She shivered a little, the Voice hissing with delight inside her skull. Caina and her allies had killed several of Cassander’s men as Kalgri watched unseen from the shadows, and she had been close enough to feed off their deaths. It was not as nourishing as if she had killed them herself, but it had nonetheless been most enjoyable. She even felt a little drunk with it, and the temptation to join in had been immense, to carve her way through the Adamant Guards and kill Caina in front of Kylon.
That would have been marvelous.
Nonetheless, Kalgri had refrained. Attacking a man armed with a valikon would have been foolish. Attacking a valikon-armed man who had the assistance of an Iramisian loremaster would have been suicidal madness. Annarah might not have been able to overcome Cassander in their duel, but Kalgri was far more vulnerable to the Words of Lore. Between the valikon and the Words of Lore, they could have disposed of Kalgri and the Voice in short order.
No, when the time came to kill Annarah, Kalgri would simply cut the loremaster’s throat while she slept. The Voice feasted upon pain and torment, but to indulge one’s pleasures at the risk of destruction was the height of folly. Annarah would receive a quick and efficient death, not lingering torment.
Kalgri would reserve that pleasure for Caina.
But not yet. Fighting her was a mistake. Cassander had just made that mistake. Caina alone was nothing, just a young woman with a dagger and a shadow-cloak. But she was a clever young woman, and she had a gift for making allies. Cassander would have no trouble killing Caina in a fair fight, but Caina was not stupid enough to fight fair. Which was why Caina had surrounded herself with a valikon-equipped stormdancer, a legendary assassin, the last loremaster of Iramis, the last Prince of Iramis, and other capable allies, and together they had torn their way through Cassander’s men.
Well, that was Cassander’s problem.
But Kalgri thought she still might have a use for the Umbarian magus.
Kalgri leaned against the wall of an undamaged warehouse to think. She preferred to do her thinking in crowds, while alone in the midst of many people. They were her prey, all of them, and their only purpose was to feed her lust for death. She watched as Grand Wazir Erghulan Amirasku himself arrived to inspect the harbor, flanked by a guard of Immortals, striding to and fro as he barked useless commands to everyone in sight. The man was a pompous blowhard, too stupid to realize that he was not the true ruler of Istarinmul. Kalgri wondered what his expression would look like if she strolled up and killed him.
She closed her eyes and shivered, the Voice snarling in her thoughts.
She did not care about Erghulan Amirasku. She did not care about Istarinmul, or about Cassander’s schemes to destroy the Empire. She did not even care about Callatas and his Apotheosis, about his ludicrous plan to create a new version of humanity to populate the world. His plan was madness, but it would kill a lot of people…and Kalgri did care about that.
She cared about that a great deal.
So she pondered about how to best use this situation to kill.
For Caina’s death, if handled properly, could unleash a vast quantity of death, because Caina knew where to find the Staff and Seal of Iramis.
Kalgri smiled as she watched the soldiers move back and forth. Right now, as she stood here, Callatas searched for the lost regalia of the Princes of Iramis. He had men searching the Desert of Candles, had spirits scouring the netherworld, had scholars pouring through tomes of forgotten history. Never once had it occurred to Callatas to look in the Tomb of Kharnaces, even thought it had all started in the Tomb of Kharnaces. The Voice, the nagataaru, the Apotheosis, all of it had started in the Tomb.
Maybe Callatas was too frightened to ever return there.
She giggled a little at the thought. One of the passing soldiers gave her a strange look.
The Staff and Seal had the potential to kill the world. They just had to be handled correctly.
And Kalgri knew just how to do it.
The Voice hissed in her thoughts, warning her. The nagataaru sensed sorcery nearby. Kalgri focused upon the sensation, and realized that a Silent Hunter stood in the alley behind the warehouse. Likely the man had escaped from the fighting, and now sought to return to his master.
Kalgri pushed away from the wall and strolled into the alley. It was deserted, but she sensed the Silent Hunter standing invisible a few yards away, his attention focused upon her. Likely the man was puzzled. Even in the safer Quarters of Istarinmul, it was unwise for a lone woman (or anyone, really) to walk alone into an alley.
She decided to solve the mystery for him.
Kalgri stretched out her right hand, calling the Voice’s power, and the fury of the nagataaru manifested as a sword of darkness and writhing purple flame. The blade pierced the Silent Hunter’s chest, pinning him to the wall, and the man appeared in a flash of silver light, the dagger falling from his stunned hand. Before he could call out, Kalgri clapped her free hand over his mouth.
The Silent Hunter’s eyes met hers, wide and terrified.
“Do you see?” whispered Kalgri. Before Silent Ash Temple, she had never liked to talk while she killed. “Do you understand? I just feasted upon so many deaths. So much death. I should be glutted with it. Do you want to know the truth?”
The Silent Hunter’s mouth moved beneath her fingers. Perhaps he was trying to answer her. Perhaps he was screaming. Perhaps he was begging for a god to save him, which was funny, because the Umbarian Order proclaimed that no gods existed, that sorcery would elevate men to the status of gods.
“The truth is,” whispered Kalgri, “I’m always hungry.”
She jerked the blade of force up a few inches, bisecting his heart. The Silent Hunter died in terrified incomprehension, and his pain and death swept through Kalgri like fire. The Voice howled in triumph, feasting upon the released energy, and Kalgri closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation as some of that stolen strength flooded through her.
The dead man slumped.
Kalgri stepped back, turning his body so his blood would not get upon her dress, and withdrew the blade of force. The Silent Hunter collapsed motionless to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. Kalgri swept the nearby area with the Voice’s senses, but detected no sign of alarm. No one had seen her murder the Umbarian assassin. He was not the first man she had killed.
And there were many more killings to come.
Kalgri left the alley, making for the Umbarian embassy in the Alqaarin Quarter.
###
Cassander stalked back and forth in his study, the metal fingers of his gauntlet rasping as he opened and closed his fist.
To say that the raid on the harbor had gone badly was an understatement. The Kindred had been ordered to take Caina alive, and then to let her allies and companions gather in the Desert Maiden. The Adamant Guards and Silent Hunters would kill them all, with the cataphractus held in reserve. Cassander would present the Grand Master with his trophy, and the Umbarian fleet would sail through the Starfall Straits.
Instead, Caina had somehow gotten away from the Kindred, and the entire plan had fallen apart. Cassander knew that no plan of battle survived contact with the enemy, but this plan had gone badly awry. He had a summons from the Grand Wazir requesting his presence at the Golden Palace tomorrow. Likely Erghulan wanted to upbraid him for the battle in the streets. And the Imperial ambassador would not be idle. Martin Dorius and his bitch of a wife would already be speaking with every wazir, hakim and emir of influence they could find, pointing out that the Empire’s ambassador had kept the peace, that the Umbarians, not the Imperials, had been running amok through the streets.
Cassander gritted his teeth, looking through the balcony doors.
He never should have trusted the Red Huntress. She had told him where Caina would be, but she had failed to mention the valikon. For that matter, Cassander never should have hired the damned Kindred. He had come to suspect the Kindred families were dens of incompetents, and this latest fiasco proved it. He wondered how
many Kindred assassins had been sent against Caina Amalas over the years…
He turned, and saw a woman a blue dress and headscarf standing in the corner. For a moment he stared at her in confusion, and the recognition struck.
“You seem agitated,” said Kalgri, smiling. “Was it an unpleasant morning?”
Cassander’s temper exploded.
He strode across the room, seized Kalgri’s throat with his armored hand, and slammed her against the wall. “Where the hell were you? Caina Amalas was there! She was yours for the taking! You could have walked up and gutted her. Was this a trick? Some stupid game? Or did you plan to betray me all along? I…”
Belatedly Cassander’s brain caught up with his temper, screaming that he might have just made a very serious mistake.
Kalgri was grinning at him. In fact, her lips were parted, her eyes wide and sparkling, her breath coming sharp and fast. Had she been any other woman, Cassander would have thought that she was aroused. The thought of what might excite a woman like Kalgri was a disturbing one. Cassander preferred lovers he could control completely…but Kalgri was like the sort of spider that devoured her mate alive.
Cassander also realized that she was close enough to impale him with that sword of force she could summon, and he had no spell or defense against the weapon.
She licked her lips, slow and languid.
“You are upset,” she murmured, “aren’t you?”
Cassander released his hand and took a careful step back, and then one more. Kalgri made no move to attack him. She raised her left hand and Cassander started a warding spell, but Kalgri only lifted her fingers to massage her bruised throat. The bruises were already fading, healed by the power of the nagataaru within her.
“Most upset,” she said.
“Do forgive me,” said Cassander, forcing the words out. “I…may be overwrought.”
“Mmm.” Kalgri rubbed her throat as the bruises vanished. “A strong grip, my lord Cassander. Just as well. A weak man is useless.”
“But you,” said Cassander, pointing at her. “Where were you?”
“Watching,” said Kalgri. “Unseen, unnoticed, forgotten.”
Cassander bit back the urge to berate her. “Why didn’t you attack? When they fought the cataphractus…it held their full attention. You could have taken them.”
“Kylon has a valikon,” said Kalgri. “He was a challenging enough fighter without one. I am not stupid enough to fight him while he carries such a blade.”
Another wave of anger went through Cassander. “You could have told me that he carried the damned thing.”
Kalgri scoffed. “He wants to kill you, my lord Cassander. Between Caina and Kylon, they have likely figured out that I shall return at some point, but they have no idea I’m in Istarinmul. They have no idea that I’ve been following them for months.” She giggled, her irritation vanishing. “I look forward to their surprise. So you see why I must keep myself a secret.”
Cassander shook his head and paced behind his desk, partly to work out some of his frustration, partly to put the desk between them in case she decided to attack. “You should have told me that Kylon carried a valikon.”
“You should have realized it,” said Kalgri. “The man has sworn to kill you to avenge his wife and unborn child. Are you so stupid as to not see the danger? Kylon of House Kardamnos is hardly a brilliant man, but he fought me to a standstill at the Tower of Kardamnos, and if he had carried that valikon I would have failed. And even if I had told you, would you have listened? I suggested a quiet kidnapping, and you brought a damned army to the Alqaarin Quarter! I told you to beware of Annarah, and she held you off long enough to escape.”
“Yes,” Cassander conceded, grudgingly. She did have a point. “I may have underestimated her abilities.”
“Do you know what your error was?” said Kalgri.
Cassander sighed. “I suspect you are about to enlighten me.”
“You’re too young,” said Kalgri.
Cassander laughed, startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t be a fool,” said Kalgri. “This face might look young, but I’m not. I’m so old, and I’ve killed so many people I can’t remember them all.” She shivered, giggled, and looked at him, the tip of her tongue sliding over her lips. “Do you know what I learned? The method doesn’t matter. Only the result. Only the corpse at your feet. It doesn’t matter whether you cheated, whether you fought fairly or stabbed your enemy in the back. Only the corpse at your feet matters.” She made an exasperated sound. “You…you think like an Imperial magus.”
“That is because I am an Imperial magus,” said Cassander, amused. “Or I will be, once the Umbarian Order assumes its proper role over the entirety of the Empire.”
“You think like a magus,” said Kalgri, “so you think in terms of grand gestures, and battles and lords and crushing your enemies with spells. No. Better to pour a little poison in their glasses. Better to kill them and never let them know that you were the one who killed them. If your pride can withstand such a blow.”
Cassander considered that for a moment. “It hardly matters now, does it? They have gone in pursuit of the Staff and the Seal, haven’t they?”
“You guess correctly,” said Kalgri.
“And will you tell me where they are going?” said Cassander.
“That would depend,” said Kalgri, “on whether or not you intend to pursue her.”
“Of course I shall,” said Cassander. “I need her dead so Callatas will open the Starfall Straits to the Umbarian fleet…”
“No, you don’t,” said Kalgri, her quiet voice singsong. Cassander fought back another surge of irritation. He had found her more tolerable when they first met, when she had been sullen and taciturn and grim. Her newfound loquaciousness and bizarre sense of humor were not improvements.
“And just why not?” said Cassander.
“I could say,” said Kalgri, “that Callatas has absolutely no intention of keeping his word, but you knew that already. And because you knew that already, you have been making…preparations.”
Cassander felt a chill. “All prudent men take preparations.”
“Not on the scale you have made them,” said Kalgri. “Not to do what you plan.”
Cassander stared at her, wondering how much she knew.
“All those houses,” said Kalgri. “All those symbols of power written within them. All the cracks filled with golden fire. Perhaps the Ghosts were too stupid to see it, but it was hard to hide it from me.”
“So I observe,” said Cassander, his throat going dry. He wondered if he could work a spell fast enough to kill her. If she had told Callatas what he intended to do… “You have relayed this to the Grand Master, I trust?”
“Of course not,” said Kalgri, her eyes glittering like chips of blue ice. “Why would I? Your plan has…appeal.” She smiled, showing her teeth.
“Appeal?” said Cassander.
“I enjoy death,” said Kalgri, and this time he saw the faint pulse of shadow and purple fire that went through the back of her eyes as the nagataaru stirred inside of her.
“Indeed,” said Cassander. “You understand, of course, that my plan is only intended as a last resort. If Callatas honors his agreement with me, if he opens the Starfall Straits to the Order’s fleet…there is no need for hostilities. The Order would prefer a prosperous Istarinmul as a counterweight against Anshani and Sarbian incursions into Cyrica, once the Emperor has been defeated and the Empire reunited.”
“But if Callatas goes against his word,” said Kalgri, “if he refuses to help you…”
“Then I will do it,” said Cassander, “and all the world shall tremble at Istarinmul’s fate.”
Kalgri’s cold smile returned. “Good. Very good. Caina is going to Rumarah.”
Cassander blinked. “What?”
“Rumarah,” said Kalgri, repeating the word slowly, as if to an idiot. For what seemed like the thousandth time, Cassander pushed down his irritation.
“A town on the southern edge of the Desert of Candles. It…”
“I know the place and its history,” said Cassander. “Why is Caina going there? Are the Staff and Seal concealed within the town?”
“No,” said Kalgri. “But she will stop at Rumarah first. If you hasten, you might catch her there.”
“And if I do not?” said Cassander.
Kalgri shrugged. “And if you do not, you can await her return at Rumarah. For if she is successful, she will return with the Staff and the Seal…and you can have both the Balarigar and the regalia walk into your waiting arms.”
For a moment Cassander was so surprised that he did not trust himself to speak.
“Then…you would betray Callatas?” said Cassander. “You would permit me to claim the regalia before he does?”
Kalgri shrugged once more. “I don’t care about the Grand Master. I don’t care about the Umbarian Order. I don’t care about the Empire or Istarinmul.”
“You care,” said Cassander, understanding coming to his mind, “about killing Caina Amalas. About feeding upon death.”
She giggled. “So nice to meet a man who finally understands me.” Her unnerving giggle turned into a full laugh. “Besides, once Callatas realizes that you have the Staff and the Seal, he will simply kill you and take them anyway.”
Cassander smirked at her. “He can try.”
“You had trouble fighting a single loremaster,” said Kalgri, “and she was one of the youngest and the weakest of her order.” She took a step towards him, grinning. “Callatas killed the others. All of them.”
That was an excellent argument. Kalgri might have been twisted and insane, but she was nonetheless brilliant. Cassander marveled at the depths of her cunning. No matter what happened, she would kill Caina and feed upon a great deal of death.
Perhaps even the death of an entire nation.
Or Cassander’s death, as well.
But great power only came to those who took great risks, and the Staff and the Seal would give Cassander great power. Enough power to claim a place of preeminence among the Provosts of the Order. Perhaps even enough power to deal with Callatas himself, to repay that smug old wretch for the last year of frustration. True, Callatas had wiped out Iramis and the loremasters.
Ghost in the Seal (Ghost Exile #6) Page 15