Ghost Dagger (3 page)

Caina snorted. 

But her mind remained distant, trying to unravel what troubled her. 

Reorn grunted. "Tormalus might destroy anything he finds to gain favor with the First Magus. But what if he doesn't? What if he finds some forbidden relic and tries to use it?"

Remembering Maglarion and Kalastus, Caina knew that was a likely possibility.

"Then," said Halfdan, "it will come down to blood."

Caina blinked. 

"Blood," she said aloud. 

Both Halfdan and Reorn looked at her.

"Tormalus, the master magus," she said. "Is he staying here, in your hall?"

"Aye," said Reorn, frowning. "Four doors down, in my finest guest chamber."

Caina shot to her feet and hurried into the corridor. 

"What is she doing?" said Reorn.

"I've learned to trust her wits," said Halfdan. 

"I thought it was a shadow," said Caina, walking to the fourth door down from the study. "That someone was standing behind the door, listening. But it wasn't."

She pointed at the crack between the door and the floor. A dark shadow was there, filling most of the crack. But it wasn't a shadow, but a puddle. 

A puddle that was spreading into the corridor.

"Gods!" roared Reorn. "That's blood!"

He pushed open the door. 

Inside Caina saw a rich bedroom, dominated by a four-poster bed with thick green blankets. A number of chests and a desk stood against one wall, covered with papers and clothes, while an open window looked out at the steep valley bellow. 

But the dead man upon the floor drew her attention.

The corpse wore the robes of a master magus, black with a purple sash around the waist. The dead man was young for a master magus, his features stern and handsome.

Or they would have been, had they not been contorted with sheer terror.

An enormous pool of half-dried blood surrounded the master magus's head and neck. Caina saw red streaks where it had oozed from his nose and ears and mouth. 

"That's Tormalus," she said, voice quiet.

"Aye," said Halfdan. "And he's been murdered under Reorn's roof."

Chapter 3 - A Murder Of Sorcery

"Guards!" roared Reorn. "To me! Murder!" He stalked off, face as red as his beard. "Find the villain! Find him!"

Halfdan looked at Caina, and she nodded. 

He hurried after Reorn, leaving her alone with the dead master magus.

She gazed at the corpse. Most women, she knew, would have felt horror and disgust upon finding a murdered man. Most men, for that matter. But Caina felt only cold. 

She had seen too many murdered men, too many bodies rent by violence.

But her mind kept working, and she looked over Tormalus and the room. She had a gift for observation, and Halfdan wanted her to use it.

One detail caught her attention at once. 

All that blood around Tormalus's head. Most of the blood from his body, if she guessed right. With that much blood, his torso should have been opened from throat to navel, or his head should have been gone. 

Yet she didn't seen a single mark upon him. 

There wasn't even any blood on his robes, save where they had touched the pool upon the floor.

Caina circled around the blood, taking care to keep her boots and the hem of her skirt away from the sticky mess. 

No wounds upon him at all. 

Yet his face was twisted into a grimace, his hands hooked into claws, and Caina was certain he had died in agony. 

She looked at his feet, saw the corner of a blanket pinned beneath him. He must have been in bed, then, when it had happened. He had risen from the bed, clutching the blankets, and managed to make it three steps before he collapsed, trapping the blanket beneath him. 

So what happened to him?

A stroke? Sometimes strokes or head injuries resulted in bleeding from the ears and nose. But that much blood? She doubted Tormalus had more than a few drops left in him. Some poisons caused massive blood loss, but certainly not that much.

She peered at Tormalus's head, ignoring the coppery smell of blood. A grayish mush, shot through with red streaks, lay beneath his head and matted in his hair. 

Tormalus's brain had poured out his ears and nose.

No stroke or poison did that.

That left sorcery. 

But Caina knew more about sorcery than she wished, and she knew of no spell that killed in such a fashion. Maglarion had not killed in this manner, and neither had Kalastus. Nor had any of the other magi Caina had faced. 

So what had killed Tormalus? Had one of his own spells backfired?

She heard noise from the hall, the tramp of boots and the shouts of men. Reorn and Halfdan were returning with the militia. Caina had only a few moments left. 

She took a quick look around the room, hoping to find some other trace of what had killed Tormalus.

Two wooden chests and a desk stood against the far wall. To judge from the scratches below the chests, Tormalus had brought them with him from Dizalis. Both chests had been opened, and stacks of paper rested atop the desk. Someone had rifled through them. Tormalus? But why would Tormalus have gone through his own possessions in a hurry? 

And why would he have done so before going to bed? To judge from the blanket pinned beneath him, he had died seconds after rising this morning. Had someone broken into the room and searched through Tormalus's possessions?

"Yes," muttered Caina. "That makes perfect sense. Someone broke into a master magus's room while he slept, stole something from him, and then made his brains leak out his ears." 

She heard footsteps and realized that she was out of time. Caina stepped over Tormalus's corpse and into the hall, covering her mouth with her hands. A moment later Reorn and a troop of militiamen hurried into sight, followed by Halfdan.

"Daughter," said Halfdan. "There you are. Why didn't you follow me?" 

Caina buried her face in his shoulder. "Oh, father! That poor man. I just...I just couldn't look away, father. I couldn't look away."

Halfdan patted her shoulder. "Well, Reorn has things well in hand. Let's go to the hall and you can tell me all about it."

"In a moment, father," said Caina, slipping from his arms. "I want to speak to the servants first."

###

An hour later she found Halfdan sitting before one of the hall's hearths, sipping at a glass of wine.

"I do not care," said Halfdan as she sat next to him, "for Disali wine. Entirely too bitter. Reorn stocks a nice cellar, but Caerish wine is far superior." He took another sip. "What did the servants say?"

"They heard Tormalus screaming in the night," said Caina. 

"As if he was being murdered?" said Halfdan.

Caina shook his head. "Like he was having a nightmare. That's what the servants thought." 

"So what do you think?" said Halfdan.

"Some sort of sorcery killed him," said Caina. "Something that made all the blood and brains pour out of his ears and nose. I've never seen anything like it. And someone broke into his room and took something while he slept. I'm not sure what, though."

She gazed into the flames, thinking hard. 

"One of the other magi?" said Halfdan.

"I doubt it," said Caina. "Tormalus brought a dozen servants with him, but no other magi. Probably wanted to claim all the glory for himself."

"So," said Halfdan, "no poison would have killed Tormalus like that, and no form of sorcery with which I am familiar. What does that leave?"

"It means," said Caina, "that he did find something in those Saddai ruins. Some weapon or relic of old sorcery. And it killed him, and someone took it."

"Or someone took it and used it to kill him," said Halfdan.  

“That seems more likely,” said Caina. “If he really did find a sorcerous weapon in the ruins, half the magi of the Magisterium would be willing to kill each other over it. And anyone else who got in their way. Or perhaps he tried to use the thing and accidentally killed himself, and someone took the opportunity and seized the weapon after he perished.” She shook her head. “But it doesn’t make sense. The Ashbringers were pyromancers. They used fire sorcery to kill their victims.” She had seen it firsthand, watched as sorcerous fires devoured the flesh of screaming men. “Whatever happened to Tormalus…all the blood and brains pouring out of his ears, whatever it is, it’s not pyromancy. Something else.” She shook her head. “But who else could have done it? Tormalus didn’t bring any magi with him, and it’s not as if…”

Angry voices reached her ears, and Caina fell silent.

Reorn strode into the hall, his face thunderous, and a moment later Helena stalked after him. 

“Be silent,” said Reorn. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Doesn’t concern me?” said Helena, her voice rising with every word. “Doesn’t concern me? A master magus of the Magisterium is murdered under our roof, and you have the temerity to think that it doesn’t concern me?” 

“The matter will be settled,” said Reorn.

“By who? You?” said Helena. “I think not. Murder is a capital crime, and a petty donnarch cannot judge it. The Lord Governor in Dizalis shall have to be notified. And Tormalus was a master magus. The Magisterium’s Motherhouse in Artifel shall receive word, and they will send out their own investigator.”

“I am aware of all this,” said Reorn. 

“Are you?” said Helena. “It is your fault!”

Reorn spun to face her. “My fault? Have you gone mad? Are you accusing me of murdering Tormalus?”

“Tormalus was murdered under your roof!” said Helena. “The responsibility lies with you. Ignominy will attach itself to your name. Worse, shame will attach itself to the name of my father and of House Tyrikon.” She drew herself up. “When my father hears of this…”

Reorn burst out laughing. “Your father? Don’t be a fool, woman. Your father doesn’t give a damn about you. I could sell you to Istarish slavers, and so long as he could keep trading with my clan, he wouldn’t care.”

Helena went white with rage, and stormed from the hall without another word.

Reorn sighed and walked to Halfdan’s side.

“That was cruel,” said Caina.

Reorn scowled. “When I want your opinion, girl, I’ll ask for it.” He sat next to Halfdan with a weary grunt. “But perhaps you are right. I should not have thrown that in her face. Yet, gods, that woman provokes me.” 

“Tormalus’s death rattled her,” said Halfdan.

“It rattled me,” said Reorn. “That was no natural death, I am certain. How did he die?”

“Sorcery of some kind,” said Halfdan. “He must have found something in the ruins. Either it killed him, or someone killed him with the relic and took it.” 

“Are you sure the relic still isn’t in the room?” said Reorn.

“Yes,” said Caina. If a relic powerful enough to make Tormalus’s brains pour out his ears had still been in the room, Caina would have sensed it. 

“Gods,” muttered Reorn, rubbing his beard. “So either someone killed Tormalus with the relic and took it. Or the fool killed himself with it, and someone seized their chance and stole the relic.” 

Halfdan looked at Caina. “That is the sum of it, aye.”

“What am I to do, Marcus?” said Reorn. “Helena was right. A master magus was slain in my guest chamber. The Lord Governor might see reason, but if the Magisterium gets involved…aye, that might well be a disaster. The magi are neither reasonable nor merciful.”

“The answer is simple,” said Halfdan. “You contacted the Ghosts because you feared that Tormalus might dig something terrible out of those Saddai ruins. Well, he did, and it destroyed him. We will ferret out the truth, find this enspelled relic, and destroy it. If Tormalus was murdered, we will find his killer, as well. Then you can report to the magi that the murderer was been caught and the weapon used to do the killing destroyed.”

“Your optimism cheers me, Marcus,” said Reorn. “Though I fear it will not be that easy.”

Halfdan grinned. “Of course it will not be that easy. But we shall do what we can. You need to write some letters, my lord donnarch. Hopefully by the time the answers arrive, we will have solved your mystery for you.”

Reorn nodded, excused himself, and left for his study. 

“Do you think he did it?” said Caina.

Halfdan frowned. “Reorn? You are right to suspect everyone, but I doubt it. Reorn is too proud, and too traditional a donnarch, to murder a guest in his own hall. Helena…I doubt she could figure out how to wield a weapon of sorcery, and she would certainly never murder a magus. Maelana is too devoted to Reorn to betray him. Perhaps it is someone among Reorn’s servants, or the servants Tormalus brought with him from Dizalis.” 

“Or someone in the town,” said Caina. “A renegade sorcerer. An exile from the Magisterium.” 

“Riata has a fine tavern,” said Halfdan. “I shall disguise myself as a caravan guard and spend some time there tonight. If anything is afoot in the town, I can learn of it there. If you disguise yourself as well, you can accompany me.”

“No,” said Caina.

Halfdan lifted a gray eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

“These Saddai burial chambers Reorn’s workmen dug up,” said Caina. “I want to have a look at them.” She stared into the fire, remembering the sorcerous flames that Kalastus had conjured. “Tormalus found something down there, I’m sure of it. If I can figure out what he found, then I have a better chance of finding whoever took it.” 

“Be on your guard,” said Halfdan. “The gods only know what the Ashbringers left down there.”

Caina shrugged. “It should be safe enough. Tormalus returned without mishap.”

Until whatever he had taken from the ruins had killed him.

Caina only hoped that something worse did not await her in the darkness below Reorn’s hall.

Chapter 4 – Crypts of the Ashbringers

That night, after Reorn and his household went to bed, Caina prepared herself. 

She retried to her guest room and stripped off her green dress. In its place she donned a black jacket lined with thin steel plates, black trousers, and black boots. Black gloves covered her hands, and a black mask hid her face. Around her waist went a belt of throwing knives, lockpicks, and other useful tools, while daggers remained concealed in her boots.