“To do what?” said Caina, sipping at the wine.
“Nasser hired me,” said Strabane, “to attack slaver caravans.”
“Did he, now,” said Caina, looking at the master thief.
“It is a ripe field for an enterprising bandit,” said Nasser with his smooth smile. “Your adventures have driven up the price of slaves to prohibitive levels. There is simply more demand for labor than the cowled masters can meet. So to keep up with demand, the Slavers’ Brotherhood has been buying slaves from Anshan and shipping them north.”
“And when they do,” said Caina, “you descend to the Trabazon Steppes, raid the caravans, kill the slavers, and carry off the slaves.”
Strabane’s hard smile widened. “A lucrative business. The slavers carry money and other valuables. Their horses and mules are also worth coin. The slaves themselves we free. Some run back to Anshan or their homeland. Quite a few join us, and we give them sword and shield. We’re…”
“You’re building an army,” said Martin.
Strabane inclined his head. “Aye.” He paused. “Though not to wage war upon the Empire.”
“Why, then?” said Caina, looking from Nasser to Strabane and back again. “Are you planning to overthrow the Padishah? Is that your great secret, Nasser?”
Claudia looked at them, stunned. For a moment she felt a burst of sheer fury at Caina. Right now the Empire needed Istarinmul to stay out of the war against the Umbarians, and Caina was plotting with a man who wanted to overthrow the government of Istarinmul? Then Claudia’s brain caught up to her. If Nasser wound up in control of Istarinmul, he would likely prove far friendlier to the Empire than Nahas Tarshahzon and Erghulan Amirasku.
“Not at all,” said Nasser.
Strabane snorted. “We don’t have to. Istarinmul is going to collapse on its own.”
“The Padishah is old and is not in the best of health,” said Nasser. “His son and heir disappeared soon after the war with the Empire ended. You’ve heard the rumors, my lord Martin, that the Padishah actually died several years ago, and that Callatas and Erghulan concealed his death and continued to rule his realm in his name?” Martin frowned and nodded. “Well, either the Padishah will die of old age and illness, or the truth will come out. What then? Who will take the Padishah’s throne?”
“If history and human nature are any guide,” said Claudia, “the strongest noble with the largest army.”
“Or Anshan might conquer Istarinmul anew and make it into a satrapy,” said Caina.
“Perhaps even the Empire itself,” admitted Martin, “if the men can be spared and an ambitious noble convinces the Emperor of the wisdom of his plan.”
“Before Istarinmul’s new ruler is established,” said Nasser, “there will be a time of chaos. That time of chaos might well be our best chance to stop Callatas’s plans permanently. Right now we must act in secret, but if the Padishah dies and civil war breaks out, we can act openly to destroy Callatas’s wraithblood laboratories and stop his Apotheosis.”
“A very bold plan, Master Nasser,” said Martin. “I am not sure I approve.”
Nasser shrugged. “I do not plot for the Padishah’s death or overthrow. I merely prepare for his death, for all men must die, no matter how powerful.”
“But right now,” said Caina, “we have more immediate problems. We can do nothing to alter the fate of Istarinmul if we are first killed.”
“You’ve brought trouble upon my doorstep, haven’t you?” said Strabane.
“I fear so,” said Nasser. “Ciaran, if you would?”
Caina related everything that had happened from the Red Huntress’s attack onward. Claudia was amused at the parts Caina left out. Caina did not mention that she was a Ghost, and no doubt Strabane assumed that “Master Ciaran” was a clever master thief like Nasser. Nor did she mention that Claudia and Martin were also Ghosts.
“The Huntress,” muttered Strabane. “A dark legend. But I believe you, Ciaran. Have we not seen wonders and horrors together? You are sure that she is possessed by a nagataaru?”
“Entirely,” said Caina. “You remembered the burning sword conjured by the nagataaru within Tarqaz? The Huntress did the same thing.”
“We dealt with him,” said Strabane. “It was not easy, but we defeated him.”
“Tarqaz was already dead,” said Caina. “The Huntress cooperates with her nagataaru, a creature called the Voice. That makes her tremendously dangerous.”
“Indeed,” said Martin. “You have the look of a man who has known war, master headman. I will say to you that I have never seen a fighter as deadly as the Huntress. It is only by the valor of my Imperial Guard and my friends that I escaped with my life.”
“Damned sorcerers,” muttered Strabane. “Calling up devils from the netherworld? Can’t they leave well enough alone?”
“Apparently not,” said Caina, voice dry. “But there is a way to kill her. The Emissary at Silent Ash Temple is the custodian of an ancient Iramisian weapon called a valikon. If we obtain the valikon, we can use it to slay the Huntress.”
“I hope you are right,” said Strabane. “Pilgrims often go to Silent Ash Temple to burn sacrifices to the Living Flame, but not many are ever bold enough to question the Emissary. Anyone can approach her, aye…but few like her answers. Her reputation is evil, for it is said her predications always come true, no matter how grim.” He growled a harsh laugh. “Few men like to know how they will die.”
“Will you assist us?” said Nasser. “I can pay you, of course.”
“Of course,” said Strabane. “Lord Martin and his men can lodge here as our guests tonight. I shall hold a feast for you in my hall. My warriors always want an excuse to get drunk. Tomorrow you can depart with fresh supplies, and I will guide you to the gates of Silent Ash Temple myself.”
“Indeed?” said Martin. “That is generous.”
“Generosity has naught to do with it,” said Strabane. “If a devil-possessed madwoman is on the loose, a man needs powerful allies. Nasser and Ciaran led us into the netherworld and out again. I advise you to follow their counsel. They are your best chance to escape this alive.”
“I intend to do so,” said Martin, looking at Caina.
And as angry as Claudia often felt towards Caina, she knew that Martin’s decision was the right one.
###
That night Caina sat on a bench against the wall in Strabane’s hall and sipped from a cup of bitter Kaltari beer.
The hall reminded her a great deal of the Lord Governor’s seat in Calvarium. It looked like the hall of some ancient barbarian king, and had Strabane lived a few centuries ago, Caina supposed he would have been a barbarian king. Massive flagstones covered the floor, the walls and pillars of timber supporting the thatched roof. Ancient skulls gazed down from the pillars, yellowed from decades of smoke. A firepit smoldered in the center of the hall, the smoke rising to a hole in the roof overhead. Long tables ran the length of the hall, Imperial Guards and Kaltari warriors sharing food and drink. At first Caina had feared that the two groups of warriors would come to blows, but soon the men were laughing and sharing jokes.
Perhaps it was the Kaltari beer. It was really rather strong.
Strabane stood near the firepit, surveying his domain. Nasser and Martin stood near him, speaking in low voices. Caina’s eyes wandered over the hall, watching for any sign of trouble. A group of musicians played in one corner, beating on drums and playing fiddles. A buzz of cheerful conversation filled the hall, but it did not touch her. The others might have relaxed, but she could not.
The carnage in the Golden Palace was still too fresh in her mind.
“You really went into the netherworld with them?” said Claudia.
Claudia had not relaxed, either. Her green eyes roved back and forth. It made sense, given that she had almost seen her husband killed in front of her.
“I did,” said Caina.
“Why?” said Claudia.
“It was either that or stay to be butc
hered by Callatas’s Immortals,” said Caina. “We cut across the netherworld and used another gate back to the mortal world. It worked, and we got out alive.”
“And you didn’t leave anyone behind?” said Claudia, staring at the firepit.
Caina felt the barb behind those words, the accusation.
“No,” she said at last.
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Every time I have gone into the netherworld,” said Caina, “I have regretted it bitterly.”
“Three times now, isn’t it?” said Claudia without looking at her.
“It was,” said Caina.
“What did you regret from the last time?” said Claudia. “You all got out alive, didn’t you?”
“I almost had to kill a friend,” said Caina. “A nagataaru possessed her. The ghostsilver dagger drove it out, though. And…I saw things.”
Something in her voice caught Claudia’s attention. “What things did you see?”
“The nagataaru,” said Caina. She had never told anyone about this in detail, but for some reason she wanted to tell it to Claudia now. Perhaps that Kaltari beer was more potent than she had thought. “Millions of them, millions upon millions, all coming for me. There are cracks between the worlds now, remnants from the great rift the Moroaica opened. The nagataaru can sometimes slip through them. I heard a voice…”
“The Voice?” said Claudia, startled. “The Huntress’s nagataaru?”
“No,” said Caina. “A great and terrible voice. I could hear it in my head. If a mountain could speak, it might have a voice like that. It claimed to be the prince of the nagataaru, a creature the legends call Kotuluk Iblis. The voice said it had devoured countless worlds, that our world was next.” Her words grew quieter. “I have nightmares about that voice, sometimes.”
“Such vile creatures,” said Claudia. “Why would Callatas make a pact with them? Surely he understands that they regard him as prey.”
Caina shrugged. “Perhaps he thinks he can control them. Maybe he intends to use them as a tool that he can discard. Perhaps he fancies themselves their equal. Sorcerers can believe all sorts of folly.”
“Then have Strabane cut off my head already,” said Claudia with a scowl of irritation.
Caina frowned. “I didn’t mean…”
“Why don’t you complain about swords instead?” said Claudia. “Or knives? True, a man can use sorcery to work evil, but it is far more common for a man to kill with a knife than with sorcery. Why don’t you rid the world of knives before you complain about sorcerers?” She made a dismissive gesture with her left hand, the wedding ring glinting upon her finger. “But then I suppose you would have to throw rocks, which would hardly be as effective.”
“Claudia,” said Caina. “You…
“Don’t lecture me,” said Claudia, and there was a glint of tears in her eyes. “You’re supposed to be a spy, the one who sees everything. You didn’t see the Huntress coming. You didn’t see her coming at all, and she almost killed my husband.”
“I…” started Caina.
“You got Corvalis killed,” whispered Claudia.
Caina opened her mouth, closed it again, a wave of hot fury and ashamed grief rolling through her.
“You loved him, I know,” said Claudia. “But he was my brother and I knew him for far longer than you. And you led him to his death. You…”
She took a deep breath and looked away.
Caina trembled for a moment, her mind frozen with warring emotions.
She did not know what she might have done next, but Laertes stepped closer.
“Pardon, my lady Claudia,” said the old veteran. “I need a word with Master Ciaran.”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” said Claudia, blinking eyes that had gone bloodshot. She stood up from the bench.
“What is it?” said Caina, forcing her voice and expression to calm.
“I think,” said Laertes, “that you ought to talk to those women there.” A group of young women stood near the doors to the hall, looking at the soldiers and speaking to each other in low voices, sometimes laughing as they did.
“Why?” said Caina. “Do they have useful information?”
“No,” said Laertes, “but I think you could use the company.”
Claudia stopped, giving Laertes an incredulous look. The former Legionary did not notice.
“I’m sorry?” said Caina.
Laertes sighed. “You’re one of the cleverest and bravest men I’ve met, Ciaran. If not for you, we would all have died. But I shall be blunt. You are wound up tighter than a Strigosti trapbox, and you need a woman.”
Of all the things that Laertes could have said, Caina had not expected that.
Claudia twitched, a hand going to her mouth to conceal a laugh.
“I…see,” said Caina.
“I had this talk with some of my younger Legionaries when I was still a centurion,” said Laertes. “I heard you and Nasser talking. You had a woman? Lady Claudia’s younger sister?”
Claudia’s eyebrows climbed halfway up her forehead.
“Something like that,” said Caina.
“Some men were made to be alone,” said Laertes. “You aren’t one of them.”
“I cannot argue with that,” said Caina.
Claudia was starting to twitch a bit from the effort of not laughing.
“The best time for a woman is right before a battle or right after,” said Laertes, “and we’re about to go into battle, I think. So put that clever mind of yours to use and go charm one of those women. If that’s too much work, travelers come through here often. One of them might be amenable to a few coins.”
“For the gods’ sake!” said Caina. “Did Nasser put you up to this? You’re a married man! With daughters! And you’re telling me to hire a prostitute?”
Laertes shrugged. “Why do you think I work for Nasser? My daughters will all have fine dowries, and they’ll marry good men. They won’t need to whore when I’m dead and can’t provide for them. But you, Master Ciaran, you should go find a woman for the night. It will do a young man like you some good. Take your mind off your troubles.”
“I’ll…consider it,” said Caina.
Claudia straightened up and let her boots click loudly against the floor.
“Ah, Master Laertes,” said Claudia, as if she had just returned. “Whatever were you and Master Ciaran talking about?”
“Matters of business, my lady,” said Laertes. “There is much to do tomorrow.”
“I am sure,” said Claudia. “I’ve always wondered what men talk about when women aren’t around.”
“Weapons and wine, mostly,” said Laertes. He offered her a crisp bow. “If you will excuse me.”
He crossed the hall to rejoin Nasser.
Caina and Claudia stared at each other for a moment.
Caina sighed. “Out with it already.”
Claudia burst out laughing as she sat down.
“Would you like me to help you pick one?” said Claudia.
Caina sighed again.
“Blond or brunette?” said Claudia. “I happen to think blond is superior myself. Certainly better than black hair. Or I suppose the size of her…”
Caina did laugh at that. “You’re just like Corvalis. He would have laughed himself sick over this. The first time I dyed my hair blond, he said…”
The mirth drained from Claudia’s expression at the mention of Corvalis’s name.
“Claudia,” said Caina, “I…”
Claudia rose from the bench, walked to the back doors of the hall, and vanished onto the terrace.
Caina hesitated. Perhaps it was better to let Claudia stew in her grief and bitterness. It was not Caina’s responsibility, no matter how guilty she felt. Yet as Laertes said, they were about to go into battle together. They needed to trust each other.
And she was Corvalis’s sister. Corvalis would not have wanted her to mourn.
Caina sighed one last time, cursed herself as a fool, and followed
Claudia.
###
Kalgri slipped her mask of red steel over her face. She rolled her shoulders, her armor of red leather creaking, and checked her weapons in their sheaths one last time. Not that she needed them to kill. She could rip a man’s head from her shoulders with her bare hands, or summon the sword of nagataaru to eviscerate her foes with a gentle flick of her wrist. But sometimes it was more efficient to kill with a blade of steel. For that matter, even with the power of the Voice, sometimes she could not move fast enough to dodge and therefore had to parry. She could heal any wounds dealt to her, but even the Voice’s power was not infinite, and her body would only absorb so much damage before she had to rest.
The Voice hissed and whispered inside her head, awakening like a serpent stirring in its den.
It sensed that there was a great deal of killing to be done.
Chapter 14 - Confessions
Caina stepped onto the terrace, the cool breeze tugging at her cloak.
It was pleasant compared to the blazing heat of Istarinmul. Fingers of mist still drifted between the craggy hills of the Highlands, the tough Istarish pines rising here and there. The stars and the moon shone overhead, painting the mist and the hills with silver light. It was eerily beautiful, almost ghostly.
Claudia stood not far from the edge of the terrace, arms wrapped around herself, her head bowed.
She was weeping.
Caina approached, and Claudia lifted her head.
“I don’t know what’s come over me lately,” said Claudia. “I get furious, and then so sad in the next moment.”
“Probably,” said Caina, “it was the sight of me.”
Claudia nodded. “I thought that was it.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the breeze rustling past.
“I’m sorry,” said Caina.
“For what?” said Claudia. “It’s not your fault. My mind knows that…my heart does not, I fear. You didn’t kill him.”
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