Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge (17 page)

“I don’t know,” said the Ghost, frowning. “She might be. Or maybe a student of one of her disciples. But it hardly matters. One of the Sages has been trying to kill the Moroaica for centuries.”

“Unsuccessfully, it seems,” said Kylon.

The Ghost nodded. “But the Scholae refuses to have anything to do with necromancy. A legacy of their history in Maat. If we can prove that Mihaela used necromancy to create the glypharmor…”

“Then the Scholae will kill her for us,” said Kylon.

Again the Ghost nodded.

“But we are not yet sure it is necromantic,” said Corvalis.

Again that ripple of annoyance went through the Ghost’s emotions.

“It makes sense,” said Kylon. “Those hieroglyphs upon the armor are Maatish, and necromancers ruled the Kingdom of the Rising Sun. Old Kyrace warred against them for centuries.” 

“And if the First Magus gets his hands on the glypharmor,” said the Ghost, “you might have to face a new form of Maatish necromancy.”

“Then it is better than no one wield the glypharmor at all,” said Kylon, rising once more. “I will await word from you. If you have need of my aid, call upon me.” 

He left the coffee house, thinking. He had no doubt that the Ghost could do what she claimed. But he would not leave the fate of New Kyre entirely in her hands.

He would destroy the knowledge of the glypharmor, whatever the cost.

###

Caina finished her coffee. Corvalis noticed that she had developed quite a taste for it since arriving at Catekharon. He preferred wine, though he had to admit that coffee kept the wits sharp.

They left the coffee house and walked back to the Tower of Study, the canals of burning steel filling the night sky with an eerie glow. 

“Do you trust him?” said Corvalis. 

“Kylon?” said Caina. “Of course not.”

“For a man you do not trust,” said Corvalis, “you told him a great deal.”

“I don’t have to trust him,” said Caina. “I have something better than trust. I understand him. He is a man who will do what he sees as the right thing, even if he does not like it. And he is wise enough to see the danger of the glypharmor. So I trust him to help us destroy it.” 

“Even though he is a sorcerer,” said Corvalis.

“Aye,” said Caina.

“But you hate sorcerers,” said Corvalis.

Her expression turned blank. “Sorcery is hardly my favorite thing.”

Corvalis took a deep breath. “So you trust Kylon of House Kardamnos to act as you wish…but you do not trust Claudia.”

“We shouldn’t talk about this here,” said Caina.

Corvalis gestured at the deserted street around them. “No one is around to hear us.”

“No,” said Caina at last, voice quiet. “No, I don’t trust her.” 

“Why not?” said Corvalis. “Because she can use sorcery? The stormdancer can use sorcery.” 

“Because I understand her,” said Caina.

“What?” said Corvalis, forcing down the anger. “How can you possibly understand her? Have you known her all your life?”

“You haven’t known her all your life,” said Caina. “You were separated for years. And during those years she became a magus.” 

“So?” said Corvalis. “How is that any different than a stormdancer?”

“She thinks like a member of the Magisterium,” said Caina. “Kylon thinks like a stormdancer, which means he will do whatever is necessary to defend New Kyre. Claudia thinks like a magus.”

“She doesn’t think like the other magi,” said Corvalis. “She wants to use her sorcery to help people.”

“That is the problem,” said Caina. 

“That she wants to help people?” said Corvalis. “Would you prefer her to act like Ranarius, ready to destroy half the Empire to make herself stronger?” 

“No,” said Caina.

“Then what’s wrong with using her sorcery to help people?” said Corvalis.

“Because she believes it gives her the right to rule over people,” said Caina.

Corvalis opened his mouth to argue, and found that he did not have an answer. 

“She wants to use her powers to help,” said Caina. “I believe that, I truly do. But she thinks the power gives her the right to help. Even if the people she is helping do not seek her aid. Even if they do not want her help. That is not very different than ruling over people. Your father would say he is acting for the good of the Empire…”

Corvalis glared at her. “Claudia is nothing like my father!”

“She is,” said Caina, not flinching away from him, “whether you like it or not. I’d wager Decius Aberon says he acts for the good of the Empire, doesn’t he? That the Empire would be better served with the magi ruling, rather than the Emperor and the Imperial Curia. That the commoners and nobles would be happier if they heeded their sorcerous betters. I would wager your father even believes that himself. But that’s not what he’s really doing, is it? He’s increasing his own power and authority, all in the name of the good of the Empire. What he did to you, selling you to the Kindred…he did it because he claims to use his powers to help people.” 

“She is not like my father,” said Corvalis, his hands curling into fists.

“Not yet,” said Caina, “but that’s how it will start. She’ll want to use her power to help people. Then she’ll help them whether they want it or not. After that, she’ll use her power to force them to act as she thinks they should, all for their own good. And then she’ll need more power to help more people, and she’ll be no different than any other magus.”

“She left the Magisterium,” said Corvalis. 

“But she still acts like a magus,” said Caina. “She’s not convinced the glypharmor is a bad idea. And she’s always ruled you.”

Corvalis laughed. “What are you talking about? She spent over a year imprisoned as a statue. Hardly a way to rule over me.” 

“You only left the Kindred,” said Caina, “because of her. She decided to leave the Magisterium because of what you showed her, and she convinced you to go along with her. And when she joined the Ghosts, you came with her. I doubt she’s ever questioned that you will do whatever she wants, because she has sorcery and you…”

“Enough!” said Corvalis. “She was the only one who cared about me for my entire life! I doubt you would understand. Your entire family was slain, and…”

He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, and he stopped himself. But it was too late. Caina’s eyes widened, and for an instant he saw the pain flash across her face.

Then her expression returned to the cool, distant mask.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t understand. We should return to the Tower of Study. Master Basil will want to know what we’ve learned…”

“I should not,” said Corvalis, “have said that.”

Caina stopped, looked back at him, and closed her eyes.

“No,” she said, voice soft. “You shouldn’t have.” She looked at him. “But…perhaps I have been too critical of her. Maybe…maybe not every sorcerer would turn into a power-mad tyrant at the first opportunity.” He heard the doubt in her voice. “Perhaps it would have been better if she stayed with Theodosia. I suspect…I suspect working undercover is not Claudia’s strength.”

“Gods, no,” said Corvalis. “She would have hated the fun we just had.”

“Fun?” said Caina. 

Corvalis shrugged. “How often do you get to burn down a building?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “More often than you might think.” She took a deep breath. “I do think it is noble. How much you risked to save her.” 

“Thank you,” said Corvalis. “I know you have your reasons to hate sorcery as much as you do. Gods know I’m not fond of it either. But Claudia is not a monster. Nor will she become one. I swear it.”

“If you say so,” said Caina, “then I will trust you on it.”

“Because you understand me?” said Corvalis.

“Yes,” said Caina, “but because I do trust you.” 

They walked back to the Tower of Study together. 

Chapter 16 - Subterfuges

The embassies gathered for dinner in the Hall of Assembly as guests of the Scholae. 

This time, the Catekhari served their guests in a peculiar fashion. Rather than offer tables and chairs, slaves circulated through the crowds, bearing trays of wine and coffee. Caina helped herself to coffee, while Halfdan took a flute of wine. Other slaves followed, carrying trays of unusual foods. Fish crusted with bread crumbs, popular in New Kyre. Goat meat fried on skewers, a favorite of the Anshani nobility. Dates crusted with sugar from Istarinmul, and bread fried in olive oil from Malarae. 

“A peculiar custom,” said Corvalis, popping a sugared date into his mouth. 

“I read that it was Maatish in origin,” said Claudia, again wearing a green gown of elaborate design. Caina wondered how much Halfdan spent on clothes to maintain their various disguises. “The pharaohs held dinners like this, serving foods from the various lands conquered by the Kingdom of the Rising Sun.”

“To display their dominance?” said Caina.

Claudia blinked. Perhaps she had expected Caina to lecture her. “Ah…yes. The foods were brought as tribute to the pharaoh.”

“Or perhaps he simply liked dates,” said Corvalis, eating another.

“Unlikely,” said Claudia. “The Kingdom of the Rising Sun never reached north of what is now southern Anshan, and…”

Caina listened to Claudia’s history lesson with one ear and looked at the guests. The various embassies stood in small, defensive knots, the lords and sorcerers staying close to their various retainers. She saw Yaramzod the Black speaking in a low voice to the Arsakan, saw Kylon talking with another stormdancer. Only the merchants circulated freely. Which had been the entire point of inviting merchants along with the ambassadors. 

That, and turning a profit. 

Khaltep Irzaris approached, clad in a fine tunic of spotless white linen.

“Master Basil,” said Irzaris with a polite bow. “I trust business has gone well?”

“Indeed it has, Master Khaltep,” said Halfdan with a bow of equal depth. “It seems there are a great many jewelers in Catekharon with a need for raw gemstones.” 

“Yes,” said Irzaris. “They make a fine profit selling the Sages cut gems for their enspelled artifacts…and you, in turn, can make a fine profit by supplying them with uncut stones.” 

“And you, I suppose,” said Halfdan, “have made a profit of your own. With your red steel used in the production of such a…prominent artifact.”

He looked across the Hall to the central chamber where Mihaela had stood with her suit of glypharmor. There was no trace of her now. Caina supposed she was busy producing more of the damned things. 

“I have,” said Irzaris. “The greatest profit of my career, Master Basil.” He sighed and took a sip of wine. “All these years traveling from one end of the world to another, selling baubles only for a few coppers of profit, and all this time, I never realized the secret.”

“What secret is that?” said Halfdan with a laugh. “I am not adverse to profit myself.” 

“Power,” said Irzaris. “Find those who will one day have power, and supply their needs. You see, it is rather difficult to acquire power without the proper materials, and I can supply the proper materials.”

“I would not have expected,” said Halfdan, “a Seeker to possess power.”

“Mihaela?” said Irzaris. “Not yet, my friend, not yet…but she will.”

“It sounds like you are quite besotted,” said Halfdan. 

Irzaris snorted. “Mihaela? No, she is wed to her work. But she is set to rise high…and she will remember her loyal friends. And when that happens, I will be one of the most prominent men in the free cities, perhaps in the world.” He smiled at Claudia, bowed over her hand, and planted a kiss upon her fingers. “Though, alas, wealth and power are hollow if a man has to enjoy them alone.”

Claudia attempted to smile, though it looked more like a cringe. “You are…very flattering, sir.” 

“And very direct,” said Caina, and Claudia shot her a grateful a look.

Irzaris gave her a condescending smile. “Fortune favors the bold, my dear.”

“Though I do wonder,” said Caina, “why a woman would wish to marry a man who made such dreadful weapons.”

Irzaris grinned. “Money, of course. Men crave beauty…but women desire security, do they not? Safety and security and comfort, and a strong man can provide all three.”

“You speak truly, Master Khaltep,” said Halfdan. “I can see some profitable business between us. Why don’t we…ah, daughter.” He put a hand on Caina’s shoulder. “There’s a slave with some more bread. Why don’t you bring him over here?”

She followed his eye and saw Shaizid hurrying across the Hall.

“Of course, Father,” said Caina.

She gathered her skirts in her hands, crossed the Hall of the Assembly, went over the bridge crossing the flow of molten steel, and approached Shaizid. 

The slave straightened up as she approached. “Ah…mistress. Yes. May this slave serve you?” He looked at his feet. “My…my question of you, mistress. Did you…”

“Shaizid,” said Caina, “I need your help. And, no, I have not yet found Ardasha. But if you help me now, I might get closer to finding an answer.”

“What would you have of this slave, mistress?” said Shaizid. He met her gaze, briefly, and then looked at his feet again.

“Do you know the Sage Talekhris?” she said.

“Yes, mistress,” said Shaizid. “He is reclusive, even for a Sage. Often he is gone from the Tower of Study for long periods of time.”

“Take me to his rooms,” said Caina.

Shaizid flinched. “Mistress…it is not allowed for a slave to approach a Sage.”

“You won’t be approaching a Sage,” said Caina. “You’ll be merely taking me to his rooms so I can approach him.”  

Shaizid hesitated.

“If he asks,” said Caina, “I will tell him that I found his rooms on my own. He will never know that you were involved. And if I speak with him, perhaps I can learn what happened to Ardasha.”

That made up Shaizid’s mind. “This way, mistress.”

He led her from the Hall of Assembly and up a long, narrow flight of spiraling stairs. Shaizid turned a corner, and Caina found herself on a balcony encircling the cylindrical chamber at the heart of the Tower, the pool of molten steel glowing far below. Wooden doors lined the balcony, each carved with elaborate Maatish hieroglyphs.

“Where are we?” said Caina. 

“Near the top of the Tower,” said Shaizid. “Some of the Sages keep their quarters here.” He swallowed. “A slave…a slave should not be here. I must go, mistress.”

“Thank you,” said Caina. “If I learn anything, I will let you know. Which door belongs to Talekhris?”

Shaizid pointed, bowed to her, and fled back to the stairs. Caina crossed to the door, surprised at how easy this had been. For all their power, the Masked Ones seemed indifferent to their security. Perhaps they did not expect…

She stopped a foot from the door, a crawling tingle passing over her skin.

Powerful wards waited upon the door, wards that would burn her to ashes should she touch the wood. 

She suspected that knocking upon the door was out of the question.

Caina reached for her belt. A sheathed dagger with a curved blade waited there, and it looked like the sort of ornamental weapon a wealthy woman might carry. She drew the dagger, the silvery blade gleaming. The weapon had been fashioned from ghostsilver, a rare metal that was harder and lighter than steel.

It was also proof against sorcery.

Caina took a deep breath, rested the tip of the dagger upon Talekhris’s door, and raked it across one of the hieroglyphs. The dagger’s hilt grew hot, painfully hot, beneath her fingers, and the blade flashed with a white glow. The door shuddered in its frame, and Caina hoped it would not explode into a rain of splinters…

The door jerked open, and Talekhris stood there, his silvery rod leveled at her face.

“Anna Callenius,” he said. He scowled at the door. “You ruined several of my wards.”

“I would have knocked,” said Caina, “but I suspect the door would have exploded.”

“Not quite,” said Talekhris, frowning at the groove she had carved into the wood. “But the results would have been…equally deleterious. If you wished to speak with me, why did you not send a message?” 

“Because,” said Caina, “I need to speak to you without anyone overhearing. Sending a message would rather defeat the point.” 

“Very well,” said Talekhris. “Enter.” 

Caina followed the Sage into his rooms.

The chamber beyond looked like a bizarre mixture of a workshop, a library, and a museum. Wooden shelves sagged beneath the weight of books and scrolls in a variety of languages. Glass display cases held daggers, bowls, rings, and amulets, and Caina felt the sorcerous power within them. A variety of tools, glass jars, and peculiar metal instruments stood on long wooden tables, and metal shavings and sawdust gritted beneath her boots. 

Talekhris had been chasing the Moroaica for centuries…and in all that time, Caina doubted his rooms had been cleaned even once. 

“What do you wish of me?” said Talekhris.

“Assistance,” said Caina. 

“Elaborate,” said Talekhris, his eyes distant. “Have you found proof that Mihaela used necromancy to create the glypharmor?”

“Not yet,” said Caina, “but I know where to find it. Mihaela built the glypharmor with red steel from Nhabatan. She bought that steel from Khaltep Irzaris, a merchant of this city. So our plan is to get Irzaris and force him to talk.”

“How?” said Talekhris. 

“By kidnapping him from his mansion and…persuading him,” said Caina. 

“That is a bold plan,” said Talekhris. “He will be well-guarded.”

Caina shrugged. “It is our only option. Taking him in the Tower of Study would earn the ire of the Scholae. Attack him in the street, and we might draw the attention of the Redhelms. Kidnapping him from his mansion is the best option.” 

“And what is it that you need from me?” said Talekhris.

“Any Sage can command the Redhelms?” said Caina. “Is that correct?” 

“It is,” said Talekhris. “Few bother. Zalandris usually oversees the Redhelms, since it is the Speaker’s role to deal with the outside world.”

“Then,” said Caina, “I need you to order the Redhelms to stay away from Irzaris’s mansion tomorrow night. No matter what happens, no matter what reports they receive, they need to stay away from Irzaris’s house.”

“And you think,” said Talekhris, “that Khaltep Irzaris will have proof Mihaela used necromancy to forge the glypharmor?”

“No,” said Caina. “At least, he won’t have all the information we need. He’s…one more link in the chain. And if we follow that chain long enough, we’ll find what we seek.” 

“A sound plan,” said Talekhris. “Very well. I shall speak with the commander of the Redhelms, and bid him to ignore anything…unusual happening at the house of Khaltep Irzaris.” 

“Thank you,” said Caina. “One other question. Apparently Mihaela took a slave named Ardasha as a student.”

“I recall that,” said Talekhris. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if thinking. “Yes. It was a few months before I left Catekharon to…to find you, as it happens.” 

“Do you know what happened to her?” said Caina. 

Talekhris shrugged. “I fear not. I take no Seekers of my own, and pay little attention to their doings. She was here when I left…and I assume she is now gone?”

“Apparently Mihaela promised her freedom,” said Caina, “but Ardasha has not been seen for months. Her brother is desperate to find her.” 

“I will make inquiries,” said Talekhris. “Though I suspect Ardasha learned just enough spells to suit her and then fled. Such things have happened before when a slave becomes a student of a Seeker.”

“Her brother seems certain,” said Caina.

A smile flickered over Talekhris’s face. “I am sure he does. Love often blinds us to truths we find…unpalatable.” 

Caina thought of Corvalis and Claudia.   

“And a question for you, Ghost,” said Talekhris.

“I will answer it,” said Caina, “if I can.”

He picked up a cane from a table and leaned upon it. “The Moroaica. Since we last spoke, has she…appeared in your dreams at all?”

“No,” said Caina.

“And you do not see her in the waking world?” said Talekhris. “Like a vision or a hallucination that only you can see?”

“No,” said Caina. 

Talekhris sighed. “Has she ever arranged to have you killed? She has many disciples, and if she can appear in your dreams, she can also communicate to them through their dreams. Surely she must know that if you are slain, she is free to claim a body that she can control.” 

“No,” said Caina. “Sicarion wanted to kill me to free her, but she forbade him from doing it.”

“Why?” said Talekhris, half to himself. “Why not kill you?”

Caina hesitated. “She…thinks she can recruit me, given enough time. That once I understand her grand design, that I will aid her willingly, even enthusiastically.”

“Would you?” said Talekhris.

“Of course not,” said Caina. “I have seen the carnage and the horror she has wrought. And I doubt she has any grand design. Only a desire for power and the destruction of her enemies.” 

Yet Caina was no longer so sure, not after the vision she had seen of Jadriga as a girl. Perhaps Jadriga was wandering through the centuries taking revenge on anyone who reminded her of the men who had slain her father. But perhaps she did have some greater plan, some vision to reshape the world.

But what?

Talekhris grunted. “That is only a half-truth. She never does anything for a single reason. Always there is a larger goal. But what? Why would she want to come to Catekharon wearing your body?”

“Do you think she arranged all this?” said Caina. “The glypharmor and Zalandris’s invitation? She couldn’t have possibly known I would come to Catekharon.”

Yet she did not believe her own words. Coincidences were only the signs of an underlying pattern she could not yet see.

“I am unsure,” said Talekhris. “Perhaps she simply wishes to recruit you. If she fails, the decades of your life are only a short time to one who has lived millennia.” He gazed at a table, eyes distant. “And yet…I wish you long life and health, Ghost. For the longer you live, the longer the Moroaica is trapped.”