Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge (21 page)

“Perhaps she could write an opera about it,” said Corvalis.

Caina laughed. “You could even take your own name.”

“That would throw my father into a fit,” said Corvalis. “But I think I will keep the name of Anton Kularus. It is the House of Kularus, after all. And think of the opera that would make. The caravan guard who owns Malarae’s first coffeehouse and takes an Imperial Countess as a lover.” 

“I suppose it would,” said Caina. She felt her smile fade. “Corvalis. If…if I die, I want…”

“No,” said Corvalis. “Don’t talk like that. For all you know the ship could sink before we even get to New Kyre.”

“That would certainly make an inglorious end to the opera.”

“But I think I know what you would say,” said Corvalis. “That you would want me not to blame myself, to carry on, to keep going.”

Caina managed to nod. 

“I have only one thing to say to that,” said Corvalis. He rested his fingers under her chin and titled her face up to look at him. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too. I don’t….this is hard. Halfdan’s death, all of it. But it would be much harder without you.” 

“Then let us see this through to the end,” said Corvalis, “together.”

She squeezed his hand. “Together.”

###

Twelve days after leaving Marsis, Caina climbed onto the deck of the ship and joined Talekhris and Harkus upon the prow, Corvalis following her in silence. She wore again her caravan guard disguise, short sword and ghostsilver dagger at her belt, throwing knives hidden beneath her sleeves, shadow-cloak concealed beneath a ragged brown cloak. Maltaer’s crew of smugglers paid her no heed as she passed. 

“We have arrived,” said Talekhris.

Caina looked upon the city of New Kyre for the first time. 

It was not as large as Malarae, but it was a nonetheless a vast city. Colossal statues of armored ashtairoi warriors guarded the entrance to the harbor, and she saw ballistae and catapults waiting there. Any ship foolish enough to storm the harbor would come to a bitter end. Beyond she saw the vast maze of the city itself, its canals glittering in the sunlight. Hundreds of ziggurats rose from the central districts of the city, proud and gleaming, the home of the noble Houses of the Kyracians. They reminded Caina of the burning pyramids of Rasadda. But the pyramids of Rasadda had been the tombs of the dead Ashbringer kings of old, and the ziggurats of New Kyre housed the living.

From the heart of the city rose the single largest building Caina had ever seen, larger than the other ziggurats, taller than Black Angel Tower, wider than the Great Pyramid of Corazain in Rasadda, more massive than the Imperial Citadel itself.

The Pyramid of Storm, the sacred to the Kyracian gods and the home of the Surge, the oracle who had sent Kylon to Caer Magia. 

In the harbor Caina saw warships flying the Imperial standards. The Emperor and his escort had already arrived.

And somewhere in New Kyre, the Moroaica and Sicarion were waiting for her. 

Chapter 14 - New Kyre

“How do you suggest we proceed?” said Talekhris. 

Caina stood on the stone quay with Talekhris, Corvalis, and Harkus, the other Venatorii waiting in silence. Talekhris leaned heavily upon his cane, and looked like a minor Imperial noble come to bask in the reflected glory of his Emperor, his mercenary guards surrounding him. 

It made for a good disguise.

Maltaer’s ship floated alongside the quay, rows of other ships stretching away as far as the eye could see. She had thought Malarae’s harbor grew crowded, but it had barely a third of the traffic maneuvering in the water around New Kyre. And that was even with the Starfall Straits closed to Kyracian trade. She could not imagine the ships that must have choked the harbor before the war. 

“Can you find the Moroaica?” said Caina.

Talekhris frowned. “Not precisely. I can sense her presence, and I know that she is here, somewhere within the city. But her defensive wards are too strong, and I cannot pinpoint her exact location.”

“We know where she will be,” said Corvalis. “You said so yourself. The Pyramid of Storm, the weak spot in the barrier between the worlds.”

Talekhris pointed his cane at the bulk of the pyramid. “Unfortunately, the Pyramid is massive, and I suspect she could work her spells from anywhere on its surface. Or within it – there are galleries and chambers beneath the Pyramid, and temples and shrines upon its sides. Searching the Pyramid will take an entire day, and we may not have that long. Additionally, I doubt the Kyracians will let a group of foreigners wander through their most sacred site.”

“You could use your masking spell again,” said Corvalis. 

Talekhris shook his head. “There are too many sorcerers in New Kyre. At least one of them would sense it.”  

Caina looked at the crowds, watching men laboring to unload and load ships. The business of commerce carried on even through war and peace. She wondered how many of the laborers were slaves. The Kyracians allowed slavery, and Caina detested slave traders.

But if the Moroaica succeeded, the slaves and their masters would die alongside each other. 

“We need to find Sicarion, too,” said Caina. “Otherwise he will likely try to kill the Emperor.”

“Or us,” said Corvalis. 

“The Moroaica is the greater concern,” said Talekhris.

“To you, maybe,” said Caina, “but I am still a Ghost of the Empire.” Until Lord Corbould had her executed, anyway. “If need be, I can deal with Sicarion while you fight the Moroaica. But I suspect we will find Sicarion and Jadriga together.”

“Finding them is the difficulty,” said Harkus. “How shall we locate them?”

“I think,” said Caina, “we will have to contact the Ghosts in New Kyre.”

“The city has a Ghost circle, certainly,” said Harkus. “But do you know how to identify them?”

“No,” said Caina. She took a deep breath. “I mean the Ghosts that accompanied the Emperor from Malarae.” 

“That is dangerous,” said Corvalis. “Sicarion boasted about going on a rampage in Malarae. The Ghosts of the capital almost certainly think that you are a traitor or a renegade, or that the magi twisted your mind.” 

“Lord Corbould will be here,” said Caina.

“If he knows what happened in Marsis, he won’t help us,” said Corvalis.

“But if Lord Corbould is here, then Ark will accompany him as the Champion of Marsis,” said Caina. “He was there when the war started, and Corbould will want him here for the end, as a reminder to the Kyracians.” 

“Assuming that Sicarion did not kill him,” said Corvalis.

That thought left Caina cold. Her guilt over Halfdan’s death was painful enough. If Sicarion had killed Ark or Tanya or their children, or Theodosia or any of her other friends in Malarae, she could never forgive herself. 

“But if Ark’s here, I can convince him of the truth,” said Caina. He was one of the three men she trusted most in the world, after Corvalis and Halfdan…

Two men now, she supposed. 

“So be it,” said Talekhris. “Let us find this Ghost.”

###

An hour later Caina stood in one of the dockside taverns with Talekhris, Harkus, and Corvalis. It was the middle of the day, and the tavern was full of workers and slaves eating and drinking. No one took any notice of one ragged Nighmarian noble and his guards.

“The ceremony is today,” said Caina. “In a few hours, the ashtairoi will clear out the Agora of Nations.”

“It’s already begun,” said Harkus. “Some of my men saw the ashtairoi ordering the merchants to tear down their stalls for the day.” 

Caina nodded. “The Emperor and his party will gather, and the Assembly will come to escort the Emperor and the nobles to the Agora of the Archons. There the Emperor and the Archons will put their seals to the treaty of peace, and swear solemn oaths to abide by it.” 

Talekhris frowned. “How did you discover all of this?”

Caina shrugged. “I bought a few people drinks. The Emperor and the high nobles are staying at the Imperial embassy, just off the Agora of Nations. It’s built like a fortified villa. We won’t be able to get inside, and even Sicarion might find it challenge.”

“If you are right, if the Moroaica commanded him to kill the Emperor to create a distraction,” said Harkus, “he won’t do it in the embassy. He’ll do it in public, before as many eyes as possible, to cause a panic.”

Corvalis shrugged. “If I was still an assassin of the Kindred and I had been hired to create a distraction, I could not think of a better way to go about it.” 

“Not all of the Emperor’s companions are housed in the embassy itself,” said Caina. “The inns nearby are full to bursting. Ark is likely there.”

“If he is in New Kyre,” said Corvalis. 

Caina shared his doubts, but she dared not give into them. “We’ll search the inns and see if we can find him. If not, we will meet back here in an hour, and then approach Kylon of House Kardamnos.”

“If we can,” said Corvalis. “He’s an Archon, and he’ll have bodyguards. I doubt they will let a group of foreigners approach, not now.” 

“But if we cannot find Ark, it will be worth the risk to speak with Kylon,” said Caina. “He’s a stormdancer, and can sense the presence of sorcery. He’ll be able to prove that I am who I say I am, that I’m not under the control of the magi.”

“Very well,” said Talekhris. “We shall seek out the Champion of Marsis. I hope that you can indeed convince him to trust you.”

“As do I,” said Caina. 

###

Ark looked out the window at the canal below and donned his armor. 

The Kyracians seemed mad for water. New Kyre had streets, of course, but a canal ran down every street, crowded with boats. Ark did see the efficiency of it. Hauling ore to his foundry was blasted expensive, as was carting away the slag. Certainly it would be cheaper to bring it by boat. He wondered if he could persuade the urban prefect of Malarae to build a canal…

He pushed aside the thought and attended to the matter at hand.

If anyone would make an attempt on the Emperor’s life, it would be today. Soon the Emperor would enter the Agora of Nations, and the Archons of the Assembly would arrive to greet him and escort him to the Pyramid of Storm for the final sealing of the treaty. A horde of high lords, minor lords, and various functionaries would accompany the Emperor, not to mention the Imperial Guards and the ashtairoi attending the Archons and the Kyracian nobles. 

A clever assassin could conceal himself in such a crowd.

Ark finished donning his armor. It was the armor of an Imperial Guard, black plate over black chain mail, lighter and stronger than ordinary steel through the skill of the magi. After all his experiences with the Ghosts, it made Ark uneasy to wear armor forged by the Magisterium. On the other hand, he had carried a sorcery-forged sword at his side for two years now.

He turned, buckling on his sword belt, and saw a short, ragged man standing in the doorway. A caravan guard, by the looks of him, with greasy blond hair and blue eyes. Likely one of the guards hired by one of the minor nobles who had insisted on accompanying the Emperor.

“You’ve the wrong room,” said Ark. 

“Ark,” said the man with a woman’s voice.

Ark frowned, his eyes narrowing, and recognition came. 

He knew that face, those icy blue eyes, and he moved at once.

A heartbeat later he stood before Caina Amalas, his sword drawn and at her throat.

Or at the throat of a sorcerer masquerading as her.

Caina swallowed, a muscle in her jaw working. When he had seen the false Caina in Malarae, she had been clothed in a rich gown, her hair and makeup perfectly arranged, jewels glittering at her throat and fingers. This Caina wore the leather armor and ragged cloak of a caravan guard, and she looked utterly exhausted. Dark circles ringed her bloodshot blue eyes, and the roots of her blond hair had turned black. 

For a moment they stared at each other.

“I see,” said Caina, “that you received a visit from Sicarion in Malarae.”

“Sicarion?” said Ark. She had warned him against the scarred assassin. 

“He has a sorcerous mask,” said Caina, “that lets him assume any form he wishes. I take it that he used it to assume my form in Malarae?”

Ark nodded.

Caina closed her eyes. “Damn it. I hoped I was wrong about that.” She opened her eyes. “Who…who did he kill? Did…did Tanya…”

“No,” said Ark. “He threatened her. He would have killed her, but I put a javelin through his shoulder.” 

“Oh,” said Caina. “Good.” 

He remembered helping her hunt for the pyromancer in Rasadda, remembered the blaze in her eyes as they fought Naelon Icaraeus in the darkness below Marsis. Had she looked so tired then? It had only been two years past.

But those two years had been eventful ones.

“He did kill many Ghosts,” said Ark, “and several of my workers.”

“It was my fault,” whispered Caina. “He did it to get at me. All those people…it was just a game to him. A way to hurt me. To hurt me before he finally killed me.” She blinked. “And you don’t know…that means you don’t know if I’m really Caina Amalas or not.”

“No,” said Ark. “Lord Aeolus has put a death warrant on your head.”

“Aeolus?” said Caina. “I don’t know the name.”

Ark was surprised. But, then, he hadn’t known that Aeolus had authority within the Ghosts. Perhaps only the circlemasters knew. 

“One of the high circlemasters,” said Ark. “He believes you either betrayed the Ghosts or were subverted by the magi, that you killed Lord Corbould’s son.”

“I did,” said Caina.

Ark frowned.

“He attacked me at Zorgi’s Inn at Marsis,” said Caina. “Ranarius’s spirit had possessed him.”

“Is Halfdan with you?” said Ark. “He needs to speak with Aeolus. If Aeolus realizes that you are here, he will have you killed.”

“Halfdan’s dead, Ark,” said Caina.

Ark felt a twitch go over his face. Halfdan had recruited him into the Ghosts, had helped him hunt for Tanya after the Moroaica’s slavers had taken her. 

“How?” said Ark at last.