Caina grinned and set down the wine. “Or you could tell me why a Kindred assassin is working as a footman at the Grand Imperial Opera.”
Murdock laughed. “A Kindred assassin? Is this some sort of deranged fantasy of yours, girl? A romp with a Kindred assassin?” He leaned closer, smirking. “I’ll pretend to be a Kindred assassin for you …”
“You’re reaching,” said Caina, “for the dagger in the left pocket of your coat. There’s also another in the back of your belt, and a knife in your boot. And probably one or two other weapons I haven’t spotted yet.”
Murdock stared at her, his face hardening into a cold, emotionless mask. She knew enough about the Kindred to guess what he was thinking. His training had taken over, and he was considering killing her. But he was wondering if she had been foolish enough to confront him alone, and if she had armed allies waiting outside the room.
“And,” said Caina, “you’re thinking about killing me and walking away before anyone notices. I strongly suggest against that if you want to live out the next hour.”
“I admit,” said Murdock, “you had me completely fooled. I thought you Theodosia’s brainless little pet.” He shrugged in indifference. “We always knew the Ghosts had infiltrated the Grand Imperial Opera. But I never thought you were one of them.”
“Flattery is useless,” said Caina. “I merely want the answers to a few questions.”
Murdock’s cold expression did not change. “And you have no means of compelling those answers.”
“No?” said Caina. “Very well. I’ll tell you a story, then. It’s a very romantic story about a merchant’s daughter named Lucinda who fell in love with a carpenter named Tollard. A carpenter can find steady work, and would make a fine husband for most women. Lucinda certainly thought so. But her father disagreed.”
Murdock said nothing. Caina kept a close watch on his arms.
“He tried to forbid Lucinda from marrying Tollard,” said Caina, “but she did it anyway. He cut her off financially, but she was happier as Tollard’s wife and a costumer at the opera than she was as a rich merchant’s daughter. And given that her father wanted to wed her to some fat old lord with more titles than gold, who can blame her?”
“This,” said Murdock, “sounds like the fanciful plot of an opera. Perhaps you ought to write one yourself.”
“Gallus Tomerius decided to have Tollard killed,” said Caina. “But he couldn’t just have his throat cut. Lucinda would never forgive him. So Tollard’s death had to look natural. Gallus could play the loving father, comfort his mourning daughter, and then marry her off to some impoverished noble.”
“Such,” said Murdock, “a compelling tale. Truly, I’m enthralled. Do go on.”
“Master Gallus hired the Kindred to kill Tollard and make it look like a natural death,” said Caina. “You received the task, along with your partner. You acquired a rare poison called the harlot’s kiss that stops the heart, and you waited for a chance to dose it in Tollard’s wine. But Tollard never drinks while he’s working. Which means when I asked you to take him wine, you saw your chance. But you made a mistake. Instead of taking it to him yourself, you saw a perfect chance to deflect any possible suspicion from yourself. You dosed one of the glasses on my tray with the harlot’s kiss, and sent me off to kill Tollard. But Lord Arcus’s guard grabbed the glass…and here we are.”
“You,” said Murdock, “are a very dangerous little girl.”
“As I said, flattery will get you nowhere,” said Caina.
“You realize, of course,” said Murdock, “that you’ve signed Halaam’s death warrant?”
“Unlikely,” said Caina, “because you’re surprised. You came here expecting a romp with the maid, not this. After the guard’s death, you feared someone might investigate. So you sent a man to watch Halaam’s shop, knowing that he would warn you if someone showed up asking questions.”
“Except,” said Murdock, “the Ghosts killed my partner, and sent you to confront me. Is that the way of it?”
“Yes,” said Caina.
“Clever,” said Murdock. “I am impressed. Very well. I admit it all, Ghost. Gallus Tomerius hired us to kill his daughter’s husband and make it look like a natural death. I think the fat old fool actually loves the shrill bitch, and thinks he’s doing her a favor by killing off the idiot carpenter and marrying her to some bankrupt lord.”
Then he grinned. He no longer looked like a cat considering a mouse.
Now he looked like a wolf approaching cornered prey.
“But for all your cleverness,” said Murdock, “you are a fool.”
“Do explain,” said Caina.
“You came here alone,” said Murdock, his eyes glinting with anticipation.
Caina felt a flicker of fear.
“I have armed men waiting just outside,” said Caina.
“No, you don’t,” said Murdock. “You just wanted me to confess. If you had known everything for certain, you wouldn’t have bothered with this ridiculous game. You’d just have arranged my death, though why the Ghosts care about a carpenter’s wife, I have no idea. Instead, you thought you’d be the heroine of your own little opera, hmm? Trick the evil assassin into confessing, and then run to your circlemaster in triumph?”
“I think that,” said Caina, “is a fine tale.”
“I agree,” said Murdock. He stood with a single smooth motion. “Except I like my ending better, the one where the militia finds your naked corpse floating in the harbor.”
A dagger appeared in his hand.
“I wonder,” he murmured, “how many different ways I can make you scream?”
“Given that I am the only one who can save your life,” said Caina, “I would not recommend that.” She tried to make herself seem frightened. It wasn’t hard.
“Why is that?” said Murdock, grinning.
“I took more than knowledge from Halaam’s shop,” said Caina. “I took the rest of his harlot’s kiss, and poured it into the wine you just drank.”
Murdock laughed. “You lie poorly. You drank that wine as well.”
“Only after,” said Caina, “I drank the antidote I took from Halaam.”
A flicker of doubt crossed Murdock’s face.
“What a little fool you are,” said Murdock, his free hand dipping into his coat. A glass vial glittered in his fingers, and he downed the contents in one gulp. “How little you know of the Kindred. We are always prepared. When we employ poison against one of the sheep, we always keep the antidote close at hand.”
“You do?” said Caina, letting her eyes grow wide.
“We do,” said Murdock. “And now…”
“When you keep the antidote close at hand,” said Caina, “does that mean you keep it in the chest at the foot of your bed in the footmen’s quarters, beneath your spare coat?”
Murdock stared at her, blinking.
“For a Kindred assassin,” said Caina, “you certainly sleep deeply.”
Murdock blinked again… and then his eyes widened as he realized just how badly he had been fooled.
He lunged for her with a snarl, and then his eyes bulged as the harlot’s kiss did its work. He fell across the table with a strangled cry of pain, his free hand clawing at his chest. He growled at her, his teeth grinding, but did not move any closer.
He didn’t have the strength.
“A priestess of Minaerys,” said Caina, “taught me how to calculate how quickly a drug affects a man of a given size. I’ll have to thank her for the lesson.”
Murdock jerked a few inches closer.
“If I write that opera of yours,” said Caina, “I’ll make sure to include a scene about the maid who talks the Kindred assassin into poisoning himself.”
Murdock snarled once more, rolled off the table, and stopped moving.
Caina waited a few moments and then checked to make sure he was dead. She relived the corpse of its weapons and cleaned up the wine glasses. After disposing of the evidence, she hurried back to the nobl
es’ boxes.
The Seneschal would be wroth if she missed her duties for the entire night.
And she had one more errand after the performance.
###
Gallus Tomerius, like many wealthy merchants, owned his own coach. After the opera, his driver opened the coach’s door, and Gallus heaved his bulk inside.
“Drive” snapped Gallus, settling himself on the cushioned seat. “I…”
Caina leaned forward, her face hidden behind a mask, her body wrapped in a black cloak, and clapped a gloved hand over Gallus’s mouth. The merchant started to struggle, and Caina rested the tip of her knife against the bottom of his lower left eyelid.
“Do not,” she rasped, speaking in a hideous, snarling voice that Theodosia had taught her, “scream.”
Gallus went rigid, and she felt him gag beneath her fingers. She had rolled her glove over rotting meat and powdered sulfur. The resultant stench was hideous.
Theodosia had taught her the value of theatrics.
“We know,” hissed Caina, “what you have done. We know how you hired the Kindred. You will cancel your contract with the Kindred and leave your daughter and her husband in peace. Else,” she remembered what Murdock had said, “else I shall learn how many ways you can scream.”
The stench of Gallus’s released bladder filled the coach.
“Sir?” called the driver. “Sir?”
Caina released Gallus, slipped through the door on the far side of the coach, and vanished into the night.
###
A week later Caina stood with Theodosia in the workmen’s quarters.
Lucinda lay on the bed, utterly exhausted, but smiling as she cradled her infant son.
“I’ve spoken with the Seneschal,” said Theodosia. “He was reluctant, but I persuaded him to give you as much time as you need to care for the babe.”
Lucinda smiled. “He shall be like Tollard, I think. A skilled carpenter, with strong hands. And I heard from my father!”
“Did you?” said Theodosia.
“He wrote asking for my forgiveness,” said Lucinda, “and has withdrawn his objection to my marriage.”
“Really?” said Theodosia, shooting a sidelong glance at Caina. “How remarkable. Well, I suppose grandchildren can change a man.”
Caina kept her expression neutral. She felt a pang as she looked at Lucinda and the child. She would never know what it felt like to carry her own child in her arms.
But Tollard’s son would not lose his father as Caina had.
“That must be it,” said Lucinda, still smiling.
Caina followed Theodosia to her dressing room.
“What did you do?” said Theodosia.
Caina shrugged. “I had a little chat with Master Gallus.”
Theodosia gave her a look.
“I didn’t hurt him,” said Caina.
“Yes, well,” said Theodosia, “a footman dead from a ruptured heart in the cellar and a costumer giving birth to her first son? Ah, but it has been an eventful week at the Grand Imperial Opera, hasn’t it?” She smiled. “You did well.”
“Thank you,” said Caina.
She had lost her father, and would never have a family of her own. But she could make sure that others did not lose their families as she had. She could make sure that men like Gallus Tomerius and Murdock feared the shadows.
For in the shadows waited the Ghosts.
THE END
Thank you for reading GHOST ARIA. Turn the page to read the first chapter of CHILD OF THE GHOSTS, Caina Amalas's next adventure. To receive immediate notification of new releases, sign up for my newsletter.
Bonus Chapter - Child of the Ghosts
Here is a bonus chapter from CHILD OF THE GHOSTS, from THE GHOSTS series of sword-and-sorcery novels.
Caina loved her father’s library.
It had high windows, with a fine view of the town and rippling Bay of Empire beyond. Her father’s desk stood by those windows, covered with papers and books and curiosities he had picked up over the years. Count Sebastian Amalas worked there in the evenings, writing and sealing letters with his heavy gold signet ring. Caina liked to sit on the nearby couch, reading as he wrote.
He had taught her to read when she was three or four years old. First in the High Nighmarian tongue, as befit the daughter of an Imperial Count. Then in Caerish, the commoners' language, and then in the tongues of the eastern Empire; Saddaic, Disali, Kagarish, Cyrican and Anshani. His library held books in all those languages and more, and Caina devoured them, working her way through his oak shelves over and over again, reading new books as her father bought them from printers in the Imperial capital. Sometimes she spent all day in the library, and old Azaia the cook brought her meals, and Caina read as she ate.
“You read too much, daughter,” her father said, with a slight smile.
“No, I don’t,” she answered. “If you’re meeting with the town's decimvirs, you should just tell me to use another room.”
Count Sebastian lifted an eyebrow. “And just how do you know that I’m meeting with the decimvirs?”
“Because,” said Caina. “You always meet with petitioners at your desk. You don’t care if I overhear those. But if you’re meeting with the decimvirs, that means you’re discussing criminal cases, which don’t want to discuss in front of me.” She stood from the couch. “I’ll go read in the solar.”
Sebastian laughed, leaned down, kissed her forehead. “Why do I even try to keep secrets from you, my clever child?”
Caina smiled, picked up her book, and left the library, her skirts whispering against the polished marble floors of the villa's corridors. Busts of long-dead Emperors stood in niches, gazing down with stern marble eyes. Sebastian was a Loyalist, and so he had busts of Emperors like Soterius, who had ended slavery in the Empire, or Helioran, who had forced the magi to abide by Imperial law. Caina had read about them in her father’s books of history.
She opened the solar door and stopped.
Her mother stood at the windows, gazing down at the sea with a scowl.
Caina slipped away before her mother could notice her.
She loved her father’s library. It gave her a place to hide from her mother.
###
Caina was eleven years old, and she could not remember ever hearing a kind word from her mother.
Countess Laeria Amalas was the opposite of her husband, short where he was tall, slender where he was thick. She had long black hair and icy blue eyes that seemed to burn when she was angry.
And she got angry a lot.
Caina’s earliest memory was her mother’s fury. She had been no more than two or three, so young that she had not yet learned to read. Her mother had been alone in the dining hall, practicing simple sorcery - making a goblet float, summoning light from her fingers, conjuring gusts of wind.
Caina blundered into her, disrupting her concentration. The goblet fell from midair and shattered against the floor.
"You stupid girl!" screamed Laeria. Her backhand sent Caina to the floor atop the shattered goblet. "Useless brat!" She started to kick. "I wish I had never borne you! I wish had I never met your father! Get out of my sight! Get out of my sight! If you interrupt my concentration again, I'll beat you so bloody that..."
Caina fled, wailing, and hid herself beneath the table.
Her father came, and Sebastian and Laeria shouted at each other. After Laeria stalked from the room, Sebastian carried Caina, still weeping, to her bed.
"Why does she hate me so much?" whispered Caina.
Sebastian hesitated before he answered.
"I don't know."
She spent much more time with her father after that.
###
But her mother still did things to her.
Laeria knew a spell that let her reach into another's mind. And she used it upon Caina whenever she had the chance, digging through Caina's thoughts and turning her into a puppet. Caina hated it, hated the feeling of her mother's thoughts digging throug
h her mind like wet, groping fingers. She loathed how the spell forced her to do without question whatever Laeria commanded.
And she grew to hate her mother, the rage becoming hard and sharp.
One day when Caina was seven, Laeria held her immobile in the grip of her sorcery.
"Do you know," murmured Laeria, taking Caina's chin in her hand, "why I had you?"
Caina said nothing. She couldn't, not with Laeria's spell wrapped about her mind.
"I wanted to go back," sighed Laeria, black hair sliding over her pale face. "They put me out, only four years into my novitiate. They said I wasn't strong enough, that I could never wield the power of a full magus. But if I had a talented child...then the Magisterium would have to take me back."
She growled and slapped Caina across the face.
"But you're useless," she said. "Not a spark of arcane talent. Utterly useless. How I wish I had never had you. I should have purged my womb of you, spared myself the bother."
Caina's fury writhed inside her like something alive.
"And your father," said Laeria. "I cannot believe I let myself be chained to that sniveling weakling. It is not fair! I was meant for so much more. For greater things than to waste my life with a useless child and a pathetic weakling of a husband..."
Caina's rage flared.
And she felt her mother's spell shiver.
"Don't talk about him like that!" Caina shouted. "He's better than you!"
Laeria flinched as if she had been slapped.
"Don't talk!" she said, making a clenching gesture, the chains of her will tightening against Caina's mind. "I command you not to talk!"
But Caina's anger could not be denied, and she thrust it against her mother's will.
The spell shivered again, and then shattered. Laeria stumbled back, eyes wide with shock, and perhaps a touch of alarm.
"I hate you!" said Caina, clawing at her mother's skirts. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."
"Get off me!" said Laeria, shoving, and Caina fell to the floor.
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