Ghost in the Maze (12 page)

Kazravid gave Nasser an incredulous look. “A woman? This is no business for a woman.”

“I accept talent,” said Nasser, “wherever it is found. Whether in a disgraced magus, a former gladiator, or an exiled Anshani anjar.” 

“Well and good,” said Kazravid, “but a wraithblood addict? They can’t think straight, Glasshand. They can’t control themselves. We always risk our lives on these little ventures of yours, and we need reliable men. Not addled wraithblood addicts. She’ll betray us for a drop of the blood. Watch. I’ll prove it.” He grinned like a wolf at Nerina. “You want some wraithblood? I’ll give you all the wraithblood you want. Took this off one of the thugs the moneylenders sent to break my thumbs.” 

He reached into his robe and drew out a glass vial filled with thick black slime. Caina felt the faint aura of sorcery from the thing, similar to the aura she felt around pale-eyed wraithblood addicts. 

Nerina took a sharp breath. “No, thank you. I do not want it.”

“You do,” said Kazravid, grinning behind his black beard. “I can see it. Why don’t you take off all your clothes and dance for us on the table? You’re too skinny for my taste, but any port in a storm will do. Depending on how well you entertain me, I might buy you even more wraithblood…”

“No,” said Nerina, taking a step back as a shudder went through her frame. “No, I do not…”

She jerked to the side as Azaces pushed past her, his huge scimitar making a steely hiss as he drew it. Kazravid sprang to his feet and drew his own scimitar, just barely dodging Azaces’s slash. Tarqaz shouted in alarm and backed into the corner, his eyes huge, while Laertes cursed and drew his broadsword. Caina reached for one of the throwing knives in her sleeve…

“That is enough!”

Nasser’s voice thundered like a trumpet, and every eye turned toward him. He stepped closer to the table, his face a mask of fury. Kazravid took a step back, while Azaces watched with wary eyes. 

“We are men of business,” said Nasser, “and this is hardly a way to launch an enterprise! Certainly not if we wish the enterprise to be profitable. Azaces, lower your sword and stand down. Kazravid, I have chosen every man and woman here, you included, for a specific purpose. If you mistrust my judgment, you are free to leave without any ill will on my part. But if you choose to join this enterprise, you will not provoke my associates without cause. I trust I am understood?” 

The iron in his voice impressed Caina. He sounded like a man who had led soldiers into battle. It briefly reminded her of Ark leading the Imperial Guard and the ashtairoi against the golden dead in New Kyre. 

Kazravid lowered his eyes first. “Very well. But you had best have a good reason for involving a wraithblood addict, Glasshand. They cannot be trusted.” 

Strabane snorted. “Said the man at the meeting of thieves.” He had continued calmly eating his skewer of meat throughout the confrontation. He licked it clean, tossed it aside, and started on another.

“Trust, while a fine virtue,” said Nasser, his voice returning to its usual calm rumble, “is unnecessary for us. We have a confluence of interests, and that is more reliable than trust.” 

“And what interest is that?” said Anaxander, blinking his bloodshot eyes.

“Money,” said Nasser, and a nod of assent came from the other men. “And discomforting our enemies. Speaking of that, Tarqaz, please sit down. No one shall hurt you here.”

The eunuch swallowed and sat back at the table, sweat glittering on his doughy face. He reminded Caina somewhat of Nicorus, the renegade magus who had sheltered among the dockside warehouses of Marsis. Though that was not a favorable comparison, given that Nicorus had tried to betray Caina, and she had wound up killing him. 

“Laertes,” said Nasser. “We can begin. The door.” The grizzled veteran nodded and stood by the door, listening for anyone who might approach. “There is wine, coffee, and food on the table, should you feel the need for refreshment.”

Caina crossed to the table, poured herself a cup of coffee, and stood next to Nerina. The coffee was black and bitter and unpleasant, but it was hot, and if it came to violence she could fling it in an attacker’s face.

“Undoubtedly you are wondering why I have called you here,” said Nasser. 

“The thought,” said Kazravid, shooting a sour glance at Azaces, “had crossed my mind.”

“We have worked together before, Kazravid, Anaxander, Strabane,” said Nasser, “and I assure you that Master Ciaran and Mistress Nerina possess useful expertise for the task at hand.”

“So you propose a heist, then?” said Strabane, chewing a chunk of meat. 

“What are we going to steal?” said Kazravid, leaning forward.

“We shall steal one hundred vials of Elixir Restorata from Grand Master Callatas,” said Nasser.

Stunned silence answered his pronouncement. 

Then a roar of laughter.

Tarqaz twitched a bit, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Aye,” said Kazravid, still laughing. “And then we’ll steal the jewels from the Golden Palace and the diadem from the Padishah’s head.”

“Or the fire from the sun,” said Strabane.

“The odds of success in such a venture,” said Nerina, “would be slight beyond even my ability to compute.”

“What the madwoman said,” said Kazravid. He paused. “By the Living Flame and the Seven Emissaries, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Utterly,” said Nasser, the white smile flashing over his face. 

“But Callatas is one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world,” said Anaxander, reaching for his wine cup. “Even the First Magus of the Magisterium feared him.”

“Didn’t the Empire just beat Istarinmul in a war not a year and a half past?” said Kazravid, looking to Laertes. 

“Aye,” said Anaxander, “but none of the Alchemists took the field against the Legions and the battle magi.”

“Rumor has it that Callatas forbid the Alchemists from taking part because he thought the war folly,” said Laertes. 

“Wise of him,” said Strabane, finishing off his second skewer, “given that the Padishah lost the war.”

“We wander afield from the point,” said Nasser. “I say that Callatas’s palace can be robbed.”

“How?” said Kazravid, his eyes narrowing.

“For three reasons,” said Nasser. He gestured at Tarqaz. “First, we have a man on the inside who shall aid us.”

“I am one of the three chief seneschals of the master’s palace,” said Tarqaz in his soft, high voice. “My chief responsibility is the maintenance of the interior of the palace. Right now the other two seneschals and the master believe I am negotiating with the merchants of the Cyrican Quarter for a better price on wine for the banquet.”

“So you’re betraying your master, eh?” said Kazravid. He spat upon the floor. “In Anshan we crucify slaves who betray their masters.”

Tarqaz flinched. “I know this, my lord anjar.”

“The penalties for stealing from an Alchemist,” said Nasser, “are hardly less severe.”

“Aye, but there’s a difference between stealing from a stranger and stealing from your master,” said Kazravid, pointing at Tarqaz. “I want an answer, eunuch. Why are you betraying your master? For money? Is Nasser paying you? That’s contemptible – and if you betray your master for money, it means you’ll betray us for a far smaller sum.”

Tarqaz quailed, sweating beneath Kazravid’s glare. Yet a hint of steel seemed to flash in his brown eyes, and he drew himself up.

“I did not betray my master,” hissed Tarqaz. “He betrayed me when he murdered my sister! Killed her in his laboratories to make his filthy wraithblood. Oh, yes! I shall share my master’s secrets with you. He makes the wraithblood in his laboratories, manufactures it from the blood of slaves tortured to death on his tables, and then gives the poison to the people of Istarinmul.”

Kazravid snorted. “A likely tale.”

“No,” said Caina in a quiet voice, and the men looked at her. “Tarqaz speaks the truth. I have seen two such laboratories myself.” 

“Both Ciaran and Tarqaz are correct,” said Nasser. “Callatas produces the wraithblood from the blood of murdered slaves and maintains a network of agents to distribute it.”

Caina glanced at Nerina. The locksmith looked even paler than usual, her eerie eyes wide and unblinking, a tremor going through her hands. The revelation that she had consumed the blood of murdered slaves for years could not have been pleasant. Of course, she hadn’t chosen to consume wraithblood – Ragodan Strake had forcibly addicted her to it. 

For just a moment, Caina thought she saw a hint of guilt flash across Azaces’s face. 

But it was gone an instant later. 

“Well,” muttered Kazravid, patting his pocket. “Just as well I never tried the stuff. A drug for commoners anyway.”

“Tarqaz,” said Caina. “Do you know why Callatas is making the wraithblood?” 

Tarqaz shrugged. “To increase his own power. That is the only reason why my master does anything.” He scowled. “That is why he murdered my sister.”

“So,” said Nasser. “If you will not accept money as a suitable motivation for Tarqaz, Kazravid…does vengeance meet with your approval?” 

“I suppose,” said Kazravid.

“You said we had two other advantages,” said Strabane. “What are they?”

“Aye,” said Anaxander. “Most likely Callatas has many mighty wards around his palace, spells to warn him against intruders and to destroy any attackers.”

“Can you not wave your hands and dispel them?” said Kazravid. 

Anaxander coughed. “No more than you could draw your sword and disperse an attacking army.”

“Callatas’s laboratory is hidden in the heart of a labyrinth called the Maze,” said Nasser. “The Maze, as you might expect, is ringed round with potent wards and spells. The only way through is with an enspelled ring called a pyrikon that disables the defenses and allows the bearer to enter.”

“The master gives such rings to his favored disciples,” said Tarqaz. 

“You’ve acquired one?” said Strabane.

Caina kept her left hand close to her side.

“I have,” said Nasser.

“How, might I ask?” said Kazravid. 

Nasser smiled. “I know a man who runs faster than Immortals.”

Kazravid waved a hand. “Keep your secrets, then. What is the third advantage?” 

“In twelve days, Callatas will hold a grand feast celebrating the Fall of Iramis,” said Nasser. “If you have even the slightest familiarity with history, you will know that Callatas destroyed the city of Iramis a century and a half past, and glories in his deed to his very day.” 

“The household labors to prepare the banquet and the entertainments,” said Tarqaz. 

“Every noble, Alchemist, and merchant of any prominence is invited,” said Nasser, “and at least half of them shall attend. The preparation of such a banquet, and accommodating so large a multitude, generates a great deal of chaos.” 

“Oh, truly,” said Tarqaz, rubbing a hand along his bald head. “There are so many preparations to be made. Tables arranged, chairs moved, food ordered…why, we purchase enough food to feed half the city! Enough wine to float a Kyracian warship! Finding a place to store it all before the banquet is a challenge. Especially since we must not disrupt the master’s work. Fortunately his laboratory is secured behind the Maze.”

“Hardly fortunate,” said Strabane, “since we need to enter it.” 

“I disagree,” said Nasser. “Most of the Grand Master’s guests shall remain in the public areas of his palace, within the inner courtyard and colonnades. A few of his favorites shall likely receive entrance into the palace proper, but most of Callatas’s Immortals will be watching over the crowds in the courtyards. Giving us the perfect opportunity to enter into the Maze.” 

“Which will likely be guarded,” said Strabane.

“Yes,” said Nasser, “but we are all stealthy fellows, are we not?” 

“Some more than others,” said Kazravid, shooting a glance at Tarqaz.

“The plan,” said Nasser, “is for Tarqaz to forge an invitation for us to the banquet. We shall then attend, disguised and unnoticed. Among the thousands of guests, so long as we are careful we shall not draw notice. We will then make our way to the Maze, and use the stolen pyrikon to bypass its defenses and enter Callatas’s laboratory. From there we shall steal the vials of Elixir Restorata, and then make our escape. Each of you has been chosen because of your skills and abilities. Tarqaz, you can get us inside. Anaxander, your skills will be useful in warning of arcane traps and dispelling any wards we find. Mistress Strake, you can deal with any locks that bar our way. Kazravid, you are the best archer in Istarinmul…”

“Obviously,” said Kazravid.

“Which will be useful if we need to escape,” said Nasser. “I assume you have no trouble loosing an arrow with a rope attached?”

“Of course not,” said Kazravid. “Though don’t expect a long range, given the added weight of the rope.”

“Laertes and Strabane,” said Nasser, “you can deal with any opponents we chance to encounter.”

Strabane chuckled. “That is my specialty. Skulls crushed with my bare hands.” He slapped his hands together, the muscles of his massive arms bulging. “The crowds in the Ring loved it.” 

“And Ciaran?” said Kazravid. “What will he do?”

“Useful things,” said Caina.

Kazravid grunted. “How shall we divide the spoils?”

“I shall take thirty of the vials for myself,” said Nasser. “Each of you will receive ten. You are welcome to steal any other treasures you find, but only if they do not endanger the enterprise as a whole…and if you are willing to carry them out of the palace yourself.”

“Fair enough,” said Kazravid. “The sale of one vial would let me live like a king for the rest of my days. I am in.”

“As am I,” said Strabane. 

“So am I,” said Anaxander. 

Laertes nodded. “I am with you.” 

Tarqaz sighed, licked his lips, and managed a nod. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“So do I,” said Nasser. “Mistress Strake?”

“The odds of success do not appear to be high,” said Nerina, “but are nonetheless more significant than I anticipated. It sounds like an intriguing puzzle. I shall assist you.”

“And you, Master Ciaran?” said Nasser. “Will you join in our enterprise?”