Child of the Ghosts (20 page)

###

Three weeks later, Julia declared that Caina was ready for her first ball. 

She spent the better part of the day getting ready, with the assistance of no fewer than three maids. She bathed, perfumed, shaved, coiffed, and finally got dressed in a flowing gown of blue silk with black slashes on the hanging sleeves, and intricate black embroidery across the bodice. It dipped lower in front than Caina would have expected, but that left room for a delicate silver necklace, a sapphire hanging from the chain. Silver earrings with sapphires went in her ears, and Julia had found a ring with the sigil of House Nereide, which Caina put on the third finger of her right hand.

Her father’s ring she kept with her, tied to a leather cord around her left wrist, hidden beneath her sleeve. 

After they finished, Caina gazed at herself in the mirror. The blue gown fit well, and the sapphires sparked in their silver settings. Her black hair had been piled in an elaborate braided crown, the current fashion among Malarae’s nobility, and makeup made her eyes look larger. 

Julia had been right. Caina looked almost exactly like her mother. 

She shivered in disgust, and resisted an urge to smash the mirror. 

But if gowns and jewels and cosmetics were weapons she could use against the magi, against Maglarion…then she would use them, and use them well. 

###

That night they took Julia’s coach to the mansion of Lord Corthios, a Restorationist noble and one of Lord Haeron’s supporters. 

“So what are we looking for here?” said Caina, smoothing the blue silk of her skirt.

She did rather like the way it looked on her. 

“Anything interesting, of course,” said Lady Julia, peering out the coach’s windows at the dark streets of Malarae. “The nobles socialize at these balls. So naturally there’s a great deal of scheming and plotting that the Ghosts want to overhear. Lord Corthion is one of Haeron Icaraeus’s chief supporters among the Restorationists, so Lord Haeron himself will probably put in a brief appearance. Especially after poor Macrinius’s unfortunate tragedy, alas.” She smiled, briefly. “Though not all nobles come to scheme. Some attend to get drunk and eat too much food, or to seek out new companions in the bedchamber. And some simply enjoy dancing.” 

“Are you a Restorationist?” said Caina.

Julia laughed. “Of course not, child. I am a Ghost circlemaster. My sympathies lie with the Loyalists. But Lady Julia Morenna pays no attention to politics. Lady Julia Morenna is a meddling busybody of a widow who delights in playing matchmaker.” 

Which was part of Caina’s disguise. “Countess Marianna Nereide” was a rural noblewoman who had come to the Imperial capital seeking a wealthy husband. And naturally, Countess Marianna had sought the aid of Lady Julia Morenna, well-known for her ability to play matchmaker. 

“I think,” said Caina, “that your public face is as much a disguise on you as this gown is on me.”

Julia lifted her eyebrows. “Of course it is. Ah, here we are.”

The coach came to a stop and the footman opened the door. Lord Corthios’s mansion was smaller than Macrinius’s, but not by much. Every window shone the enspelled glass spheres the novices of the Magisterium churned out and sold by the thousands. Liveried servants hastened back and forth, bearing trays of delicacies. Nobles stood in small groups in the gardens, chatting.

Lord Corthios greeted his guests at the door, one by one. Caina had seen him several times at the Grand Imperial Opera in Lord Haeron’s box, and she knew what he looked like. An old man, balding, thin and hard as an old root.

She stopped to do a curtsy before him, and only long practice kept the surprise from her face.

Lord Corthios looked younger. 

Not very much younger. But there was more muscle on his frame than Caina remembered, she could swear it. His hairline had moved closer to his forehead. and his white hair had turned iron gray. He must have dyed it. 

But why would he have dyed it gray?

Julia’s voice cut into her thoughts. “My lord, it pleases me to introduce Marianna, a Countess of House Nereide.”

“An honor,” said Corthios, bowing over her hand and planting a dry kiss upon her fingers. He stared down the front of Caina’s gown as he straightened up, and his smile widened. “I do hope we shall have some time together later in the evening. The duties of a host can be so burdensome.”

Caina smiled at him. “I hope so as well, my lord.”

She followed Julia into the ballroom.

“Boor,” muttered Julia.

“Does he look younger to you?” said Caina. 

“Younger?” said Julia. “Now that you mention it, yes. I thought that he had dyed his hair. But he almost looks…almost looks as if he put on some muscle, as well. Perhaps he’s started training. Almost certainly that is it.”

But it still bothered Caina. 

###

She spent the rest of the night circulating with Julia. A score of different noblemen asked Caina to dance, and to her very great surprise, she found that she enjoyed dancing with them.

And she learned things, too. The noblemen wanted to impress her, the pretty young Countess from the rural provinces, and so told her things. About their wealth, their power, their connections. About the high offices and honors they held. About the powerful lords – like Haeron Icaraeus – they counted as friends. 

She saw Haeron Icaraeus himself later that night, standing with his usual cluster of bodyguards and followers. 

With the notable exception of Lord Macrinius, of course. 

But Haeron himself looked younger. His hair and beard were thicker, and he looked as if he had lost weight. 

Perhaps Julia was right, and he had been taking better care of himself.

But she remembered listening to Maglarion lecture as she lay chained upon that metal table, telling his students that necromancy could bring renewed youth and everlasting life…

Then a hand closed about hers, and Caina found herself face to face with a lord. A man in his late twenties or early thirties, she thought, with close-cropped blond hair and blue eyes. The hand that gripped hers was hard and strong, and he looked as if he knew how to use the ornate sword that hung at his belt. 

“Let’s dance,” he said, and pulled her along. Caina had no choice but to follow, unless she wanted to fall on her face. 

“It is customary, my lord,” she said, voice icy, “to ask first.”

He smiled and lifted his eyebrows. “Well, you obviously wanted to dance. So it was only polite to dispense with the pleasantries and get right to the point. Besides, you were looking at fat old Haeron with such a baleful expression. It is the duty of a lord to rescue a lady from such dark thoughts.”

“I most certainly was not!” said Caina. “I would never be so rude as to stare.” At least she hoped not. Haeron Icaraeus was paranoid, and if he realized that she had been looking at him…he might start to draw conclusions. 

The lord laughed. “Or he’ll think that you want him, the randy old goat.”

Caina blinked, and realized that he was teasing her. Which was a relief. She hadn’t been staring at Haeron after all.

Though this lout was still teasing her.

She opened her mouth to reply, and he spun her around, arm coiling about her waist.

A lout who happened to dance very well. 

He spun her into the first steps of the “Tiger and the Gazelle”, a complicated, intricate dance, and Caina answered in kind. She expected him to stumble, to miss a step, but he never did, and his confident smile never wavered. Caina wished that her skirt did not hinder her movements, but the unarmed forms had made her legs strong, and she kept pace with him. 

When they finished, they bowed to each other, as the dance required. Caina was surprised to hear a smattering of applause from the surrounding nobles. Apparently they had made something of a spectacle.

“You dance very well, my lady,” said the lord. “You must be new to the capital. I am sure so skillful a dancer could not have escaped my notice for long.”

“Tell me your name,” said Caina, “and perhaps I will tell you mine, my lord.”

A lie. She would not tell him her real name, after all.

He smirked, bowed over her hand, and planted a kiss on her signet ring. “Alastair, Lord of House Corus, at your service, my lady.”

“Marianna, Countess of House Nereide,” said Caina. 

“Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to dance again,” said Alastair.

He bowed once more, and left. 

###

“You two made quite the stir,” said Julia.

Caina felt her face redden, much to her annoyance. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s married, for one,” said Julia.

Caina was surprised to find herself disappointed.

“Beyond that, he’s a tribune in the Eighteenth Legion,” said Julia. “He spends half his time in the field with the Legion, and the rest of it here in the capital. He’s a notorious womanizer. And a Militarist lord; he probably owns a few slaves in the Imperial Pale, off the records. He’s friendly with Haeron Icaraeus, but not closely allied with him.” 

“Oh,” said Caina, even more disappointed. A good dancer he might have been, but if he was a friend of Haeron Icaraeus, and a slaveholder, she wanted nothing to do with him. “What does he do for Lord Haeron?”

“Carry messages, mostly,” said Julia. “Haeron has friends among the officers of the Legions. Lord Alastair brings them messages when he travels north to the Pale and his Legion. And sometimes the Legions take slaves from the barbarian tribes outside the Pale. Alastair arranges to have them smuggled back to Malarae. Exotic barbarian slaves often fetch high prices.” 

“I see,” said Caina.

“If you want to be his mistress,” said Julia, “that’s your decision, of course, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Granted, he is quite charming. But he doesn’t know anything useful enough to justify the bother of seducing him. What else did you learn?”

“Lord Basilikos,” said Caina, “has made an agreement with Lord Haeron…”

She launched in a concise description of everything she had learned that night of the nobility’s endless jockeying for status and power.

“Good,” said Julia. “You see? These balls are not such a waste of time after all.”

“No,” said Caina. “They’re not. And the dancing is really rather enjoyable.”

Her eyes strayed back to Alastair Corus as she spoke, and she made herself look away.

###

So Caina attended balls under Julia Morenna’s watchful eye, sometimes as many as three or four a week. She danced with lords, and spoke with ladies, and made friends with powerful and wealthy merchants. 

Very often she danced with Alastair Corus, even if he was a slave trader. And married. It was not as if his wife ever came to the balls.

And she soon noticed something disturbing.

“All of them,” she murmured to Julia one night, standing in the corner of a noble’s ballroom. “All the Restorationist lords who follow Haeron. They all look younger.” 

Julia said nothing.

“It’s Maglarion’s necromancy,” said Caina. “He said he could make people younger. That’s why Haeron and the others are working with Maglarion. He’s promised to make them immortal. And that’s why Haeron is buying so many slaves. Maglarion’s killing them, using their blood to make his followers younger.” 

“And what does Maglarion get out of it?” said Julia.

“I don’t know,” said Caina.

But they had to find out. Before it was too late.

Chapter 20 - Mortal Wounds

Months passed, and Caina attended more balls with Julia. On other nights she went to the Grand Imperial Opera, heard Theodosia sing, and flirted and chatted and gossiped with the nobles. Sometimes she attended chariot races at the Imperial Hippodrome, placing wagers on the charioteers and listening to the nobles discuss business. 

She grew adept at charming lords and merchants and magi, gleaning secrets that they did not wish her to know. From time to time she donned a plain wool dress and masqueraded as Julia’s serving maid. As her experiences with Theodosia had taught her, nobles never noticed servants, after all. 

And sometimes Julia had her break into a mansion in the dead of night, clad all in black, to plant a letter or to steal one, or to dose a noble’s wine with an aphrodisiac or a sleeping draught. Caina came to think of Julia as a spider sitting in a vast web of intrigue.

And Caina helped her spin that web.

###

One day a liveried messenger, solemn in a silver-trimmed black coat, arrived at Julia’s townhouse bearing a scroll sealed with Lord Haeron Icaraeus’s personal sigil. 

It was an invitation. Lord Haeron would celebrate his fiftieth birthday with a grand ball, and he requested the honor of Lady Julia’s and Countess Marianna’s presences. 

“Interesting,” murmured Julia, as she and Caina sat over tea. “Interesting, indeed. I have been trying for years to get an informant into Icaraeus’s mansion. The man is simply too paranoid, and his security too rigid. If Lord Haeron knows that someone has betrayed him, or if he even suspects betrayal, he unleashes the Kindred.”

“Do you think he knows that we are Ghosts?” said Caina. “That you are a circlemaster?”

Julia took a moment to sip her tea. “Possibly. But I doubt it. Lady Julia Morenna, as you know, is a meddling old busybody with no interest in politics. Besides, I am not wealthy enough or powerful enough for Lord Haeron to take an interest in me.”

“Then why send you an invitation?” said Caina.

“To show his power, of course, and his wealth,” said Julia. “It would not surprise me if he sent an invitation to every noble, every magus, and every sufficiently wealthy merchant in the city.” 

“What about me?’ said Caina. 

“I doubt he’s thought about you at all. ‘House Nereide’ has even less power and influence than House Morenna,” Julia smiled for a moment, “and Countess Marianna Nereide, my dear, has established a reputation as an empty-headed flirt.”

“Thank you,” said Caina. She had worked hard at that, after all. 

“If he does think about you,” said Julia, “it’s no doubt as a potential sexual conquest. But I doubt he’s even aware of you.”

“Charming. So,” said Caina, “what shall we do about this invitation?”

“Why, we shall accept,” said Julia. “It would be terribly rude to ignore it, would it not?” She smiled. “Besides, I’ve wanted to look around the Icaraeus mansion for quite some time. Wasn’t it thoughtful of Haeron to give me the chance?” 

She rang a bell, summoning her servants to fetch pen and paper so she could write a response. 

###

A week later, Julia’s coach rattled to a stop outside the sprawling grounds of Haeron Icaraeus’s mansion. 

Caina descended from the coach, her blue skirts gathered in one hand. The mansion was enormous, ten stories of gleaming marble fronted with ornate columns, intricate bas-reliefs, and hundreds of statues in heroic poses. A colossal tower rose four hundred feet from its core, no doubt built with the aid of the magi. The gardens ringing the mansion almost seemed like a forest in themselves. Hundreds of coaches surrounded the mansion, and Caina saw throngs of people, clad in their most ornate finery, making their way across the gardens.

“I think Haeron invited half the city,” murmured Julia.

Caina looked down the streets. “He even has tents set up, to give free food and wine to the commoners.” 

“Of course,” said Julia. “Haeron would like the commoners to toast his health…so long as they do not get too close to him.”

They walked through the crowds of nobles, towards the mansion’s grand doors. Caina saw armed men strolling through the crowds, wearing the livery of House Icaraeus, swords and daggers in their belts and crossbows cradled in their arms.

“Kindred assassins,” she murmured to Julia.

“You’re certain?”

She watched one of the assassins adjust a dagger. “Yes.”

There were another group of armed men. They wore black, segmented armor, like Legion armor but far more ornate. Each man wore a purple cloak, and bore a black shield embossed with the eagle of the Empire. 

“The Imperial Guard,” said Julia. “The Emperor himself will make an appearance tonight.” 

“Why?” said Caina. “I thought Emperor Alexius and Lord Haeron hated each other.”

“They do,” said Julia, “but Lord Haeron is still one of the most powerful lords of the Empire. Courtesy requires that the Emperor put in an appearance. So they will exchange polite compliments while smiling, even though they detest each other.”

“Which is what you’ve been teaching me to do,” said Caina.

Julia laughed. “Quite right. Come. Let’s exchange polite compliments of our own with Lord Haeron.”

As they drew closer to the crowd at the mansion doors, Caina’s skin began to crawl, and she felt…something in the air, a faint electric tingle that made her stomach twist.

Sorcery.

“There’s…a lot of sorcerous power here,” said Caina.

Julia glanced around the crowd. “Someone’s casting a spell? There are at least a score of master magi here.” 

“I don’t think that’s it,” said Caina. “It feels like…someone’s cast a lot of very powerful spells here, and recently.”

“Maglarion?” said Julia.

“It could be,” said Caina. “I don’t know.”

“Keep your eyes open,” murmured Julia.

And then they stood before Haeron Icaraeus.

“My lord Haeron,” said Julia, performing a deep curtsy, and Caina followed suit. “Honor to you on this felicitous day.” 

“Thank you, my lady,” said Haeron, his voice a deep rumble as he sketched a shallow bow in return and kissed Julia’s ring. 

“I must say,” said Julia, “you are looking quite well.”

He did. The ball was in celebration of his fiftieth birthday, but Haeron Icaraeus could have passed for thirty-five. He was slimmer than Caina remembered, more vigorous, more energetic.

“Clean living,” said Haeron, smiling. His dark eyes flicked to Caina. “And this is…”

Caina did another curtsy.

“Countess Marianna, of House Nereide,” said Julia.

“A pleasure, my dear,” said Haeron, kissing Caina’s ring again. “Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to speak with you later.”

But he turned away, dismissing her presence. No doubt he had already forgotten her.

Good. 

She followed Julia into the mansion’s ballroom. It was an vast space, large enough to hold Julia’s entire townhouse, four stories high with elaborate marble-railed balconies ringing the walls. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, holding hundreds of the Magisterium’s glowing glass spheres. It must have cost an unspeakable amount of money. 

“What now?” said Caina. 

“We mingle,” said Julia. “And look around. We’ve never had a chance to get into Icaraeus’s mansion before. See if you can find anything interesting.” 

Caina nodded and began wandering across the ballroom floor. Nobles, merchants, and magi stood in small knots, talking and drinking wine. Musicians played soft music from the corners, and servants hurried back and forth. The tingling sensation against her skin got worse, and the scars on her belly tightened.

That hadn’t happened for a long time. 

Was Maglarion himself here?

She shivered at the thought. 

“Your expression, my lady, is positively baleful.”

Alastair Corus stopped before her, stark in his black coat and boots, sword hanging at his belt. He passed her a silver flute of wine, and Caina took it. 

“It is rather colder in here than I expected,” said Caina, sipping at the wine. “That’s all.” 

“Ah,” said Alastair. “Is that it? I’ve been in many battles, my lady, and I’ve seen the faces of the men as they charge the enemy. I daresay you could put a fright into them.”

Caina raised an eyebrow. “You are saying, sir, that I look like a charging Legionary? How terribly flattering.” 

Alastair laughed. “I made a botch of that, didn’t I?” He hooked his elbow through her arm. “Come, let us walk together. That will help keep you warm.”

Caina pulled free from him. “Perhaps you should walk with your wife, instead.” 

A grimace flickered over his face. “I would be delighted to walk with my wife, if she did not hate me so much.”

Caina blinked. “Your wife hates you?”

He had never mentioned that before.

“The soldiers under my command,” said Alastair, “they are not supposed to marry. But many of them have women in the camps and the garrison towns. They have something to look forward to, when they return from the field.” His mouth twisted. “But not me. My wife has always hated me. Our fathers forced us to marry, and she has never forgiven me. She thinks that I’m beneath her, you see.”

“My…mother,” said Caina. “My mother treated my father in much the same way. I’m sorry.”

Alastair shrugged. “Well, what’s done is done. So you can hardly blame me if I decide to attend balls and walk with lovely women instead of going home to listen to my wife complain that I will not give her more money for shoes.”

Caina thought for a moment, and then smiled. 

“You know,” she said, “I think a walk would warm me up.” 

And it would give her an excuse to look around the mansion. 

Alastair laughed. “Perhaps I cannot fit you into my schedule.”

“So you’d rather go home to your wife?” said Caina.

Alastair sighed. “You make an excellent point.” 

He extended his arm, and Caina grinned and put hers through it.

“Well,” she said, “where shall we walk? Lord Haeron’s mansion is so grand. I should really like to see more of it.”

Alastair snorted. “Grand? Gaudy and tasteless is more like it. A giant marble monument to the tiresome old blowhard’s vanity. But if you want to see more of it, see more of it you shall. I could never refuse a pretty woman anything.”

Caina laughed and turned her head.

Maglarion was staring at her

She froze in sudden terror. 

He stood on the highest balcony, arms clasped behind his back, gazing down at the ball. And like Haeron Icaraeus and Lord Corthios, he looked younger. Much younger, in fact. His hair was black and thick, his arms and chest heavy with muscle beneath his coat. Yet she recognized his face, his expression, the black patch covering his left eye. 

She would recognize him anywhere. 

He stared at her, and Caina was a child again, chained to that cold metal table as Maglarion raised his glittering dagger to her father’s throat…

“Countess?” said Alastair. “Marianna? Are you all right?”

And then Caina realized that Maglarion was not staring at her. He was simply looking over the ballroom. Even if he had noticed her, no doubt he only saw yet another noblewoman in a silk gown. If he remembered her at all, he would remember a terrified girl in ragged, bloodstained clothing. 

Alastair frowned at her. Caina chastised herself for losing control. 

“That man,” she said, recovering her poise, “that fellow on the balcony, the one with the patch over his eye. Who is that?”

“That charlatan?” said Alastair with a laugh. “He’s one of Lord Haeron’s pets. An outlaw magus, or a renegade sorcerer. The man claims to have all sorts of mystical powers to roll back death and aging. His hair was white at first, but now he’s dyed it black.” He laughed. “The more foolish noblewomen take that as proof that he has power over death.”  

“A charlatan,” murmured Caina. “Of course.” 

Charming Alastair might have been, but he was not very observant. 

Then Caina saw Julia walking along the balcony, speaking to another noblewoman. Maglarion’s head turned, and he stared at them for a moment. A smile spread over his face, and he started after Julia.

He walked without a limp and a cane now, Caina noticed. 

Dread rose in her throat. Julia had never seen Maglarion, had only heard him described as an old man with a cane. She would never recognize him, not until it was too late, and if Maglarion decided to harm her…

“Excuse me for a moment,” said Caina. “I will return quickly.”

Alastair frowned. “Does my company displease you so, Countess?”

“Not at all,” said Caina. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to go talk to that old charlatan,” said Alastair. “He’ll fill your head with nonsense.”

“Of course not,” said Caina. “But my dear friend Lady Julia is very vain, and she is susceptible to such charlatans. If I leave her alone with him, he’ll have her spending a fortune on potions and other nonsense.”

Alastair titled his head. “You…have more grit to you than I expected, my lady.” 

“Perhaps you’ll see more of my grit yet, my lord,” said Caina, and she slipped his grasp. 

She hurried up the stairs to the fourth-story balcony. The gallery beyond was deserted, save for a lone Kindred assassin, keeping watch on the guests below. Caina looked back and forth, her heart racing. Perhaps Maglarion had moved on. But she still had to warn Julia against him…

A voice came to her ears, kindly and wise, and she shivered in recognition. 

It was Maglarion. 

“You are more prominent than you think, Lady Julia of House Morenna,” he said. “Your web of social influence extends throughout the capital and beyond.” 

“You are too kind, sir,” said Julia, her voice smooth as glass. “I am only a poor widow who enjoys the company of a few friends. Nothing more.”

Caina ducked behind a pillar and peered around it. 

She saw Julia standing near the ornate marble railing, Maglarion a few paces away. Julia wore her polite smile, the one she used when dealing with lords she found offensive. Maglarion’s expression was predatory. He looked like a wolf cornering a sheep.