The Ghosts Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  But Agria reminded Caina of her mother.

  And Icaraeus was getting his sorcery from somewhere.

  Agria gave her a small smile. “You don’t believe us?”

  “I…I don’t know, my lady,” said Caina. “It seems so remarkable.”

  “Please. I am not some prating priest, asking you to take wonders upon faith,” said Agria. “Come. Sit, sit. Let me show you.”

  Caina sat between Messana and Vorena. Both women refilled their wine glasses from a carafe next to the crystal, and Agria filled a glass of her own. She passed it to Caina. “Here, drink, and we shall show you the true wonders of the mystic arts.”

  Caina lifted the glass to her lips and froze. All at once she recognized the odd chemical smell. It was a wild shrub that grew in the hills north of Marsis. Properly distilled and prepared, it could cause intense hallucinogenic visions. Agria had dosed the wine. No wonder she believed herself capable of sorcery.

  Caina waited until the other women drank, their eyes closed in pleasure, and quickly dumped her glass into the cushion of her chair.

  “Mmm,” said Agria, rolling her neck. Her pupils had opened very wide. “How is the wine?”

  “It…is very good. Very good,” said Caina, putting a slur into her voice.

  “Yes,” said Agria. “Now, look into the crystal, and you shall see wonders.”

  She lifted her hands theatrically, drew herself up, and began to chant. The language was mostly gibberish, with various Szaldic and High Nighmarian terms thrown into the mix. Caina listened with half an ear, her mind working. Agria seemed like a bored noblewoman with decadent tastes. She might have purchased slaves for the thrill of it, but it seemed unlikely that she could hide them.

  Then all at once Caina felt the surge.

  Ever since her mother’s betrayal, ever since the torments Maglarion had inflicted upon her, she could feel the presence of sorcery. It made her skin tingle and crawl, and always left her feeling half-nauseated. There was a flare of blue light around Agria’s fingers, and the crystal pulsed with the same light.

  Lady Agria Palaegus had just cast a spell.

  And Caina realized that the noblewoman had cast the spell at her. She was trying to look into Caina’s mind, and she felt the faint brush of Agria’s thoughts against her own. Anger was the only defense against an arcane attack upon the mind. Caina drew up her rage at Messana and Agria’s remarks, her hatred of sorcery, and the tingling sensation faded.

  Agria blinked a few times and looked at her.

  “Did you see anything, my lady?” said Caina. “I saw only a blue flash.”

  “You seem so angry, my dear,” said Agria, voice quiet.

  “It…I was thinking of my father,” lied Caina. “How he will force me to marry soon.”

  “Indeed,” said Agria. “I saw that in your future, I’m afraid.” She laid a sympathetic hand upon Caina’s shoulder. “But you must not be afraid. We will help you, won’t we? With our mystical powers, you will soon make your husband into your slave. Our arts can force him to love you, to make him pant and beg for your very touch.”

  “I…I would like that,” said Caina. “I would like that very much.”

  “You should go back to your father now,” said Agria. “Do expect another invitation from us soon.”

  “Of course,” said Messana Heliorus. “You seem like a young lady of quality, and we would like to get to know you better.”

  “Thank you,” said Caina.

  She rose, curtsied, and managed not to run from the room.

  ###

  “She has some power,” said Caina.

  They sat in Halfdan’s coach, exchanging what they had learned.

  Ducas gave her a dubious look. “Agria? Are you sure? How much wine did you drink?”

  “I know real sorcery when I see it,” said Caina, “and she tried to break into my mind.”

  “Agria?” repeated Ducas. “I can scare believe it. The woman is barely clever enough to read, let alone to cast a spell.”

  “The candles and the drugged wine were all a smokescreen,” said Caina, “trying to hide what she was really doing.”

  “Do you think she’s strong enough to create those bracers you saw on Icaraeus?” said Halfdan.

  “I don’t know,” said Caina.

  “And where would Agria have learned sorcery?” said Ducas, still struggling with the idea. “The Magisterium would have taken her years ago, if she had enough talent. Some foreign sorcerer?”

  “Maybe,” said Halfdan. “Regardless, the next step is clear. Tomorrow night someone will have to break into Lady Agria’s mansion and have a look around. Perhaps we can locate her slaves, and learn more about her arcane abilities.”

  “Someone?” said Ducas. “Her mansion is patrolled day and night, and her guards know their business. We’d need a nightfighter to break into the mansion, and we have no one of that skill.”

  Ark looked at Caina.

  Ducas blinked. “You?”

  Caina gave him a tight grin.

  ###

  That night Caina’s nightmares returned in full force. Cold-eyed women surrounded her, laughing, knives glittering in their hands. She saw Agria Palaegus and Messana Heliorus and Vorena Chlorus, all laughing, and they turned into her mother. Caina screamed and tried to ward off the blows, but the gleaming knives stabbed.

  The girl in the gray dress watched, eyes solemn.

  Chapter 7 - Night Hunting

  The night after Lady Agria’s ball, Caina dressed for work. She donned the steel-lined black jacket, the boots, the gloves, the belt of knives and other useful tools, the black mask, and the shadowed cloak.

  “I still think this is a bad idea,” said Ducas.

  They had gathered in Radast’s workshop. It was closer to Lady Agria’s mansion than Zorgi’s Inn. Halfdan, Ark, Ducas, and Jiri stood near the door. Radast sat at a table, scribbling numbers, oblivious to the discussion.

  “She knows what she’s doing,” said Halfdan.

  “Foolishness,” said Ducas. “Agria’s security is excellent, and her guardsmen have been well-trained. A master thief would have trouble getting in and out of there alive, much less some pampered merchant’s daughter.”

  Caina smiled behind the black mask and pulled up the cowl of the shadow-woven cloak. She crossed to a window, opened the steel shutters, and hooked a steel grapnel to the sill. A rope had been tied to the grapnel, and she let it fall to the alley below.

  Halfdan laughed. “A merchant’s daughter? You know better. Do you really think that I am a jewel merchant? Or that Anna came to Marsis to find a husband?”

  “Basil is right,” said Jiri. “When has he led us wrong, Ducas? If he says that Anna has a nightfighter’s skills, then she can get in and out of Agria’s mansion.”

  “If she’s caught, she’ll be tortured,” said Ducas. “She’ll spill everything, and that will lead back to me. I have hardly any career as it is. How long do you think I’ll last if people find out that I spy for the Ghosts?”

  “Nineteen hours,” said Radast, not looking up from his numbers.

  Jiri snorted. Radast glanced at Caina, his eyes calculating, and nodded to himself. He turned back to his slate, writing a fresh equation.

  “But…” started Ducas.

  “Enough talk,” said Caina.

  Her voice came out in the growling rasp she used while disguised. Ducas flinched, hand twitching towards his broadsword.

  “I’ll be back by dawn,” said Caina. “If not, assume I’m dead.”

  “Try not to burn the place down this time,” said Halfdan.

  Caina rolled her eyes, crossed to the window, took a quick look at the street, and vaulted over the sill. Down the rope she went, cloak billowing, and landed in the alley. It was nearly midnight, and the streets were deserted. Caina adjusted her cloak and set off.

  ###

  A short walk took her to Agria Palaegus’s mansion.

  As Ducas had said, the security was excellent. Two
guards in Palaegus colors stood before the gates, watching the street with cool eyes. Two more guards made a steady circuit around the low wall encircling the gardens. The Magisterium’s damned glass spheres sat atop the wall at regular intervals, and the guards had plenty of light.

  Caina settled in the shadows, watching the guards. She waited until she had memorized the pattern of their patrol. The security was good…but not that good. The guards should have changed the pattern of their walk, but they didn’t. Which meant that a corner of the wall was left unguarded every three minutes or so.

  Caina waited until the guards rounded the corner, and burst into a run.

  The wall was only nine feet or so. Caina jumped, grabbed the lip, and rolled over into the gardens. She landed silently, wrapping the cloak around her, and remained still. No shouts. No sounds of alarm.

  No one had seen her.

  The garden’s numerous bushes and trees provided ample cover. Caina crept through the garden unnoticed. Two more guards stood at the mansion’s double doors. Like the rest of Agria’s guards, they looked like Legion veterans, their eyes hard and alert.

  Fortunately, Caina didn’t plan to go through the door.

  She circled the mansion until she came to the balcony where she had met Hiram Palaegus. A second grapnel and coiled rope dangled from her belt, and she flung the steel hooks onto the marble railing. A quick climb took her to the balcony. She secured the grapnel on her belt and pulled up the rope. It would make for a handy escape, but even the most oblivious guard wouldn't fail to notice a rope dangling from the railing.

  Caina glided into the corridor. Halfdan had spent years teaching her to move silently, and her boots made no sound against the marble floor. The mansion lay utterly silent, and Caina paused for a moment, thinking. If Lady Palaegus had indeed purchased large quantities of slaves, evidence would have to be somewhere. Where to begin?

  The steward’s office. There would be financial records. Naelon Icaraeus’s ledger had recorded the sale of slaves to House Palaegus. Perhaps Agria had kept receipts.

  Caina took another step, and heard footsteps approaching. She ducked into a nearby door. It opened into an unused sitting room, the expensive furniture draped in sheets, the glass spheres darkened. Caina left the door open a crack and settled down to listen and watch.

  Two guards passed, talking to one another in low voices.

  “I don’t care what Lucius says,” said one. “End of the month, once I take my pay, I’m out of here.”

  “Fool,” said the second man. “This is a soft job. Good money, plenty of food, and a warm bed. You’d give that up to grub in the fields?”

  “I signed up to guard a mansion,” said the first man. “Not work for a sorceress. Those noblewomen locked in their tower all night, chanting...gah! I saw enough sorcery when I was in the Legion. I don’t want any part of it…”

  Their voices trailed off, and the footsteps faded away. Caina counted to sixty, and slipped into the corridor. She made her way down the stairs, crossed the ballroom, now dark and empty, and headed for the servants’ quarters.

  The servants’ chambers lacked the mansion’s opulence, but were still roomy and comfortable. The steward’s room was the largest, the door locked. It took Caina only a few moments to pick the lock, and she pushed the door open.

  The steward lay naked in his bed, entangled with a woman twenty years his junior, both of them asleep. No doubt a maid or one of the cooks desired higher pay or easier duties. The steward’s desk and ledgers occupied a small room next to the bedroom. Caina closed the door behind her and rubbed her gloved hand over a glass sphere in an iron stand. She felt a sharp tingle, and sphere glowed with gentle light. Shrouding it with her cloak, she let the light fall over the desk, and began to sort through the papers. The steward kept good records, and she moved through the accounts with ease.

  Or what was left of the accounts.

  Lady Palaegus was in massively in debt. Just over six million denarii, borrowed from practically every lender in the Empire and several foreign ones. Lord Martin Palaegus had left a substantial sum when he died, but his widow had burned through that in under a year. Now the income from House Palaegus’s lands and holdings wouldn’t even the loans’ interest. House Palaegus’s finances were on the edge of collapse; in another year, Agria’s creditors would eat House Palaegus alive before the Court of Exchequer.

  Could Agria really be that stupid?

  Caina thought of the spell. Perhaps Agria had other concerns. Perhaps money didn’t matter to her.

  Caina paged through the records. Agria had spent huge sums on wine, food, jewels, silks, gowns, artwork, and other entertainments. But the biggest sums went to Agria herself for “privy expenses”. There was no record of what Agria bought with that money.

  Slaves, perhaps? Or tutoring from a master of arcane sciences?

  Caina shivered. She could think of several things a sorcerer could do with slaves, and none of them were good.

  Her gloved hand twitched to the scars stretching across her belly.

  A noise from the bedroom made her look up. Caina darkened the glass sphere, placed it back on its iron stand, and peered through the keyhole. She saw the maid rolling over in bed, settling back down to sleep. After a count of ninety, Caina pushed open the study door and glided back into the hallway.

  If Agria was buying slaves from Icaraeus, she would need to hide them. A warehouse at the docks? Risky. Jiri’s informants would notice, sooner or later. The mansion was much more secure. Especially since old mansions almost always had subterranean vaults and deep cellars. The Houses of the Empire tended to hide all sorts of things in their vaults.

  The entrance to the mansion’s cellars was near the great hall. Caina crept through a corridor lined with windows, listening and watching for any guards. Through the windows she saw Agria’s solar atop its tower. Within she glimpsed candlelight, the silhouettes of women, and a faint flickering blue glow.

  Caina felt a twinge of uneasiness. Someone, possibly Agria, was casting a spell. She didn’t know the extent of Agria’s abilities, and the thought of sorcerous power in the hands of a reckless noblewoman was not a pleasant one.

  It reminded her too much of her mother.

  Caina borrowed one of the glass spheres from a pedestal and approached the cellar door. It was massive, iron-banded oak, no doubt built in years past to keep invaders at bay. The lock was equally enormous, but Caina’s tools and skill made short work of it, and she descended down the damp stairs, the sphere held in one hand to provide light.

  The stairs ended in a forest of thick pillars and barrel vaults, the brickwork damp and gleaming. Barrels and crates lined the walls, and the wine racks created a wooden maze. The air was wet and cold, thick with the smells of damp brick, rotting wood, and…

  And human excrement.

  Caina’s heart quickened. She hurried through the cellar, following her nose. The smell of ordure grew stronger. Were slaves chained in the cellar right now? Her mind raced, trying to work out a plan to free them and escape before the guards noticed…

  She stopped, lifting the glass sphere.

  An iron portcullis sealed off an arch in the wall. Caina peered through the bars, turning the glowing sphere back and forth. Within she saw an empty room, reeking of excrement. Some dried vomit stained the corner, and ragged pallets lined the floor. A lot of people had been held in this room, and recently. Perhaps no more than two or three days ago, Caina thought. But what had happened to them?

  Odd that she saw no chains or shackles on the wall.

  A quick search through the cellar turned up nothing but old barrels and older wine. Caina crossed back to the stairs, thinking. Clearly, Agria had imprisoned a large number of people in the cellar. Slaves purchased from Icaraeus? Yet what had she done with them? If Agria was buying slaves from Icaraeus, why would she move them elsewhere? To a safer location? Or perhaps she was actively in business with Icaraeus, her accounts designed to obscure that fact. Lady Agria di
d have a lot of debt, after all, and slave trading brought in considerable money.

  Enough. She could chew over the facts later. There was one last thing to do before she left. She wanted a look at Lady Agria’s bedroom.

  You could always learn a lot about a woman from her bedroom.

  She paused before the door and darkened the enspelled sphere. As much as she despised the Magisterium, the glass spheres were occasionally useful. She slipped through the door, returned the sphere to its place, and took another look out the window. The blue glow still flickered in the solar, illuminating the women’s silhouettes. Agria was still occupied with her mystical arts. Her bedroom should be safe enough.

  Caina went out the window and into the garden. A quarter of the way around the mansion brought her to the balcony of Agria’s private suite. Caina threw the grapnel and scrambled up the line. After securing the rope to her belt once more, she pushed open the doors and entered Agria’s bedroom.

  The room had a palatial opulence that put both the White Road Inn and Zorgi’s establishment to shame. Her boots sank into thick carpets from Istarinmul, the threads woven into elaborate geometric designs. The wardrobe was the size of a small house. The bed, layered with blankets, could have accommodated ten people with room to spare. A massive oak table held an astonishing array of bottled cosmetics, with a huge mirror reflecting the room. Caina wondered how much time Lady Agria spent with that mirror and those bottles.

  A mirror was also set in the ceiling, above the bed.

  Caina decided not to think about that.

  She took a step towards the table and felt the familiar crawling tingle against her skin.

  Sorcery.

  For a moment she froze, half-expecting to see Agria appear from the shadows, blue light flickering around her fingertips. But the tingling remained steady, subdued. After a moment Caina realized it came from the table.

  She drew closer, her reflection shadowed and blurred in the mirror, and looked over the bottles. There were powders, perfumes, salves, brushes, combs, pins…