Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge (21 page)

She saw Corvalis’s hand curl into a fist.

Claudia only smiled, a patronizing, calm smile. “Your hatred of sorcery is clouding your judgment, Anna. Once this is done, I think you will understand.”

“No,” said Caina. “You are not doing this.”

Mihaela laughed. “You have grown tiresome. Go run to your circlemaster and report what we have done. He will be unable to stop us. Just as you will.”

“Cormark,” said Caina.

Corvalis hesitated.

“Damn it, Cormark,” said Caina.

“A moment, sister,” said Corvalis.

He followed Caina into the hall.

“We have to go to Basil, now,” Caina said, as soon as the door closed behind them. “Claudia doesn’t know the risks she is taking. I know Mihaela used necromancy to create the glypharmor. At worst, Claudia is walking into a trap, and at best, Mihaela is going to use her as a tool and kill her later. We have…”

“She might be right,” said Corvalis.

Caina blinked in surprise. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am,” said Corvalis. “Mihaela makes sense. If she has truly built a way to control the glypharmor into her spells, then we have a chance to cripple the Magisterium. To make my father pay for what he has done.” 

“Mihaela is lying,” said Caina. 

“Claudia is willing to take the risk,” said Corvalis. “And I trust her judgment.”

“More than mine?” said Caina.

“In this, yes,” said Corvalis, voice quiet.

Caina blinked. That…had hurt more than she thought. 

“She is right about this,” said Corvalis. He would not meet her eyes. “You do hate sorcery, enough that…enough that you will not take an opportunity when it opens before you. If we can do this, it will be the greatest victory the Ghosts have ever won.”

“It will be the greatest mistake the Ghosts have ever made,” said Caina. “Putting that much power in Mihaela’s will be a disaster.”

“Claudia will keep her in check,” said Corvalis.

“And Claudia will be just as bad,” said Caina. 

“Why?” said Corvalis, his eyes narrowing.

“Because no one can be trusted with that kind of power,” said Caina. “Damn it, Corvalis, she’s turning herself into a slaver. She’s enslaving evil men, true, but she’s still turning them into slaves.”

Corvalis shook his head. “What has she done to make you distrust her so?”

“I wouldn’t trust myself with that kind of power,” said Caina, “let alone Claudia.” 

His eyes narrowed. “Why not? What has she ever done against the Ghosts? She convinced me to leave the Magisterium and seek a better life. She joined the Ghosts, and she has done everything that you and Basil asked. Yet you have never stopped thinking that she’s some sort of devil in training!” 

“She’s a magus!” said Caina. She realized that she was shouting, but there was no one else around to hear. “She’s doing everything your father would do if he had the chance, and you’re so wrapped around her little finger that you’re too damned blind to see it!” 

“And you hate her too much,” said Corvalis, “to realize this is the Ghosts’ best chance to crush the Magisterium. All because you can’t get over your grudge against sorcery.”

A tremor of anger went through Caina, and she forced herself to stay still.

“I am going to Basil,” said Caina, “and he will stop this.”

“Basil isn’t blinded by hate,” said Corvalis, “and he’ll agree with us.”

Caina stalked away without another word. 

Chapter 20 - All In One Place

Caina hurried through the Tower’s halls, her heels clicking against the floor. She supposed she should have felt sad, should have felt betrayed.

Instead, she only felt fury.

Gods, she had been such a fool. 

She should have known better. A magus of the Magisterium would not change. And she should have known that Corvalis would do whatever Claudia told him. No matter what Claudia did, no matter what mad folly she pursued, Corvalis would follow her.

Corvalis…

“Gods damn it all,” whispered Caina. “I should have known.”

Her eyes stung. She wiped the back of her hand across them and kept walking. 

She had to find Halfdan and warn him. Between Saddiq’s tribesmen and whatever mercenaries Annika found, they could gather enough men to stop Mihaela. But that would mean violence inside the Tower of Study, and the Scholae would respond…

Later. She could plan later. And the decision rested with Halfdan. 

She returned to the Hall of Assembly. The Hall was deserted, the glow from the river of molten steel painting the walls with sullen light. Caina looked into the cylindrical chamber at the Tower’s heart and saw a dark shape outline against the glow of the metal.

Kylon stood there, gazing into the pool.

Caina strode towards him. If Mihaela and Claudia really were planning to give away the glypharmor, Kylon had to be warned. 

Perhaps he could help stop them.

She did not bother masking her footfalls. With his water sorcery, she had no chance of sneaking up on him without her shadow-cloak.

Kylon turned as she approached, a lean shadow against the glowing metal. “Ghost.”

“Lord High Seat,” said Caina. 

“Is it not peculiar,” said Kylon, “how close we can stand to the metal? I have seen the foundries in New Kyre. The smiths must layer themselves in heavy leather, lest the heat of the steel burn them.” 

“The wards keep the heat at bay,” said Caina. “If not for the Masked Ones’ sorcery, this entire place would melt. Little loss as that would be.”

“You are distressed,” said Kylon.

“I’ve come to warn you,” said Caina. “Do not attempt to wield a suit of glypharmor, or allow anyone in your embassy to do so. Mihaela can control anyone wielding the glypharmor.”

Kylon let out a long breath. “Ah. That explains much. Then this was a trick, was it not? A ploy to lure the most powerful sorcerers in the world here and take control of them? Like gathering your foes in once place to kill them all at once.”

“It gets worse,” said Caina. “Mihaela has apparently convinced Zalandris to give three suits of glypharmor to each embassy. He thinks the weapons are so powerful that no one will dare use them, that this will ensure peace between the nations.”

“Then he is an even bigger fool than I thought,” Kylon said with a sigh. “Those suits of armor will either trigger the bloodiest war in history, or Mihaela will use them to enslave half the world …”

He blinked, frowning. 

“All in one place,” he murmured. 

“What is it?” said Caina.

“This is a trap, obviously,” said Kylon. “But Mihaela runs a steep risk by giving the glypharmor to all of the embassies. The more ambassadors that are involved, the more likely it is one of them will realize the danger. It would be easier to take over the ambassadors from the Empire and Anshan. So why invite all the embassies?”

Caina frowned. “To enslave them, of course.”

“All at once? Mihaela seems too methodical to make such a gamble,” said Kylon. “I assume the embassies will gather in the Hall of Assembly,” he glanced over his shoulder, “to receive the glypharmor.”

Caina nodded. “Along with the entire Scholae.”

“This isn’t about the glypharmor,” said Kylon. “Or, at least, the glypharmor is only a lure. Mihaela wants to gather the embassies and all the Sages in one place.”

“Why?” said Caina.

“I know not,” said Kylon, “but I doubt her intentions are good.”

“How can you be sure?” said Caina. 

“Because it is what I would have done,” said Kylon. “Because it is what I have done. How do you think we destroyed your Emperor’s western fleet? We struck dozens of targets along the coast south of Marsis, and caused so much havoc that eventually the western fleet gathered to confront us.” 

“And then you broke the fleet,” said Caina.

It made a disturbing amount of sense. Caina had no doubt Mihaela’s motives for giving away the glypharmor were sinister. But why? What was her ultimate goal, if not to enslave the most powerful sorcerers in the world?

Caina didn’t know, but she had to find out. 

“I have to find Basil,” said Caina. “He needs to know about this.”

Kylon frowned. “Where is your…sister? And your bodyguard?”

“Mihaela has convinced my sister,” said Caina, “that she is acting for the greater good. And my…bodyguard has gone with her.”

“I see,” said Kylon. He could sense her emotions, she knew. She wondered what he made of the tangle of anger and pain that swirled through her mind. “Go. I will warn the men of my embassy to stay away from the glypharmor, and I will also warn the other ambassadors. Most likely they will not believe a word I say. But if I can spread enough doubt, perhaps that will keep them from touching the armor.” He looked towards the doors. “Perhaps between us we can find a way to stop whatever madness Mihaela has planned.” 

Caina nodded and headed for the doors. Once she was outside, she gripped her skirts and broke into a run. She had to warn Halfdan, and they had to take action at once. Mihaela would act soon.

She reached Halfdan’s rooms and looked around. The sitting room was dark, the fireplace cold. Caina turned, intending to head for the barracks and warn Saddiq, and a piece of paper lying on the table caught her eye.

It was a note, and she recognized Halfdan’s small, tight handwriting. 

“Damn it,” muttered Caina, reading the note.

Halfdan had taken Saddiq and his men and gone into the city. Annika’s friends had spotted Torius Aberon moving through Catekharon, hiring every mercenary and caravan guard he could find. She feared that he planned to seize Mihaela and claim the glypharmor for the Magisterium, perhaps this very night. Halfdan and Saddiq had gone to investigate.

“Damn it,” said Caina again, sliding the note into the fireplace. She struck a spark against the kindling and watched the paper burn, her mind racing. 

There were too many moving pieces to this puzzle. Mihaela and the glypharmor. The spell of enslavement built into the glypharmor. Whatever secret pact Mihaela had made with the First Magus and the Magisterium, and whatever arrangement Sicarion had with Mihaela. 

Something was going to happen tonight, and Caina did not know what. Was it her fault? Had she been so distracted by Corvalis that she had lost her wits, had failed to notice what was happening right under her nose? 

Perhaps when he had come to her room in the Inn of the Defender and kissed her, she should have pushed him away. She…

A greasy tingle went over her skin.

Someone was casting a spell nearby, and it had the feel of necromancy. 

She dropped to a crouch, yanking the curved ghostsilver dagger from her belt. Again she felt the icy tingle. Caina closed her eyes and concentrated. It felt as if the spell was coming from outside.

She left the sitting room, darted into her bedroom, retrieved her shadow-cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and went outside. Caina ducked into the shadows on the broad stone terrace outside the palace, looking left and right. Darkness hung over the Tower of Study, pale lights shining in its high windows, the aqueducts of molten steel throwing their crimson light into the sky.

Caina saw a shadow moving beneath one of the aqueducts. She glimpsed a mottled face in the cowl of a heavy cloak, the skin scarred and slashed.

Her breath hissed through her teeth. 

Sicarion. 

It was just as well she had donned her shadow-cloak. Without it, he could sense the presence of the Moroaica within Caina. She watched as he moved slowly, carefully, towards the Tower of Study. Had he come here to kill Mihaela? Or had he come to aid her?

Either way, if Caina followed him and remained unseen, perhaps she could find the details of Mihaela’s plan. 

Caina hurried back into her room. She stripped off her dress and threw it aside, and retrieved different clothes from the false bottom of a trunk. She dressed in black boots, black trousers, and a black jacket lined with thin steel plates to deflect knives. A belt went around her waist, holding knives, a coil of rope, lockpicks, and other useful tools. Black gloves went over her hands, and a black mask concealed her face. Last of all she pulled on her shadow-cloak, hooked the ghostsilver dagger in its scabbard to her belt, and slid a pair of daggers into hidden sheaths in her boots. 

She left the palace and spotted Sicarion, still making his slow, careful way towards the Tower.

Caina glided from shadow to shadow, following him. 

Chapter 21 - Blood and Steel

Sicarion moved from shadow to shadow like a wolf stalking its prey, and if Caina had not already known he was there, she never would have found him. 

The aura of necromantic sorcery he radiated made it easier to find him. 

Caina followed him from shadow to shadow. From time to time he glanced around, and when he did, Caina remained perfectly still, letting her cloak blend with the shadows. Sicarion’s mismatched eyes swept over her, but he never saw her.

Or, at least, he pretended that he did not, and was leading her into a trap.

If Sicarion was leading her into a trap, she had no choice but to walk into it. This was her best chance of finding out Mihaela’s plan. 

And she was sure Sicarion had not seen her.

Mostly sure. 

Sicarion paused before the gates to the Hall of Assembly, outlined in the glow of the molten metal. He cast a spell, muttering under his breath, and his form flickered and wavered. Caina recognized the spell. It was a simple incantation of psychic sorcery, designed to keep anyone from noticing his presence. It would not fool the Sages, but it would work on the slaves.

But if Caina kept her cowl up, the spell would not affect her.

She followed Sicarion through the Hall of Assembly, around the pool of molten metal at the Tower’s heart, and into the Seekers’ quarters. She slipped her hand around her ghostsilver dagger. There was absolutely no place to hide in the hall corridor, and the sullen glow of the molten metal left no shadows for her cloak. Yet Sicarion’s pace picked up, and he did not look over his shoulder. No doubt he thought himself safe. Caina half-expected him to enter Mihaela’s rooms, but he strode past the door. She felt a surge of excitement. If Sicarion wasn’t going to Mihaela’s rooms, then he was going to Mihaela’s hidden workshop.

And perhaps Caina could at last find out how Mihaela had created the glypharmor.

Sicarion strode deeper into the Seekers’ quarters. This part of the Tower was unused and deserted, and a faint layer of dust covered the floor. At last Sicarion stopped before a door, and Caina pressed herself into a nearby doorway, hoping it was deep enough to keep him from noticing her.

Sicarion took one look around, then cast a spell at the door. Caina felt a pulse of sorcery, and the door swung open. Sicarion strode through it, and the door shut behind him with a thump.

Caina hurried forward and examined the door. A series of sigils and runes covered the planks, and she felt the waiting power. A warding spell, she thought, cast to grant access only to certain people. She concentrated, and behind the door she felt the presence of…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Which was peculiar. Every other inch of the Tower radiated sorcery. Practically every inch of Catekharon, for that matter. Yet from behind that door she felt…nothing at all. 

The room beyond had been shielded with a ward designed to block any divinatory spells. Which meant that whatever Mihaela did in that room, she didn’t want the Sages to know about it. Though perhaps Mihaela needn’t have bothered. If the other Sages were anything like Zalandris, Mihaela could set fire to the Tower of Study and the Masked Ones would never notice. 

Caina examined the sigils. They were not Maatish hieroglyphs, and she recognized several of the sigils from the warding spells favored by the magi. If she opened the door, the resultant release of power would rip her to shreds. 

Unless she damaged the wards first. 

“Should have inscribed them on steel, Mihaela,” muttered Caina, lifting her ghostsilver dagger.

She scratched at the sigils with the dagger, sending wooden shavings to the floor. Sweat trickled down her face and back, but her hands remained steady. She had done this before, but it was always risky…

One of the sigils pulsed with blue light, charring the wood, and Caina took an alarmed step back.

But the light did not spread.

Caina sighed in relief and went back to work, defacing the sigils one by one. After a few moments, the entire door pulsed with blue light, the sigils turning to smoking char. The ward collapsed, and Caina felt the power drain away.

She took a deep breath and opened the door quietly. 

The room beyond reminded her of Talekhris’s workshop. Heavy worktables supported a peculiar array of equipment and glass bottles, though Mihaela had more metalworking tools than Talekhris. Wooden bookshelves held scrolls, and Caina saw that most of the scrolls were written in Maatish hieroglyphs. Maglarion had killed Caina’s father just to claim one Maatish scroll, and with that scroll he had almost destroyed Malarae. She shuddered to think what he might have done to claim Mihaela’s library. 

The air smelled like spilled blood and burnt meat.

The stench was coming from a door on the far side of the workroom. 

Caina crossed to the door and listened for a moment. She heard nothing but silence, and she felt no wards upon the door. Another deep breath, and she stepped through the door.

The next room was a large hall, similar to the one where Mihaela had slaughtered the criminals. The sullen glow of molten metal came from a door on the other side of the hall, and in its light Caina saw a dozen steel coffins lying scattered across the floor.

The smallest was the size of a small child, while the largest was at least twelve feet long. Maatish hieroglyphs covered the coffins. Had Mihaela been robbing Maatish tombs? But from what Caina understood, the ancient Maatish had buried their dead in coffins and sarcophagi of gold and stone. Not steel, and steel coffins would have rusted away centuries ago. 

Mihaela had made these things. But why?

The smell of burned flesh came from the caskets. 

Caina peered inside the nearest coffin. A heap of something like charcoal lay inside the gleaming coffin, and after a moment she realized that it was burned bone. Dozens of grooves had been carved into the inside of the coffin, like channels designed to drain away blood, and more hieroglyphs marked the grooves. A faint, jagged aura of sorcery surrounded the thing. It had once been the locus of powerful spells, but the spells had collapsed, leaving only a steel coffin and a burned skeleton. 

Why go to the trouble of making the damned things? If Mihaela had wanted to burn someone alive, the gods knew there were easier ways to go about it, and…

Her breath hissed through her teeth.

No. These weren’t coffins.

They were molds. 

She remembered her visit to Ark’s foundry in Malarae, watching as his workers poured molten metal into molds to create swords and armor for the Imperial Legions. Mihaela had made these coffins as molds for the glypharmor. These must have been early attempts, failed experiments before she settled upon a final design. 

But if they were molds…why did each of the coffins hold a pile of burned bones?

A distant scream reached Caina’s ears.

She whirled, ghostsilver dagger in hand, but saw no movement. Again the scream rang out, coming from the glowing doorway on the far side of the hall. Caina hurried forward, boots making no sound against the floor, and peered through the doorway.

The presence of powerful sorcery washed over her, jabbing at her skin like icy needles. 

The hall beyond was as large as the Hall of Assembly itself, and a thick stream of molten metal ran through the center of the floor. The air felt like a blast furnace, and Caina wondered if the wards around the liquid metal had weakened. Dozens of suits of black, gleaming glypharmor stood scattered around the hall, looming like statues. Boxes and crates and barrels lay in heaps, and Caina saw worktables laden with tools and books. The scream rang out again, followed by a terrified sob. 

Caina crept forward. Fortunately, the suits of glypharmor and the discarded crates provided plenty of cover. She slid around a table and came to a halt. A suit of red glypharmor stood here, motionless as the others. All the other suits were black, but this one was red.

It was the one Mihaela had worn during her demonstration. 

Again Caina felt that curious attraction to the armor, its aura of power buzzing inside of her head. She stepped forward, hesitant, and reached out a single hand to touch the red steel.

A vision flashed through her head, a string of disjointed images. A screaming girl dragged by armored men, a flash of molten steel, and horrible burning as invisible chains closed around her arms and legs…

Caina jerked her hand away, the vision fading.

Best not to touch the armor. 

She crept across the room, sweat dripping down her face and between her shoulders. She passed several of the black suits of glypharmor, and while she sensed their aura of power, she felt none of that peculiar attraction. Once she touched the black steel and nothing happened. 

For some reason, only the red suit drew her.

Caina shook her head, moved closer to the molten steel, and heard a voice.

Mihaela’s voice.

Caina ducked behind a crate and peered around its edges. 

The first thing she saw was the mold. An enormous steel coffin, twenty feet high, stood upright at the edge of the molten canal. It was more elaborate than the others, every inch covered in an intricate maze of Maatish hieroglyphs. Its lid stood open, and inside Caina saw more grooves, along with a net of chains.

Chains that looked designed to hold someone in place. 

Boots clicked against the stone, and Mihaela strode into sight, stopping beneath the massive steel mold. She carried the silvery rod of a Sage in her right hand. Two mercenaries stood on either side of her, and with a start Caina recognized them.

They had been with Torius Aberon at Irzaris’s warehouse.

“So,” said Mihaela. “Scarred one. So good of you to return at last.” 

Sicarion walked into sight from the other side of the mold. The mercenaries tensed, their hands going to their swords, but Mihaela only looked amused.

“What were you doing?” said Mihaela. “Skulking about and trying to steal my secrets?”

“I was merely admiring your craftsmanship, Seeker,” said Sicarion. “Your work has improved greatly since we first met.”

“It has,” said Mihaela. “Zalandris has proven willing to share his secrets in the glorious cause of peace, the senile old fool. And the few spells you shared have proven to be of occasional use.”

“Such thunderous praise,” said Sicarion. Caina forced herself to remain motionless as his mismatched eyes passed over her hiding place. “You have abandoned the Nhabati iron in your design.”

“Not entirely,” said Mihaela. “The red steel would take the spells,” she waved her rod at the red glypharmor, “but there were…irritating complications. So I added steel taken from the canals.” She pointed at the stream of molten steel. “The resultant alloy proved most receptive to the binding spells.”

“Good,” said Sicarion. “It’s just as well the pharaohs of Maat never had your metallurgic skill. Else they still might reign in the south.”

“Spare me the lectures upon history,” said Mihaela. “The pharaohs lie in the dust of the past, and the future belongs to us.”

“Very well,” said Sicarion, looking at the upright coffin. “This is the Forge’s final design, then?”

“Yes,” said Mihaela. “It eliminated the defects found in the previous versions, and draws molten metal and power directly from the spell binding the fire elemental.” She gestured, and Caina saw metal pipes running from the coffin to the molten canal. “With the increased efficiency, we can make hundreds of suits of glypharmor a day.” 

“Impressive,” said Sicarion.

“We are ready to begin the first step,” said Mihaela. “I persuaded Zalandris to give glypharmor to each of the embassies, and I duped one of the Ghosts into summoning the ambassadors for me. Once they gather, I will have the Forge moved to the central chamber off the Hall of Assembly…and the first step will begin.”

“One of the Ghosts?” said Sicarion, surprised. “Truly? Which one?”

“One of the women,” said Mihaela. “Decius Aberon’s bastard daughter. Not the other one, the one who calls herself Anna Callenius. Which surprised me. I thought Anna would be the greater fool.”

“Do not underestimate her,” said Sicarion. “She is most dangerous.”

“Yes,” said Mihaela. “I live in dread of a merchant’s pampered daughter.” 

“You should,” said Sicarion. “You are ready?”

“We are,” said Mihaela. “Though we will have one final demonstration.”

Sicarion sighed. “Torius insisted?”

“He did,” said a man’s voice, and Torius Aberon came into sight, still clad in his black armor. “This is a bold plan, Mihaela…but a warrior only commits himself when he is sure of victory.”

Mihaela smirked at him. “The greatest rewards go to the boldest. But if you insist upon one more demonstration…well, an additional suit of glypharmor would not go amiss.” She beckoned. “Bring him.” 

Two more mercenaries came into sight, dragging a fat man in the black robe and purple sash of a master magus between them. The magus’s face gleamed with sweat, and his eyes darted back and forth. Caina recognized him from the First Magus’s embassy. 

“Marcus,” said Torius with a smile. “You’re looking well.”

“Torius!” spat Marcus. “What is this? Have you lost your mind? I’ve always supported your father! You…”

Torius backhanded him with an armored fist, and blood flew from Marcus’s mouth. 

“My father,” said Torius, “doesn’t know about this. Not yet, anyway.” He grinned. “I look forward to the expression on his face when we feed him into the Forge. Maybe he’ll look as surprised as you do right now.”

“What?” said Marcus. “What are you doing to me?”

“This,” said Torius, “is going to hurt a lot.” 

“Prepare him,” said Mihaela. 

The mercenaries ripped away Marcus’s robe and underclothes, leaving him naked. The magus tried to fight back, but Caina sensed Torius’s constraining spell, and without his sorcery Marcus was no match for the mercenaries. They shoved him into the massive steel mold, wrapped him in the harness, and pulled on the chains. The chains lifted Marcus, holding him suspended in the center of the mold.