Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge (19 page)

“Sorcerer!” said Caina, taking a sideways step. “It…”

The door to the courtyard exploded, shards raining across the floor. Irzaris sat up and grinned.

“Aid me!” he shouted. “I told them nothing! Kill them all, and…”

A cloaked and hooded man stepped through the door and lifted a hand. A bar of darkness wreathed in green flame burst from his fingers and slammed into Irzaris’s chest. Irzaris collapsed to the floor with a scream, the ghostly green flames dancing over his limbs. He twitched like a landed fish, screamed once more, and then went motionless. 

Caina lifted her weapons, as did Corvalis. She could not see under the cloaked man’s hood, but she saw that he wore leather armor, a sheathed sword on his left hip and a dagger on his right.

Something about the shape of the dagger’s handle tugged at her memory.

“Well,” said the cloaked man, his voice rusty, “he always did like to talk too much.” He spat a laugh. “An unpleasant quality in a man.”

Caina knew that voice at once.

“No,” she said. “You’re dead. I saw you die.”

“Ah,” said the cloaked man. “Mistress. So good to see you again.”

He drew back his hood. 

His bald head and hairless face were hideously scarred, and almost looked as if they had been stitched together out of pieces of old leather. His left eye was green, while the right was a sulfurous yellow-orange. Even from a distance, his stench filled Caina’s nostrils, a hideous mixture of rotting meat and clotting blood. 

“Sicarion,” said Caina. “I saw you die.”

“I beg to differ,” said Sicarion. “You saw Ranarius throw me out of the Palace of Splendors with his spell. The landing hurt, but it didn’t kill me. Though I did have to replace one of my kidneys and both of my legs.” He grinned. “I would kill him for it, but I suppose you did it for me. Destroyed by his pet elemental? Appropriate. When he still served the mistress, I warned him that his pets would turn on him.” 

Caina had seen Sicarion use his twisted necromancy before. With his spells, he harvested limbs and organs from living victims and grafted them onto his own flesh. It had transformed him into a grotesque, scarred monster…but it had also allowed him to live for centuries and survive multiple mortal wounds. 

“That’s where Mihaela learned the necromancy for the glypharmor,” said Caina. “You taught her.” 

“She is such a clever girl, mistress,” murmured Sicarion. “Give her a coin, and she’ll turn it into three. But tonight has been delightful. I’ve wanted to kill Irzaris ever since I met him.” His mismatched eyes shifted to Corvalis. “And I’ve wanted to kill you for years.” 

“Try,” said Corvalis, pointing his sword and dagger at the scarred assassin. 

Sicarion began casting a spell as Caina and Corvalis both dashed forward, weapons raised. Sicarion flung out a hand, and Corvalis ducked, trying to dodge whatever sorcery Sicarion unleashed. 

But at the last minute Sicarion pointed at Caina.

A blast of invisible force struck Caina across the chest and stomach, and the spell picked her up and flung her into the wall. One of the shelves cracked, curios spilling around Caina, plates and daggers and statuettes falling to the floor. The breath erupted from her lungs in an explosive gasp, and she fell atop the broken shelf. The spell had not been enough to kill her. But it had been enough to stun her, and Sicarion drove at Corvalis with fury. In his right hand he wielded a sword, and in his left an ugly dagger with a serrated edge. Caina had seen him use that weapon to carve limbs from his victims and graft them onto his own body.

And he would do the same to Corvalis. 

Caina heaved herself to her feet as Corvalis backed into the hallway, his blades ringing against Sicarion’s weapons. Caina raced after them, yanked a throwing knife from her belt, and flung it with all her strength. It struck Sicarion in the shoulder, cutting his cloak, but bounced away. He must have been wearing mail beneath his leather armor. 

Corvalis backed into the dining hall. Halfdan and Claudia shot to their feet, and Saddiq and his men gripped their weapons. Corvalis retreated, and Sicarion stepped to the left. Caina hurried after him, hoping to stab him in the back, but Sicarion slid along the wall.

He let out a low laugh. 

“Is that your lovely sister, Aberon?” said Sicarion. “So you freed her from the stone after all. Such a pretty face. Perhaps I’ll slice it off and keep it as a souvenir.” 

“What sort of devil are you?” said Claudia, her voice tight.

“You must be Sicarion,” said Halfdan. 

“My fame proceeds me,” said Sicarion with a mocking little bow. 

“You can’t fight all of us,” said Halfdan. “I suggest you surrender.”

“You are correct,” said Sicarion. “I cannot fight all of you. But why should I bother? You’ll be dead in a few days anyway…”

He flung out his hands, and Caina felt the spike of arcane power. Invisible force erupted in all directions, knocking her to the floor and toppling Saddiq and his men like toys. Halfdan fell against the dining cushions, while Claudia managed to keep her feet, her hands raised in a warding spell. Corvalis fell to one knee, and Caina glimpsed a flare of white light as the Ulkaari tattoos shielded him from the worst of the spell. 

But it was not enough. Sicarion whirled and fled through the mansion’s doors. 

###

“I thought you said,” said Halfdan, “that he was dead.”

Caina, Corvalis, and Claudia sat the table in Halfdan’s sitting room. They had searched the streets and alleys around Irzaris’s mansion, hoping to catch Sicarion, but the scarred assassin had vanished without a trace.

But he would be back. Caina was sure of it. 

“I did think he was dead,” said Caina. “Ranarius threw him from the top of the Stone. I didn’t think anyone could survive a fall from that height.” She shuddered. “I wonder how many people he had to kill to…repair himself.”

“What sort of creature is he?” said Claudia.

“A necromancer,” said Caina. “His spells let him take body parts from other people and attach them to his own flesh. Cut off his hand, and he’ll merely steal one from someone else.” 

“We fought once, in Artifel,” said Corvalis. “After Ranarius turned you to stone. I foiled him from killing someone, and he’s promised to kill me ever since.” 

Halfdan poured himself some wine from a carafe on the sideboard. “I think we know how Mihaela learned the necromancy she used in the glypharmor.”

Claudia frowned. “This Sicarion taught her?”

“It seems likely,” said Caina, thinking. The Moroaica had not appeared to Caina since the incident with the glypharmor. Was the glypharmor one of her plots? Though Jadriga had warned Caina of danger in the past…

No. She had warned Caina about Ranarius, and Ranarius had rebelled against her. If Jadriga wanted Mihaela’s plan, whatever it was, to succeed, she would not warn Caina. 

“Then it’s possible,” said Corvalis, “that the First Magus knows more than we thought. Sicarion has done errands for him in the past.” 

Claudia’s frown deepened. “Surely not even Father would associate with…with such a creature.” 

“He’s a magus,” said Caina. “There is nothing a magus would not do…” She caught herself and started over. “Decius Aberon is the sort of man who would murder his own children if it brought him greater power. You know that better than I do.” 

“What about Irzaris?” said Corvalis. “We left his mansion a mess. And it’s no secret that you visited him for dinner.”

“We will do nothing,” said Halfdan. “When his guards and slaves awake, they will find Irzaris dead in his study without a mark on him, thanks to Sicarion’s spell. Both Claudia and I will say that Irzaris made inappropriate advances on her, and we were so offended that we left.”

“That’s true enough,” muttered Claudia. 

“His death will be a mystery,” said Halfdan, “but no one will be too interested in solving it. There’s too much at stake. All the ambassadors will assume that one of the other ambassadors murdered Irzaris to find the secret of the glypharmor’s creation.”

“Which will increase the pressure on Mihaela,” said Caina, “if she thinks someone is coming after her.”

“And men under pressure,” said Halfdan, “make mistakes. Women, too, for that matter. If Mihaela is frightened, she might do something rash…and then we have our chance. In the meantime, I suggest we get some sleep. It has been a long day, and tomorrow promises to be longer.”

###

That night Corvalis slept in Caina’s bed. She suspected the various ambassadors and embassies were too consumed with their own problems to take note that a merchant’s daughter was sharing a bed with her father’s guard. 

Besides, it was the sort of thing a wealthy merchant’s daughter might do. 

And she was surprised to learn that nothing fired the passions like a brush with death. 

After they finished, after Corvalis had fallen asleep, Caina focused, thinking about the Moroaica. She intended to hunt down the Moroaica in her dreams, to force Jadriga to answer questions. 

But no dreams came, and Caina sank into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 18 - An Invitation

“Go into the city,” said Halfdan, “disguised as my daughter, and visit Annika’s shop. Take Corvalis and Saddiq with you. Word must have leaked out of Irzaris’s death, and I want to know what the rumors say.” 

Caina nodded, dressed herself in a simple gown appropriate for travel, and left the palace, Corvalis at her side. They walked along the stone terrace, the crater lake stretching alongside them, the smooth waters reflecting the aqueducts of molten steel overhead.

“A pity,” said Corvalis, “that Barimaz isn’t here. One of his sausage rolls would …”

Caina reached the top of the stairs to the causeway and froze.

Mihaela stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at her. 

Caina had expected Mihaela to do something unexpected…but not quite this. 

The Seeker wore her usual boots, trousers, and black leather vest, her blue eyes cold and hard in her lean face. She climbed the stairs, and Caina saw the heavy muscles shifting in the woman’s arms. As she drew closer, Caina felt the tingle of sorcery. Mihaela wore an odd variety of earrings, rings, and bracelets, and Caina was sure every last one of them carried protective spells. 

She reached the top of the terrace, frowning at Caina like a scholar scrutinizing a rare manuscript.

Caina bowed. “Seeker.”

“I remember you,” said Mihaela, her Anshani thick with a Szaldic accent. “The merchant’s daughter, the one who kept flirting with Irzaris. As I recall, the sight of blood was too much for you.”

Did Mihaela know that Caina was a Ghost? Had Sicarion told her? 

Best to maintain her masquerade. 

“I am sorry if I spoiled your demonstration, Seeker,” said Caina. “All that blood was too much for me…”

“You do not appear to have a single thought,” said Mihaela, “in that pretty little head.” She smiled. “How hard you must work to maintain that impression. Are you a sorceress?” 

Caina blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Did Mihaela know that Caina carried the Moroaica’s spirit? Sicarion knew, and if he had told her…

“Are you,” said Mihaela, speaking slowly, “a sorceress? Do you have a knowledge of the arcane sciences? Can you wield your thoughts as a weapon? Do you practice the sciences of pyromancy, oneiromancy, necromancy, or wield the elements themselves as a weapon?”

“No,” said Caina. “I am just a simple woman, I fear.”

Mihaela gripped a ring on the middle finger of her left hand. Caina felt a tingle, and realized Mihaela was using the ring to cast a spell. She reached for a knife, but Mihaela released the ring.

“Not a sorceress,” said Mihaela. “I thought as much.” She looked at Corvalis. “And are you?”

“A sorceress?” said Corvalis. “Surely the stubble should give it away.”

“Do not display impertinence with me,” said Mihaela. “Do you have arcane ability or do you not?”

Corvalis shrugged. “I just kill people who need killing.” 

“A fine sentiment,” said Mihaela. “Come along. I will speak with your master.”

She walked away without a backwards glance. Corvalis looked at Caina, and she shrugged. Best to see how this played out. Caina followed Mihaela, Corvalis at her side, and the Seeker entered the palace proper. She slid aside the paper door to the guest suite. Halfdan still sat at the table with Claudia, eating breakfast.

Claudia’s eyes grew wide. 

“Seeker,” said Halfdan, rising with a bow. “You do me honor. Have you come to peruse my wares? I have many fine jewels in my inventory, and…”

“Do,” said Mihaela, “be silent.”

Halfdan shrugged and stopped talking. Mihaela paced back and forth, scowling, her heavy boots clicking against the gleaming floorboards. She walked to the window, gazed at the lake for a moment.

“This used to be a volcano,” she said, “the prison of a greater fire elemental. The Scholae built the Tower of Study here to tap the elemental’s power.” She waved a hand at one of the aqueducts crossing the lake. “All that molten metal is part of the spell keeping the thing bound. But the Sages can’t give up the power now, even if they wanted to, because the fire elemental would consume them.”

“So to paraphrase the old Szaldic proverb,” said Halfdan, “they have a wolf by the ears, and cannot let it go.”

“Precisely,” said Mihaela. “Though the Anshani and the Istarish say a lion, not a wolf.” She turned from the window, scowling. “Let us lay aside all games and speak plainly.” 

“Nothing,” said Halfdan, “would delight me more.”

“I doubt that, Basil Callenius,” said Mihaela. “I know that is not your name. I know that you are a Ghost, probably a high-ranking one, and that these,” she waved a hand at Caina and the others, “are your spies.”

“That,” said Halfdan, “is an interesting supposition. Who, I wonder, put such ideas into your head?”

Mihaela smirked. “Did Sicarion tell me, you mean?”

Caina’s hand twitched towards the hilt of a knife. 

“Sicarion?” said Halfdan.

Mihaela sighed. “Are you incapable of anything but riddling talk, Basil Callenius? Fine. I know that Khaltep Irzaris was found dead in his mansion this morning without a mark on him, though there were signs of struggle. I have seen Sicarion use a spell that kills in such a fashion, a bar of shadow wrapped in green fire.” 

“And you know Sicarion?” said Halfdan.

“Yes,” said Mihaela. “He has tried to kill me thrice.” 

“I can relate,” said Caina. 

“Can you?” said Mihaela with a scoff. “I know why Basil brought you. A pretty-faced girl to seduce the merchants and the lords and part them from their secrets. Irzaris was practically ready to fall into bed with you. Be silent when your betters are speaking.”

Corvalis scowled, but Caina remained silent, thinking. Irzaris had been trying to seduce Claudia, not Caina. Which meant that Mihaela had misjudged both him and Caina. And if she continued to underestimate Caina, that could prove useful in the future.

“As you say,” mumbled Caina, making her voice sulky. 

“Better,” said Mihaela. 

“Why would Sicarion want to kill you?” said Halfdan.

Mihaela shrugged. “Perhaps I offended him in some way.”

“My lady Seeker,” said Halfdan, “you wish to speak without games and riddling talk? Very well. Since you have entered my rooms, you have spoken of philosophy, history, and made the egregious accusation that I am a spy for the Emperor of Nighmar. Yet for all your words, I notice you have still failed to come to the point.”

Mihaela smirked. “Good. I prefer direct words. Very well. I have a wolf by the ears, to use your proverb, and I think you can help me to release it without having my throat ripped out.”

“The glypharmor,” said Halfdan. “That is your wolf.”

Mihaela scowled. “Precisely.” She paced back to the table. “Do not listen to Zalandris’s fine-sounding words about peace and brotherhood. I created the glypharmor for the same reason I joined the Scholae. Wealth and power.”

“Enough wealth and power to keep you from becoming a slave again?” said Halfdan.

“Bah,” said Mihaela. “You have been talking to Annika, haven’t you? My sister is a wretched fool. The Ghosts would have had us squander our lives luring fat noblemen into bed to steal their secrets.” She shot a look at Caina. “But I had higher things in mind.”

“Such as wealth and power,” said Halfdan, “but the glypharmor has drawn the attention of those with too much power.” 

“You know the Bostaji?” said Mihaela. 

“The personal assassins of the Shahenshah of Anshan,” said Halfdan.

“Twice they have tried to kidnap me at the command of Yaramzod the Black,” said Mihaela. “Once I was almost waylaid by the Immortals, no doubt sent by Callatas and that fat emir, I forget his name. And then that scarred devil Sicarion…”

“He, too, tried to abduct you?” said Halfdan. 

“He tried to kill me,” said Mihaela, “and he has come close.” She flexed her fingers. “I am not without power. Even a Seeker of the Scholae is a match for sorcerers of other lands. I have wounded him in our fights. Yet every time he comes back healed, if more scarred. I am sure he killed Irzaris in order to get at me.” She paced back and forth again. “So, yes, Basil Callenius, I have got the wolf by the ears, and if I let go, he’ll devour me. I have no wish to spend the rest of my days as a slave of the First Magus or Yaramzod the Black. But the glypharmor, and the knowledge of its creation, is the only thing of value that I possess.” She thumped her chest. “I am the only one who knows the complete spell. Not Zalandris, not any of the other Sages. Only me.” 

“Let us have more blunt speaking,” said Halfdan. “You want to let go of the wolf before it devours you…and to do that, you are coming to the Ghosts for protection?”

Mihaela nodded.

“And what do you offer in exchange?” said Halfdan.

“The glypharmor suits I have already completed,” said Mihaela, “and the knowledge of how to create more.” 

“You’ll give them to the Ghosts?” said Halfdan. 

“No.” Mihaela smirked and pointed at Claudia. “But I might give them to her.”

Claudia blinked. 

“Me?” she said at last. “Why me?” 

“Because,” said Mihaela, “you are a magus.”

“I…I most certainly am not!” said Claudia. She was a terrible liar. It was a quality that would have been admirable under other circumstances. “I am…I am the eldest daughter of Basil Callenius, and came with him to Catekharon to find a wealthy husband…”

“Do all Ghosts,” said Mihaela, “like so poorly?” She glanced at Caina. “The weak-stomached child and the incompetent liar. Does the Empire rest upon such pillars?” She turned back to Claudia. “I can tell you are a magus, and a strong one. Enough magi have visited Catekharon that I know the aura of a magus when I feel it.”

Magi such as Torius Aberon, Caina wondered? 

“Why me?” said Claudia.

“Because you are a magus,” said Mihaela, “and you understand the responsibility of power.”

“A curious thing to say,” said Claudia, “given that you tried to use your power for wealth and aggrandizement.”

“I spent my childhood as a slave,” said Mihaela. “I desired security and freedom, not the good of mankind. Yet even I know what it is to bear power. Sorcery presents its own set of peculiar temptations. I could twist the minds of those around me and make them into my own personal slaves, just as I was once enslaved…but such folly would quickly draw the attention of those with the power to destroy me. So any wielder of arcane science must know a measure of restraint.” She leveled a finger at Claudia. “Any sorcerer can understand that, even a tyrant like Yaramzod or the First Magus. But the Ghosts are the only ones who will neither kill me nor enslave me. And you are the only sorceress I know among the Ghosts.” 

“Very well,” said Claudia. “So you will give the glypharmor to me, personally?”

“I said I will consider it,” said Mihaela. “I wish you to join me for dinner, tonight, and we shall discuss it further.”

“We shall be honored,” said Halfdan with a bow, “to attend.”

Mihaela scowled. “Not you. Just her.” 

“Alone?” said Claudia.

“You will be perfectly safe,” said Mihaela.

“I am afraid,” said Halfdan, “that I cannot allow her to go alone.”

Mihaela laughed. “She is in no danger from me, Basil Callenius. I cannot decide to give her the glypharmor if she is dead, no?” 

“Nor will you be able to give her the glypharmor,” said Halfdan, “if Yaramzod or Sicarion come for you and Irene is accidentally slain in the fighting.” 

“That is so,” said Mihaela. “Very well, you may take one other with you.”

Claudia looked from Caina to Corvalis and back again.

“Anna,” said Claudia. “I want Anna to come with me?”

“Her?” Mihaela laughed. “The seducer? A poor choice. My tastes run to men.”

“And I insist,” said Halfdan, “that Cormark accompany them both. A master merchant certainly should not allow his daughters to go unescorted.”

Mihaela’s eyes narrowed, and then she shrugged. “If you wish. Your little masquerade is no concern of mine.”

“And before you go,” said Halfdan, “two questions.”

Mihaela sighed. “If you must.”

“I must,” said Halfdan. “First, we suspect necromancy was used in the creation of the glypharmor. Was it?”

“Necromancy?” said Mihaela. “You are jesting, yes?” She laughed. “No, I did not use necromancy. The Sages kill any Seeker they catch wielding it. And necromancy is a crude and…inelegant science. It is beneath me.”

“Thank you,” said Halfdan. “There is one other point. Some months ago you took a slave named Ardasha as a student. What became of her?”

“Sicarion killed her,” said Mihaela. 

Caina felt a chill.

“The first time he attacked me,” said Mihaela. “He cast a spell…and, well, Ardasha simply got in the way. I fear she was dead before she hit the floor. Now. Do you have any other questions about dead slaves, or shall we attend to more important business?”

“Thank you for your candor,” said Halfdan.

Mihaela shook a finger at Claudia. “Come to my rooms by the first bell of the evening. The slaves will know the way. Do not be late.”

She left without another word.

“I don’t believe,” said Caina, “a single thing that she said.” 

“Oh, certainly some of it was true,” said Halfdan. “Sicarion might have tried to kill her. I suspect she began as his student, and fled to the Scholae when her relationship with him turned sour.”

“Surely Annika would have known,” said Claudia, “had her sister been apprenticed to such a creature.”

“Sometimes there are secrets,” said Halfdan, “even between sisters.” 

“What should I do,” said Claudia, “if she does give me the armor and the secrets of its making?” She hesitated. “Should I use them?” 

Caina frowned. There was an odd light in Claudia’s eyes.

“Absolutely not,” said Halfdan. “I doubt she has any intention of giving you the armor or the spells to create it. And even if she does, using the glypharmor might be dangerous. The sorcery could have damaging effects upon your mind or body.”

“If she doesn’t intend to give her the armor,” said Corvalis, “then what is the point of this? Why bother with the dinner?”