Child of the Ghosts (14 page)

As she watched, the man drew a dagger. Halfdan and Riogan tensed, but the man merely reversed his grip on the blade and started to clean his fingernails. 

Caina stared at his hand, at the way his knuckles tightened against the dagger’s handle. Something about that seemed familiar, somehow…

“So,” said the man, “you must be Marcus Antali.”

“And you, I assume,” said Halfdan, “are Jakob?”

“Some call me that.” Jakob squinted at his fingernails for a moment. “I presume you have business for me?”

“I do,” said Halfdan. “I’ve heard rumors that Istarish slave traders have returned to the Narrow Sea.”

“A man of your age should know better than to listen to the idle gossip of housewives,” said Jakob, gesturing with the dagger. Something about the movement screamed a warning in Caina’s brain, but she could not explain it. “So slavers have returned to the Narrow Sea, hmm? Will you run to the Lord Governor, call the militia down upon our heads?”

“Hardly,” said Halfdan. “I am a man of business. If there’s profit to be made, I make it…in any merchandise. And I can supply you with merchandise.”

“The girl?” said Jakob, not looking at Caina. “You wish to sell her? She’s pretty enough, would fetch a fair price in Istarinmul or Anshan.” 

“My daughter?” said Halfdan. “Perhaps if she gets mouthy. Her mother never shut up, either.”

Jakob and Halfdan shared a laugh at that. 

“But, no,” said Halfdan, “I have other things in mind. I heard you’re shipping slaves down from the Disali hills. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to take them from the Vytaagi villages?” 

“Too much trouble,” grumbled Jakob. “These damned swamps have never been mapped, and the Vytaagi are good with those bows. Kidnapping peasants from Disalia Province and shipping them through the swamps is difficult, but less trouble than kidnapping the Vytaagi out of their villages…assuming we can even find the damned villages.” 

Halfdan grinned. “But the Vytaagi trust me. I’ve been selling them baubles for years. I know where all the villages are. And I could show you the way…for a cut of the profits, of course.” 

Caina felt her lip crinkle in disgust and forced her face to remain still. Halfdan…almost seemed to have become someone else. She knew him as the levelheaded Ghost circlemaster. Now he had become an obsequious, grasping merchant, one eager to sell his customers to slavers in exchange for a few coins. It was almost as if he had disappeared and become another man.

And Jakob was buying it.

“You’ve interested me,” said Jakob. “Come out back and we’ll talk. Leave your pet thug and your daughter here, and we can work out the details.”

He flipped the dagger and slid it back into its sheath.

And Caina realized why that seemed so familiar. 

She grabbed Halfdan’s elbow.

“His dagger,” she murmured. 

“What about it?” said Halfdan.

Caina swallowed. It sounded so foolish, but she could not shake the feeling that it was important. “He holds it the exact same way that Riogan does.” 

“Antali?” said Jakob. “Is something amiss?”

For a moment they stared at each other.

Then Jakob jerked his head. Two of the thugs shot to their feet, moving to block the door. Halfdan drew his short sword from his belt, and Riogan adjusted his grip on his spear, the blade glimmering.

“What is this?” said Halfdan. “I am only a simple merchant, trying to turn a profit…”

Jakob laughed, drew his dagger in one hand and his sword in another. 

“You’re no merchant, old man,” said Jakob. “Our employer warned us that the Ghosts would come sniffing around…and, well, here you are. Looks like the old devil was right.” 

“And you’re no slaver, either,” said Halfdan. 

Jakob grinned, white teeth flashing in his face. “Oh? Then what am I?”

“An assassin of the Kindred, I should wager,” said Halfdan. “Let me guess. From the Arzaxia family? Or do I merit an assassin from Malarae itself?”

“Malarae,” said Jakob, his eyes shifting to Riogan. “You two. Take the girl. Keep her unharmed; we can sell her later. You three, deal with the old man. I’ll take this one myself.” 

The men fanned out to carry out Jakob’s orders. Three converged on Halfdan, two moved towards Caina, and Jakob himself moved towards Riogan, face hard, blades raised. Riogan started to circle him, spear drawn back for a stab.

They were going to die.

Caina could see it. Four against two was not a winning combination. Riogan was deadly in a fight, but Jakob looked just as skilled. Halfdan would not doubt kill one or even two of his attackers, but the third would take him.

They were going to die.

Unless Caina did something right away.

She began to cry.

The thugs approaching her laughed, and she saw disgust ripple across Riogan’s face. Caina shied away from them, sobbing.

Her right hand closed around her dagger’s hilt, the motion shielded behind her body. 

“Come along, my pretty,” said the nearest thug, grinning, “and we’ll have ourselves a good time, eh?”

Strike first, Akragas had always said. 

The thug’s thick hand closed about Caina’s left wrist, yanking her towards him.

She spun into the movement, and buried her dagger in his throat. 

The thug screamed, or tried to scream, but Caina’s blade had lodged in his windpipe. She ripped the dagger free, tearing the wound open, and the man fell to his knees, clutching at his neck, his blood hot against her knuckles. 

Goats, she thought. It was just like killing those goats. 

The second thug yelled and stabbed at her with his sword. But his form was pitiful, his stance wrong, his movements slow and sluggish. Akragas could have taken him down in the space of two heartbeats. Caina sidestepped and brought her dagger up. He jerked back, but not fast enough, and the side of her blade sliced across his throat. The thug staggered, and Caina stabbed up, the dagger angling up beneath his jaw and into his mouth.

He fell besides his companion, choking. 

The entire thing had taken only a few seconds. 

Riogan dueled Jakob, sword and spear and dagger forming a blurred web of steel. Halfdan backed towards the wall, the three other thugs prowling around him. He was fighting defensively, but he could not hold off three men forever. 

So Caina rolled her wrist, one of the throwing knives dropping from its sheath into her hand. She flung back her arm and shoulder and then hurled the knife, her entire body snapping like a bowstring. 

The knife buried itself in the nearest thug’s calf. The man stumbled, and Halfdan darted to the left. His sword flickered out, and blood sprayed from the thug’s throat. The two survivors hesitated, trying to choose between Caina and Halfdan. Then Halfdan bellowed and attacked, sword rising and falling, and the thugs backed away.

Which gave Caina all the opening she needed. 

She leapt forward and fell upon the nearest man’s back, her dagger raised. Sandros’s words echoed in her mind, and she stabbed him once, twice, thrice, aiming her dagger between his ribs each time.

He should really have worn armor. 

Finally the man screamed and knocked Caina off his back, but he fell to his knees, blood tricking from his lips. She scrambled backwards as Halfdan killed the remaining thug with a quick thrust. Then she rolled to her feet as Riogan and Jakob continued their dance of blades. They both moved so fast that she couldn’t hit Jakob with a throwing knife, and if she tried to close, he would probably gut her…

Then Riogan sidestepped, whipping the butt of his spear in a circle. The heavy wood smashed across Jakob’s face, snapping his head around. Several bloody teeth fell to the floor. Riogan reversed his spear and drove its point into Jakob’s belly. 

Jakob fell, gasping, and Riogan finished him off with a dagger to the throat. 

Caina took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing.

The entire fight had taken little more than a minute. Perhaps less. Sandros had been right. 

A serious fight did not last very long at all. 

“You made a mistake,” said Riogan, pulling his spear from Jakob’s gut. 

That made a mess.

“Aye,” said Halfdan, wiping his sword clean on a dead man’s shirt. “I knew the slavers would be on their guard against the Ghosts. But to have a Kindred assassin waiting for us…no, I did not suspect that. We’d have been finished, if not for Caina.” He looked at her. “Good work.”

Caina nodded. 

“How did you know he was a Kindred assassin?” said Riogan.

Caina shrugged. “I didn’t. But he held his dagger in exactly the same way you do.”

Riogan’s expression tightened. 

Halfdan ignored him. “Are you all right? Killing your first man is hard.”

“I’m fine,” said Caina. She knelt, retrieved her blades, and cleaned them. “And these two weren’t my first. I killed my mother.”

“You’re sure?” said Halfdan.

“I am,” said Caina. She looked at the men she had killed and felt…very little. Satisfaction, mostly. “They would killed us. Or they would have killed you, raped me, and then sold me to slavers. Either way, they deserved it.” 

“Damn it,” said Riogan. “You wanted to turn the girl into a weapon, well, she’s a weapon. Do you think it might be a good idea to get away from here before someone notices all the dead bodies?” 

Halfdan shook himself. “You’re right. Check the corpses, first. And search the tavern, quickly.”

“For what?” said Riogan, but he knelt and started rummaging through Jakob’s clothing. 

“Anything interesting,” said Halfdan. “This was a trap for us. I want to know if the slavers only suspected that the Ghosts might show up, or if they knew for certain.” 

Riogan pulled a crumpled piece of paper from Jakob’s belt, smoothed it out. “Looks like they knew. Come read this.”

Halfdan walked over, and Caina followed. It was expensive paper. Neat lines of High Nighmarian marched across the sheet. 

“To my friends of the Kindred,” the note read. “As you undoubtedly know, my patron and I have commissioned the Istarish slavers’ brotherhood to procure slaves from Disalia and the lands around the Narrow Sea. This will attract the attention of the Ghosts, and while I do not fear their meager interference, I do not wish to deal with the annoyance. Therefore, I wish you to dispatch assassins to Vytaagi province to hunt down and kill any Ghost agents. My patron will pay a bounty of three thousand denarii for any slain Ghost.” 

The note had neither signature nor seal at the bottom. 

But Caina felt her blood run cold nonetheless.

“Haeron Icaraeus,” said Riogan. “The fat bastard. Has to be.”

“No,” said Caina. “Maglarion wrote this.”

Halfdan frowned. “How do you know?”

Caina pointed. “I saw him write notes. I’d recognize his handwriting anywhere.” She shivered. “I couldn’t forget it, no matter how hard I try.”

“Then he’s working with Haeron Icaraeus,” said Riogan. “That must be the ‘patron’ the note mentions.”

“Why?” said Caina. “Why would he work with an Imperial noble, even a Restorationist one?”

Halfdan had said that the best way to defeat an enemy was to understand his motivation, to understand what he wanted. But she had no idea what Maglarion wanted. She had heard him talk for weeks to his students about immortality and power. But Maglarion had already lived for centuries, and he was probably stronger than nearly any other sorcerer or magus.

What more did he want? 

“We can discuss it later,” said Riogan, handing the note to Halfdan. “Let’s go.”

They searched the tavern and found nothing else of interest. Riogan did, however, find several amphorae filled with oil, no doubt for cooking. He spilled most of them on the floor, and kicked the final one into the peat fire. 

The floor caught fire at once, the flames spreading over the floorboards and the clothes of the dead. 

“Time to go,” said Halfdan, and they left Kaunauth. 

Chapter 14 - The Kindred

Things happened very quickly after that. 

They fled Kaunauth and headed north to Mors Insidion, a town built around the tomb and mortuary temple of Emperor Insidion of the Second Empire. The town also served as the capital of Vytaagia Province. Halfdan left a message with the Lord Governor, and the town’s militia marched. Caina later found out that the militia surprised the Istarish slavers at Kaunauth, killed dozens of them, scattered the rest, and freed hundreds of captives taken from the Disali and Saddai provinces. 

No one suspected that the Ghosts had been involved.

Caina smiled at the thought. 

###

The day after the militia left, she decided to talk to Riogan. 

They were staying Mors Insidion’s chief inn, an establishment with the somewhat mordant name of The Dead Emperor, while Halfdan communicated with the local Ghosts. Fortunately, the inn was comfortable, and the sitting room even had its own fireplace.

Caina found Riogan sitting before the fireplace, sharpening his blades. 

“You knew Jakob,” she said.

Riogan grunted, but did not look up. “I did not. Never saw the man before in my life.” 

“But he fought the way you do,” said Caina. “Like he’d been trained the same way. He held his dagger the same way you’re holding yours right now. And when I told that to Halfdan, he realized Jakob was a Kindred assassin. Whatever that is.”

Riogan looked at her and smirked. “You don’t know what the Kindred are, girl? All those books you read, and you’ve never heard of the Kindred?” 

“Then what are they?” said Caina. 

“Assassins.”

“Obviously. But what kind of assassins?”

“The last brotherhood of assassins left in the Empire,” said Riogan. “During the Fourth Empire, when the magi ruled, there were a dozen competing assassin brotherhoods. The Ghosts helped the Emperor overthrow the magi and return to power, and the assassins’ brotherhoods were hunted down and banished. But the Kindred remained. They’re organized into five clans, one for each of the great cities of the Empire. They’re the favored assassins of the magi and the Restorationists.”

“And you used to be a Kindred assassin,” said Caina, “didn’t you?”

His cold eyes grew colder. 

“Do you really want to know?”

Caina shrugged. “I already figured it out, didn’t I? How did you go from a Kindred assassin to a Ghost nightfighter?” 

“I started as a slave.” 

“How?”

“Twenty years ago,” said Riogan. “We lived near Caer Mardon. My father was dead or gone, and my mother was a whore. And Lord Haeron Icaraeus had just started buying slaves. So my mother sold me to them.”

“My mother sold me, too,” said Caina.

“Do you think I care?” said Riogan, flipping his dagger into the air and catching it. “At least your mother had the wit to set a better price. My mother only got a few silver coins for me. I was…eight, at the time. Maybe nine. I can’t be bothered to remember.” His eyes grew distant. “They took me to Istarinmul, to the great slave market there…and the Kindred bought me. That’s how they recruit their assassins, you know. Buy them young, and raise them up to know nothing but death and fighting.”

“And you hated it,” said Caina.

Riogan laughed. “Not at all! I loved it. I loved killing fat merchants and lords, seeing the terror in their eyes. I loved the power, I loved knowing that so long as I had this,” he patted his spear, “that no man could harm me. And the Kindred paid me well. Whatever I wanted, I had. Gold and wine and the finest weapons and armor. And women and girls, too. When I saw one I wanted, I took her, whether she willed it or not. I had my first girl when I was fourteen, some slave girl I bought in Istarinmul…she was no older than you are now, I think.” 

Caina edged away from him, just a bit. 

“It was a fine life,” said Riogan. “Do you think I felt guilty about it? That I cried myself to sleep, the way you probably do, weeping about all the innocent blood on my hands? No! Every man and woman I killed, I would do it again. I regret nothing.”

“Then,” said Caina, “why are you a Ghost, and not a Kindred assassin?”

Riogan said nothing. He remained silent for so long that Caina thought he had decided to ignore her.

She turned to go.

“Haeron Icaraeus,” said Riogan. 

“What about him?” said Caina. 

“He hired the Kindred to kill a rival lord,” said Riogan. “I received the contract. I was to kill the lord, his wife, and their daughter. I broke into their townhouse in the middle of the night.” His voice grew so quiet that she could barely hear him. “And…I found the daughter first. A girl. Eleven or twelve. No older than you were, when we found you in Maglarion’s little pit. She saw me. I expected her to scream. I wanted to cut her throat before she could scream. But she didn’t scream. She didn’t even cry. She just kept staring at me. And…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her. I left.”

“You had mercy,” said Caina, astonished.

“A weakness,” spat Riogan. “A weakness I should have excised from myself. I had broken a contract. My life was forfeit, and my brothers and sisters from the Kindred hunted me. Then I found Halfdan…and he took me in.” He laughed, testing the edge of his dagger with a fingertip. “That’s what he does, you know. He finds men and women that have been broken, and turns them into weapons. He turned Komnene into a poisoner. And you…you’re a weapon now, too, little girl. I saw how you cut down Jakob’s hirelings. I didn’t think you had it in you, but you do.”

Caina didn’t want to think about that. “Why do you stay with the Ghosts?”

“Because,” said Riogan, “someday, I’ll take revenge on Haeron Icaraeus, for all he did to me. If he hadn’t sent me to kill that girl, I’d still be in the Kindred. I would not have these…doubts, these weaknesses. My life would be better.” He lifted his spear. “So someday I’ll take this and shove it into his fat belly.”

Caina said nothing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Riogan. “You’re just like me. I thought you might be innocent…but you’re not, not any more. You want someone dead, too. I can see it in your eyes. You want to kill Maglarion, the same way I want to kill Icaraeus.” He leaned closer, eyes on her face. “Admit it. You’re just like me. I want to kill Haeron Icaraeus for what he did to me. And you want to kill Maglarion for what he did to you.”

Caina closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“You see?” said Riogan. “I thought…perhaps you might be an innocent, like that girl. But you’re not. You’re a weapon, like me, and all you want is revenge.”

“I want,” said Caina, opening her eyes. “I want more than that.” 

Riogan snorted. “There is no more than that. That is life. Death and pain and endless struggle, the weak preying upon the strong.”

“I wanted children,” said Caina. “I wanted a family of my own. But that won’t happen, not for me. So instead…so instead I want to keep it from happening again. To other people. So they don’t have to suffer the way I have suffered.” 

“That’s foolish,” said Riogan. “The strong do as they like, and the weak suffer for it. That is the way of the world. You cannot stop it.”

“No,” said Caina, “but we can stop some of it. We just did in Kaunauth, didn’t we?”

She left him by the fire, sharpening his daggers. 

###

Halfdan returned that night with a goblet of wine, a smile on his face.

“Things are going well,” he said, sitting down by the fire. Riogan had retreated to the common room to drink and to find a prostitute. “The Lord Governor of Arzaxia agreed to release his warships. In four weeks there won’t be a single Istarish slaver left in the Narrow Sea.” 

“Good,” said Caina. She hesitated, and then said, “Tell me about Maglarion.” 

Halfdan blinked, took a sip of wine, set down his goblet. “Why?”

“He tried to kill us,” said Caina. “Set those assassins to wait for us in Kaunauth.”

“He didn’t try to kill us, specifically,” said Halfdan. “Just any Ghosts who happened to wander along.”

“He still tried to kill us,” said Caina. “And…my father…”

“Ah,” said Halfdan. “So that’s what this is about. Revenge.”

“Yes. And no,” said Caina. “It…I want to kill him, for what he did to my father.” Her hand twitched towards her belly, and she forced it to remain still. “For what he took from me. But…what I want doesn’t matter, does it? He has to be stopped. Otherwise he’ll hurt and kill other people.” 

“He has been killing people for a long time,” said Halfdan, voice quiet. “A very long time. And no one has been able to stop him.” He thought for a moment. “All right. You deserve to know, but I doubt it will bring you any peace.” 

He gestured, and Caina sat in the chair opposite him. 

“Maglarion,” said Halfdan, “is almost four hundred years old. Maybe older.”

“So he really is that old?” said Caina. “He wasn’t boasting when he told his students that?”

“No,” said Halfdan. “There are records. He was born towards the end of the Fourth Empire. In those days, the magi commonly practiced necromancy, and used the blood of slaves to extend their natural lives.” 

“That’s how he’s lived so long,” said Caina. “His necromancy.”

“Yes,” said Halfdan. “But even during the height of the Fourth Empire, the master magi of that time could rarely live for longer than two hundred, two hundred and fifty years.Yet Maglarion is still here.” Halfdan took another sip of wine. “Well, you know what happened during the War of the Fourth Empire. The Magisterium broke into factions, and slaughtered each other, and the Ghosts helped the Emperors regain control of the Empire and subdue the magi.”

“No slavery, no necromancy,” said Caina. 

Halfdan nodded. 

“Why wasn’t Maglarion killed with the rest of the necromancers?” said Caina.

“Because he was smart enough to leave the capital before the Fourth Empire fell and the Fifth Empire was established,” said Halfdan. “We think he traveled the nations outside the Empire, studying the necromantic traditions and lore he found there. Maat, most probably, studying the ruins of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun.” 

“The Maatish scroll my father took from the smugglers,” said Caina. “That was why he came to Aretia.” 

“He returned to the Empire about a hundred and fifty years ago,” said Halfdan. “He started gathering students, taking them from among the ranks of the magi, and making allies among the nobility. The Magisterium, of course, claims to oppose the use of necromancy - but the magi want power, and Maglarion has power beyond anything any living magus can wield today. He’s always been friendly with the Kindred and the Istarish slavers’ brotherhood. He uses the assassins to get rid of his enemies - as happened in Kaunauth - and the slavers will deliver…raw material for his necromantic experiments.”

“He’s been doing this for a century and a half?” said Caina. “Why doesn’t anyone stop him?”

“The Ghosts have stopped him,” said Halfdan. “Time and time again. The slavers draw our attention, or his students overstep and kill too many people with their necromantic sciences. The Ghosts track them to their lair and kill the students and the slavers alike. And then Maglarion disappears for a few years and starts all over again in another part of the Empire.” 

“But why haven’t the Ghosts killed Maglarion?” said Caina.

“We’ve tried,” said Halfdan. “Five times. Five times the Ghosts sent their best nightfighters to ambush Maglarion. And every last time, Maglarion killed them. Every single one of them.”

“All of them?” said Caina.

Halfdan nodded. 

“But what does he want?” said Caina. “All this death…a man doesn’t kill that many people, if he doesn’t want anything. What does he want?”

“We don’t know,” said Halfdan.

Caina blinked. “We don’t?”

Halfdan shook his head. “It’s not as if he will tell us, after all. He influences the nobility, but he doesn’t seem to want to rule the Empire. He takes students from the Magisterium, but he doesn’t seem to care whether the magi rule the Empire or not. I think he regards the nobility and the magi as tools to use and discard as he pleases.” Halfdan shrugged. “Does he want more arcane science, more sorcerous power? Maybe he simply enjoys the bloodshed and carnage, and lives for nothing more than that? Or perhaps he wants to live forever, become immortal? I don’t know.” 

“Until we know,” said Caina, “we won’t be able to stop him.”

“No,” said Halfdan. “But we can remain on guard against him. Especially now that he has allied himself with Lord Haeron.” Halfdan shook his head. “Haeron probably thinks that Maglarion is serving him, the fool. Well, Haeron Icaraeus was already an enemy of the Emperor and of the Ghosts. If he’s allied himself with Maglarion, then we have all the more reason to oppose him.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Caina remembered Maglarion, remembered his calm, cold voice, the ghostly green light flashing beneath the patch covering his left eye.

The way he had butchered her father and his servants. 

Why had he done all those things? What did he want? 

“You should get to bed,” said Halfdan. “We shall have a long day tomorrow.”

“We’re leaving?” said Caina. 

“You’ll see,” said Halfdan.

###

The next morning they left Mors Insidion. 

“We’re going to Malarae?” said Caina.

“The Imperial capital itself,” said Halfdan. “We need to put some things in motion against Lord Haeron. And you need to begin the next step of your training. We’ve taught you to fight, and now it’s time you learned to be subtle.”

“What does that mean?” said Caina.

Halfdan smiled. “You’ll find out.”