Ghost Mimic (4 page)

I had seen her wear many disguises, masquerading as caravan guards and scribes and minor officials of the Padishah’s court, but for all that, I had only seen her dress as a woman a few times. Given the dangerous nature of her work, I understood her reasons. Yet today she had dressed herself in the blue gown of an Istarish noblewoman, tight across the bodice and sleeves with a long, flowing skirt, the sleeves and hems adorned with black scrollwork. A blue headscarf covered her black hair, and she wore a silver choker chain with a sapphire the size of an egg against her throat, similar jewelry glittering upon her ears and fingers. She had even applied makeup, making her eyes look larger, her lips redder, her cheekbones sharper. The overall impression was one of wealth and cold loveliness. It was indeed a pity that there were no young men upon whom she had her eye, for she would surely draw his attention with…

Ah! I am indeed turning into a meddlesome old woman, damn it all. At least that would serve me well when it came time to find wives for Bahad and Bayram. 

I hurried across the room as I would for a noble guest. “Welcome, my lady, to the House of Agabyzus. Be welcome here and take your ease.” 

Caina gave me an aloof look. “I desire a private room.” She spoke with the slurred accent of a noblewoman from Istarish Cyrica. “My guest shall arrive presently, and we shall require coffee and cakes.” 

“Of course, my lady,” I said. “This way.” I gestured to Bahad, and he ran to set up one of the rooms as we had discussed as I led Caina and the two men across the common room. 

“Is everything ready?” said Caina in a quiet voice, the Cyrican accent vanishing. 

“Aye,” I said. I took a deep breath. “And I am ready to play my part.” I hesitated. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Caina smiled. “A bit overdone, isn’t it? Sankar likely expects to speak with a hardened master thief, not a pretty young noblewoman. Anything that rattles his expectations will be helpful.” 

“It is a pretty dress,” I said, “and you wear it well.”

This time the smile almost touched her eyes. “Why, thank you. It is a pretty dress, isn’t it? I don’t often get to dress this way any longer. I might as well enjoy it.” 

“A pity there are no young men courting you,” I said. “It would…”

She froze a little when I said that, just a little, but from someone as self-controlled as her it was almost like a shout. I was thunderstruck. There was a young man? She had seemed distracted ever since the destruction of the Craven’s Tower. 

“Maybe,” said Caina, “I shall tell you about that sometime.” 

She climbed the stairs with Malcolm and Azaces, Bahad showing the way. As it turned out, she timed it perfectly. About three minutes after she vanished up the stairs, Sankar stormed into the common room, still wearing the leather armor of a noble courier. He looked around, and his black eyes narrowed as he saw me.

“Mistress Damla,” he hissed as he stalked across the room. 

I swallowed. “Master Sankar.” Caina wanted me to show fear, and as I looked at Sankar’s soulless eyes, I had to admit that showing fear was not difficult. 

“I entrusted my master’s property to your keeping,” said Sankar, “and it has been stolen from beneath your roof! This is outrageous! I shall bring a lawsuit before the hakim of the Cyrican Bazaar for your negligence! I…”

I let out a quiet little sob, and Sankar stumbled over his tirade in mid-sentence.

“Sir,” I whispered. “I had no choice. They broke into the House in the middle of the night and held a knife to my throat. I had to do as they wished.”

Sankar growled. “That is…”

“They want to talk to you,” I said.

He blinked. “What?” 

“They told me to bring you to them,” I said, my voice trembling, a little quiver in my jaw. “They are waiting upstairs.”

He started at me, and I guessed at his thoughts. Simple thieves would have made off with the box, or been killed by its traps. Some other organization was at work here. Lord Tanzir’s spies? (I wondered if he had any.) The Kindred? The College of Alchemists? A rival faction within the Teskilati? A spy, Caina had told me, had to stay paranoid to stay alive, and I saw the wheels turning behind Sankar’s eyes as his paranoia kicked in. 

“Very well,” said Sankar. “Take me to them.” He straightened up, his hand brushing the hilt of his scimitar. “You will keenly regret any treachery, woman.”

I gave him a frightened nod and led the way up the stairs to the second floor. I stopped before the room Caina had chosen and pointed to the door. “Here.”

Sankar smirked. “You first.” 

I nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Beyond was a small bedroom, equipped with a narrow bed, a pair of chairs, and a table. Malcolm and Azaces stood silent by the walls. Caina sat at the table, taking a calm sip of her coffee.

Sankar stared at her, and Caina offered him a cold smile.

“What is this?” said Sankar. 

“Thank you, mistress Damla,” said Caina with that slurred Cyrican accent. “Do remain. It would be best for all concerned that you contribute to our discussion.”

“What is this?” said Sankar. “State your purpose, woman.”

“Master Sankar, welcome,” said Caina. “You arrived as I expected. Would you care for some coffee? It is the Istarish custom to discuss business over coffee. I find it an enjoyable practice, and you and I have business.” 

“Who are you?” said Sankar.

“I suppose,” said Caina, “you can call me Atagaria.” 

Sankar barked a harsh laugh. “The old Cyrican goddess of thieves and tricksters? A little obvious.”

“Well,” said Caina, “it will serve for now. Who I really am is of little interest. What I want is of far greater importance.”

“You stole the emir’s trapbox,” said Sankar. 

“By myself?” said Caina. “It was ever so heavy. My friends carried it out for me. Regrettably, the first two locksmiths we hired to open it died in considerable pain. Therefore we permitted mistress Damla to inform the local hakim of the crime…and you turned up.”

“What do you want?” said Sankar. I saw his hand twitch towards his scimitar hilt. Likely he thought that Caina had lured him here to kill him and take the keys to the trapbox. 

“Not your life, certainly,” said Caina. She spread here hands. “Where, I ask, would be the profit in that? No, we have invited you here to make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” said Sankar. I saw his wariness. Likely he feared the consequences of failing his masters in the Teskilati, but if he was clever, there was a way to recover from this setback. 

“I presume there are two sets of keys to the trapbox,” said Caina. “One held by your master the emir, and one held by you, his trusted servant. I propose you bring us the keys, and in exchange, we will give you a portion of the wealth contained within the box.” 

Sankar said nothing. He knew that opening the box would lead to a catastrophic explosion. Above all he would want to get the trapbox back with its supply of Hellfire intact. 

“You are wasting your time,” said Sankar. “The box contains nothing but the emir’s legal documents. Valuable to the magistrates, surely, but you will be unable to turn them into ready coin.”

“Come now, Master Sankar,” said Caina. She lifted the coffee and took a sip, as calmly as if she sat alone in the common room. “I know how much that kind of Strigosti trapbox weighs, and it is considerably heavier than it should be. The emir has secured a supply of gold within the box, has he not? For I did not choose my target at random. I know Emir Turlagon offended the Grand Wazir, and I know he is fleeing the city to join the rebels in the south. A man fleeing the city will not waste time with legal documents. No, he will take as much money as he can carry.” 

For a long moment Sankar said nothing.

“Supposing all that you say is true,” said Sankar, “what do you propose?”

“It’s time to leave Istarinmul,” said Caina. “The realm is about to rip itself apart in civil war. Maybe the emir Tanzir shall win, or maybe the Grand Wazir shall win. Either way a lot of people shall die, and I prefer to be gone by then, living off the gold from Turlagon’s trapbox.” She smiled. “Perhaps you shall enjoy your own share from the emir’s trapbox.”

Sankar hesitated just long enough to make it believable. “How much of a share?”

“Ten percent seems reasonable,” said Caina. 

Sankar shook his head. “A third.”

“A quarter, then,” said Caina.

“Done,” said Sankar. He hesitated. “How do you suggest we proceed?”

“Rationally, with precautions for both sides,” said Caina. “Bloodshed costs too much. I shall rent a room at the Inn of the Crescent Moon this evening. Arrive alone, with the keys, and we shall unlock the trapbox together. Are these terms acceptable?”

“Entirely,” said Sankar. “You have a deal, Mistress Atagaria. I’ve had enough of Emir Turlagon’s arrogance, and I intend to get out of Istarinmul before the Grand Wazir hangs the emir and all of his men. I shall meet you at the Inn of the Crescent Moon at sundown.” 

“A pleasure,” said Caina, sipping some more coffee. 

Sankar nodded and strode out of the room. 

For a moment I stood in silence, watching Caina, who kept sipping the coffee.

“Do you think it worked?” I said.

“Probably,” said Caina.

“Oh, it worked, mistress Damla,” said Malcolm. He started to spit, caught my glare, and thought better of it. “He was just like the Lord Lieutenant’s underlings when they made a mistake at the Inferno. The bastard knows it’s his head if he doesn’t pull this off, and he sees a chance to save himself.” 

Azaces nodded as he crossed to the window and peered outside. 

“He’s going to go round up a squad of soldiers,” said Caina. “Maybe even Immortals, if he has the authority. Then he’ll set up a trap for us at the Inn of the Crescent Moon. He gets the trapbox back intact, and if he captures us alive, he has a few prisoners to sell as slaves.” She finished her coffee and set down the cup. “But first, he’s going to visit the nearest Teskilati safe house…and I think we’re about to find out where it is.”

I heard light footsteps in the hallway, and the door opened. Nerina Strake stepped into the room, dressed in the dusty robes and turban of the Istarish nomads who wandered the Trabazon steppes south of the city. She was much too pale to pass as Istarish, but the nomads tended to be shorter than the city-dwellers, and she was definitely short enough to play the part.

“I returned nine hundred and forty-seven seconds sooner than I calculated,” announced Nerina. 

“Did you see where Sankar went?” said Malcolm.

“Aye, I did,” said Nerina. “He did not go far…”

“He went around the corner to the Scratched Penny, didn’t he?” said Caina.

Nerina blinked. “Yes. How did you calculate that?”

“I’ve thought the Teskilati had a safe house or a hidden room in that tavern,” said Caina, “but I’ve never been able to prove it. Sankar just confirmed it.”

“I am not surprised,” I said. “That tavern is a place of ill repute. I am surprised that the hakim never ordered it closed.” The Cyrican Quarter was one of the safer quarters in Istarinmul, partly because of the presence of so many watchmen, but mostly because the merchants of the Cyrican Bazaar and the docks hired so many guards to keep watch over their wares. The Scratched Penny was the exception to that rule. It had a reputation as a den of thieves, and according to rumor it was the best place to buy wraithblood in the Cyrican Quarter. 

“Probably the hakim never ordered it closed,” said Caina, “because the Teskilati wished for it to remain open.”

“Knowing the hakim, he received a handsome bribe for it as well,” I said.

“Likely,” said Caina. “Nerina, were you able to make the keys?”

Nerina nodded and reached into her robe, producing three fresh-cut steel keys. From what Caina had told me, the first two keys would disarm the traps upon box, while the third would unlock the lid itself. Of course, the blade traps might have been disarmed, but opening the lid would shatter the Hellfire containers and expose the dangerous substance to air.

“It took less time than I had initially calculated,” said Nerina. “In all probability the Strigosti made the locks upon this box simpler in order to expedite the more efficient killing of thieves.” 

“Yes,” said Caina. “Which will come in handy when we open the box inside the Scratched Penny.” 

“Well, that should be easy enough,” I said. “We just walk in, unlock the box, and then depart.”

Caina shook her head. “We cannot let Sankar or anyone else see us. The point is to have the assassination attempt fail so badly that the masters of the Teskilati blame it upon the bumbling of their agents. If they know we deliberately foiled their plan, they will simply try again, or find a way to retaliate against us. We need…”

I heard running footsteps in the hallway, and the door opened again.

“Mother?” said Bahad, sticking his head into the bedroom. 

“Bahad,” I said. “What’s wrong?” I had told him not to disturb us. If the meeting had gone sour, I had no doubt that Sankar would have tried to use my sons as hostages. Yet I knew Bahad would not interrupt for anything unimportant.

“Emir Turlagon is here,” said Bahad.

Caina blinked in surprise. 

“Are you sure?” I said.

“He stormed into the common room and demanded to see you at once,” said Bahad. “Bayram is trying to slow him down, but the emir demands to see his room and his trapbox.”

I looked at Caina. 

“Well,” said Caina. “Damn.” 

“It seems Sankar incorrectly calculated the duration of time,” said Nerina. Bahad gave her an odd look. I suspected Nerina Strake inspired that reaction quite often. 

“Or he lied,” said Malcolm.

“Or,” said Caina, “Turlagon realized that the Teskilati are after his life, and decided to flee before they kill him.”

“What are we going to do?” I said, fighting a growing since of panic. “He is an emir. The watchmen and the magistrates will listen to anything he has to say.”

“I don’t know,” said Caina. “But there is an opportunity…” 

The door burst open once again, and Bahad jumped away with a yelp, bouncing into Azaces. The big Sarbian didn’t even so much as flinch.