by Unknown
"I...don't know," said Lucan, his smile flickering, hand twitching towards the dagger hidden in his expensive black coat. "Roebel?"
"It came this morning, sir," said Roebel, filling Lucan's goblet and moving to Caina's.
Lucan rose, picked up the box, looked at the note on the lid. "It's for you."
"For me?" said Caina. Lucan handed her the box, and her eyes flicked over it, checking for poisons or hidden traps. She had once been a Ghost nightfighter, one of the Emperor's spies and assassins, and old habits died hard.
That, and no one ever really left the Ghosts.
"It's from the Emperor," said Lucan.
Roebel paused, just for a moment.
Caina opened the box. Inside rested a heavy golden signet ring, with a massive sapphire carved in the shape of an eagle.
"What is it?" said Lucan, voice serious. He knew her well enough by now to tell when something had alarmed her.
"The Emperor's signet ring," said Caina.
Again Roebel paused.
Lucan snorted. "He's asking for your hand?"
"You don't understand," said Caina, staring at the ring. "This is an heirloom of the Empire, thousands of years old. Why would he send this to me, without any instructions? He's meeting with the Lord Ambassador from Anub-Kha today, he would need it to seal any documents or..."
Anub-Kha.
Caina glanced at Roebel in sudden alarm, her heart racing.
"The wine," she said. "I think some lemon juice would make it more palatable."
"Lemon juice? In wine?" said Lucan, incredulous.
"Yes," said Caina. "Lemon juice. Roebel. Get some lemon juice, now."
"Ah...yes, Countess," said Roebel, gesturing at the table. "The lamb was to be served in lemon juice. There is some right there."
"Pour it for me," said Caina. "Into my goblet."
She tensed, hand moving towards the throwing knives hidden in her sleeves.
Roebel blinked. "Of course, Countess."
He reached for the saucer of lemon juice with his left hand.
"With your right hand, please," said Caina.
Roebel smiled. "Surely my lady need not concern herself with such trivialities."
"Your right hand," said Caina.
"But..."
"Do as the Countess commands," said Lucan.
Roebel looked back and forth. And then his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl, his eyes bulging with hatred.
"Blood!" he screamed. "Blood for Rioghath! Die!"
A dagger appeared in his hand, and he lunged at Caina.
But she had expected this, and she flung the goblet of wine at his face. Roebel reeled back in sudden alarm, dodging the crimson wine. Lucan lunged at the old man, his own dagger in hand, and Roebel turned to face him. His blade stabbed like a serpent's darting tongue, and Lucan dodged away.
It gave Caina all the time she needed to gain her feet, draw a throwing knife, and plunge it into Roebel's neck. The old man stiffened, clawing at the air, and collapsed at her feet.
"What the devil was that?" said Lucan, crossing to her side. "He's been in my father's service for six years. Why would he try to kill us now? I assume the wine was poisoned."
"Undoubtedly," said Caina. She took the saucer of lemon juice from the table and dumped it on Roebel's right hand.
For a moment nothing happened. And then the skin of Roebel's hand turned a deep crimson, as if his palm had been dipped in fresh blood.
"The Red Hands," said Caina. "A hidden tattoo upon the right hand, one that can only be revealed with lemon juice. That's how they know each other."
"The Red Hands?" said Lucan. "I thought they were but legend..."
"No," said Caina, digging through Roebel's pockets. "Once they were the most powerful assassins' brotherhood in the Empire. They worshiped Rioghath, the old Caerish death god, and believed that he drank the blood of their victims. The Emperors expelled them a hundred years ago, and they fled to Anub-Kha, swearing to take vengeance one day. Apparently that day has come." She pulled a marble-sized clay sphere from Roebel's pocket and sniffed it. "He intended this for us."
"What is it?" said Lucan.
"Bloodblight," said Caina. "A rare poison. One ounce costs a thousand crowns, and one drop in a pond will kill everyone who drinks the water for years. It can even eat through glass, which is why it's in this clay sphere."
"But why kill us?" said Lucan.
Caina stood, tucking the bloodblight sphere into a pocket. "Roebel wasn't trying to kill you. He wanted to kill me. You were just in the way. And if the Red Hands wanted to kill me..."
"Then they're here to kill the Emperor," said Lucan.
"I must go to him at once," said Caina.
"Wait," said Lucan, grabbing her arm. "If they went to such effort to plant an agent in my father's household, then they must have agents hidden throughout the Imperial Citadel. And if they all strike at once...gods, they'll wipe out half the Imperial Court."
"What are you saying?" said Caina.
"The Emperor is probably already dead," said Lucan.
"Then why did he send me his ring?"
Lucan had no answer for that.
"I am a Countess of the Imperial Court and a Ghost," said Caina. "It is my duty to save him, and if he has fallen, then to avenge his death. You needn't come."
"Don't be absurd," said Lucan. "I won't have a chance to steal that kiss if you get yourself killed, will I?"
"Good," said Caina. "Let's go."
* * * *
They paused only long enough to arm themselves.
Lucan had spent years hunting necromancers and others who practiced black arts, and he had an extensive arsenal hidden in his father's apartment. He took a sword, a belt of daggers, a crossbow, and several quivers of bolts. Caina already had a set of throwing knives hidden beneath her sleeves, but she helped herself to a dozen more knives and a pair of daggers. Lord Maraeus also had a beautiful silver dagger hanging over the fireplace, its curved blade carved with flowing Kyracian characters. Caina helped herself to that, too.
Silver, she had learned long ago, was proof against certain kinds of sorcery. And rumor held that the Red Hands had sorcerers in their midst.
The Emperor's ring went on a chain around her neck, hidden beneath her collar.
"Where to?" said Lucan, drawing his sword.
"The Garden of Icarion," said Caina. "The Emperor was to meet there with the Lord Ambassador from Anub-Kha."
If the Red Hands hadn't killed him already.
She dismissed the thought. "Let's go. And if we find any Imperial Guards, we'll take them with us."
"We need every sword we can find," agreed Lucan, pushing open the door and stepping into the Citadel's corridors.
He stopped.
"Though," he said, voice quiet, "it may be up to us."
Two men in the black armor and purple cloaks of the Imperial Guard lay sprawled upon the floor, eyes glassy in death. A crust of black foam coated their lips and nostrils, steel crossbow bolts jutting from their chests.
"Their swords are still in their scabbards," said Lucan. "They didn't even have a chance to fight."
"Bloodblight," muttered Caina, looking at the black foam. "Poisoned. They were dead before they hit the ground." She looked away from the grisly sight. "It's not far to the Garden of Icarion from here. Try to keep quiet."
Lucan nodded, and they slipped through the Imperial Citadel's silent corridors, down the high halls with their pillars and marble floors and countless statues of long-dead Emperors. They saw a dozen more slain Imperial Guards. Some had been shot down by poisoned crossbow bolts, but others had managed to put up a fight. Here and there Caina noted the corpse of a servant or a porter.
All had been Red Hands, no doubt.
"Caina," said Lucan, coming to a halt. "Look at this."
A dead Imperial Guard lay at his feet. But unlike the others, the corpse looked...withered. Almost ancient. As if someone had put a suit of pristine Guard armor
over a crumbling skeleton.
"It wasn't poison that did this," said Lucan, prodding the armor with the toe of his boot.
"No," said Caina. "Some kind of sorcery. The Red Hands reputedly have sorcerers in their ranks."
"Hired murderers and sorcerers both?" said Lucan. "Such charming people. I can see why they're so beloved."
"Yes," said Caina. "And leaving such an...odd corpse in the middle of the corridor."
Where it would make a perfect distraction.
She caught Lucan's eye, saw him give a tiny nod.
Then they ducked, and just in time. A woman in a servant's dress stepped from behind a pillar, a crossbow in her hands. The bolt shot over Caina's head and shattered against the far wall. The woman cursed, threw aside the crossbow, and drew a long dagger, blade glistening with poison.
"An offering of blood!" shrieked the woman. "Blood for great Rioghath!"
Lucan twisted to meet the woman, sword raised, and a man in a stable hand's clothes jumped from behind another pillar, dagger angled to take Lucan in the back.
Caina's throwing knife caught the assassin in the neck, and he went down with a gurgled scream.
The woman circled Lucan, stabbing and thrusting. Lucan kept his distance from the poisoned blade, face tight with concentration. Caina snatched another throwing knife and flung it. The woman let out a wild laugh and ducked, the blade missing her by inches.
Which gave Lucan the opening he needed to leap forward, sword plunging into her throat. She tried to stab him, but Lucan pulled his sword free, blocking the thrust, and the woman joined her companion on the floor.
"I'm surprised," said Lucan, wiping his sword blade clean, "that we haven't seen more."
"We were supposed to have been poisoned," said Caina, retrieving her throwing knives. "I don't think the Red Hands expected much resistance."
"Good," said Lucan. "All the easier to take them unawares."
Caina hoped that would be enough.
They reached the Garden of Icarion. Built into the Citadel's wall, the Garden had a dizzying view of the Imperial capital and its harbor below, with the Citadel's towers and arches rising above. Stone paths wound their way past small trees, flowering bushes, and lichen-covered boulders, a broad pond reflecting the twilight sky. It was a beautiful place, and Caina could imagine the Emperor Icarion standing in the Garden a thousand years past, mourning for his lost wife.
Though the dead Imperial Guards lying upon the ground rather ruined the effect.
A scream rang out, followed by a man's voice babbling for mercy. Caina crept from tree to tree, Lucan following her.
In the Garden's center rose an ancient statue of Icarion's wife. A man in an ornamented robe cowered against the statue, his head shaved, his eyes wide with terror. Caina recognized Zanakha, the Lord Ambassador from Anub-Kha.
Over him stood a lean young man in red leather armor, his face tattooed to look like a crimson skull. A sword dangled from his right hand, blood dripping from the blade.
"Come, Zanakha," purred the young man. "Give yourself to me. It will be so much easier."
"No," said Zanakha. "I am...I am no threat to you, great Speaker. Please. Please!"
"You should know better than to defy a Speaker of Rioghath, Zanakha," said the young man. "How sweet it will be to..."
The Speaker paused, turned. One of the Imperial Guards was still alive. The wounded man crawled over the grass towards the Speaker, dagger in hand.
"Ah," sighed the Speaker. "Do you want to see your fate, Zanakha?"
"Have pity!" said Zanakha. "He cannot hurt you. Do not...no!"
The Speaker seized the Guard's cloak, dragged the man to his feet, and pulled off the Guard's helmet. Caina expected him to cut the Guard's throat, and her fingers curled around a throwing knife.
And to her astonishment, the Speaker leaned close and kissed the Guard upon the lips.
Green light flare around the Speaker, and Caina felt the low, crawling prickle of sorcery. Something like green mist poured from the Guard's mouth and into the Speaker's, and as it did, the Guard aged. One moment he was a man in his twenties. A heartbeat later he was in his middle forties. A heartbeat after that an old man hung limp in the suit of black Guard armor.
And after that, a withered corpse slumped in the Speaker's grasp.
The Speaker sighed in contentment and tossed the dead Guard aside. He looked stronger, more vigorous. He had stolen the Guard's life, Caina realized, used sorcery to drink the Guard's strength and make it his own.
"Now," said the Speaker, turning towards Zanakha. "Where were we?"
Caina looked at Lucan.
He nodded, sprang to his feet, and plunged his sword into the Speaker's back.
The Speaker tore free from the blade, spinning around. His mouth hung open in shock, and Caina saw a bloody wound in his chest from Lucan's blow.
A wound that should have killed him.
"Naughty little children," said the Speaker, voice tight with pain. "Sneaking around in the presence of your betters? You shall have to be punished."
Lucan closed on him, sword in hand, and Caina followed, dagger ready.
The Speaker sighed, and Caina saw the wound in his chest closing, torn skin and ripped muscle knitting itself together.
"Save yourselves!" cried Zanakha. "Whoever you are, run! Save yourselves, before it is too late!"
"Do be silent," said the Speaker, lifting his sword. "More servants of the Emperor, I assume? I have already feasted deeply...but two more cannot hurt."
"So you drink your victims' lives?" said Caina.
"Rioghath rewards his faithful well," said the Speaker. His smile fell upon Lucan. "You men of the Empire permit your women to speak for you? A waste. For she is a pretty thing, if a little old, and would fetch a fair price upon the slave block." He sighed. "I shall enjoy devouring her strength. And yours, as well."
"Easy to say," said Lucan, lifting his sword, "and harder to do."
"Easier than you might think, sir," said the Speaker.
He leapt forward, his sword a steely blur. He moved faster than anyone Caina had seen. The stolen life energies, she realized, lent him superhuman speed and strength. Lucan parried, and then backed away in full flight, working his blade. Caina circled behind him, threw one knife, then two. The blades thudded into the Speaker's back and shoulder, staggering him, but not for long. He smirked and pulled the blades free, and his wounds began to close at once.
But not so quickly this time.
He had a reservoir of stolen life energy to heal his wounds and lend him strength.
But reservoirs could be drained.
Caina flung every knife she had left at him. The Speaker dodged most, but some lodged in his chest and arms. He growled in rage, his mocking smile gone, and lunged at her. She twisted aside, his sword plunging past her face. Lucan stabbed at him, his blade opening a long gash on the Speaker's forearm.
The Speaker snarled and kicked out, his boot landing in Lucan's belly, knocking him to the ground with a strangled grunt. Caina drew one of her daggers and backed away. The Speaker's smirk returned as he stalked towards her. His wounds closed, slowly, but they still closed.
"You've put up quite an impressive fight," said the Speaker. "I'll enjoy feasting upon you."
Caina stabbed him. The Speaker laughed and accepted the hit. She drew her second dagger, but the Speaker reached out, seized her wrist, and pulled her close.
"I'll enjoy this," he murmured.
"Yes," said Caina. "I'm sure."
She snatched the silver dagger from her belt and jammed it into his stomach. The wound did not bleed. It smoked, sizzling like fat poured on the fire, and the dagger's handle grew hot beneath her fingers.
Silver was proof against sorcery.
The Speaker screamed and shoved her away. Caina stumbled, wrenching the dagger free. It left a smoking hole in the Speaker's stomach, a wound that was not healing itself. The Speaker stumbled after her, snarling curses in the tongue of An
ub-Kha, sword drawn back for the kill.
Lucan's sword point exploded from his chest. The Speaker's eyes bulged, and Caina slashed the silver dagger across his throat. The Speaker stiffened and fell off Lucan's blade.
This time his wounds did not close.
"Gods and devils," said Lucan. "How many mortal wounds did that man take?"
"Too many," said Caina, shaking her head.
"You...you killed him?" said Zanakha, gaping at her. "You actually killed a Speaker of the Red Hand? What manner of woman are you?"
"This is Lucan Maraeus, youngest son of Lord Corbould Maraeus," said Caina, standing over the trembling Lord Ambassador. "My name is Countess Caina Amalas."
He flinched a bit at that.
Lucan grinned. "He's heard of you."
"Tell me about the Red Hand," said Caina.
"I didn't know!" said Zanakha. "I swear on the names of all the gods that I did not! They hid themselves among my servants. Men I had trusted for years. And there were some among your Emperor's servants, as well." He ran a shaking hand over his face. "Years, they have spent years planning this. We are all going to die."
"Everyone dies," said Caina. "But we do not have to die today. You met with the Emperor here, I assume?" Zanakha managed a nod. "I don't see his body. Where have they taken him?"
"You don't understand," said Zanakha. "You cannot prevail."
"Why not?" said Caina.
"Because," said Zanakha, his voice shaking, "the Ar-Rioghath himself has come to take vengeance upon your Emperor."
"Who?" said Lucan.
"The Ar-Rioghath," said Zanakha, "the Voice of the Red Hand, the high priest and chosen of Rioghath."
"The leader of the Red Hands, you mean," said Caina.
"Yes," said Zanakha. "They say he is hundreds of years old, that he cannot be hurt by mortal weapons, that his sorcery gives him the power to slay men with a glance. I thought him only a legend. But I saw him. He looked at me like I was an insect, unworthy of consideration." He shivered. "He took your Emperor, Countess. He will kill your Emperor. And if you try to stop him, he will kill you too."
"Where did they take the Emperor?" said Caina.
"The Tower of Nicokator," said Zanakha. "They were going to the Tower of Nicokator."
The Tower of Nicokator was the oldest in the Imperial Citadel. Why take the Emperor there? If the Ar-Rioghath and his Red Hands desired vengeance upon the Empire, why not just kill the Emperor and have done with it?