Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) (49 page)

“Thank you,” said Caina.

Kylon blinked. “For what?”

“Everything,” said Caina.

He smiled back at her, and they headed for the Cyrican harbor.

Epilogue

Kalgri stepped onto the rooftop of the palace of Grand Master Callatas, a broad golden dome rising overhead and glinting in the sun.

The compass rested in her left hand, its ghostsilver needle motionless. Unless Kalgri missed her guess, Caina was somewhere in the Cyrican Quarter at the moment. Likely her next stop was the Cyrican harbor, hoping to find a ship to take her and the Staff and Seal of Iramis to Catekharon. There was little chance of that. The ships had fled the city like rats, hoping to escape Cassander’s wrath, and would not return for a few days.

Kalgri needed far less time than that.

She lifted her face towards the sun, smelling the smoke from the fires scattered across the city, and smiled.

It was time to kill the world. 

The Voice shivered with pleasure at the thought. 

A walkway encircled the base of the dome, an ornate marble railing guarding the edge. Kalgri strolled along the walkway until she found Grand Master Callatas leaning against the railing, his white robes rippling around his slight form in the hot wind. He gazed at the mass of the city, his face tight and hard and angry beneath the jeweled turban. 

The Star of Iramis rested against his chest, a fist-sized lump of azure crystal that shone with titanic force to the Voice’s senses. 

Kalgri let her boot click against the floor, and Callatas turned towards her, his gray eyes hot with fury.

“Father,” said Kalgri, “it is so very good to…”

“I am not your father,” said Callatas. “Do not call me that.” A shiver of fury went through him. “And where the hell have you been?” 

“Wandering about,” said Kalgri.

That set him off. 

He stalked forward and slapped her, much harder than she would have expected, and Kalgri stumbled against the base of the golden dome.

“I told you,” said Callatas, “to find Caina Amalas and kill her. When you failed at that, I let you assist Cassander for the purposes of finding her and killing her. I did not tell you to assist Callatas as he went on a rampage through Istarinmul!”

Kalgri shrugged. “People die. It is their purpose. It’s what they do.” She smiled at him. “You taught me that.” 

Callatas slapped her again, and Kalgri grinned. She had not seen him so angry in a very long time. He was so angry, in fact, that the purple fire and shadow of the nagataaru pulsed in his gray eyes, and the Voice quailed in fear of the creature that inhabited the Grand Master. 

“I have invested nearly a century and a half of work in Istarinmul,” said Callatas. “Work I cannot employ if Cassander burns the city to the ground!”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have insulted him,” said Kalgri, “if you didn’t wish him to burn down the city.”

Callatas let out an exasperated growl. “That was Erghulan’s work, the damned fool. His damned pride will be the end of him. Even now he is hiding in the Padishah’s palace, expecting me to wave my hand and save him from Tanzir Shahan.” 

“Then perhaps,” said Kalgri, rubbing her jaw, “you should not have promised Cassander to open the Starfall Straits to the Order when you had no intention of doing so.” 

Callatas started to shout again, but a cold hardness fell over his face. “Perhaps.”

“Alas, father,” said Kalgri, “you may be a brilliant man, but political games are not your strength.”

“Do not,” said Callatas, “test my patience.”

Kalgri laughed. “If it will make you feel better, Cassander is dead.” 

Callatas grunted. “You killed him?”

“No,” said Kalgri. “Caina Amalas did.”

“Do not be absurd. Caina Amalas is dead,” said Callatas.

“Cassander thought that, too,” said Kalgri. “Look at where it got him.” 

Callatas just stared at her. She had been one of his first creations, and he had given her a great deal more freedom than he intended. He could not kill her, and could not compel her to obey him, though she usually did in the end. Yet she could not lie to him. 

“She is alive,” said Kalgri. “It seems when Cassander tried to kill her, he made a botch of it and she became a valikarion. The first valikarion to walk the face of this world since you burned Iramis.” 

“A valikarion,” snapped Callatas. “The last thing I need. I hope Cassander died in agony for his folly.” He gave a sharp shake of his head, stalking back to the railing. “I may need to abandon Istarinmul and renew the work of the Apotheosis elsewhere. The Teskilati are destroyed and the Brotherhood slaughtered. I can make no additional wraithblood, and my supplies will soon be expended. I could defend the city from Tanzir Shahan with my spells, but I would wind up destroying Istarinmul in the process.” He struck his fists against the stone railing. “A century and a half of work ruined! Damn Cassander, damn Erghulan, and damn Caina Amalas!”

Kalgri laughed. “Do not be so morose, father. Victory is at hand…and the Apotheosis will come soon. Perhaps even this very day, if you wish it.”

Callatas glared at her, shadow and purple flame gathering in his hands. “What nonsense are you babbling?”

“All you need to finish the Apotheosis,” said Kalgri, “are the Staff of Iramis and the Seal of Iramis.”

Callatas said nothing, his eyes narrowing. “I have spent a century and a half searching for the regalia of the Princes without success. What of the Staff and the Seal?” 

Kalgri smiled and lifted the compass. “Would you like to know where they are?” 

THE END

Thank you for reading GHOST IN THE THRONE. Look for Caina's next adventure, GHOST IN THE PACT, to appear in 2016. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review at your ebook site of choice. To receive immediate notification of new releases, 
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