Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Given the grievous insult you offered the Shahenshah of Anshan,” said Arsakan, “you should count yourself fortunate that you do not face the Shahenshah’s army.”

  Kylon snorted at Arsakan’s bluster. Zalandris had taken the blame for the disaster, but the Shahenshah’s armies had no chance against Catekharon’s arcane defenses.

  “Indeed,” said Zalandris. “Mihaela was a rogue who acted without the permission of the Scholae. Yet she was my Seeker, and the responsibility is mine. Therefore we offer this indemnity, and as further compensation, the lifting of all trade tariffs for your respective nations for the term of twenty-five years.”

  “That,” said the First Magus, “is inadequate.”

  Decius Aberon stepped away his guards, glaring at Zalandris. Lord Titus’s embassy stood some distance away, surrounded by Imperial Guards. Kylon spotted the Ghost standing in the rear with Basil Callenius and Corvalis, her face unreadable as she regarded her lover’s father.

  “Your idiot student launched an attack upon the Imperial Magisterium,” said the First Magus.

  “Oh, give it up, Decius,” said Lord Titus. “The woman was clearly a renegade. Lives have been lost, yes, but Mihaela would have butchered the Sages alongside the rest of us.”

  The First Magus sneered. “The lives of your underlings might be worthless, my Lord Titus, but the blood of a magus is worth that a thousand lesser men.” He leveled a thick finger at Zalandris. “I demand that you surrender all of Mihaela’s research and tools to the custody of the Magisterium…”

  “No,” said Zalandris. “Mihaela’s tools and research were abominations, violations of the Scholae’s laws. All her research shall be destroyed, as shall any remaining fragments of the glypharmor and her earlier versions of the Forge.”

  “Do you think to trifle with the wrath of the Magisterium?” said the First Magus. “Do…”

  “Be silent!” thundered Zalandris, and for the first time Kylon saw anger on the ancient Sage’s face. “Your own son, Torius Aberon, aided Mihaela in her crimes, and I have no doubt that you conspired with her! I will say this plainly. The wrong is the Scholae’s, and we offer recompense for our folly. But Mikaela’s vile work will never see the light of day. And should that not be enough for you, should you wish to contest your wrongs by force of arms…then come and attack Catekharon. And you will see that the Scholae does not lack the means to defend itself.”

  Kylon’s sorcerous senses felt the sheer arcane power crackling around the enraged Sage, and the First Magus took a prudent step back.

  “I think,” said Lord Titus into the silence, “that the Lord Speaker’s offer is most acceptable.”

  The other ambassadors and sorcerers rumbled their assents, and the First Magus stalked to his guards.

  “So be it,” said Zalandris. “Speak with the seneschals, my lords, and they shall arrange the details of your payments.”

  He walked from the Hall of Assembly without another word.

  “Well,” said Alcios, “that was entertaining.”

  “Indeed,” said Kylon. “And we can be certain that the Empire will never use glypharmor against New Kyre.”

  He turned his head and saw the Ghost standing alone, watching him.

  “A moment, my lords,” said Kylon, and he walked to join her.

  “My lord stormdancer,” said the Ghost in a quiet voice. “I am pleased that you survived the fighting.”

  “As I am,” said Kylon. “Though I would have been more pleased if I could have taken Sicarion’s head.”

  “Someday,” said the Ghost. “He won’t always be able to escape.”

  “Tell me,” said Kylon, remembering his conversation with Corvalis. “Is your name truly Caina?”

  A corner of her mouth curled. “You can call me that, if you wish.”

  “Again you have saved us,” said Kylon. “Mihaela would have become as vile as Scorikhon himself, had she succeeded.”

  The Ghost shrugged. “I had help. The soul bound within that armor, Kylon…she was pleased to revenge herself on Mihaela.”

  Kylon shook his head. “The Sages should have executed her.”

  Again she shrugged. “Why bother? Her mind is destroyed. She cannot feed herself, or dress herself, or even wipe the drool from her chin. She’ll live for decades like that, trapped inside her own body, just as she trapped her victims within the glypharmor. I think that a fitting punishment.”

  “You are wise, Ghost,” said Kylon. “It is unfortunate that we must be enemies.”

  “Maybe the Emperor and the Archons can be persuaded to make peace,” said the Ghost, “once they learned how Kylon Shipbreaker fought to save the embassies of a dozen nations, including the Empire’s, from a horrid enslavement.”

  “Perhaps,” said Kylon. “Until then…this is the Imperial custom, yes?” He bowed over her hand and placed a light kiss upon her fingers. “Until then, may the gods of storm and sea shield you from their wrath, Caina of the Ghosts.”

  She nodded. “And you, Kylon of House Kardamnos.”

  Kylon released her hand and walked away. She was indeed a formidable foe, but someday her luck would run out. Sooner or later, she would push too far, and some enemy would kill her at last.

  But Kylon would not be that enemy.

  “My lord thalarchon?” said Alcios as he rejoined the ashtairoi.

  “It is past time,” said Kylon, “that we returned home.”

  The war with the Empire awaited.

  ###

  Corvalis stood with Basil and Zalandris as Talekhris walked in a slow circle around Caina.

  They stood in Talekhris’s workroom in the Tower of Study, the chamber filled with books and scrolls and peculiar oddities. Talekhris himself looked terrible, his blue eyes sunken, his skin grayish, his hands trembling.

  Though considering that Sicarion had stabbed him through the heart, he looked excellent.

  “Gone,” said Talekhris. “She is gone.”

  Caina frowned. “You’re sure?”

  “I am,” said Talekhris. “The spirit of the Moroaica has departed.” He frowned. “And I do not sense her presence.”

  “Then perhaps she is slain,” said Zalandris, putting his hand on Talekhris’s shoulder, “and you can rest from your labors at last.”

  “How long does it take her to claim control of another body?” said Caina.

  “Usually the process is instantaneous,” said Talekhris. “And certainly there are enough women with arcane talent in the Tower for her to claim one. And yet…and yet I do not feel her presence anywhere.”

  “Then maybe, lord Sage,” said Basil, “she is truly dead.”

  “No, I think not,” said Talekhris. “Perhaps her spirit has fled to somewhere beyond the reach of my senses. I will resume my pursuit. We have dueled each other over the centuries, but one day I will find her and put an end to her crimes.”

  “Ghost,” said Zalandris. “Again I wish to thank you.” His weary eyes turned to Basil and Corvalis. “You all fought with valor, but your efforts saved us, Anna Callenius. You stopped Mihaela and destroyed her vile engine of necromancy.”

  “Perhaps, my lord Speaker,” said Caina, “you will take more care when choosing your Seekers in the future.”

  Corvalis expected the Speaker to take offense, but the Sage only sighed. “I fear you are correct. To be a Sage of the Scholae is to love knowledge for its own sake, to pursue learning without thought of personal advancement. Too many see our knowledge as merely a pathway to power and dominion. So we must remain withdrawn from the world, lest our powers be abused.”

  “As Mihaela abused them,” said Caina.

  “An error we shall not repeat,” said Zalandris. “The Scholae has paid an indemnity to the others, but we owe you a debt beyond them, for you saved us from a horrid slavery. Ask for anything, and if it is in my power, I shall grant it.”

  Corvalis wondered what Caina would ask. Wealth? Knowledge? She hated sorcery. Perhaps she would refuse to ask for anything. />
  “Khaltep Irzaris,” said Caina. “I understand he supplied coffee beans to the Scholae?”

  Corvalis hadn’t been expecting that.

  “He did,” said Zalandris.

  “I ask for every sack of coffee beans in his warehouses,” said Caina, “to be shipped to Malarae at your own expense. Additionally, any coins or jewels in his strongbox.”

  Basil blinked, and then chuckled. “Clever, my dear.”

  “That is not likely to be a very high sum,” said Zalandris.

  “It will be enough,” said Caina.

  “Daughter,” said Basil, amused, “are you planning to go into business?”

  “In a fashion,” said Caina. “One more thing, Lord Speaker. I also ask for the slave Shaizid, sister of Ardasha.”

  “It shall be as you have say,” said Zalandris. “Again you have our thanks, Ghost, and know that you have the gratitude of the Scholae.”

  Caina bowed to the Sage, and they left without another word.

  “I shall speak with Lord Titus,” said Basil as they made for the stairs. “He will want to leave on the morrow, I think.”

  “Good,” said Caina. “It is past time we left Catekharon.”

  “Titus is speaking with the embassy from Alqaarin,” said Basil. “I will find you at our guest quarters once we are finished.”

  He strode off, leaving Corvalis alone on the balcony with Caina. She gazed at the pool of molten metal far below, her eyes distant.

  “I knew you were taken with coffee,” said Corvalis, “but I think you’ll find it hard to drink an entire warehouse of the stuff.”

  “It’s not for me,” said Caina. “Though I do intend to drink some of it. But I have a better use in mind.”

  “Will you tell me what it is?” said Corvalis.

  She grinned. “Basil figured it out.”

  “Basil is smarter than I am,” said Corvalis.

  “It would ruin the surprise,” said Caina, “if I told you.”

  “Then I won’t ask any more of you. I already owe you,” said Corvalis, “for keeping Basil from killing me.”

  She frowned. “Why would he want to kill you?”

  “He told me, when we first met,” said Corvalis, “that if I ever caused you unnecessary pain, he would have me killed.”

  “That’s sweet of him,” said Caina.

  Corvalis took a deep breath. “I did cause you unnecessary pain. I am sorry for that.”

  “I know,” said Caina. “It is…well, I have no family, you know that.” Corvalis nodded. “But if I did, and if my father was still alive, and he told me to do something I thought foolish…I would believe him. I would trust him. You trust your sister. She just happened to be wrong.”

  “I think,” said Corvalis, “that perhaps I will trust your judgment in the future.”

  She grinned. “Ah. I knew you were a wise man.”

  Corvalis shook his head. “This is something I never thought I would understand. Or that it even existed. But I love you, and I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you are still alive.”

  She smiled, and it was one of the rare smiles that lifted the ice from her eyes. “I love you, too.”

  ###

  Caina walked arm in arm with Corvalis to the palace that housed their rooms.

  Shaizid awaited them before the doors.

  “Mistress,” he said, bowing. “The seneschal has told me. I am your slave now.”

  “Shaizid,” started Caina, but he kept speaking.

  “I wish to thank you, mistress,” said Shaizid. “You found Ardasha, and you…you freed her.” His dark eyes blinked. “I wish…I wish she still lived. But you freed her from the armor.”

  “Shaizid,” said Caina, “as your owner, I free you. Immediately.”

  Shaizid stared at her.

  “I…am free?” he said at last.

  “Yes,” said Caina.

  “But where shall I go?” said Shaizid. “I have no family, no home. What shall I do, mistress? I had thought to serve you, but…”

  “You know,” said Corvalis, giving Caina a look, “in Anshan, it is customary for freedmen to work for their former masters.”

  She smiled. He had figured it out after all.

  “May I be your freedman, mistress?” said Shaizid.

  “I think so,” said Caina. “You see, I’ve come into some money and a supply of coffee beans. I wish to open a coffee house in Malarae, Shaizid, and you shall run it for me.”

  The possibility had occurred to her during their discussion with Kylon in the coffee house. The Anshani regularly did business in coffee houses, and the foreign merchants visiting Catekharon had taken up the habit. If Shaizid started a coffee house in Malarae, in time merchants and even nobles would gather in the coffee houses to conduct business, as they did in Catekharon.

  And if the Ghosts owned the coffee houses, they would learn many secrets. Secrets the Ghosts could use to keep something like the Forge and the glypharmor from happening again.

  “Of…of course, mistress,” said Shaizid, blinking. “I have always dreamed of owning my own shop. But…but for you to give me such a kingly gift…why?”

  “I promised Ardasha,” said Caina, “that I would look after you.”

  Shaizid’s jaw trembled. “Thank you, mistress. In Ardasha’s memory, in repayment for your generosity, I swear your coffee house shall prosper.”

  “Go,” said Caina. “Gather your possessions. We shall leave for Malarae tomorrow.”

  Shaizid bowed and hurried towards the Tower.

  “That was generous,” said Corvalis.

  “Oh, he’ll earn it,” said Caina. “And the Ghosts need friends in many places, Corvalis. We have many foes.”

  Mihaela had been defeated, her dream of an empire founded upon the glypharmor crushed…but there were still threats. The war between the Empire and New Kyre and Istarinmul still raged. The First Magus would not cease plotting to seize control of the Empire. Renegade sorcerers and slave traders still preyed upon the commoners.

  And the Moroaica was out there somewhere. Caina was sure of it.

  “True,” said Corvalis, “but we shall face them together.”

  Her fingers curled around his.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “Together.”

  Epilogue

  After a long time, the woman who called herself Jadriga opened her eyes.

  Her vision swam into focus, and she saw that she lay upon a narrow bed in a small room. The blankets felt soft and cool against her bare skin. The only other furnishings were a wardrobe and a mirror, and the heavy iron-banded door had been locked and barred.

  She felt the raw might of her sorcery thrumming through her.

  Jadriga took a moment to acclimate herself to her new form, enjoying the draw of her breath, the heart pumping beneath her ribs. Wearing flesh had its pains, true, but it also had its pleasures.

  She pushed aside the blankets and saw that she was naked. Her legs were long and well-muscled, her belly flat, her forearms and biceps adorned with tattoos of sorcerous sigils. Jadriga rose to her feet and stretched.

  Then she walked to the mirror and examined her new body.

  Mihaela’s blue eyes stared back at her. Jadriga ran a hand through the spiky black hair with annoyance. She had never liked having short hair. The priests of the great pharaoh had made Jadriga shave her head in preparation for the ritual of immortality.

  Well, they were dead and she was not.

  The hair would grow to a suitable length soon enough.

  She examined herself for a moment longer and then nodded in approval. She preferred a younger host, but Mihaela had been fit and strong, and it seemed a shame to let her body go to waste. And her sorcerous talent had been potent, allowing Jadriga to wield her own arcane strength.

  Strength that she would put to good use.

  Mihaela’s mouth tightened in the mirror. The Seeker had suffered grave pain, and in turn she had inflicted grievous suffering upon others. But it was not her fau
lt, not in the end. People were as the world made them. And the world was broken, a torture chamber designed by cruel gods who delighted in suffering.

  Jadriga would make them pay. She had made the necromancer-priests and the pharaohs of old Maat pay, had brought the Kingdom of the Rising Sun crashing into the dust.

  But that was as nothing compared to what she would do the gods themselves.

  It was time to resume the great work.

  She clothed herself in a loose gray robe from the wardrobe. More suitable clothing could be located later. The door was locked and barred, but a simple spell opened it, and Jadriga stepped into the corridor.

  Two Redhelms gaped at her in astonishment and scrambled for their weapons.

  A heartbeat later they lay dead upon the floor.

  The woman the Szalds named the Moroaica strode past them without a second glance. She came to one of the balconies ringing the Tower of Study’s central chamber, the molten steel glowing far below. The liquid metal was part of the spell binding the great fire elemental, and for a moment Jadriga imagined the destruction that breaking the spell would unleash. Liquid fire fountaining from the earth, the crater lake exploding in a column of ash, Catekharon and the countryside for twenty miles in all directions vanishing in a firestorm.

  For all that and more was coming.

  A familiar presence brushed her arcane senses, and Jadriga turned.

  A hooded shadow walked towards her, mismatched eyes glinting in the depths of his cowl.

  “Mistress,” said Sicarion with a bow.

  “Sicarion,” said Jadriga. She paused for a moment, feeling her teeth with her tongue. Speaking with a new mouth was always a strange experience. “You disobeyed me.”

  “I would never dream of such impudence,” said Sicarion.

  “Truly?” said Jadriga. “I told you to keep Caina Amalas alive. She would have been most useful to me. Instead you allowed Mihaela to slay her.”

  She remembered everything she had experienced while in Caina’s body. The pain, the fear, the rage. The unyielding determination. And the warmth of her feelings for Corvalis, the sensation as the former assassin kissed her lips…