The Ghosts Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  Caina nodded. That meant Zorgi knew nothing about the Ghosts.

  “Arlann,” said Halfdan, “fetch some of Zorgi’s porters and start them unloading the wagon. Make sure they don’t steal anything.”

  Caina looked around for this Arlann, and saw Ark nodding. No doubt that was the name Ark would use while in Marsis. Ark headed towards the stables, and Caina followed Halfdan to the doors. A liveried footman bowed and pulled the door open. Halfdan rewarded the fellow with a silver coin, and they entered the common room. Long tables stood under the high ceiling, fires crackling in hearths at either side of the room. Stairs climbed up to balconies and the doors to the guest rooms.

  A stout Szaldic man in his middle forties hurried over to them, smiling beneath an enormous mustache. He looked strong and vigorous, yet a lot of the gray in his black hair looked as if it had appeared recently, and there was strain around his eyes.

  Yet no weakness showed in his voice. “Master Basil!” he roared.

  “Zorgi, you dog,” said Halfdan. He and Zorgi kissed each other’s cheeks in a quick, formal movement. Caina supposed it was a Szaldic greeting. “How is business?”

  “Well enough,” said Zorgi. “It could be better. There are rumors that slave traders are raiding the coast again, and some people are too frightened to travel, which hurts the business of a poor innkeeper.” He sighed. “When will the Emperor deal with such scum? I pay my taxes, do I not?”

  “I heard similar stories along the road,” said Halfdan. “They attacked and burned the White Road Inn, though Oscar and his family got safely away.”

  Zorgi scowled. “That is grim news, my friend. Grim news. Oscar is a good man. He orders beer from me, for my beer is rightly famed throughout the Empire.” His eyes fell upon Caina, and his jovial manner reasserted itself. “But, come! Let us speak of business later. Who is this fair young lady? Have you at last taken another wife?” He grinned. “And you call me a dog! She is young enough to be your daughter, you rake.”

  “That’s because she is my daughter,” said Halfdan. “Zorgi, permit me to introduce my daughter, Anna.”

  “Ah!” said Zorgi. He took Caina’s hand in his callused palm, lifted it to his face, and kissed her knuckles. “And you have brought her to the city to find a suitable husband, no? That will be a hard task.”

  “And why is that?” said Caina, putting a bit of pique into her voice. She found herself liking Zorgi, though she wondered what had put that gray in his hair. “Do you not think a suitable husband will want me?”

  “Ha!” said Zorgi. “I think your father will be hard-pressed to find a husband worthy of you, my dear.” He grinned. “My Katerine makes me very happy. But if I was unwed…and twenty years younger, and perhaps forty pounds lighter, I would court you myself.”

  “You flatter me, master innkeeper,” said Caina. She smiled at him. “And if I were perhaps a little older…ah, well. Destiny can be cruel, can it not?”

  Zorgi’s smile never wavered, but something flickered in his eyes. “It can, alas. Alas.”

  The Inn’s door opened, and the porters came in, bearing the chests from the wagon, while Ark watched them with his hand on his sword hilt.

  “Ah, Arlann!” called Zorgi. “Still working for this old fool, I see.”

  Ark shrugged. “I know all his secrets, Master Zorgi. He can’t afford to let me go.”

  “Well, you ever get tired of tramping all over the Empire, I could use a stout fellow to keep the drunks in line.”

  “Daughter,” said Halfdan, “why don’t you and Arlann take the porters to our rooms and unpack? Master Zorgi and I need to catch up on a few things. Business, you understand.”

  “If you wish, Father,” said Caina.

  Zorgi smiled and pointed. “You shall have my finest suite, of course, At the top of the stairs, the corner rooms. A splendid view of the harbor and the lighthouse fortresses. Separate bedrooms for yourself and your daughter, and even a cot for Arlann.”

  “Truly, I have fallen into the lap of luxury,” said Ark.

  Zorgi roared with laughter and turned to Halfdan. Caina followed the porters up the stairs. She noticed that every single door had a horseshoe nailed into the lintel, with fresh flowers pinned beneath the metal. Hadn’t Ark said that the Szalds put up the charm only after the birth of a new child? Either the Inn had a lot of newborn children…

  …or someone was afraid to lose the children they already had.

  The suite was magnificent. The windows had a grand view of the harbor, of the endless ships moving back and forth through the water. The sitting room opened into two separate bedrooms. One room held a stone tub, with water piped up from below, much to Caina’s delight. She crossed to the windows and tested the shutters. They opened quite easily, and she thought of the rope and grapnel hidden in the chests.

  That would come in handy.

  “Mistress,” said one of the porters, panting, “where do you wish these chests?”

  “Just leave them on the floor, by the table,” said Caina. “I’ll attend to them later.”

  The porters grunted, piled the chests, and left. Caina returned to the balcony, watched Halfdan and Zorgi speaking to each other.

  “She will be most interested in meeting you,” said Zorgi. “The noble lady wears a different gown to every engagement, and so of course must wear different jewels. You shall turn quite a profit, my friend.”

  “Then I should like to meet her,” said Halfdan. “As soon as possible.”

  “I will see if I can arrange something,” said Zorgi. “Her steward likes to dine here some nights. And your fair daughter…eh? Many young lords flock to Lady Palaegus’s balls.”

  Caina blinked. Palaegus. That had been one of the names in Icaraeus’s ledger.

  “I think she would like that,” said Halfdan.

  Caina walked back into the suite, leaving Halfdan to pump the innkeeper for information.

  She stopped in surprise.

  A woman in a black dress emerged from one of the bedrooms, a hammer in one hand. Thin and pale, she looked about Zorgi’s age, and had signs of strain around her eyes and mouth. She stopped when she saw Caina, and her eyes went wide.

  “Pardon,” said Caina. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  The woman nodded. She looked…frightened. For a moment Caina thought the woman was a thief, and then the truth came to her.

  “You’re Zorgi’s wife, aren’t you?” said Caina. “Katerine.”

  “I am, mistress,” said the woman, speaking Caerish with a thick Szaldic accent.

  “You were putting up those charms,” said Caina, pointing at the hammer. “Why?”

  “I put up the charms over your windows, mistress,” said Katerine. A trembling little smile appeared on her face. “Keep the bad things out. I mean no harm. Please do not be angry.”

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Caina.

  “Thank you, mistress,” said Katerine. “I must go about my work now.” She hurried to the door.

  “Wait,” said Caina.

  Katerine froze, her face stricken.

  “Your Inn is a lovely place,” said Caina.

  “Thank you, mistress.” She fled before Caina could say anything else.

  Katerine had been frightened of something, and that bothered Caina. Anna Callenius was not supposed to scare anyone. Had Katerine deduced something of Caina’s true purpose? But that seemed unlikely. Perhaps wealthy women simply unnerved her. It could not be an easy life, waiting upon proud merchants and their demanding wives and daughters.

  She looked at the iron horseshoes nailed to the doorframes, thinking.

  Halfdan came into the room, followed by Ark, and shut the door behind him.

  “Did Zorgi tell you anything useful?” said Caina.

  “Some things,” said Halfdan, looking over the rooms. “People are frightened. There are all sorts of rumors about slave traders in the city, but nothing substantial. He thinks he might arrange an invitation for us to one of Lady
Palaegus’s parties.”

  “Palaegus?” said Caina. “One of the names in Icaraeus’s ledger.”

  “Aye,” said Halfdan. “We’ll go, drink her wine, laugh at her witticisms, and have a look around. And if I see anything I don’t like, she’ll regret it sorely.”

  “What happened to Zorgi?” said Caina.

  Halfdan’s voice was quiet. “Noticed that, did you?”

  “Noticed what?” said Ark. “He seemed much as I remember.”

  Halfdan shook his head. “He’s aged too quickly, and he walks like a man in pain. He’s suffered some sort of blow.”

  “I think,” said Caina, “that one of his children died.”

  Halfdan and Ark stared at her.

  “All those horseshoes,” said Caina. “I saw Katerine nailing up some more. They must have lost a child. Now Katerine is nailing up charms against the Moroaica to...fight her grief, I suppose.”

  “Zorgi did have a new son the last time I was here,” said Halfdan. “Cheerful lad. Four or five years old at the most. Gods, that’s a hard blow. Cruel enough when they die in childbirth, or in the first week. But after they’ve grown a bit…that’s the cruelest of all.”

  That, at least, was a pain that Caina would never know. Though it was a mercy she could have done without.

  “What now?” said Caina.

  “The day’s almost done,” said Halfdan. “Tomorrow I’ll see about that invitation to Lady Palaegus’s ball.” His voice dropped. “And we’ll make contact with the local Ghost circle. In the meantime…Zorgi sets an excellent table. I suggest we make use of it.”

  ###

  Master Zorgi did, indeed, set an excellent table. Halfdan pronounced the wine excellent, though Caina thought it tasted like any other wine. Though the food was superb. Caina had eaten jerky and vegetables on the road for weeks, and it had been a long time since she had eaten so well. She listened as the other guests, mostly merchants, talked about trade routes and tariffs and inventories and other matters. A few complained about the slave raids, but did not seem too concerned.

  When you had enough money, Caina supposed, tragedy was something that happened to other people.

  “I can tell you were in the Legions, Arlann,” said Zorgi, as Ark sopped up some gravy with a heel of bread. “You eat like a soldier.”

  “If there’s food,” said Ark, “better eat it now. There might be none tomorrow.”

  “Master Zorgi,” said Caina, “your table is superb.”

  The innkeeper gave her a wide smile. “Ah, my Katerine, she is a queen among cooks, no?”

  “Truly,” said Caina. “Give her my compliments, please.”

  “Of course,” said Zorgi, a shadow crossing his face.

  ###

  Afterwards Caina retired to their rooms and made liberal use of the bath. It was glorious. The water was hot, and Caina soaked for a long time, letting the heat work its way into her limbs. She rinsed the grease from her hair and scrubbed the sweat and grime of the road from her limbs.

  Languid from the bath and the food, she dressed for bed. Perhaps she was tired enough that no dreams would come.

  ###

  The faint sound of weeping awoke her.

  Caina rolled to her feet in a smooth motion, snatching the dagger from beneath her pillow. Her bedroom was empty, moonlight spilling across the carpets. A salt-scented breeze blew through the open shutters, accompanied by the faint sound of crying.

  She crossed to the windows and looked down.

  Katerine wandered through the Inn’s gardens, weeping, arms wrapped tight around herself, her face twisted with anguish and sorrow.

  A dark shape crossed the garden, and Caina saw Zorgi hurry to his wife. He took her hands, speaking to her in low, urgent tones. Caina could not make out any of the words. Katerine shook her head, still weeping. But at last she sagged against her husband, and allowed Zorgi to lead her back to the Inn.

  Caina watched them go, wondering just what had happened to their son.

  She went back to bed.

  ###

  This time a new nightmare awaited her.

  Caina fled through hallways of black stone, trying not to scream. A shadow flowed after her, and she knew that it carried death. Her foot caught on something and she fell, hitting the cold floor.

  The girl in the gray dress stared down at her, face expressionless, the silver comb glittering in her hair.

  The shadow fell upon Caina, and she screamed.

  ###

  She awoke with the sun in her eyes, sweat dripping down her face. For a moment she expected to see the shadow lurking in the corner, or perhaps the solemn-faced girl, but her bedroom was empty.

  “I don’t care what Halfdan says,” Caina muttered, pushing aside the blankets. “No wine before bed.”

  Chapter 5 - The Ghosts of Marsis

  The next morning Halfdan went to arrange a meeting with the Ghost circle of Marsis. Caina took Ark and wandered through the market plaza across from Zorgi’s Inn, chatting with the shopkeepers and merchants. Business was good, could be better. They had heard of slaver raids, oh yes, such a shame. Would she like to buy a bracelet? Or a necklace?

  There was a bookshop, and Caina entered it with longing. It reminded her of her father’s library. He had taught her to read there. Her happiest memories were of that library, spending the evenings with his books while he worked at his desk.

  Of course, some of her worst memories were there as well.

  Caina bought a book and took it back to their suite at Zorgi’s. She sat down to read as Ark sharpened his broadsword and his daggers, a ritual that he did every day without fail. Written by some long-dead scholar, the book described the legends of the Szaldic people, their folklore and myths. Caina read of men who became wolves and feasted upon the flesh of women, of witches lurking in the woods, of wicked spirits who dwelt in lakes and took the form of nude young women to lure foolish men to their doom. (Here, of course, the long-dead scholar had included illustrations.) Of the gods who threw down the demons and chained them below Black Angel Tower. The Moroaica, the queen of demons, who stole young children and feasted upon their hearts. The Solmonari, cruel yet wise, who defended the people from the demons and the wicked spirits.

  A demon-haunted people, the book called the Szalds. Caina thought of Katerine and her horseshoes.

  “Rasadda,” said Ark.

  Caina looked at him.

  “You would read in Rasadda, too,” he said.

  “You’re welcome to the book when I’m done,” said Caina.

  “You read for enjoyment,” said Ark, bemused, “the way some men hunt or play cards.”

  “Does that seem so odd to you?” said Caina.

  “It does,” said Ark. “I learned to read in the Legions. But it was a tool. Like a hammer. I used it when needed, nothing more.”

  “People need to eat,” said Caina, “but they still hunt for enjoyment anyway.”

  Ark smiled a little. “Tanya liked to hunt.”

  “She did?”

  “It’s not considered proper for highborn Nighmarian women, but the Szalds have different customs,” said Ark. “I suppose we were technically poachers, but the village of Hruzac was far from any garrison.” His eyes went distant, and he stared at the gleaming edge of his broadsword.

  “My father’s library,” said Caina. “I learned to read there, while my mother raged and pursued her studies of arcane science.”

  “Women and sorcery,” said Ark. “An unpleasant mix.”

  “Sorcery and anyone,” said Caina. “If every last sorcerer died tomorrow, the world would be a better place by far.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” said Ark, turning his attention to the sword. Caina smiled and returned to her book. She read how the Solmonari fought the Moroaica and her demons, teaching the people charms of cold iron to ward away the dark things of the night...

  “If you sit about reading, daughter, you’ll never find a husband.”

  Caina looked up
to see Halfdan. “Would not a husband prefer a well-read wife, Father?”

  “Probably not,” said Halfdan. “But if you’ll join me, we have other business.”

  Caina stood, and Ark buckled on his sword. “Where to?”

  Halfdan smiled. “We’re going to see a locksmith.”

  ###

  Halfdan had rented a coach, and it bounced and rattled through the streets of Marsis. They rode to a tailor’s shop perhaps a half-mile from Zorgi’s Inn, the windows filled with bolts of cloth.

  “We could have walked,” said Caina.

  “I am a master merchant of status and influence,” said Halfdan. “I do not walk.”

  “I thought we were going to see a locksmith,” said Caina, looking at the bolts of cloth.

  “We are,” said Halfdan, opening the coach’s door. “This way.”

  He led them to a narrow alley alongside the tailor’s shop. A wooden staircase rose to the third floor and a massive steel door set into the wall. Caina stared at the door, frowning. She knew a quite a bit about locks and mechanical traps, thanks to her nightfighter training, and the lock on the door was the most complicated one she had ever seen. And to judge from the various panels and bolts on the door, forcing the lock would trigger all kinds of traps. Poisoned needles, most likely.

  Halfdan saw her looking, grinned, and knocked.

  A moment later a little window opened in the door. “Yes?” said a woman’s voice in a lilting Kyracian accent.

  “Good day,” said Halfdan. “I am Basil Callenius, master merchant, and I would like to speak with Radast. I was told there would be a meeting.”

  Caina caught a glimpse of hard black eyes through the little window. “Where do the shadows hide?” said the woman in High Nighmarian.

  “Wherever tyrants rule,” said Halfdan in the same language, “wherever the people live in dread, then let the wicked fear the Ghosts in the shadows.”

  Several locks released with heavy thumps. The massive steel door swung open with a groan. A thin woman with a grim expression stood behind it, her black hair streaked with gray. She had the dark eyes and golden-brown skin of a native-born Kyracian. “Basil, welcome,” she said, switching back to Caerish. “And Arlann. Good to see you again.” She glanced at Caina. “Who is this?”