Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge

by Jonathan Moeller

  Mihaela scowled. “Not you. Just her.”

  “Alone?” said Claudia.

  “You will be perfectly safe,” said Mihaela.

  “I am afraid,” said Halfdan, “that I cannot allow her to go alone.”

  Mihaela laughed. “She is in no danger from me, Basil Callenius. I cannot decide to give her the glypharmor if she is dead, no?”

  “Nor will you be able to give her the glypharmor,” said Halfdan, “if Yaramzod or Sicarion come for you and Irene is accidentally slain in the fighting.”

  “That is so,” said Mihaela. “Very well, you may take one other with you.”

  Claudia looked from Caina to Corvalis and back again.

  “Anna,” said Claudia. “I want Anna to come with me?”

  “Her?” Mihaela laughed. “The seducer? A poor choice. My tastes run to men.”

  “And I insist,” said Halfdan, “that Cormark accompany them both. A master merchant certainly should not allow his daughters to go unescorted.”

  Mihaela’s eyes narrowed, and then she shrugged. “If you wish. Your little masquerade is no concern of mine.”

  “And before you go,” said Halfdan, “two questions.”

  Mihaela sighed. “If you must.”

  “I must,” said Halfdan. “First, we suspect necromancy was used in the creation of the glypharmor. Was it?”

  “Necromancy?” said Mihaela. “You are jesting, yes?” She laughed. “No, I did not use necromancy. The Sages kill any Seeker they catch wielding it. And necromancy is a crude and…inelegant science. It is beneath me.”

  “Thank you,” said Halfdan. “There is one other point. Some months ago you took a slave named Ardasha as a student. What became of her?”

  “Sicarion killed her,” said Mihaela.

  Caina felt a chill.

  “The first time he attacked me,” said Mihaela. “He cast a spell…and, well, Ardasha simply got in the way. I fear she was dead before she hit the floor. Now. Do you have any other questions about dead slaves, or shall we attend to more important business?”

  “Thank you for your candor,” said Halfdan.

  Mihaela shook a finger at Claudia. “Come to my rooms by the first bell of the evening. The slaves will know the way. Do not be late.”

  She left without another word.

  “I don’t believe,” said Caina, “a single thing that she said.”

  “Oh, certainly some of it was true,” said Halfdan. “Sicarion might have tried to kill her. I suspect she began as his student, and fled to the Scholae when her relationship with him turned sour.”

  “Surely Annika would have known,” said Claudia, “had her sister been apprenticed to such a creature.”

  “Sometimes there are secrets,” said Halfdan, “even between sisters.”

  “What should I do,” said Claudia, “if she does give me the armor and the secrets of its making?” She hesitated. “Should I use them?”

  Caina frowned. There was an odd light in Claudia’s eyes.

  “Absolutely not,” said Halfdan. “I doubt she has any intention of giving you the armor or the spells to create it. And even if she does, using the glypharmor might be dangerous. The sorcery could have damaging effects upon your mind or body.”

  “If she doesn’t intend to give her the armor,” said Corvalis, “then what is the point of this? Why bother with the dinner?”

  “She needs something,” said Caina. “Whatever her purpose for creating the glypharmor, I doubt it is as simple as selling it for fortune and glory. She has something else in mind. But she can’t get it on her own. Which means…which means it must be something you can do, Claudia.”

  “Me?” said Claudia. “I am quite out of my element in this business. What could I possibly do?”

  “I do not know,” said Halfdan, “but I intend to find out, if you think you can go through with this. Mihaela may intend you harm.”

  Claudia took a deep breath and glanced at Caina. “I can do it. I suppose if you can go blade to blade with the likes of Sicarion, I can sit down to a pleasant dinner with a dangerous woman.”

  Yet the strange, fascinated light did not leave her eyes.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Halfdan. “Perhaps tonight we shall finally have some answers.

  ###

  That afternoon Caina napped, hoping to conserve her strength for the dinner with Mihaela.

  And this time, the Moroaica came to her dreams.

  Again Caina stood on the strange plain of gray fog, the mists billowing around her. The Moroaica waited a short distance away, clad in her crimson gown, her black hair hanging wet and loose around her shoulders, her black eyes pits into nothingness.

  They stared at each other.

  “Better,” said Jadriga at last. “It grows harder to resist your summons, child. A pity you have no arcane talent. You would have made a formidable sorceress.”

  “Don’t insult me,” said Caina. “What is Sicarion doing in Catekharon?”

  Jadriga shrugged. “Killing people, I imagine. He enjoys it.”

  “Why did you send him here?” said Caina.

  Again the Moroaica shrugged. “Who says I sent him here?”

  Caina took a step closer. “Answer the question.”

  Jadriga’s red lips moved into a smile. “Child, child. You can summon me in your dreams…but you cannot compel me. You are not strong enough for that. No more than I am strong enough to force you to submit to my will.”

  Caina could not force Jadriga to answer any questions. But Caina’s mind was her weapon, not her strength. If she wanted any useful information out of the Moroaica, she would have to use her wits to get it.

  “Mihaela,” said Caina, “reminds me of you.”

  “Does she?” said Jadriga. “I doubt that. Nor does she remind me of you. She has known pain as a child, as we did…but both you and I responded in the same way. We sought to change the world. She merely wishes to become strong. She was tyrannized as a child…and now she seeks to become the tyrant.”

  “Then she is not,” said Caina, “one of your disciples?”

  “Ah,” said the Moroaica. “Clever. No, she is not one of my disciples. I have never met her.”

  “Then has Sicarion met her?” said Caina.

  Jadriga smiled again. “Knowledge has a price, child. I will answer your question…but, in turn, you must answer one of mine.”

  “Very well,” said Caina. “Did Sicarion meet with Mihaela?”

  “Probably,” said Jadriga. “I do not know for certain. When I am not there to control him, Sicarion tends to pursue his own amusements. Nor am I aware of his every action. So he most likely met with Mihaela. But I cannot say for certain.”

  “Then you are certain necromancy was used to create the glypharmor?” said Caina.

  “That is another question,” said the Moroaica. “If you want the answer, you must answer one of mine.”

  Caina sighed. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “Do you love Corvalis?”

  Caina blinked. Of all the things Jadriga could have asked, she had not expected that. “What?”

  “It is a simple question,” said Jadriga.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “I do.”

  “Why?” said Jadriga.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” said Caina.

  “You mistake me,” said Jadriga. “You have seen my past. I understand love. I loved my own father…just as you loved yours. So. Why do you love Corvalis Aberon?”

  “That,” said Caina, “is a second question.”

  The Moroaica nodded.

  “Because he is brave,” said Caina. “Because he has suffered so much, endured so much, and it hasn’t ruined him. Because he is strong enough to defy his father, the Kindred, and the entire Magisterium because he knew it was the right thing to do.” She swallowed, forced herself to calm. “Because…he knows what it is like to be alone, too.”

  “He will turn on you, in the end,” said Jadriga.

 
; “Because he is one of your disciples?” said Caina. “A treacherous scoundrel?”

  “That is a question,” said Jadriga. “And, no, he is not one of my disciples. He will turn on you because he loves his sister more than he loves you, and his sister hates you. Not as much as she will, but it is beginning.”

  “He’s known Claudia longer,” said Caina.

  “He will choose her,” said Jadriga, “over you.”

  “He might not,” said Caina, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “And why are you telling me this? So I am as lonely and miserable as you?”

  “Because it is the nature of the world,” said Jadriga, “to torment us. To break us and inflict pain upon us. One day Corvalis Aberon will abandon you. Or, given the nature of your life, you will see him die in agony in front of you. You think that loving him will make you happy. But it will not. Instead it will only add to your pain.”

  “Everyone dies,” said Caina. “Even you. And you now owe me two questions.”

  “One question,” said Jadriga. “You asked if Corvalis was my disciple or not.”

  “That was a rhetorical question,” said Caina.

  “And a rhetorical question,” said Jadriga, “is nonetheless still a question.”

  “For the gods’ sake,” said Caina. “The Moroaica, sorceress of legend and terror, dickers like a fishwife at the Great Market of Marsis.”

  Jadriga laughed, and for an instant she sounded almost young.

  “One question, then,” said Caina. “How do you know that Mihaela used necromancy to craft the glypharmor?”

  “Because I can see through your eyes,” said Jadriga, “and I saw the hieroglyphs upon the glypharmor.”

  “You can read them?” said Caina. She pointed at the Moroaica. “And that is part of my original question. Elaborate upon your answer.”

  “And I dicker like a fishwife?” said Jadriga. “The hieroglyphs upon the armor are a spell of Maatish necromancy. The necromancer-priests of Maat used to embalm the pharaohs, the nobles, and the high priests using salts and chemicals to preserve their bodies, but they also sequestered the heart in a separate stone jar. The spell was used to bind the spirits of the embalmed men to the jars containing their hearts, thereby allowing the spirit to return to its embalmed corpse and live forever in its tomb.”

  “After a fashion,” said Caina.

  “Indeed,” said Jadriga. Her dark eyes flashed. “I underwent the process myself. I do not recommend it.”

  “So that’s how you move from body to body,” said Caina. “Your heart is hidden in a stone jar buried in Maat somewhere, and that allows you to claim new bodies.”

  “Ah,” said Jadriga, “but that is a question. And I have no more questions I wish to ask you.”

  She waved a hand, and the dream ended.

  Chapter 19 - Remake the World

  That night, Caina, Corvalis, and Claudia followed a slave through the corridors of the Tower of Study.

  The Sages kept their rooms at the Tower’s top, but the Seekers’ quarters occupied the Tower’s base, not far from the hall where Mihaela had demonstrated the glypharmor. The slave led them through a long, wide hallway with a tall ceiling. A stream of molten metal ran down the center of the hall, the air above it rippling, and Caina felt the power of the wards that kept most of the heat at bay.

  “I wonder why,” said Corvalis, “the Sages felt the need to run a stream of molten steel through the hallway. Trip on your way to the privies in the middle of the night, and you’re burned to ashes, and all because you had too much wine before bed.” He wore his usual chain mail and leather, weapons ready at his belt, and Caina could tell he expected trouble.

  “If Mihaela told us the truth,” said Claudia, “this molten metal is part of the spell that holds the greater fire elemental bound. Most likely the molten metal came first, and the Sages built the Tower around it.”

  They had passed hundreds of doors, and yet the slave kept walking. There were only a few hundred Sages, and perhaps twice that many Seekers. Yet the Tower of Study was large enough to hold thousands. Perhaps by turning away from the outside world, the Scholae had cut themselves off to gradually wither away and die.

  That was just as well. The world, Caina thought, would be a better place without the Masked Ones and their knowledge.

  “Here, mistress,” said the slave. “The Seeker Mihaela resides here. Shall I knock?”

  “Please,” said Claudia.

  The slave bowed, knocked at the door, and then departed without another word.

  The door swung open, and Mihaela stepped into the hall. “You have arrived? Good. We can get on with things.” She turned. “Come inside.”

  The room beyond was austere. A long wooden table ran its length, plates and food laid out. A bookcase held a few volumes and scrolls. There was no artwork, no decorations of any kind. Caina supposed Mihaela had her workshop hidden somewhere else. Within the city, perhaps, or in some forgotten corner of the Tower’s corridors.

  “Seat yourselves,” said Mihaela, dropping into the chair at the end of the table, “and eat.” She smirked. “I have no patience with courtly manners. I suppose you must find that shocking, but I care about results, not intentions.”

  “Not at all,” said Claudia, seating herself with considerably more grace. “I can understand that.”

  “Then,” said Mihaela, “we may be of use to each other after all.”

  The food was Szaldic. Roast pork and potatoes, with glasses of the bitter black beer the Szalds preferred over wine or ale. Mihaela and Corvalis ate with vigor, while Claudia only picked at her food.

  “Tell me,” said Mihaela around a mouthful of potatoes. “How did you and the First Magus become estranged?”

  “He’s a vicious tyrant who treats his children as disposable tools,” said Corvalis.

  “I knew that,” said Mihaela. “When I was slave, I was owned by a magus of Cyrioch. But I wasn’t talking to you, assassin, but to your sister. Why did you leave the Magisterium?”

  Claudia hesitated, staring at her beer for a moment, and then began to speak.

  “When I was a child,” she said, “I was afraid of my father…but he was not cruel to me. I thought he was stern, but kindly.” She sighed. “Later I realized he only found me useful because of my arcane talent. I was raised to be a magus of the Magisterium, and that was what I wanted to be. I wanted to use my sorcery to help people, to better them.”

  Caina kept the frown from her face.

  “But my brother,” said Claudia, “had no arcane talent, and so my father sold him to the Kindred.” She looked at Corvalis. “I thought that he had joined them by choice, to learn to fight the enemies of the Empire and the Magisterium. But we met again as adults. He told me what the Kindred had done to him, what my father had made him do…”

  “And so your eyes were opened,” said Mihaela. “You saw the Magisterium for what it was.”

  “I planned to leave with Cormark,” said Claudia. “To find someplace I could use my spells for good. But our father found out. One of the high magi commanded a lesser earth elemental, and my father ordered him to turn me to stone as a punishment.”

  “Truly?” said Mihaela. “I am impressed. I doubted anyone in the Magisterium could manage to bind an elemental.”

  “My brother escaped the assassins my father sent after him,” said Claudia, “stole the statue that I had become, and pursued the high magus who had turned me to stone. With some help,” she glanced at Caina, “the high magus was defeated, and I was restored.”

  “And so you joined the Ghosts,” said Mihaela, gesturing with her fork.

  Claudia nodded.

  “It is,” said Mihaela, “an interesting story. Now I shall tell you mine.” She smirked at Caina. “But it is grisly in places. It might be too much for your delicate ears.”

  Caina feigned a shudder. “I shall manage, thank you.”

  “We shall see,” said Mihaela. “Well, if you have spoken to Annika, you probably k
now some of it. We were from the Szaldic provinces of the Empire, and slavers kidnapped us as children. Eventually we were sold to a cruel magus in Cyrioch. He knew I had the talent, and began training me to use as a weapon. Eventually Annika made contact with the Ghosts, and they slew the magus and we escaped. But I wished to learn more of the arcane sciences, so we came to Catekharon.” She scowled. “Annika grew jealous of my power, and now skulks in her junk shop. Yet I stayed here. Zalandris took me as a Seeker and taught me many things. But it was never enough. I needed more power. Enough power to make sure no one would ever enslave me again.”

  “And so you created the glypharmor,” said Claudia.

  “Yes,” said Mihaela, scowling.

  “The Ghosts can help you,” said Claudia, leaning closer. “My father or the others will enslave you, if they get their hands on you. But the Ghosts can give you freedom and safety, if you tell me the secret of creating the glypharmor.”

  Mihaela laughed. “And then you shall cut my throat and dump my body in the molten metal, no?”

  “Of course not!” said Claudia. “I am sincere.”

  “I am sure you are,” said Mihaela. “Yes, I think you truly are. Unusual. Let me ask you a question, Irene Callenius. Let us say I gave you a choice. You could lay down your arcane power and be free of it forever. Or you could keep it, and do as you pleased with it. What would you say?”

  “I would keep it, of course,” said Claudia. “I could do so much good with it.”

  This time Caina did not manage to stop her frown, but neither Mihaela nor Claudia noticed.

  “Good,” said Mihaela. “Very good. I have decided that you can help me after all.”

  “Then you’ll tell us how to make the glypharmor?” said Claudia.

  “Not yet,” said Mihaela, getting to her feet. “But I will tell you another secret.” She grinned. “You think I am a fool.”

  Something about that smile unsettled Caina.

  “I never said that,” said Claudia.

  “Oh, no, no,” said Mihaela. “A merchant’s daughter is far too polite to say such things. But you were thinking it.” She jerked her head at Caina, ragged locks of black hair sliding over her hard face. “Even the seductress was thinking it. Oh, poor Mihaela created a weapon so powerful she cannot control it, she’ll get enslaved by those dreadful sorcerers and magi.” She laughed, long and loud. “But do you know my secret?”