The Ghosts Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  So she strapped them to her thighs instead. Just in case.

  Caina gave herself a critical glance in the mirror, nodded, and left her bedroom to join Ark and Halfdan. Ark waited by her door, clad in his usual mail and leather, though he had put on a nicer cloak. Halfdan stared out the window, wearing the rich fur-trimmed robe of a master merchant, a gold badge glittering in his cap, and a jeweled dagger at his belt.

  “Well, daughter,” said Halfdan, turning, “you look as fair as rose. A pity we aren’t seeking you a rich husband in truth. You’d snare one in no time.”

  Ark stared at her, and said nothing. There was a look of distant pain in his eyes. She knew that he was thinking of Tanya.

  “A rose with steel thorns, no doubt,” said Ark. “How many blades? Two?”

  “Six,” said Caina.

  “Six?” said Halfdan. “Where did you hide…I don’t want to know. Shall we?”

  ###

  Lady Agria Palaegus’s mansion blazed with light.

  Glass spheres rested in every window, lit from within by sorcery. The Magisterium made a fortune from the sale of those glowing spheres, the novices of their order manufacturing and enspelling them by the thousands. The mansion stood six stories tall, built in the classical Imperial style, with columns and porticoes and statues of long-dead Emperors. Behind the mansion rose the crag of the Citadel, and the Black Angel Tower, darker than the night itself.

  Caina took Halfdan’s arm and walked towards the mansion’s double doors, following a long line of other guests. Ark followed, hand on sword hilt, his eyes flickering over the crowd. Caina took the opportunity to do her own examination of the guests. Most looked like lords or wealthy merchants. There were even a few masters of the Magisterium, fat old men in black robes with purple hoods. Like Ducas had said, they looked more at home with wine and rich food than with intrigue.

  But appearances could deceive. Did they have dealings with Naelon Icaraeus?

  “Ah, Basil. There you are,” said Ducas as he approached. He still wore his tribune’s armor, though he had exchanged his red cloak for a black one with gold trim. His eyes flicked over Caina, up and down, lingering at her chest. “And you, Anna.” He took her hand and kissed it. “You look good enough to eat.”

  Caina smiled. “I fear I would give you indigestion, my lord.”

  Ark snorted.

  Ducas gave him a foul look and let go her of her hand. “Well, let’s get in line. Time to meet the rich whore herself.”

  Caina glanced at him. “I though you wanted to marry her.”

  “I want to bed her and get my hands on her money,” said Ducas. “That doesn’t mean I like her.”

  Lady Agria Palaegus waited by the door, flanked by a pair of bodyguards with the look of Legion veterans. She was her in her middle thirties, with long blonde hair, artfully arranged, and bloodshot blue eyes. Her black gown looked like mourning dress…yet it had been cut to leave her arms and cleavage bare, and it was too tight.

  Somehow she gave Caina the impression of overripe fruit that had just started to turn.

  “Ducas, you wicked man,” said Agria, as Ducas kissed her on the cheek. “I thought you weren’t going to come. My parties are dreadfully dull unless you attend.”

  “Dear Agria,” said Ducas. “I wouldn’t miss your ball for the world. How else shall I feast my eyes upon your radiant beauty?”

  Agria laughed. “Ever the flatterer. And you’ve brought guests?”

  “So I have,” said Ducas. “This is a friend of mine, Master Basil Callenius, a master merchant of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers.”

  “My lady, an honor,” said Halfdan, kissing her hand.

  “Why, Ducas!” said Agria. “You’ve brought me a present, haven’t you? You know how I love beautiful things.” She turned to Halfdan. “A noble lady must keep up appearances. If your merchandise is good, master merchant, then perhaps I shall honor you with my patronage.”

  Halfdan bowed again. “My lady is too kind.”

  Agria’s face lit up as she saw Caina. “And who is this?”

  “May I present my daughter, Anna?” said Halfdan. Caina gripped her skirts and did a deep curtsy, appropriate for a merchant’s daughter meeting a lady of high lineage.

  “Why, aren’t you a darling thing?” said Agria. “What do you think of Marsis, my dear? Not quite as beautiful as the Imperial capital?”

  “Perhaps not,” said Caina. “But not nearly so crowded.”

  “Your father brought you here to find a husband, didn’t he?” said Agria. She made a show of lowering her voice. “Just between you and me, child, men are useless. Marry one for the money.” Her lip curled. “They aren’t good for anything else.”

  “Well, my lady,” said Caina. Something clicked in her mind, and she had a sudden insight on how to win Agria’s trust. “Maybe they’re good for two things. I would like a husband with a good strong sword, after all.”

  Agria let out a delighted little laugh. “True, true! Alas that the combination is so rare.” She put a hand on Caina’s bare shoulder, the palm cool and dry. “We shall be the best of friends, I am sure. I always enjoy the company of witty ladies.”

  “I should be honored, my lady,” said Caina.

  “Now, off you go,” said Agria. “I have other guests to greet.” She took no notice of Ark. No doubt she considered him part of the scenery.

  The great marble hall of Agria’s mansion blazed with light. Three iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each fitted with hundreds of miniature versions of the Magisterium’s glowing glass spheres. Guests in silk and fur and damask and armor moved through the hall, laughing and chatting and flirting. Musicians played in the corners, filling the air with soft music. Servants hurried to and fro, bearing trays of food and drink. All of them looked well-fed and healthy, if somewhat harried.

  None of them looked like slaves.

  “Quite a woman, Lady Agria,” said Halfdan.

  “Gods have mercy,” said Ducas. “This entire party probably cost a hundred times my tribune’s wages.”

  “Why is she in black?” said Caina. “It looked like a mourning dress, if…”

  “If whores wore mourning dresses, you mean?” said Ducas. “Her husband died…five years past. Along with her daughter. Some kind of plague, I think. The priests forbade a public funeral, lest the contagion spread.”

  Halfdan glanced at Lady Agria, who stood laughing with the guests. “So she drowns her pain in revels.”

  All at once, Agria reminded Caina of her mother.

  Perhaps Agria was glad to be rid of her husband and daughter. Caina felt a little chill settle in her stomach. Her mother had murdered her father and come within a hair’s breadth of murdering her. Had she succeeded, Caina had no doubt that her mother would have reveled the way Lady Agria reveled now.

  “What do you think, daughter?” said Halfdan.

  “I think it’s an act,” said Caina, voice soft. “I think she’s far more dangerous than she lets on.”

  “Agria?” said Ducas, dubious. “She’s not bright enough to act.”

  “Perhaps,” said Halfdan. “Come, Ducas. Introduce me to wealthy women in need of jewelry. Daughter, why don’t you go and mingle? Arlann, stay with her, in case she meets a rake like Ducas.”

  “Of course, Father,” said Caina. “Lady Agria has a lovely home. I should very much like to see more of it.”

  Halfdan smiled and followed Ducas across the marble floor.

  “And you want to see more of it,” said Ark, “so it will be all the easier to break in later?”

  “What a dreadful thing to say,” said Caina.

  She spent an hour exploring. The ball had begun in the great hall, but had spilled through the rest of the mansion. She walked through the halls, listening to snatches of conversation. More than a few guests approached her, lords and merchants and the sons of lords and merchants, ranging from a boy of fifteen to a lord who had to be at least eighty. Most were inebriated. Caina flirted with t
hem as necessary, gently rebuffed some, had Ark scowl at a particularly obnoxious suitor until he took the hint and remembered urgent engagements elsewhere. Everyone agreed it was a dreadful business about these slave raids, but surely the Lord Governor and the Legions would take care of it. No one knew anything useful.

  “Fools, the lot of them,” growled Ark.

  “Aye,” said Caina. “But not foolish enough to buy slaves from Icaraeus.” She spotted a balcony at the end of the hall. Perhaps it would make a useful entrance for a later visit? “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

  The balcony had a fine view of the city and the gardens below. Caina put her hands on the cold stone balcony, took a deep breath, and realized that she was not alone.

  A man stood at the railing, glaring down at the garden. He was in his forties, and like Ducas, he wore the armor of a Legion tribune. Unlike Ducas, his armor had seen some hard use. There were scars on his face, ugly ones. His grim eyes turned towards Caina, and his hand twitched towards the hilt of his broadsword. A reflex action, she judged.

  “I am sorry, sir,” said Caina. “I did not realize you were here.”

  The man relaxed. “The error is mine. I forget that I am not on the battlefield, and that enemies do not lurk in every shadow.” That had a mocking edge too it. “Are you enjoying the party, my lady?”

  Caina looked at him again, and made a gamble. “In truth, no. I do not care for these revels. I find such debauchery…unpleasant.”

  “We are of like mind then,” said the man. “The Empire of old had sober, upright men and virtuous women. Now we are reduced to,” he waved a contemptuous hand at the mansion, “this.” He gave her a closer look. “You must be a…merchant’s daughter, I deem, come to Marsis to find a husband.”

  “I am,” said Caina.

  “A word of caution, then,” said the tribune. “You will not find a worthy husband here. And do not trust anything Lady Agria tells you.”

  “I don’t know,” said Caina. She gave him a bold smile. “You seem worthy enough.”

  He blinked at her, and burst out in rough laughter. “I am hardly a suitable husband for a wealthy woman. Nor do I have any desire to take a wife at this time. Though you flatter me.”

  Caina did a curtsy. “Anna Callenius, daughter of Master Basil Callenius of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers. This is my father’s hired man, Arlann of Caer Marist.”

  He bowed to her in turn. “Hiram Palaegus, tribune of the Ninth Cohort of the Twentieth Legion.”

  Caina blinked. “You’re Lady Agria’s brother?”

  “Brother-in-law,” said Hiram. “Lord Martin was my half-brother. I was a bastard, and my brother gave me the right to the Palaegus name, but no rights of inheritance, as he hoped to have a son one day. So when Martin died, along with his daughter, Agria became Lady of House Palaegus.”

  “My lord,” said Caina. “I am sorry to hear of your loss.”

  Hiram blinked. “It was five years ago. But Martin was a good man. Far too good for that…” He shook his head and looked at Ark. “You, fellow. You were in the Legions, were you not? I can always tell.”

  “Aye,” said Ark. “I was a centurion, and ran the Legion while the tribunes amused themselves at grand balls.”

  Again Hiram let out a burst of rough laughter. “Well put! But some advice. Keep your mistress away from Agria. She would not be a…good influence.”

  He turned and walked away, vanishing into the mansion.

  “Bitter,” said Ark.

  Caina shrugged. “It’s not surprising. He says he loved his brother and hated his sister-in-law. He can’t be happy with how things turned out. Or he’s simply bitter. It’s common enough, in highborn bastards.” She shook her head, thinking.

  “Mistress?”

  Caina looked up. A young woman in a maid’s dress approached. “Yes?”

  “Are you Anna, Master Basil’s daughter?”

  “I am.”

  “Lady Agria extends her compliments, and would like you to join her in the solar,” said the maid.

  “Of course,” said Caina. “Could you show me the way?”

  The maid led her through the marble maze of the mansion, with Caina taking careful note of the details. They went up a spiraling flight of steps, stopping at a door of dark wood. The maid knocked, and Lady Agria stepped out.

  “Ah, Anna, there you are,” said Agria. “I hope you could join me and a few friends for a quiet glass of wine, away from the party.”

  “Of course, my lady,” said Caina.

  She glanced at Ark just long enough to look dismissive. “Though your father’s man will have to wait outside, I’m afraid. One cannot have a decent chat with men hanging about, the brutish louts.”

  Ark looked at Caina.

  She touched his arm. “I’ll be fine. Wait for me at the bottom of the stairs.”

  Ark nodded and left, the maid following after him.

  “Come inside, my dear,” said Agria, taking her hand.

  She led Caina into the solar atop the tower. Pillars held up a domed ceiling, and the spaces between the pillars had been filled panes of glass mounted in intricate leaden frames. The room had a splendid view of the city, and the Black Angel Tower reared up in the distance. Two women in expensive clothes sat in a circle of chairs around a central table, drinking wine and talking to each other.

  None of that captured Caina’s attention, though.

  It was the fat white candles standing everywhere. It was the odd symbols and sigils, painted on every available flat surface. It was the fist-sized lump of misshapen crystal sitting atop the table. It was the odd, chemical scent in the air, something she remembered but could not quite place.

  “Not quite what you expected?” said Agria.

  Caina blinked. “It looks…very mystical,” she said at last. Actually, it looked like gibberish and stage props. She knew a fair bit about sorcery, and most of the symbols were nonsense, or so she thought. Though some of them were legitimate. “Like something the Magisterium would do.”

  “The Magisterium? A collection of foolish old men,” said Agria. “It is women who have the true power, women who have the true mystical strength.” She waved a hand. “Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Lady Messana Heliorus, a poor widow like me.”

  Lady Messana had black hair and brown eyes, and looked about the same age as Agria. Like Lady Agria, she wore a black mourning dress that was too tight and had been cut too low. Like Agria, she seemed to have that same look of overripe beauty. No doubt Ducas found her attractive.

  Caina gripped her skits. “My lady, an honor.”

  Heliorus had been in Icaraeus’s ledger.

  “My, my, Agria, what a lovely young lady,” said Lady Messana. “I’m sure we shall become fast friends.”

  “And this is Lady Vorena Chlorus,” said Agria.

  Another name in Icaraeus’s ledger.

  Lady Vorena also wore a black mourning dress, though hers at least was of modest cut. She looked deep in thought, almost troubled. She gave Caina a distracted nod and returned to contemplating of her wine glass.

  “We are widows all,” said Agria, “and some of us have even lost children, the poor dears.”

  “We are better off without them,” said Messana, smiling. She patted Caina’s hand. “Take my advice, dear, and when you take a husband, find an apothecary who can sell you a decent abortifacient. Children are nothing but trouble. The whining, the complaints, the expense…and not to mention what it does to your figure.” She gave a delicate shudder. “Frankly, the illness that did away with my husband and son was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Scarlet rage flooded Caina. Long practice kept her face still and her voice calm. “I…don’t know for myself, my lady. I suppose I would like children. Though I expect my father shall pick some fat old lord for my husband.”

  Not that she would ever have a husband and children. Not her.

  Agria and her friends chorused with laughter.

&n
bsp; “Fat, indeed,” said Lady Vorena. “My husband was a man of high Nighmarian lineage, but a flabby old bore. I am better by far without him.”

  “Oh, dear, you have so much to learn,” said Agria, “and we are happy to teach you. Do you know why we meet in private?”

  Caina shook her head. “To…talk, I suppose, without men listening in.”

  “Of course,” said Agria, “and to practice the mystical arts.”

  Caina stopped herself from laughing, but only just. “You mean the arcane sciences? The brothers of the Magisterium have fearful powers.”

  “The magi?” said Agria. “What do they know? The arcane sciences, indeed. They have no real power.” Caina knew better. She had seen magi strike men dead with nothing more than a gesture. “No, no, sorcery is an art, not a science. And through that art we can bestow blessings.”

  “Blessings?” said Caina.

  “You can look younger,” said Lady Messana, twirling a finger through her hair. “I used to have gray hairs, though you would never know it to look at me now. Or, if you like, we can force a man to love you, to make his heart yours. He will become your very slave.”

  “We can smooth away wrinkles, make the years melt away,” said Agria. “Or, if you indeed want children, we can bless you so that you will bear many strong sons, and yet retain your beauty.”

  “That is…very remarkable,” said Caina. She did not bother to keep the doubt out of her voice.

  The things they described were possible through sorcery, but they required the bloodiest necromancy, arcane sciences that even the Magisterium banned. Her mother had desired to learn such sciences from Maglarion, and Caina doubted this circle of spiteful widows had the fortitude for murderous necromancy.