Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge (22 page)

“Sicarion killed him,” said Caina. “He used the mask to copy my face and stabbed him in the back.” 

“Gods,” said Ark at last. “If this…if this is a deception, it is a cruel one.”

“I know,” said Caina. She took a deep breath. “Are you going to kill me?” 

Ark hesitated, trying to decide what to do. 

“Ask me anything,” said Caina. “Something that only you and I would know.”

“In Mors Crisius,” said Ark. “Why did I hate you the first time we met?”

“I looked too much like Tanya,” said Caina. “It reminded you of her, and it hurt.”

“In Rasadda,” said Ark. “When you left the Magisterium’s chapterhouse, after dinner with Kalastus. What did we talk about?”

“I told you what had happened to me, what Maglarion did to me,” said Caina. “I told you why I had joined the Ghosts.” 

Ark nodded. He had never told another living soul about those conversations. The five years he had spent looking for Tanya was a part of his life that he wanted to forget. 

“So you’re really Caina,” said Ark.

She almost smiled. “It would appear so.”

“But Aeolus could be right,” said Ark. “You could have been twisted by the magi.”

“It’s possible,” said Caina. “I can’t prove it. You could find one of the magi, have them check me for any spells…”

“I would sooner trust you,” said Ark, “than any of the brothers of the Imperial Magisterium.”

He lowered his sword, and Caina blinked. 

“You could have betrayed the Ghosts,” said Ark, “but I would sooner believe that the sun had risen in the west. And the magi could have twisted your mind, put a compelling spell upon you, but I think you would sooner die than help them.”

“Ark,” said Caina, and she grinned and caught him in a hug. “It’s good to see you again. And I’m glad, I’m so glad, that Sicarion didn’t hurt your family.”

“He tried. I’ll repay him for that, if I ever get the chance,” said Ark.

Caina stepped back. “You might have the opportunity. He’s in New Kyre.”

“What?” said Ark.

“The Moroaica’s here as well,” said Caina. “She’s going to cast a spell to destroy the world. She sent Sicarion to kill the Emperor to create a distraction.”

Ark grunted. “So we need to find Sicarion before he kills the Emperor, and stop the Moroaica before she works her spell and kills everyone in New Kyre.”

“Pretty much,” said Caina.

“Ah,” said Ark. “Just like old times, then.”

She grinned. “Dear gods, I hope not.”

###

A few moments later Caina led Ark and the others to the tavern. Ark had rounded up those he thought he could trust – Theodosia, Claudia, and Lord Martin Dorius. Caina was not surprised to see that Martin and Claudia were betrothed. She hoped Corvalis would approve. 

Corvalis, Talekhris, and Harkus waited at a table, and Corvalis looked up in surprise as they approached.

“Corvalis!” said Claudia, and she ran forward and hugged him.

“Sister,” said Corvalis, kissing her on the cheek. “You’re looking well.” 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said, still hugging him. “After what happened in Malarae, I was afraid…”

“It’s going to take more,” said Corvalis, “than that scarred little rat Sicarion to kill me.”

“Lord Martin,” said Harkus. “You seem to have risen in the world since our last meeting.” 

“Aye,” said Martin, looking at Caina. “I unjustly received all the credit for putting down the cult of Anubankh in Caeria Ulterior. My standing among the lords of the Curia rose considerably.” He looked at Talekhris. “And you, my lord Sage, seem…healthier.”

Talekhris’s smile was bitter. “Death, I fear, often has that effect upon me.” 

“While it is, of course,” said Theodosia, “good to see you all again, I suggest we settle upon a plan of action at once. That scoundrel Sicarion has blood upon his hands and must be brought to heel before he can work any more harm.”

“And we must find and stop the Moroaica,” said Talekhris. 

“I think I know how we can find Sicarion,” said Caina. 

They all looked at her.

“How?” said Talekhris.

“Rhames’s mask,” said Caina. “Sicarion has it, and we can use it to find him.”

Claudia frowned. “But I couldn’t detect it when Rhames used it to disguise himself as Anashir.” 

“Nor could I,” said Talekhris, “and with no disrespect to Claudia, I’ve had rather more practice.”

“You couldn’t sense it, either,” said Corvalis.

“Yes,” said Caina, “but I don’t think Sicarion knows how to use it properly, or he isn’t as experienced with it as Rhames. When he…when he killed Halfdan, he was wearing the mask, using it to appear as me. And I could feel the spells upon the mask.”

“Then you think we can detect the mask?” said Talekhris.

“I do,” said Caina. “Sicarion is likely using the mask to disguise himself – with his scars, it would be difficult for him to pass unseen on the street with so many Imperial Guards and ashtairoi keeping watch. I can sense spells, and so can Talekhris and Claudia. We divide into three groups and search for Sicarion.”

“I shall have to remain near the Emperor,” said Ark. “Lord Corbould wishes me to accompany him in the procession.”

“As do Claudia and I,” said Martin. “If either the Champion or I leave the procession, Lord Aeolus will take note, and he has ordered your death.”

“I know,” said Caina, “and it’s just as well. Stay near the Emperor and keep watch over him, and sound the warning if Sicarion approaches.”

“The Venatorii and I,” said Talekhris, “will watch the street leading from the Agora of Nations to the Agora of Archons. Sicarion might try to attack the procession as it heads towards the Pyramid of Storm.” His face hardened. “And it will give me a chance to seek for the Moroaica.”

“Don’t put your mask on,” said Caina, “unless absolutely necessary. I doubt either the Imperial Guards or the ashtairoi would react well to a masked man approaching the nobles.”

Talekhris nodded. 

“Theodosia,” said Caina, “I assume you brought the Grand Imperial Opera to New Kyre?”

She smiled. “The entire company, of course. After the Emperor and the Archons have sealed the peace, we shall sing before them in the Agora of Archons to herald the new era. It was a devil of a time picking an opera to appeal to Kyracian sensibilities, but I suspect we shall dazzle them.”

“Have your maids and stagehands keep watch,” said Caina. “Sicarion isn’t a fool, and he knows that nobles often ignore servants. He might try to conceal himself among them. If you find him, don’t try to fight him yourself. He won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in his way.” 

Theodosia sniffed. “Dear child, I am the leading lady of the Grand Imperial Opera, not a warrior. If I see anything amiss, I will let the Champion or Lord Martin know at once.”

“Corvalis and I,” said Caina, “will watch the crowds. The ashtairoi were sealing off the Agora of Nations, but I suspect the commoners and slaves will watch from the streets and the rooftops overlooking the Agora. Sicarion might try to hide himself there.”

“A solid plan,” said Martin.

“It’s the best we can do for now,” said Caina. She looked at them. “Thank you for believing me.”

Theodosia laughed. “We would be fools not to.”

“You saved my wife and son,” said Ark. “If you marched into hell, I would follow you.”

“You saved me from the stone and from Mihaela,” said Claudia, “and you outwitted Rhames. I will listen to whatever you say.”

“Aye,” said Martin, and Talekhris and Harkus echoed it.

Corvalis barked his harsh laugh. “I already do whatever you tell me anyway. Why stop now?”

Caina blinked, her eyes stinging. They trusted her. She did not deserve it.

Halfdan had trusted in her, and that had not saved him. 

The distant blast of a trumpet cut into her thoughts. 

“The ceremony will begin soon,” said Ark. “Lord Martin and I need to assemble with the other nobles. If we don’t, Lord Aeolus will get suspicious.”

Caina nodded. “We had best go.”

“May the gods of war and battle be with us,” said Martin. 

“I hope they are,” said Caina. “We shall need all the help we can get.”

Chapter 15 - A Mask of Gold

Kylon walked across the Agora of Archons, Thalastre on his side.

He wore his stormdancer’s gray leather, sword ready at his side, his sea-colored cloak hanging from his shoulders. Thalastre wore a new stola of green silk, her hair arranged in an elaborate crown, her jewelry glittering. 

The chief nobility of the Kyracian people assembled below the Pyramid of Storm. Kylon took his place with the other Archons behind Tiraedes, the senior Archon and Speaker of the Assembly. The thalarchons and officers of the fleets gathered nearby, along with the stormsingers and stormdancers. Alcios stood with Thalastre’s father, speaking in a low voice, while Cimon waited with the grim silence of a soldier preparing to face battle.

In a way, Kylon supposed, it was like a battle, but with words and courtesies instead of swords and spears. The Empire and New Kyre were like two tavern brawlers unable to overcome each other, finally agreeing to an uneasy truce rather than waiting until they bled to death. Yet it was still a battle.

Still, Kylon supposed, it was harder to kill a man with words than with blades. 

But if anything went wrong, if Sicarion arrived and killed the Emperor or one of the Archons, the swords and spears would come out.

He shook his head. His arcane senses detected the tension around him, the fear and the grim determination, and it was affecting his mood. 

“You are wary, husband,” said Thalastre in a low voice, her calm mask unwavering as she looked around them.

There was no use trying to hide his mood from her. “I am. The Ghosts we met in Malarae are not fools. If they say there is a threat, then there is.”

Thalastre nodded. “We shall be on our guard.”

“Sicarion would kill you,” said Kylon, “if he gets the chance.”

Thalastre blinked. “Oh? Have I wronged him?”

“I fought him in Marsis, the day the war started, and again in Catekharon,” said Kylon, “and he got away from me both times. He is the kind of man to hold a grudge. If he gets a chance, he will kill you. And he will kill you just to spite me. The way he killed those Ghosts in Malarae to spite Caina.”

“I shall be cautious, husband,” said Thalastre. She sniffed. “And if this Sicarion fool thinks to lift his hand against me, we shall see he likes the taste of a stormsinger’s lightning.”

“If he shows himself, do not underestimate him,” said Kylon. “I did, at first, and he almost slew me.”

“We will be careful,” said Thalastre, “but for all his power and cunning, he is only one man. We are surrounded by hundreds of ashtairoi and the most powerful stormsingers of New Kyre. The Emperor has his Imperial Guards and his magi. If Sicarion tries anything, if he kills anyone, he will not make it three steps before he is cut down.”

“I suppose you are right,” said Kylon.

Yet the unease would not leave him, and not all of it came from the emotions of the men and women around him.  

The same feeling had come to him before entering Catekharon, the certainty that the Sages’ offer was a trick in some way he could not see. The same feeling came to him every time he entered a battle he wasn’t certain he could win, a battle where he was sure he had overlooked some vital detail about the enemy.

Something important. 

But what?

He glanced at the Pyramid of Storm. There had been no word from the Surge or her priestesses for weeks. That was odd – the Surge usually sent one priestess to witness significant events in the history of the Kyracian people. But she was inscrutable, and followed no laws but the will of the mysterious future she served.

If she chose not to send an emissary, that was her own affair.

The trumpets rang out.

“Time to go, husband,” Thalastre said, squeezing his arm.

Kylon nodded, and they joined the other Archons as they marched to escort the Emperor of the Nighmarian Empire to the Agora of Archons. 

###

Ark stood motionless, trying not to drop his hand to his sword hilt.

If he did, and someone took it the wrong way, he could start another war.

Lord Martin and Claudia waited nearby. Martin wore the ceremonial armor of a Lord Governor of the Empire, gleaming steel plate and a crimson cloak. Claudia wore a green gown that matched her eyes, and looked like the young, noble-born betrothed of the Lord Governor, not a former sister of the Imperial Magisterium. Yet Ark noted the tension around her eyes, the faint movement of her lips as she cast the spell to sense the presence of sorcery over again. 

So far, it seemed, she had sensed nothing. 

Fortunately, no one noticed her spells. Dozens of nobles surrounded the Emperor of Nighmar, and Imperial Guards ringed them all. Battle magi of the Magisterium stood ready, clad in black armor of their own, swords and maces waiting at their belts. A ring of ashtairoi blocked off the streets leading to the Agora of Nations, holding back the crowds. Thousands had come out to gawk at the foreign nobles, to see the war end. 

And Sicarion could hide among them so easily. 

It reminded Ark of standing in the front lines of the Legions as they waged war against the barbarian nations of the north, of standing and waiting as the enemy ran screaming at them.

He looked at the main avenue leading to the Agora of the Archons, and saw the Assembly of New Kyre marching towards them, escorted by ashtairoi.

Ark rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and waited.

###

Caina shouldered her way through the crowd, not bothering to apologize.

Corvalis helped with that. He was a big man, and could put on a terrifying scowl. The Kyracian commoners and slaves took one look at his face and the weapons at his belt and hastened to get out his way. 

“Anything?” murmured Corvalis. 

“No, nothing,” said Caina, biting back a curse of frustration.

She had sensed the presence of sorcery, faint but powerful, as they passed the edge of the Agora. But those spells radiated from the high magi and the battle magi who had escorted the Emperor from Malarae.  Wards and spells to detect the presence of sorcery, no doubt in case the Kyracians attempted any treachery.