Child of the Ghosts (28 page)

Rekan. 

“Rekan’s here,” said Caina. 

Riogan cursed. “He’s supposed to be at the Magisterium’s chapterhouse.” 

She dropped into a crouch and crept forward, skirts gathered in one hand. Riogan scowled at her for a moment, but followed. Caina huddled behind one of the massive couches and peered around the edge, listening. She didn’t dare come any closer. She knew that Maglarion could reach into the minds of others, and he might sense her presence, or Riogan’s. Or one of the master magi might have similar powers. 

“We respect you, of course, Maglarion,” said one of the master magi, a balding man with a crooked nose. “You were one of the great magi of the Fourth Empire, and none of us can match your skill. Furthermore, your ability to survive for such a span of time is indeed remarkable. But you ask a great deal of us. The Magisterium is under constant pressure from the Ghosts and their allies among the nobles, and Emperor Alexius detests us. Flashy displays of power draw…unwelcome attention. As Lord Macrinius learned, you might recall. The storm you wish us to conjure will draw a great deal of unwelcome attention.”

“True, Caprinius, I ask a great deal of you,” said Maglarion, smiling as he always smiled, “but I offer much in return. Observe.”

He gestured. 

The fat lord in the blue coat floated into Caina’s field of vision, suspended in the power of Maglarion’s spell. 

“Who is that?” said Caprinius. 

“Some lord or another,” said Maglarion. “He recognized me, and threatened to turn me over to the Magisterium unless I used my sorcery to enspell a wife for him.”

The magi laughed.

“You fear the Ghosts and their noble allies? You fear the Emperor?” said Maglarion. “With this, you need not fear them ever again.”

He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a glass vial. Black fluid filled the vial, thick and viscous, and looking at it made the tingling sensation against Caina’s skin worse.

And yet…she felt drawn towards the vial. Pulled towards it, like iron towards a lodestone. She blinked in confusion. She had never felt anything similar in the presence of sorcery before. 

“What is that?” said Caprinius. “Some manner of poison?”

“Not at all,” said Maglarion. “Poisons have antidotes. This does not. Think of it as…oh, a pestilence, let us say. An illness in a bottle. Lord Haeron likes to call it ‘plagueblood’. Rather melodramatic, but it does capture the essence of the thing.” He pulled the cork from the vial. “You may want to stand back. Plagueblood is rather virulent.”

Caprinius, Rekan, and the other magi took several prudent steps back. 

“One drop,” said Maglarion, standing before the floating noble, “would be sufficient to kill at least ten thousand men, should it be mixed into their drinking water.” 

“You’ll make him drink it, then?” said Caprinius.

“Of course not,” said Maglarion. “If I let him open his mouth, he’ll start to scream. And that might disturb Lord Haeron’s ball. One must keep one’s priorities in order.”

The magi shared a laugh, and Maglarion let a single drop of black plagueblood fall upon the skin of the lord’s throat.

Their laughter soon stopped.

The lord thrashed and struggled against the grip of Maglarion’s spell. As Caina watched, black cysts bloomed across his face and hands. The arms of his coat and the legs of his pants bulged as cysts swelled beneath the fabric. The cysts burst in rapid succession, tearing the poor man’s face to shreds, thick yellow pus and black blood oozing down his neck and shoulders.

Just as Alastair Corus had suffered, no doubt.

Caina curled her shaking hand into a fist, willing it to stillness. She wanted to save the nobleman, wanted to bury her throwing knives in Maglarion’s neck. But that would do no good. She had no weapon that could hurt Maglarion. Riogan had the ghostsilver blade, but even he could not move fast enough to kill Maglarion before he killed them both.

So she did nothing and watched the nobleman die.

Maglarion flicked a finger, and the corpse tumbled into the sitting room, blood and slime soaking into the thick carpet. 

“Remarkable,” said Caprinius, though he sounded a bit ill. “Forgive the question, but…ah, are we in any danger of infection?”

“None,” said Maglarion. “That is the beauty of it. Plagueblood is only contagious if its maker wishes it to be so.”

“Remarkable,” repeated Caprinius.

“Do you see the possibilities?” said Maglarion, returning the cork to the vial. “Plagueblood is a weapon against which there can be no defense. You can destroy the Ghosts and their allies among the lords with ease. The Emperor himself can die, if you wish. Once I teach you the secrets of creating plagueblood, no one can stand against you. No one.” 

The magi said nothing, but Caina saw the greed shining in their eyes.

“Yes,” said Caprinius. “You…speak wisdom, Maglarion.”

“In exchange for all that,” said Maglarion, spreading his hands, “conjuring a rainstorm over the city seems like a small price to pay.”

“So it does,” said Caprinius. He bowed to Maglarion, low and formal. “You shall have the storm you desire. Tomorrow night.”

“Thank you, master magus,” said Maglarion. “I look forward to our collaboration.”

The master magi and Rekan bowed, and started towards the door. Caina slid backwards along the couch, Riogan moving besides her, avoiding the eyes of the magi.

“Rekan,” said Maglarion, voice quiet.

Rekan stopped, turned. “What do you wish of me, Master?” Despite the dead man on the floor, despite the fact that Rekan was almost certainly a traitor, Caina was amused. Rekan had always been so arrogant. Now he hung on Maglarion’s words like a dog crouching before its master. 

“I have…an extra task for you,” said Maglarion.

Rekan returned to Maglarion’s side.

“Do you know Graywater Square?” said Maglarion.

“I do,” said Rekan. 

“You’re familiar, then, with the fountain there?” said Maglarion. 

Rekan nodded. “A remarkably fine fountain for such an impoverished district of the city. I believe it feeds off the Naerian Aqueduct.” 

“Indeed,” said Maglarion. He held out the plagueblood vial, and Rekan took it. “Take this and poison the fountain.”

“Master?” said Rekan. 

Maglarion smiled. “I wish one final test of the plagueblood. I am curious to see how long its effects will last. Graywater Square is quite crowded. I suspect…oh, two or three thousand people draw their drinking water from that fountain. I want to see how many of them shall die.” 

“Quite a few of them, I should think,” said Rekan, tucking the vial into his robes. “And you will send others into the city with the same mission, yes? To spread chaos before Lord Haeron takes the throne?” 

“Do not trouble yourself with that,” said Maglarion. “Others shall deal with the Naerian Aqueduct itself tomorrow. Merely do as I bid. Fulfill my commands, Rekan, and you shall have the reward I have promised. You shall have it to the full.”

Something ugly kindled in Rekan’s eyes. “Yes. Master.” 

“Good,” said Maglarion, walking around the nobleman’s body. “Oh, have some of Haeron’s servants tend to the corpse.” He smiled. “They’re rather used to it, by now.” 

Chapter 30 - My Name Is Caina

Caina tensed, preparing to tackle Rekan from behind.

But he stayed too close to Maglarion, and both sorcerers left the sitting room. 

She took a deep breath, ignoring the smell of blood and decay from the dead nobleman, and hurried across the sitting room. Then she opened the door and slid into the hallway, hand tight around the handle of a throwing knife.

Both Maglarion and Ikhana were gone. But she saw Rekan striding onto the balcony, black robes billowing around him. No doubt he was in a hurry to carry out Maglarion’s instructions.

To kill all those people in Graywater Square. 

Unless Caina stopped him. 

She started after Rekan.

Riogan’s hand closed about her shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Caina gave him an incredulous look. “To stop him.”

“Foolishness,” said Riogan. “He might have allies. Better to tell Halfdan. That way we can feed Rekan false information, and dispose of him later.”

“And what about all those people in Graywater Square?” said Caina.

Riogan shrugged. “Not our problem.”

Anger blazed up in Caina, and she almost struck him.

“You tell Halfdan,” said Caina. “I’m going after Rekan.”

Riogan did not let her go. 

“I’m going after Rekan,” said Caina, “unless you stop me.”

“Foolish girl,” said Riogan, but he released her shoulder.

“Just tell Halfdan what happened,” said Caina, and she hurried after Rekan. 

She did not have a hard time following him through the crowds. Rekan’s black magus robe made sure that even nobles gave him a wide berth. Caina followed as closely as she dared, murmuring apologies as she slipped past frowning nobles and scowling merchants. Then Rekan walked onto the grounds, and Caina hesitated.

No one in their right mind troubled a brother of the Imperial Magisterium, and Rekan could walk wherever he wanted. But a noblewoman in silk and jewels had no such luxury, especially in a rough neighborhood like Graywater Square. Almost certainly Caina would draw unwelcome attention, perhaps even robbers. 

And if she was delayed, if Rekan got too far ahead of her…thousands of people in Graywater Square would die. 

But Caina knew Malarae, and she knew the fastest way to Graywater Square. If she moved quickly, she could intercept Rekan. 

She sprinted to Halfdan’s coach. 

Shutting the door behind her, she knelt before the seat. A moment’s work had the secret compartment open, and she pulled out a bundle of clothing. 

The darkness of the shadow-cloak fell over her hands.

In a moment she stripped out of the blue gown and donned the black nightfighter clothes, the mask hiding her face, the cowl pulled up. She still smelled of perfume, but there was no time to wash. At least the shadow-cloak shielded her mind from any spells Rekan might throw at her.

She left the coach and hurried into the night, keeping to the shadows. Caina moved as fast as she dared, leaving the nobles’ mansions behind, entering the districts of the merchants and craftsmen. Yet she saw no sign of Rekan. If he had gotten past her, if he had taken a horse instead of walking…

Then she saw him in the dark street, stark and tall in his black robes. Caina hurried after him, flowing from shadow to shadow, her cloak blurring with the night. Plans flitted through her mind. Should she confront him? Perhaps he would tell something useful about Maglarion. Should she try to capture him? Almost certainly he knew something about Maglarion’s plans. 

Or should she simply kill him? Almost certainly she could not take him in a straight fight. If he brought his sorcery to bear against her, he would kill her quickly. 

And if Caina died, Rekan would murder everyone in Graywater Square. 

A dagger in the back, then. Before he had a chance to use his spells. Quick and easy, if not necessarily clean. 

She slipped a dagger from the sheath in her right boot. Step by step she closed upon Rekan, her feet making no sound against the street. From time to time Rekan stopped, glancing over his shoulder, but Caina melted into the shadows, and waited until he started walking again. 

The neighborhood changed from the sturdy houses of prosperous merchants to the tall, blocky squares of the apartment towers that housed Malarae’s poor. The air stank of smoke and soot, rising from the foundries and charcoal burners dotted among the apartments. 

And Rekan walked into Graywater Square. A half-dozen apartment towers encircled the broad plaza, their lower levels occupied with shops and taverns. Merchant stalls and peddlers’ booths, closed for the night, stood in rows. A massive fountain of carved stone adorned the plaza’s center, decorated with statues, water falling from their arms to splash in shallow pool. In the distance, Caina saw the tall stone arches of the Naerian Aqueduct. 

Rekan stopped, and Caina hesitated. Maybe she had been wrong about him. Perhaps he had only been playing along with Maglarion. Had Halfdan had ordered him to uncover Maglarion’s secrets? 

Then Rekan smirked, drew the plagueblood vial from his robe, and walked towards the fountain.

Caina made up her mind.

She broke into a run. Rekan froze, turning as he heard her footsteps, but he was too late. Caina sprang upon his back, arm wrapping about his throat, dagger angled to slide between his ribs and into his heart. 

She stabbed, all her strength and momentum behind the blow. 

But the blade rebounded as if it had struck a stone wall.

Caina blinked in astonishment, felt the tingle against her arm.

Sorcery. Evidently Rekan had had the foresight to ward himself against steel weapons. 

He bellowed, and Caina felt another surge of power as his will lashed out. Invisible force struck her, ripped her from his back, sent her flying. He didn’t hit nearly as hard as Maglarion, but hard enough. Caina struck the ground, rolling to absorb the momentum, and scrambled back to her feet, dagger ready.

Rekan stared at her, eyes wary. Her skin crawled as he gathered arcane power for another spell.

“So,” said Rekan. “Halfdan finally figured out that I played him false, did he? Is that you, Riogan?”

Caina said nothing.

“Turn around and run,” said Rekan, “and I might let you live.” 

Still Caina said nothing. 

“You can’t stop Maglarion,” said Rekan. “You can’t even kill him. I heard how the Ghosts tried to assassinate him. A crossbow bolt through the chest and a fall from the balcony, and he survived.” He smirked. “Run along, or I’ll hand you over to Maglarion…and you wouldn’t like that at all.” 

“You betrayed the Ghosts,” said Caina, speaking in her rasping, disguised voice. She stepped to the side. Steel couldn’t touch him, but flesh could; she had gotten an arm around his neck, after all. If she could get close enough, find something else to use as a weapon… “Why?”

Rekan laughed. “You actually ask why?” Caina took another step to the side. “The Ghosts paid me in mere gold. Maglarion will pay me with immortality. Can you match that price, Ghost?” He flexed his fingers, and Caina felt the tingle sharpen against her skin. “One last chance, Ghost. Leave, and I’ll let you live.”

“No,” said Caina, taking one more step to the side. Empty clay pots and jars stood on the counter of a nearby booth. 

Rekan blinked in surprise. “No? You dare to challenge my power…”

“If you were going to kill me,” said Caina, “you would have done it already. You wouldn’t have wasted time with that idiotic speech about immortality.” 

Rekan’s eyes narrowed. “Let us see about that.”

He thrust out his hand.

But Caina was already in motion. She seized one of the jars and flung it. The jar struck Rekan in the face and shattered, and he stumbled back with a scream, blood flying from his mouth. Invisible force lashed at Caina, but his aim was off, and she spun past the spell. 

She grabbed another pair of jars and ran at him. Rekan staggered, leaning against the fountain as he recovered his balance, and she flung another jar at him. He tried to dodge, but Caina anticipated it, and the jar bounced off his chin. Rekan stumbled and Caina crashed into him, smashing the final jar across his face. The magus slumped back against the edge of the fountain, stunned, and Caina grabbed his collar, intending to shove his head under the water until he stopped breathing.

Even a master magus would have trouble casting spells then.

Rekan screamed and flung out a hand. Invisible force erupted in all directions, making the fountain’s water erupt. The blast knocked Caina backwards, sent her sprawling to the ground, her mask knocked askew, her cowl falling back. She scrambled to her feet, but Rekan lifted his hand and pointed.

His will hammered into her mind like a thunderbolt.

Caina fell to one knee before him, grimacing. She felt his mind rummaging through her thoughts like a groping hand, and without her cowl, she was not protected from his mental attacks. 

“Lie down,” growled Rekan, blood dripping from his lips. “I order you to lie down.”

Caina fought back, as she’d fought against her mother, as she’d fought against Rekan himself in the Vineyard. She rallied her rage, pushing Rekan’s will further and further back. Rekan’s eyes bulged with strain, sweat dripping down his face to mingle with the blood. 

Caina shuddered, and her mask slipped all the way off.

Rekan’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Marianna!” 

His will wavered.

Caina leapt forward, all her anger pushing aside Rekan’s mental attack, and seized one of the pottery shards from the ground. She crashed into Rekan, burying the broken shard in his throat. Rekan fell besides the fountain, choking on his own blood, and Caina stared into his terrified eyes.

“My name,” she hissed, “is Caina.” 

She pushed the pottery shard into his throat until he stopped thrashing. 

Then Caina climbed off Rekan and looked around, tugging her mask and cowl back into place. No one had noticed their fight. Or if anyone had, they knew better than to interfere in a fight between a magus and a shadow-cloaked figure. 

She dug through Rekan’s sash. If the vial of plagueblood had shattered during their fight…

Her fingers closed about something icy cold.

It hadn’t.

Caina lifted the vial, staring at it. She felt its necromantic power, the concentrated death gathered within the glass. It should have repulsed her. 

And yet…and yet it did not. 

She felt drawn to the plagueblood. As if it were a missing part of her that she had only now rediscovered. For a moment she felt an overwhelming urge to remove the cork and drink.

Remembering what had happened to Alastair and the fat noble made the urge easy to resist. 

She tucked the vial into her belt. Leaving Rekan’s corpse in the open would warn Maglarion that something had gone amiss, so she looked around for a wagon to steal.

###

Later that night she sat in one of the rooms below the Grand Imperial Opera. Halfdan, Riogan, Theodosia, and Julia stood nearby, while Rekan’s corpse lay sprawled upon a table. The great theater had been rebuilt and renovated a dozen times over its history, creating a maze of forgotten rooms and corridors below the workshops.

Theodosia knew them all, of course. Including the best place to hide the body of a slain magus

“That was,” said Halfdan, when Caina had finished telling her story, “a very foolish risk you took.”

Caina nodded. “I know.” She leaned against the wall. Rekan’s spells had given her more bruises than she had thought, and the cool stone felt good against her back. “But I did it anyway.”

“And well you did,” said Julia, while Riogan scoffed. “He would have murdered all those people, otherwise.” She shivered. “All those children.”

“You could very easily have been killed,” said Halfdan.

“I know,” said Caina, again. “But I wasn’t. And if I could have stopped him at the cost of my life…for three thousand people, that would have been a fair bargain, I think.” 

“The Ghosts defend the Empire’s commoners,” said Halfdan, face grave. Then he smiled. “You did well, Caina. A risk…but it paid off.”

Riogan grunted, but said nothing. 

“I lived in Graywater Square when I was a child,” said Theodosia, voice quiet. “I drank from that fountain every day.” She shivered. “That Maglarion wanted to poison that water and kill so many people…gods, but I should not be surprised at the depth of his evil, not any longer.”

“But why?” said Julia. “What could he possibly gain from it?”

Riogan shrugged. “He’s a magus, a necromancer. Why not?” 

“No,” murmured Caina, staring at Rekan’s corpse. “That’s not it.” 

“What, then?” said Riogan. “Have you figured it out?”

Caina took a deep breath, thoughts tumbling through her mind.

“Power,” she said. “It’s about power. Power is the only thing Maglarion cares about. I remember…I remember him talking about bloodcrystals.”

“What exactly is a bloodcrystal?” said Julia. 

“A product of necromantic science,” said Halfdan. “A necromancer can use blood to create a kind of crystal, when then can store stolen life energy. Sort of like a…reservoir of power the necromancer can tap at will.” 

“Or a drain,” murmured Caina. “A sponge.”

All those people drinking from the fountain. So much death, all at once…

“A drain?” said Halfdan. “What do you mean?”

“Maglarion made bloodcrystals that absorbed the power from any death within a certain radius,” said Caina. “I watched him demonstrate.” She remembered her father, sagging in the slavers’ grip as Maglarion buried the dagger in his chest. “He killed my…he killed a man ten paces from a bloodcrystal, but the power released from his death drained into the crystal. Made it larger, made it start to glow. It astonished his students. They had never seen anything like it.” Thoughts clicked together in her head. “He must have learned how to do it from my father’s Maatish scroll, from the necromancers of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun. And he must have spent the last seven years learning how to make plagueblood. And…and…” 

And just like that, the answer came to her.