  He looked up at her, smiled, and returned his attention to his papers. "Nothing of importance. Just...some business matters, that's all."

  She thought she glimpsed Lord Haeron Icaraeus's seal on one of the papers.

  "Why don't you come back to bed?" she said.

  "In a moment," he said, still writing.

  Caina sat up straighter.

  "Alastair," she said, letting the blanket fall away. "Come back to bed."

  He stared at her for a moment, his smile widening. Then he swept the papers into a single stack, shoved them into a drawer of the desk, and locked it.

  "I suppose business can wait," said Alastair.

  Caina grinned and let him draw her down to the bed.

  After they finished, she rested her head on his chest, staring at the locked drawer.

  Chapter 24 - Consequences

  Tomorrow night, Caina decided as she listened to Alastair breathe.

  She would drug Alastair's wine at dinner. After he slipped into unconsciousness, she would break into his desk, make off with his correspondence, and leave Malarae. Halfdan awaited her at Trinus, a fishing village on the eastern bank of the Megaros River. After this, Caina would have to abandon her "Countess Marianna Nereide" disguise, of course, but that was no great concern. She could create a new disguise easily enough.

  She drifted off to sleep in Alastair's arms, thinking over the plan. She hated to deceive and betray him like this.

  But he had brought it on himself. He should not have traded in slaves.

  ###

  Caina awoke to angry shouting.

  She reached for the dagger she always kept under her pillow, and found nothing. Caina always kept a weapon close at hand, even while sleeping, but Marianna Nereide did not.

  Alastair was gone, the blankets thrown aside, as if he had risen in haste.

  Then the door burst open, and Alastair backed into the room.

  His wife Nerina stalked after him.

  She was short, even shorter than Caina, with the stout build of a sedentary woman and the bloodshot, dark-circled eyes of a heavy drinker. And a tremor in her hands that spoke of an addiction to more exotic drugs.

  Her bloodshot eyes focused on Caina, full of hatred and contempt.

  "So this is your little whore, Alastair?" said Nerina. She wore a rich gown of Anshani silk, and the jewels glittering on her fingers could have paid for Alastair's townhouse a dozen times over. "Or the newest one, at any rate, hmm? A stupid little slip of a girl." She laughed. "Did you buy her from one of your slaver friends? Or did she agree to share your bed for some coins? I cannot imagine why any woman would share your bed otherwise."

  "You said you would be visiting your sister for another three days," said Alastair, voice tight with anger.

  "I changed my mind," said Nerina. "I thought I'd come back and catch you with one of your whores. I wonder what my father would think of it. Maybe I can get him to challenge you to a duel."

  Alastair's hands curled into fists, but he said nothing. Caina wondered why he didn't stand up to her, why he didn't fight back.

  "Nerina," he began.

  "Imbecile," said Nerina. "I deserve better than this. I deserve better than to come home and find my useless husband in bed with some empty-headed whore. I deserve better than you."

  His face turned crimson, but he said nothing.

  It was easier for him to say nothing, Caina realized. Easier for him to say nothing, and keep his head down, and ignore his wife's rages until she left. Much as Sebastian Amalas had done with Laeria.

  Alastair was weaker than she had thought.

  "And what about you, whore?" said Nerina, shoving her way past Alastair. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

  "What is there to say?" said Caina. "You're right. I slept with your husband. It was...it was not the right thing to do, but I did it anyway."

  "Marianna," said Alastair, "don't antagonize her..."

  "Shut up," said Nerina. "Well? Was it worth it? I hope whatever he paid you was enough to endure sleeping with him."

  She slapped Caina.

  "Well?" said Nerina.

  "Don't touch me," said Caina.

  "I'll do whatever I want to you," said Nerina. "Well? Was it worth it?"

  She drew back her hand for another slap.

  Caina's reflexes took over.

  She caught Nerina's wrist on its descent and twisted. Nerina's watery eyes widened in shock and pain, and Caina surged to her feet, heedless of her nudity, Nerina's wrist still caught in her grip. She sidestepped, twisting Nerina's arm behind her back. Nerina shrieked, her free hand clawing for Caina's face. She was half again Caina's weight, and probably stronger, but Caina knew what she was doing, and had better leverage.

  She drove her knee into Nerina's back. Nerina overbalanced and landed on her face, Caina on top.

  Alastair gaped.

  "I told you," said Caina, "not to touch me."

  "Get off me!" screamed Nerina, starting to sob, "get off me, get off me, get off me!" Her words blurred together in one long wail of pain and fear.

  "Marianna," said Alastair, "please, just...let her go."

  Caina released Nerina's arm and climbed back to her feet, bracing herself in case Nerina came at her again. But she needn't have worried. Nerina fled from the bedroom, wailing, and did not look back.

  They stood in silence. After a moment, Caina picked up the blanket and wrapped it around herself.

  "Why," said Alastair, blinking, "why did you do that?"

  "I told her not to touch me," said Caina. Overpowering Nerina like that might not have been the best idea. If Alastair realized she was a Ghost...

  "But...but she's a daughter of a noble House!" said Alastair, shaking his head. "Her father is Lord Sardon!" Caina knew the name; he was one of Haeron Icaraeus's supporters, a Restorationist lord of middling influence. "I can't just...gods, when her father hears about this..."

  "Damn it, Alastair," said Caina.

  He fell silent, blinking at her.

  "Maybe you brought this on yourself," said Caina. "I doubt I'm the first woman she's found in your bed. But...you shouldn't let her treat you like that."

  "I can't..."

  "Divorce her," said Caina.

  Alastair flinched. "Are you...you cannot be serious. My father forced me to marry her. If I divorced her, Lord Sardon would ruin me for it. I'd be penniless."

  "So what?" said Caina.

  "So what?" said Alastair, incredulous.

  "Yes," said Caina. "You're miserab
le, and you'll keep jumping from mistress to mistress until you drink yourself to death or your wife hires a Kindred assassin to pour poison into your wine. If you divorce her, yes, Lord Sardon will probably ruin you. And what would you lose? You waste all your money on her whims anyway! So you can either be poor and miserable...or you can be poor and free." She took a deep breath. "You want to be an officer in the Legion? You'll be free to do that, without the necessity of your...side business to pay for Nerina's luxuries. And you'll be free to take a different wife."

  Alastair blinked. "You mean...you?"

  "No." It hurt more than Caina had expected to say that. "A wife who can give you sons and daughters."

  Alastair opened his mouth, closed it again. He stood like that for a long time, and then his face hardened.

  "You're right," he said at last. "I've been a fool. I know what I have to do; I've known what I've had to do for a long time." He took a deep breath. "Thank you."

  Caina nodded.

  And someone screamed as Alastair reached for the bedroom door. He threw open the door, racing to the stairs, and Caina followed him, holding the blanket around herself.

  He stopped so suddenly that Caina almost walked into his back.

  "Oh, gods," he groaned.

  Nerina Corus hung from the railing, a curtain knotted around her neck. Her eyes bulged from her purple face, tongue swelling over her lips.

  And Caina had thought that she could sleep with Alastair without consequence.

  Alastair dashed forward, tore the curtain from the railing, and Nerina collapsed in a boneless heap to the floor. He raced down the stairs and rushed to her side, but he was too late. Caina knew death when she saw it, and Nerina was dead.

  She stared at the corpse, numb. Her fault. If she had thought of a better way to handle Alastair, if she had thought of a better way to get those letters...